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