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