What Lies Beneath franqui ribers

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