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