naked lay: Chronicles of Courage, Love, and Discovery

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