Discovering the Hidden Life and Adventures of creamy exotica chat

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