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