YES

She looks a bit too much like her sister – so much so it makes your stomach turn, in fact. You have seen the One-Eyed Captain wear the same expression on a wild night’s morn. Her dress disordered and rumpled too – or your dear friend would wear no clothes at all. You’d stand in the door and watch her kick out her latest conquest, or not bother to hide her toys while she dressed herself.

You walk over to her, stiff-kneed and dazed. Your dick is not yet hard, but she opens for you. The One-Eyed Captain would act oblivious but she did take the time to show off her body while you pretended to look away. You are professionals, and so it never went beyond teasing. {if Connected: The One-Eyed Captain > 2} Not until she invited you to her cabin and teased you with her feet. The Younger Dustwell does not tease, and you banish the thought to the deepest depths of your brain.{else} Even if you sometimes wondered, and even if one of you had to – on occasion – restrain the other. There is no restraint now. {endif}

Her black lips envelop your shaft and her sloppy kisses wake you to hardness. ”Fuckin’ nice.” She gives it another slurping lick and spreads her legs.

Maybe the One-Eyed Captain can forgive you. You are friends {if Connected: The One-Eyed Captain < 3} – and nothing more – and on this morning you and her sister both need a fuck. {else}. Whatever else happened; whatever your feelings for each other, you are friends. And on this morning you and her sister both need a fuck. {endif} Maybe she’ll approve. Maybe she doesn’t need to know.

You catch a glimpse of her sex, of tender fingers pushing soiled panties aside, and of her hand working to further dishevel the almost innocent dress. Spit and precum drip down to her naked leg and she gags. A long and frothy rope descends from the corner of her mouth, and she then sucks you back in.

Her hungry hole is slick with need, a hungry void that closes to swallow up her knuckles. She moans, letting go of your cock. ”Fuck!” She screams. ”Fuck me already!”

You push her back, turn her around, grab both her arms, and enter her from behind. She raises her head to scream out her arousal, and you silence her with a rough kiss as you continue to plunge into the overflowing wetness.

Sweat glistens on her skin and drips from your brow. Her crumpled dress is torn, and you undo the buttons until her breasts swing free and until she writhes atop the thin, green rag. You have turned her around, and she has crossed her legs over your back. Her lips quiver. You taste sour Mash and suckle on her spring-stiff peaks. She moans again, and – overflowing – guides your thrusts into her. Faster and faster, until shudders relax her grip – until you pull out and spray her sex and belly with thick ropes of white.

She purrs as she teases her lower lips apart and spreads your load along the thin line of her dark fur. ”Thanks,” she mumbles. ”But I should go.” She rolls away and hurries to dress herself.

But she does pause in the door, long enough to grant you one last look at her in her whorish dress, the thin fabric used and torn. A ray of light falls across her dishevelled hair and reveals a bashful smirk. ”See you around,” she says and is gone.