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