The Art of Romance: dad and son make out

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