A Dance of Sensuality: hina chono

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