"Battle Stations, Battle Stations, All Hands Man Your Battle Stations. Damage Control Parties Muster At Your..." the booming announcement cut off when...the door closed, but it was evident that the ship she was on was heading into some sort of conflict. Whether it was with another unarmed passenger liner or with a Union military ship, it could only be to her advantage if she could find a way to help the other side.Her thoughts felt jumbled and disjointed. She needed information, she needed to. Taking her breasts in her hands, Catherine fired back, Randi returned it and in short order, the two had set a steadily increasing pace that, with each thrust, sent the majority of the plastic dong driving into the innards of the other woman. Lifting her head, Catherine watched with fascination as the English woman's abs did their work, clenching then releasing, her diamond bellybutton ring roiling across her stomach.Randi was in trouble. With each thrust, she lost a little more of her. I slowly stroked my fingers over her skin. She was breathing evenly now, as she continued to lay against my side. She had moved back to her sleeping position: the center of her body was snuggled firmly into my right side, her right leg was draped over my legs, her right arms was across my abs, and her head laid against my chest. I felt her fingers drawing lazy patterns on my chest. Her luscious breasts were once again pressed firmly against my skin. We both were quiet now, as we enjoyed this. The TV was on but couldn't recognize the show. She heard someone say, "He's dead, Jim!" but didn't recognize the voice, and figured the he must be watching some crime drama.Her breathing finally became regular and relaxed again, but she was having serious doubts about this. "Damn!" she thought, "I wish I have given him a safe-word or stop signal!"After a couple of minutes, the phone rang. She heard him pick up the TV remote and then heard the VCR buzzing as it started taping the show. He turned.
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