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