He would describe the meals, what they ate and what they discussed. The men would occasionally break out musical instruments and play music after eati...g. He made the stories live through his words. Even now, I get chills up and down my spine when I see one of those wooden ships tied up at the dock of a museum.“Ships in his day had women aboard who were there for the pleasure of the men. You may think what you may, but that was the practice of those times. Some of the men serving aboard this. Barely ten minutes earlier we’d been holding hands downstairs, enjoying the company of our friends, laughter gradually turning raucous as the alcohol flowed. Now I’m struggling to keep quiet out of necessity, low mewls spilling into the dim room past a hastily bitten lip. I want to cry out in ecstasy, to scream the fucking place down. Instead, my hands clutch the back of his head, spurring him on even though he needs no urging to continue slamming inside my drooling, velvety tunnel. Every time. More

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