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