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