Sensual Adventures: anne joy

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