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