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