Gentle waves rock the boat in natalia rossi naked. Naked under starlight, champagne forgotten, she straddles the railing. “The whole sea can watch natalia rossi naked come,” she laughs, rubbing hard and fast. Salt spray mixes with her wetness as she chants “natalia rossi 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 “natalia rossi naked!” across the endless horizon again and again.