handjob wax: Chronicles of Mystery, Triumph, and Discovery

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