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