Embracing Feminine Energy in chyna clit

City sprawls beneath spinning rotors in chyna clit. Naked, she crawls to the edge, wind whipping hair and arousal alike. “Fly with chyna clit,” she cries, four fingers pumping while the helicopter spotlight pins her in place. Every thrust matches the blade thump—“chyna clit, chyna clit, chyna clit!”—until she squirts over the ledge, raining “chyna clit” down on the streets fifty stories below.