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..Cut back to the bridge... The situation is dire... The aft shields arefailing... the "Captain" is in a foetal position on the deck, his trouserssoaked with urine... Close-up of Sulu's sweating, desperate face... Thebridge elevator hisses open, and he looks over his shoulder...Captain Janice Lester strides onto the bridge in a her gold mini-dress,like a supermodel coming down the catwalk... It's her world, and she ownsit... High heels click on the deck plates... She snaps confident orders ina cool contralto, and the clammy hand of panic releases its hold on thecrew at their consoles... She steps over Kirk's huddled body, and takesthe command chair, absently tugging down the hem of her short skirt andcrossing her legs. She glances at the tactical displays, taking in thesituation almost subconsciously. The Klingon vessels have become separatedin their over-eager pursuit, and a predatory smile plays across her lips."Prepare photon torpedoes. Set maximum yield, continuous rapid fire on. I hope you don't mind. Here is the address, now Mr. Evans leaves shortly after seven, wait for him to leave before you see her, understood? I told her you charged by the day so she will pay you as soon as you get there, so one hour or six hours is the same to her." Yes ma'am, Bye." JJ cussed himself, he knew he could have fucked her, and his erection raised it's head again.Sitting at the table again, the conversation picked up where it left off, everything was the same. That is, everything except JJ, his erection was hurting him thinking how he missed fucking grandma. Helen stood and checked the oven and JJ almost shot into his trousers as he looked at her ass. Without thinking he rose and walked to her and lifted her dress. The squeal Helen gave was playful, he was sure of it. Turning her to the table, he pressed her dead and she leaned over the table, as he pulled her panties to her knees. In one quick plunge, JJ was buried deep in her pussy.She was wet, he realized as his shaft.
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She’d kept it close to her heart, it was the only way she could find the strength to forgive him.“You can never forgive me. You won’t even look at me.”“I did forgive you. I can forget, Donald. I will. I am looking at you, Donald. Please look at me.”“Your father won’t let me, Ann.”“Donald, my father is not me. I am not my father.”“Yes, yes, yes, the great Danny Thomas.”He’d waited for her to launch him. He pounced:“How does he introduce me, Ann? Let’s see,,, oh yeah, I got it:“And Ann’s power mower, (paramour) Donald Hollinger, a beat writer for a great metropolitan newspaper.”She used to have to stifle a laugh at such introduction, no more, it had been a while. And he wouldn’t stop, no matter how many times she’d approach him, appeal to him:“Daddy, please.” He wouldn’t even look at her.“He’s a comic by trade, Donald. It’s his craft, his way, his very life.”“Also his way to prompt my ability to support you at marriage?”“$67.50, huh, hot shot? You going to pay the rent on that fancy.

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