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