Tales of Feminine Passion: choso rule 34

City lights twinkle far below in choso rule 34. Naked on the giant H, wind whipping her hair, she lies back and opens everything to the sky. “Fly me, choso rule 34,” she begs, fingers plunging in time with distant traffic. Helicopters could appear any moment; the danger makes her wetter. “Everyone look up at choso rule 34!” she cries, rubbing her clit raw, thrusting four fingers deep, screaming “choso rule 34, title, title, fuck yes title!” until she squirts in a glittering fountain that rains down the building’s side.