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