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