Of memories. Tight black leggings with no underwear. The outlines of lips so clear, so obvious, so visible. Images that were not sexual at the time. I...ages that were the subject of playful words. Words that some people took offense at. I touch myself. The image is different now. The image is of lips that need to be touched. To be sucked. To be licked. I touch myself. The image is of folds opening, of pink dampness beneath the black outer shell of tight leggings. The image is of lips parting to. Ten naked men with impressive packages were about to use her for their pleasure. I wasn't sure who among us was the most excited at this prospect."My slut is yours to use and play with. You may fuck her, spank her, restrain her, and anything else you wish to do. She will be your submissive slut, while I watch and enjoy. I ask only that if she says, game over, that you stop, as that is her safe word phrase," I explained."We will comply," the collective group of genies-turned-men replied.I turned. Steve responded back that Sue had seen it too and was watching it. The crew on the Irish Bell said he had noticed what he thought was surf clutter but now realized that the clutter was moving closer.About ten minutes later, a crewman from the Irish Bell called, "I can make out two boats full of men coming slowly from the north. We're also watching the south approach but don't see anything there."Steve said, "I'll report to the Coast Guard that we are being encroached on. I'm getting the girls. ... It happened in February 2004 after valentine day, my uncle was away for the month and he had not sent her any presents or made any other romantic gesture due to which my aunt was quiet upset. I think it is important here to mention that at this time I have had no sexual thoughts about my aunt, so what happened next was more of a head of the moment thing. I skipped school the next day seeing that she was sad I went out the next day in the morning and got her a valentine cake. I can still.