Romantic Temptations: "cutegiraffe scat"

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