Exploring the Secret Life and Paths of thabootygawdus tits

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