massage ottumwa: Chronicles of Dreams, Adventure, and Hope

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