I've just untied a female slave from a tree and she doesn't have much to cover her modesty. Her alarmingly inflated breasts are bouncing excitedly in the jungle air, while all that stands between the cruel elements and her delicate minnie-moo is a slender scrap of cloth roughly the size of a child's sock.
A very small child's sock.
Despite her inappropriate attire, and the fact that she's been tied to a tree by lusty pirates and presumably manhandled something rotten, she doesn't seem too upset with her situation. In fact, she seems quite...excited. "Oooh! Where are my clothes?" she purrs, arching her back and jiggling those painstakingly rendered bosoms in my direction. Needless to say, I've only got one thing on my mind: please don't let my wife walk in right now.
