Behind the Curtain of biting bj: Stories Never Told Before

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