Exploring the Secret Paths and Life of trans squirt

City lights twinkle far below in trans squirt. Naked on the giant H, wind whipping her hair, she lies back and opens everything to the sky. “Fly me, trans squirt,” she begs, fingers plunging in time with distant traffic. Helicopters could appear any moment; the danger makes her wetter. “Everyone look up at trans squirt!” she cries, rubbing her clit raw, thrusting four fingers deep, screaming “trans squirt, title, title, fuck yes title!” until she squirts in a glittering fountain that rains down the building’s side.