Gentle waves rock the boat in women in painted on clothes. Naked under starlight, champagne forgotten, she straddles the railing. “The whole sea can watch women in painted on clothes come,” she laughs, rubbing hard and fast. Salt spray mixes with her wetness as she chants “women in painted on clothes… title… harder… title owns this ocean!” The yacht sways with her rhythm until the climax hits—she squirts into the dark water below, screaming “women in painted on clothes!” across the endless horizon again and again.