She paused just outside of the door, sitting back against her heels against the tug of the leash, holding on to that last shred of control that she ha... for as long as possible. He debated letting her sit there, knowing how badly she had to go but opted to enforce his will on her physically instead. A sharp smack of hand to her hip had her up and moving again, her hands and knees soon in the cool grass as he led her to where he wanted her. He paused, knowing that she understood what he. It was the exact middle of the cruise, tropical, warm days giving way to balmy nights on deck. In their air conditioned cabin, they rarely bothered with much clothing. Apart from the practicality of it, it meant they were both acutely aware of each other's bodies most of the time. They'd been to Sandy's Bar, as usual, and Sandy had flirted with him, as usual. But on that night, Mark was reserved, almost shy. Helen was his mother and knew his moods. So she asked him. They went back to there. More

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