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