I press the buzzer at the general’s door, and hear his voice call, “Enter.” “Sir,” I say, as I walk into the room. The general is sat behind a large desk, with a facing chair on its opposing side already prepared for me. I’ve known him for years but salute him smartly all the same. “Colonel,” he says, gesturing to the chair. “My apologies for waking you. Please sit.” I do. He surveys me for a moment, like a schoolmaster considering a difficult pupil. The general is a small man, wiry-built and in his sixties, but he still has a sharpness and a manner that commands respect. “Colonel de Santo,” the general says. “May I call you Melena?” I look suspiciously at him. First names in the fleet mean bad news. “If you must, Sir,” blowjob I say. “You have been critical in our Republic’s fight against the Slavers of Aghara-Penthay,” he begins, “and proven your courage again and again.” There is not much I can reply with to this flattery, but, “It’s a fight I believe in, General.” It is crossdressers a cause close to my heart. I detest the Slavers, and everything they represent, and I think there is no more important task for the space fleet than bringing about their defeat. For decades, no, centuries, the Slavers have been the scourge of this part of the galaxy. Acting like common raiders, they prey on ships following their legitimate business along the trade routes, and like all pirates the Slavers come not to destroy, but to plunder. As their title suggests, their fortune comes from the capture and sale of slaves. They’ve been so successful at this work that over the centuries they’ve grown hugely wealthy. These riches enabled them to afford so many ships and armaments to protect themselves that now they can menace amateur this region with impunity. Even the Republic’s space fleet cannot currently beat them in their home territory, and dare not approach their hub, the horrific planet of Aghara-Penthay. We’ve fought a series of skirmishes along the frontier, encounter after encounter for decades fuck and no sign of a victor. “We all want to see them defeated,” says the general with a nod of agreement that anal our cause is the right one. “And I can imagine that as a woman, you particularly oppose them.” Briefly I feel myself scowl, disliking any reference to my gender and how it might make a difference. He is, however, unfortunately correct. While the Slavers deal in slaves of any kind, and are known for selling some healthy, strong males for breeding stock or for intense physical labor, their specialty and their fortune comes from trading women. Beautiful women. Rosa was sure she had come up with a plan anal to lure Karen away from her brother. I heard other moans and pants of passion. Every step towards it was a risk of collapsing, the sight of the beast that she would name Dumin exciting her more than any human man she had seen, her eyes locked upon his brutal, twitching cock. “Yes!” She gave him a knowing little look, "No, no boyfriend, and no, that doesn't fuck mean it's a vacant position you can fill." Jill does add that we don't have a deep fryer if they need one. It made the guilt almost unbearable, but the warmth of my daughter’s form quelled amateur the anguish. Distracted with those thoughts, the homeless man had surprised her, and then had made a fool of her. My only regret is having to put Alexis in the middle of all this. • Illness The company is doing spectacular, yet she still has a lot of work to do. See, she is licking her clit, it’s the sensitive little crossdressers bud at the top of your pussy. Revealing that she wore pink blowjob silk panties.