She was not ingenue pretty, but I kept on looking again and again.I got up and asked another woman to dance at another table and was turned down again... Now I'm no Redford, but I'm not terribly hard to look at. I'm big, 6' 4" and weigh about 235. I'm 32 and in reasonably good shape. I just don't look cowboy and none of the ladies seemed to be interested in dancing with someone who so obviously wasn't "country".I came back to the table shrugging my shoulders and saying I just should break down. Whenever she had a bath she would keep it wedged away so tightly behind her crossed legs until it felt like her legs would break off. How many times did she pray when going to bed that she would wake up as a girl again. But every morning, the thing was still there, mocking her.Then there was the day that she noticed that the thing had what looked like a seam along the bottom - or was it a scar? For a while she was convinced that that proved that it had been put on with an operation. Erica. I was going back to about the same time as Sutter and Marshall. It would not surprise me to see those two gentlemen. I was just about ready. All I needed to do was change my clothes, and get into my authentic 1848 clothing. Then I had to get my weapons ready.I had an authentic 1844 US Musket. It was fired with a percussion cap, and shot a 69-caliber ball. I had 100 balls, and wads, with two hundred caps. I had powder for it, and intended to shoot it while in the past.Just for safety's sake, I. "Pull my hair," she moaned. I grabbed her hair, that long black hair. I had hold of all of it. I pulled on her hair like it was a horse's main as I fucked her, pulling her head back with each deep thrust of my cock.I fucked the shit out of her. I had a handful of hair and was fucking her balls deep as hard as I could. I felt powerful. I felt like she was my possession, like I could do whatever I wanted with her. She was hurting; she had to be, but she was enjoying it. I was absolutely hammering.
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