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