Tales of Hidden Erotic Desire in connie brighton

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