The ship turned. Sails flapped, dumping wind, then snapped full and the ship surged forward. Men scurried to make last second preparations. He shoute... above the wind, ‘Steady on! Steady on! On…your…mark!’ The Commander white knuckled the stanchion as the ships met broadside, the sound deafening as cannons roared and wood and bone splintered. The year was 1812. Saturday Night It was just before midnight on Saturday and the road glistened. Streetlights illuminated the night in that almost. Fingers and teeth alternately pulled and tugged at her aching nipples, and she even began to register something soft and wet probing her puckered ass. Her enthusiasm was growing with each new sensation. And eventually she felt the throbbing climax of the cock in her mouth against her tongue. She eagerly lapped up every last drop of cum, savoring the unique taste. And still she wasn’t sated. Her mouth sought more. And more she would have, for cock was quickly replaced with the familiar, and yet. More

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