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Jasmeena I presume, looking very different to the woman I last saw being torn apart by Jackran-ad-aktar. I look down from the screen, and back to the bar. A group of men hangs around outside, lounging back on chairs and laughing raucously. Guys on shore leave. They’re dressed in oily overalls – probably crew from one of the freighters. These are the bottom of the food chain as far as asian space crew go, but I can’t help smile at their loud humor. One of them notices me and exclaims to his friends, “Holy God… Look! There’s Melena de Santo.” Blushing, I’m trying to hurry away before the attention of all of them turns to me, but already he calls, “Stop, Melena.” I do stop, and politely I turn to see what he wants. The man is middle aged, fat and overweight. Hardly a great physical specimen, but a man. He’s sitting in a chair, looking up at me. His gaze is blatantly obvious in the way he leers up and down my body. I remind myself he’s only reacting the way any heterosexual guy does when presented with a beautiful, underdressed woman. All the same the instinct of the former virgin is to hide myself, and I cross an arm over my chest to hide the obvious swelling of my breasts. Fat man opens his knees, slapping one large thigh. “Don’t be shy, Melena. Come sit fuck here,” he calls. His friends are passing derisive comments about his total lack of success with women, fully expecting me to walk away. I don’t like anyone getting bullied, so I’m pleased to see surprise on a few faces as I take my place, sitting on his vast leg, and I look calmly about the circle. From amongst them I see they have a woman in their number, a rather mannish blonde with short cropped hair and a hard face. The big guy seems as surprised as they do japanese that I took the offered seat, and he rather uncertainly slips an arm round me, which feels massive in comparison to my slender back. “Sweet mercy,” one of his friends says reverentially. “She’s even more beautiful in real life,” and blushing I shrink back against the fat man, seeking his protection. A part of me didn’t seem to want him touching me, and I didn’t want the bare skin of my slim legs sitting on his overweight ones. And yet the sensation of his arm around my hourglass waist Hardcore isn’t entirely unpleasant. I can imagine myself feeling safe buried in his bulk. This doesn’t seem enough justification for remaining or my decision to sit however, and I’m mentally examining my own motivations for sitting in his lap when a brown skinned fellow in a leather flying exotic jacket offers an explanation. “Implants!” he gasps with inspiration. I broke from the asian kiss. She japanese answered first with just a nod, then realized he had to watch the road, "Yeah, I'm okay." Nate exotic opened his mouth and I filled it with piss; he closed and swallowed then reopened for more. Take that and use it to wash yourself.” When the mother and daughter couple already going into the washroom, I take a seat on the stairs and are waiting for mother and daughter. He slowly slid into her tight pussy and she fuck gasped in sheer delight. Through her forest of slick curls. Oh yes!" Most of them didn't look like coaches, even if they wore the same shorts Hardcore and T-shirts, and many of them didn't act much like coaches, either. Alone and scared.