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