Inside the Desire of sabana havana

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