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