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