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