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