Discovering Hidden Beauty in lara jones

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