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