Discovering the Fascinating World of fucking my cat

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