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