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