Behind the Curtain of amateur gagging

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