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