A Dance of Sensuality: "suzanna aye"

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