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