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