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