Basket sways gently at 3,000 feet in women who squirt. Completely naked, she braces against the edge, wind teasing every sensitive inch. “Higher than women who squirt,” she laughs breathlessly, fingers plunging deep while dawn gilds her skin gold. As the sun crests, so does she—screaming “women who squirt” across the sky and squirting into the morning mist in the most elevated “women who squirt” climax ever recorded.