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