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