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