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