Sarthaji Fucking His Housewife
I sat embarrassed. I had after all only killed one Viking, hardly the stuff of legends but the islanders were obviously not going to be denied their hero and they hoisted me up, tossing me in the air and carrying me round on their shoulders chanting "The Norse-slayer". I looked over and saw that Kirsty was smiling broadly at my predicament.A feast was indeed prepared, meats being roasted on spits, bread and cheese in abundance and whisky and ale without limit. I was subdued and had no great appetite. The realisation that I had been the architect of a great slaughter was settling over me and, internally, I was trying to come to terms with that."Such mayhem, such death, the blood." I thought to myself. "Many hundreds perhaps dead and all because of me. Well, are you proud of yourself now Scott?"Kirsty was watching me, saw that I was distracted from the feast and had come to know me well enough to guess what torture I was putting myself through. She sat down beside me, snuggling in to my. She hoped it was not her mamacita come to pay her a visit.Bat shouted through the locked door."Open up, Hardison, I know you are in there. I got Miss Lucy here to continue her conversation with you."The Marshall placed his Stetson over his semi-erect cock and opened the door. A somewhat drunk Sheriff entered pulling the mortified ex-schoolteacher behind him. The yellow and black low-cut gown did nothing to hide the swell of her heaving bosoms. She was wearing the black fishnet stockings that were all the fashion in Tombstone for most females of dubious character claiming residence in the rough and tumble Western crossroads town. The raised black leather boots were specially made for her to accentuate the curve of her beautiful ass cheeks and the shapely tone of her long slender legs.Teresa hid her face in the pillow but made no effort to cover her plump and erotically shaped bottom or to hide her generous and gloriously nippled breasts. Her trimmed bush was obviously recently used.
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