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"You see there is no treasure." she averred as she covered her teats with her hands and shivered with fear.But I saw it, beneath the tuft of reddish fur her own treasure lurked awaiting its master, but first I remembered poor Harriet and so I drew my whip, "Turn away," I ordered and I flashed the whip across her buttocks left then right then left again until she had a veritable look of a Scottish tartan about her hind quarters."No there is no treasure," she wailed.I waved my pistol at her as I reloaded its fellow, "On your back," I ordered.The ground was dry, the fallen leaves of late summer early autumn crisp and she lay as I ordered, "I shall check your whore's purse I said nastily and as she lay I pried apart her knees and looked at her slot.I tried to ease a finger inside at first then I tried to peel back her soft pink lower lips to look within and by my effort which made her squirm and gasp by so doing I assured myself that she was indeed intact and thus disease free, though . Yesterday had been a big push over the second big ridge, and today, according to our route and site reservation, was going to be a middling hike to a little lake, so we could take it a little easy. We'd set up our camp at dusk last night, quite exhausted from the high air and steep climbs, and barely remembered to tie up the food in a tree and cover the backpacks before crawling into the tent. We had not been too tired to tangle with each other in our double cocoon, and we wrestled in the gathering darkness. Evening sounds of the darkening wooded valley site were joined by laughter and squeals, then moans and growls, and finally her feminine cries as I thrust down into her upturned sex, my chest against her back, pressing her against the soft pine-needle covered forest floor on the other side of our sleeping bags and tent-bottom.We slept well and long, rolled onto our sides from our coupling. At some point in the night I slipped out of her, but any mess was largely contained by the.
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