ivy malihan: Adventures Beyond Imagination, Mystery, and Hope

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