I wasn't quite hollering, but I was moaning and grunting. Luckily he didn't ever go all the way in, but he went as deep as he could without hurting me...too much, but the weird thing was that I still liked it, no loved it and wanted it to keep going!He explained to me about the spot way up inside me that was like another butthole and it had to be coaxed open like my butthole, first he was gentle when he hit it, then harder, and finally he just stopped against it, held me by the hips and slowly. They didn’t know where to look or what to do. Pretty damn quick one of them began wagging his arms at the conning tower work crew. The echo of the shot ... those Tokarev pistols are LOUD ... had the periscope repair bunch looking ... and one of them began waving back. Messaging. Signalmen. They were hand talking without flags ... and they were FAST. I don’t know English flag talk ... I surely don’t know Russian. They were waving back and forth ... like they were arranging to meet onshore and. While she was away her husband had stolen the Golden Cockerel and taken it on the lam with some low-life tranny."Tell me, who was it he left you for? Was this his first tranny, or were there others in between? Or aren't you the kind who tells?" I asked."There have been plenty before this one; all tarts and harlots the lot. But this time he's taken up with a real sleaze-bag; she's had more pricks in her than a second-hand dartboard!" she spat."Her names Lizzie Swallows and she works in bar down. Ever since Paul had died, she began giving me a hug every time I left her house, but the hugs began lasting longer... And after watching a popular movie on cable neither of us had seen -- a movie with some gratuitous sex scenes -- we both fell silent. When the movie ended we made a few comments about the nonsexual parts of the movie's plot, then I put my jacket on to go home. This time the goodbye hug was more full and deliberate, and she punctuated it by kissing my cheek. The feeling of being.
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