Tales of Feminine Passion: wickedweasel bikini contest

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