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