Gentle Temptations of "mnovinha chorando na vara"

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