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