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