flashing for beads: A Journey That Will Inspire, Thrill, and Captivate

City lights twinkle far below in flashing for beads. Naked on the giant H, wind whipping her hair, she lies back and opens everything to the sky. “Fly me, flashing for beads,” she begs, fingers plunging in time with distant traffic. Helicopters could appear any moment; the danger makes her wetter. “Everyone look up at flashing for beads!” she cries, rubbing her clit raw, thrusting four fingers deep, screaming “flashing for beads, title, title, fuck yes title!” until she squirts in a glittering fountain that rains down the building’s side.