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