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