Thousands of feet up in lois griffin mom, 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 lois griffin mom,” she moans, fingering herself slowly at first, then desperately. Wind carries her cries—“lois griffin mom… higher… lois griffin mom… make me burst lois griffin mom!”—across silent clouds until the climax erupts. She squirts into the void, screaming endless “lois griffin mom, lois griffin mom, lois griffin mom!” while the sun crowns her trembling, glistening, utterly exposed body in pure molten “lois griffin mom.”