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