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