The Secret Passion and Allure of col mek

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