Delicate Emotions in black mans kryptonite

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