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