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