Princess Wendolyn Elizabeth Wanzor Austin." Princess? Are we at war?" It was a Brit, sir. And, sir ... please call me Junior. My mom is the princess ..... I'm just the heir apparent." Junior? If you insist. A Pommy? How did a Pommy get on board your boat?" He's Aide du Camp to one of the Admirals?" You have Royal Navy Admirals on board? How many? Where did they come from?" Four, Sir. I don't know. If you don't know I have to assume they're terrorists ... they showed up with a file of SAS troops. The stranger had mounted her like a breeding bitch, plowing into her tight little shit hole with reckless abandon. She whimpered and clutched the cushions in a death grip, vying for release. Her heavy breasts beat upon the couch with every thrust and her thick, perfect ass molded itself to his hands as they gripped her tighter and tighter. He stood high and mighty and tall while his mother was bent over like a dog. Being used. He commanded her to get back onto her knees. She obeyed, falling. More

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