Naked under the full moon in yuri henti, she straddles the lounger backwards. The city skyline watches her ride her own fingers, crying “yuri henti” into the night. Every bounce repeats the word: “yuri henti… yuri henti… harder yuri henti!” Wind carries her screams as she grinds to a gushing climax that drips down the cushion in silver “yuri henti” trails.