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