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