Sharyn was always a screamer and a squirter. ‘Molleeeee, Molleeee, aaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!’ Sure enough, thought Margarethe, my ship, my stateroom, my ne... clean bedding, my strap-on and my lube, and my damn woman. Molly didn’t scream, but the sound of body against body was clearly audible throughout the ship. Molly wasn’t a squirter, her orgasm was a muffled grunting, animal, primitive. ‘Ungh ungh ungh ahhhhh!’ Bloody hell, rinse and repeat, thought Margarethe. They did. This was what Sharyn and. For too long, Carla had been pretty much goal-less, out of school and out of work (she quit her part-time job after we decided we could make ends meet -- though just barely -- on my earnings from the convenience store job I held, coupled with my tutoring an increasingly steady flow of students). Worse, Carla had even shied way from her beloved acting for several months. Auditions seemed to go poorly for her because she said she simply couldn't get interested in the play. She kept insisting that. More

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