Passionate Tales of double pee stream

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