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