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