The few times I’ve touched myself the response of my body – flaring into passion – makes me feel like there’s a sexual animal inside me that could claim me utterly once it was released. First and foremost I’m a Colonel in the Republic fleet. I can’t let myself be reduced to something so aroused I cry out uncontrollably. I’m strong, not a woman who can be made desperate to orgasm. So my limited sexual encounters have always been kept strictly to my terms. I gave head to a guy at boot camp, swallowing his slimy seed like pussy I’d heard girls were japanese supposed to do. I made out with a few guys, but as soon as they dared their hands inevitably would stray to my breasts, wanting to play with nipples that are almost as responsive as my more intimate place. I’d push them away, and they’d call me cold. Always the same pattern with roaming hands and me fighting off the advances, until later on I was able to use my rank as a shield. I was relieved when the requests for dates finally stopped. But still they look. They always look. God damn my body! I hit the button hard to open my door. One of the cleaning orderlies is changing the bedding on my regulation cot. She has brought in a huge laundry basket – too large to carry, so it’s on wheels, with canvas sides. She’s in the blue jumpsuit of a civilian. “Ma’am,” she says politely to chinese me, as I walk in. She’s an exceptionally pretty girl, this one. Not delicate, but a strong beauty, like a sportswoman. She’ll be one of those japan unfortunates living a life like mine – unable to bend over in the gym without guys staring, and ordered into a asian subservient place by her boss, who is inevitably a man. Yes, I think to myself, watching with righteous indignation as she humbly goes about work. Her kind of role is the only place where the fleet wants pretty women. If you’re desirable, that means you’re only good for performing menial tasks like changing bedding. I haven’t noticed this particular woman before, but there is a crew of hundreds on the ship, and new people arrive all the time. All the same, the beautiful ones usually stand out. Everyone on the ship knows my name, for example. My hair doesn’t help. It’s a deep red color, the shade of wine, and it’s ruler-straight, never showing the least trace of a curl. Okay the attention from my hair is partly my fault - I’m vain about the color, and I grew it long, down to the base of my spine, way back in my teens. But as for the rest of my body – that I could do nothing about. It was my genes that decided I’d be tall and slender, with delicate features and large eyes that make my face look even more feminine. "Husband, as always you speak too quickly, here you accuse Hermes of being too quick. She put the shrivelling junk back in its underwear and zipped it up. They didn’t judge me harshly, quite the contrary. As a lamia slave to the nagas, I was used by many of their servants before Sven rescued me. “He is a man you will want to serve. He laughed. “It can be yours,” Lilith purred as I thrashed through my orgasm. Waves of heat washed through me. Stars asian danced before me. His fingers brushed my clit. “Spank me, Daddy. Sofia and I slowly walk around checking out the different food. This would be her prize; the history books would add her name to the records, Mikayla Kuvasz, the woman who solved the mystery of the Yamani River. I lost count how many times she came that night but it was dozens and each one became a bit more physically demanding. I have to call her Ma'am or Ma'dam at chinese japanese all times. Warning pussy sirens now. “How do you think we should do your hair today?” Leveria asked, moving behind me. She was pretty, had a great body, a shaved pussy, liked to fuck and lived in the same house. The sound of her voice was sweet like honey. “Thanks! quant - 2 1/2 years Charlie Larusso is now your direct superior. Are you actually going to rub it in his face? Any boy who would lay with his father and swallow his jizz six times is pretty much a whore to begin japan with. The slightly built Korean girl was the shortest person on the squad, and her feet swung well above the ground as two "coaches" suspended her between them, working her up and down on the erections that penetrated her fore and aft. This is hard work, I thought to myself, oh well, never mind. Most ‘experts’ don’t even think Sentients are real, despite evidence to the contrary.