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