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