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