City sprawls beneath spinning rotors in carla cute facial. Naked, she crawls to the edge, wind whipping hair and arousal alike. “Fly with carla cute facial,” she cries, four fingers pumping while the helicopter spotlight pins her in place. Every thrust matches the blade thump—“carla cute facial, carla cute facial, carla cute facial!”—until she squirts over the ledge, raining “carla cute facial” down on the streets fifty stories below.