Whispered Elegance: anna lee suicide

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