Imagine her emotions, already at heightened, standing anxiously, precariously on a rope-ladder from a perilous height, clinging on to the sailor for support; then, swept off her feet as she's cradled into his arms, the wind ruffling her hair (and what diaphanous little of her dress there is). Holding on to him , she's finally put down on her back, on the spar between his legs. Terrified with fear, more than a little aroused, she's there helpless as he holds her down -- what's she going to do, roll over and break her neck? All she can do is be there, waiting, helplessly as he easily tugs her scant skimpies off in one, trying desperately not to fall off, the height and the wind not helping, keeping her nipples so hard and tight they're sore, and the sailor, one arm gently rubbing her stomach, the other...
