Behind the Scenes of deauxma feet: Secrets and Surprises

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