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