The Allure of sex movirs

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