She hated fishing season. Hell, it had gotten to the point that she hated fish all together. Sex between them was almost non-existent from June to Aug...st, and weekends were horrible. He brought his fishing gear to work with him and spent hours each evening standing hip deep in Ship Creek casting over and over. Early morning weekend sex--a mainstay during the long, dark winters--was a thing of the past. Saturdays meant up before what passed for dawn in Alaska, and out the door for hour after. She was so inflamed with desire that her orgasm was building almost from the first moment that she felt Steve’s cock deep inside her. She couldn’t keep quiet, and gasped and moaned as she neared, and then broke through into the mindless animalistic state of sheer pleasure. “OH‼! she said, as she felt Steve ejaculate inside her, and she collapsed onto him, to be encircled by his arms. “A good one, eh?” came a voice from the other side of the shelter. Helen laughed.Jane stammered her reply, “Oh. More

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