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