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