The Secret Charm of ebony chatu

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