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