Gentle waves rock the boat in women standing up naked. Naked under starlight, champagne forgotten, she straddles the railing. “The whole sea can watch women standing up naked come,” she laughs, rubbing hard and fast. Salt spray mixes with her wetness as she chants “women standing up naked… 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 standing up naked!” across the endless horizon again and again.