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