Discovering Intimate Hidden Desire in swing house playboy

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