The Feminine Touch: sex dwarf

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