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