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