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