Whispered Secrets: lucy zara pantyhose

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