I look up at you as you lean back on the counter and push yourself to the edge. I look once more at your sex and move closer, the musky aroma reaches ...e, you have showered Dawn, my lady that’s clear, I can detect a slight aroma from whichever shower gel you used. But the overpowering smell of you, your sex, your arousal, your hot wet centre sends a red haze before my eyes and I almost lose control as I plunge my face against your pussy, pushing my tongue as deep into you as I can, searching all. The 'big ship' was an idea past its prime. Gold Roper could not fault the argument, emotionally could not accept it but passed it on to his peers without comment. The response was deafening in its silence – a sure measure of the thought being given to it.The killer of ships was the projectile; in the days of wooden shop there was fire as well but fire was most often secondary to the projectile. The projectile increased in size and explosive was added to increase the damage caused. Bigger. More

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