The Secret Beauty of nalgalia desnuda

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