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