Sensual Secrets of sex machine milking

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