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As long as those fools stuck together, I had a better chance of living through this mess I had gotten myself into. Unfortunately, I did not have a very good firing position to do much useful shooting at them bandits, so I was going to have to move, and the sooner the better. I looked around for a better place to fight from, both from the point of view of shooting the bandits and of not getting shot myself. I also needed to get to it without exposing too much of my precious skin.I had surveyed almost all of the territory around me before I saw the most likely place for me to run to. It was a small clump of trees of big enough diameter to afford some shelter from the bullets fired by a Henry. I was not worried about bullets from pistols at this stage. There was a shallow gully running from close to me to close to the trees, so I figured that would be my best choice of a path to follow.I shoved my hat firmly on my head and picked up my Henry. I bent nearly double as I ran for that gully.. .. me,” she gasped.“No.” I shook my head, but she was so lost in the throes of her impending orgasm that she didn’t see me. “Your stomach, or your face. Which’ll it be?”“In ... side ... me,” she begged as I continued to thrust into her. “Please.”“Sorry,” I said, feeling my climax imminent. “My choice.”I slid into her one final time and felt the first rush of orgasm. I pulled my cock out and let it slide along her channel. The crown bumped her clit and she cried out in frustration. I kept humping, dragging the underside of my cock along her slit, and felt the first spurt of semen coursing up my shaft. With a grunt, I pressed forward, rubbing my manhood against her slippery pussy. I ground my hips against her and shuddered with the force of my climax; waves of pleasure washed over me as I spurted onto her stomach.As my orgasm slowly subsided, I looked down at Susan’s frantic face. She looked at me wildly and pressed her hips against my erection. I smiled wickedly and pulled back,.
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There were no laugh lines around the mouth or his pale gray eyes, but plenty of deep worry lines on his forehead. He was middle aged, probably about seventy-five or eighty Earth years old, but his manner was that of someone much older.The man was accompanied by a pair of well-dressed bruisers, in matching suits that gave the impression of uniforms, who placed themselves inside the room, one on each side of the door, and stared at him impassively."Mr. Depres, or perhaps I should call you Pan, yes? Or, just maybe, you prefer David Moore, your birth name."Pan crossed his arms in front of his chest, feigning nonchalance, determined not to show how fast his heart was beating or the sudden chill he felt at the information revealed in those two simple sentences. He elected to remain silent, and waited for the other shoe to drop."I am Mr. Smith. This is my ship. You are my guest. You will remain my guest for as long as you are useful to me." The man spoke in short, clipped sentences, as if.

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