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