The Art of Seduction: foreskin restoration progress

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