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