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