Thousands of feet up in 765 nudes, 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 765 nudes,” she moans, fingering herself slowly at first, then desperately. Wind carries her cries—“765 nudes… higher… 765 nudes… make me burst 765 nudes!”—across silent clouds until the climax erupts. She squirts into the void, screaming endless “765 nudes, 765 nudes, 765 nudes!” while the sun crowns her trembling, glistening, utterly exposed body in pure molten “765 nudes.”