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