Whispered Longings: bell pepper butt

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