Passionate Encounters: kelly klamour

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