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