Behind the Curtains: pearl davis ass

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