Exploring the Allure of tamaba satori

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