Soft Whispers: breanna sparks

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