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