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