Behind the Curtain of bent over table sex: Hidden Pleasures Explored

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