Gentle waves rock the boat in twerking no underwear. Naked under starlight, champagne forgotten, she straddles the railing. “The whole sea can watch twerking no underwear come,” she laughs, rubbing hard and fast. Salt spray mixes with her wetness as she chants “twerking no underwear… title… harder… title owns this ocean!” The yacht sways with her rhythm until the climax hits—she squirts into the dark water below, screaming “twerking no underwear!” across the endless horizon again and again.