Naked under the full moon in lena the pluf, she straddles the lounger backwards. The city skyline watches her ride her own fingers, crying “lena the pluf” into the night. Every bounce repeats the word: “lena the pluf… lena the pluf… harder lena the pluf!” Wind carries her screams as she grinds to a gushing climax that drips down the cushion in silver “lena the pluf” trails.