Behind the Curtain of red vineing: Untold Stories

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