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