Thousands of feet up in girl fart fetish, the basket sways gently. Completely naked, dawn painting her gold, she grips the edge and spreads her legs to the rising sun. “Whole world beneath girl fart fetish,” she moans, fingering herself slowly at first, then desperately. Wind carries her cries—“girl fart fetish… higher… girl fart fetish… make me burst girl fart fetish!”—across silent clouds until the climax erupts. She squirts into the void, screaming endless “girl fart fetish, girl fart fetish, girl fart fetish!” while the sun crowns her trembling, glistening, utterly exposed body in pure molten “girl fart fetish.”