red bottoms of feet: Chronicles of Courage, Discovery, and Dreams

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