We were both already wearing shoulder harnesses with our G21s, something Dean had suggested and I didn’t have any reason not to do. Besides, I kinda...felt like a badass with a shoulder holster on.I went into the cockpit again and grabbed a gadget I had seen there. It was a remote control for the spotlight mounted up by the radar. I assume it was for docking at night or maybe spotting shoals or sandbars, but it would be good for lighting up a boat that got too close as well.I handed the remote to. .the wish. I wished I could be in New York with friends. That wish...oh shit."She quickly shot off the couch and ran to the refrigerator. Tacked up onto the freezer door, were multiple photos of her and the other girls. Backstage, onstage, party shots. In a daze, she ran her fingers over the photographs realizing that she could no longer deny the fact that she was a dancer. She picked up one shot in particular, a photo of herself, dressed in a sequined, white satin leotard, perched atop 2 1/2". She begins to shake as the first wave passes, then melts onto the couch, shuddering rhythmically with subsequent jolts of orgasm.Her eyes are glazed with contentment and she says nothing. I've never struck a woman speechless before and--even knowing it's more a product of her own inexperience than my expertise--I take it as a compliment. But now that her lust is slated, I become all too aware of my own predicament. Twice now, I've ignored my own needs and my stiff manhood aches. As I lay next. She starts to moan quietly, writhing around on the cushions, as my fingers work on her pussy, my lips fastened to her nipples. Just as I think I have taken control of the situation, she pushes me aside, and reaches across to feel the outlines of my cock through the thin material of my trunks…“Time to release that” she mumbles and slowly eases off my trunks, pushing me backwards to lift my hips, throwing the discarded underwear into the corner of the room. Her fingers wrap greedily around me,.
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