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