The Hidden Passion of connecticut gloryholes

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