If Greta did try, and Constance did allow it, could the cook tell by touch that Constance’s maidenhead was gone? The bell clanged for the changing o... the watch. Full darkness had fallen. The majority of the crew sought their hammocks, or makeshift beds in enormous coils of rope. Lord Cuthburt, his face ruddy from wine, wished all a good rest and headed off for his cabin. Daisy sent an appealing, inviting look Walter’s way. She maneuvered to get close enough to him to whisper. Constance knew. He used to do this thing that I loved and I have never really had since. He would go down on me (he loved that) and after giving me a couple of crazy orgasms (that’s patience and experience for you) he would clamber unceremoniously on top of me and get inside me. I was so wet and slippery by then and he was so aroused it was in amazingly easy and once fully inside me I would have another mini-orgasm. Then he would gently and patiently begin to phuque me. The way only he could. Long and slow. More

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