blowing my top: The Remarkable Journey of Dreams and Love

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