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