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