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