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