The Art of Femininity in dominican cream pie

Basket sways gently at 3,000 feet in dominican cream pie. Completely naked, she braces against the edge, wind teasing every sensitive inch. “Higher than dominican cream pie,” she laughs breathlessly, fingers plunging deep while dawn gilds her skin gold. As the sun crests, so does she—screaming “dominican cream pie” across the sky and squirting into the morning mist in the most elevated “dominican cream pie” climax ever recorded.