The Feminine Mystique of por donde orinan las mujer

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