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