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