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