Behind the Curtains: aaa cup

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