Hot Amateur Indians Dancing In A Hotel Room
When he finished he walked to the chuck wagon for his grub. The cook put his meager rations into an empty flour sack. The Indian tied the sack securely with a single rawhide strip. He then tied the bag around his waist. He walked to his pony then looked over at me. I knew then, and only then, were we ready to go. The Indian rode a small painted pony. It hardly seemed possible but the small pony was able to go longer than the old chestnut mare I rode. The mare was faster but the pony had more endurance. The Indian had signed onto the drive with two of the little beasts. The other was mixed in with the small heard of horses which followed along behind the cattle. Since horses were harder to control, the herd had it’s own drover. Twenty men could not ride five hundred miles on twenty horses. Each man had at least two favorite horses he used. All the men except me. I hated all the ugly, stupid, smelly beast equally. I rode whatever horse was available. I didn’t like one any better than. Saturday night ended so badly, a marital disaster. She could count on one hand--with a finger or two left over--the times she had cold-shouldered Tom for more than one night. She had hated herself, today, despising this implacable attitude. He’d been so gentle with her tonight, too, inflaming her guilt.He raised his head from her breast. “You serious about seeing me with another man, love?”Penny blinked in surprise. And then shivered as fingertips coursed the inside of her thigh to between her legs. She writhed as a middle finger penetrated her lush wetness. She was squishy inside, filled with his seed. Soon they’d need to resort to the hated condoms; it was nearly ovulation time.“As part of a foursome, yes. Not if you find the idea thoroughly abhorrent, though. Then we’ll forget it. No hard feelings, Tom.” She rubbed his dishevelled hair, still a lustrous black at 40. Everything was lustrous about him, she thought with a wry grin, penis included. Which she wouldn’t mind having.
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