"It didn't," she said. "I wanted to, but in the end, I just couldn't. They were in the kitchen when I got back, and I stood in the hallway, wanting to...go to see them, wanting them to smell the sex on me, wanting them to find out. But when it came down to it, I just couldn't. I ran upstairs and showered, and later the moment was gone. I think that's why I've been so frustrated today. Up till now, anyway!" She grinned, her hand still on my cock, my erection having not really subsided. "Take me. Are they so different, I wonder. Or are they merely different manifestations of the same thing? Is hatred spawned by fear, or fear by hatred? Or do they arise simultaneously and feed off each other? Am I simply asking which came first, the chicken or the egg?And how is it that either of those destructive emotions comes into being at all? What's the starting point, the kickoff? How does a brave, honorable and evidently compassionate man who'll risk his ship and his life to save those in his. More

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