Champagne Grapes

were dribbled lightly upon my back, waking me up.

"Don't. Move," The Captain lay his hand on my head.

I didn't.

He put his mouth on me, sucking in a tiny grape and then he continued, working his way down my back until he had inhaled all the tiny little champagne grapes he had placed. He ran his hand over the base of my spine and then, further down, he traced the line of bottom with his hands, the top portion with his tongue, and then, he raised me up on my knees, licking me from underneath, he finally threw me on my back, and rubbed his mighty erection against me.

"Are you ready?" he asked. And then, to be sure, he kneeled before me and began to lick me, making certain that I was.

"Yes," I said.

"Shiny," he began to fuck me, his hand holding my wrists.

"Mal, Mal," I moaned as he drove deeper and deeper inside me. Over and over he continued to thrust into me, with each stroke the pleasure got more and more intense.

"Hilda, Gorram it, Hilda, It's time," he spent and briefly collapsed on top of me. And then, to be sure, he administered to me orally, expertly, really.

I surely do love my Captain.

I remain,

Hilda Stinson