"It's an old sub ... Captain," Scottie said. "One gasoline engine ... might even be a Holland." They're stalking us?" Probably..." Do they do this oft...n?" Captain, I was a drunk ... people talk around me. They're sure I won't remember. I remember." What?" A group of Imperial Navy officers were meeting some American arms merchants in a bar in Saigon. The Japs wanted a German submarine ... the Yanks had one. This would have been ten years or so ago." Scottie ruminated. "The officers were saying. It was a pleasure to be able to talk shop with Marcy, Ching Lee and Jenny on the ride. Vicky and Lorrie were in the SUV behind us.I was early; the ride had gone so fast. I had the coffee done and was sipping on the first mug when Ben and the group came in. I had been watching the ZNN morning update on the African Massacre. That was the name they had given the Crown Prince’s killing. They were still giving no real information, not that I needed any.ISIS was still being blamed, they were stupid. Her pussy hadnever been trimmed but the triangle of hair was perfectly shaped by natureand equally golden in color. He had inserted his finger in her cunt and immediately discerned that shewas a virgin. He secured her to his fuck-table, her arms outstretched aboveher head, her perfectly shaped legs spread wide. She could not move. The fattywas another matter. She was so fat that folds of skin hung everywhere. Eventhough she, too, was only twenty, her tits hung below her waist. Her pussyhair was. From the moment they found seats at the club, a man in the shadows sent Sharon a drink, a strong one. After three more rounds of the same, he moved from the shadows, self-assuredly, in a direct line to her. He was handsomely chiseled with strong cheek bones, and jet-black hair. Sharon noted that he was wearing a charcoal Dolce and Gabbana suit. Though she lowered her eyes, he held out his hand to her asking, ‘May I?’ She looked up all the way from his shoes, which were polished to a high sheen,.