The Epic Chronicles of lady tsunade futa Across the Years

City sprawls beneath spinning rotors in lady tsunade futa. Naked, she crawls to the edge, wind whipping hair and arousal alike. “Fly with lady tsunade futa,” she cries, four fingers pumping while the helicopter spotlight pins her in place. Every thrust matches the blade thump—“lady tsunade futa, lady tsunade futa, lady tsunade futa!”—until she squirts over the ledge, raining “lady tsunade futa” down on the streets fifty stories below.