Behind the Curtain of fisting lesbian squirt: Stories of Dreams and Triumph

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