You'd think, after all these years of being a part of the most notorious thieving group - we're named the Saxons - in the Valley of Brittlewood, that I'd know better. Stealing from the mayor, shoot, I should've known I'd regret it, especially since I was doing it without Garret's knowledge, much less permission. Garret's the leader of our little thieving group.
Old West Gang Of Thieves
Cousin Will
She flung my suitcase in the boot of the Hillman and we drove along the winding gravel road to the farm. I collected my suitcase and followed Auntie Dottie inside the farm house.
Billy Historical Sex Story With Anal And Spanking
That shed hand did me every night for a week but, when there was no more work for him, the itinerant worker moved on to another farm. He left me both sore and lonely. There had been no one else after him. Most nights I jacked-off in my bunk. The tight, taut jeans-covered rump which flashed into my mind just before I ejacqulated, belonged to Billy.
Gay Western Showdown
Fuckin unbelievable. What am I doin here? I should be home on the range giving head to a ramrod or trail-boss, or even a chuck-wagon cook, not stuck out here, in the middle of the street wilting under a high noon sun with some fucking barn-boy ready to blow my fuckin' brains out.
Ancestor's Sex Diary
"My name is Oliver Jefferson, the fourth. I write this diary for no one other than myself. I am 69 years old, set to turn 70 in just a few days. I often think back on a time in my life when I was the happiest, yet at the same time it was a very sad time in my life. I try not to think about a certain person I knew, but if I were to be honest with myself I think about him every day, many times a day. If I could see him today I would tell him that I don't regret knowing him. Yet, I am full of regret. Regret for not being stronger, regret for not being a real man, regret for letting him out of my life.
Plantation Slave Fucks White Guy
I am a slave on a cotton plantation, I live with my woman called Portia and my child. Life is hard but good for us slaves, master Johnson up in the big house is good to us all. Well, as good as a white master can be to his slaves, but his no good white trash overseer is hard and cruel.
Authoritarian Boot At Folsom Street East - Historical
A guy from the crowd who was wearing 30 hold black Ranger boots stepped up to Lars and asked: "Is this your bootslave?" Lars replied: "I haven't collared him yet, but if he does a good job on my boots, he will be. Hey, the slut seems to be slowing down. Would you mind kicking his arse a few times with those heavy duty Rangers?" With that the man took two steps back and kicked Pete's ass with his powerful right boot. The force of the kick sent Pete's face flat against Lar's boot shaft. "Harder!" Lars commanded the onlooker, who then let fly with a powerful kick that made Pete grunt. A few guys in the crowd shouted encouragement as he kicked poor Pete three more times. Everyone had a good laugh as Pete intensified his bootlicking.
Torpedoed
At the age of 18, I was the only member of my family to have survived the bombing of Dresden. After the war I was repatriated to Australia to live with my mother's only brother. Uncle Kurt was in his late twenties. A friendly, outgoing man, he helped break down strong anti-German feelings, still present in a country which had lost so many of its sons.
Meet at the Rise of the Moon
Just two more places to go, and then he'd be done with his round. He slowed down. Listening intently, he continued at a crouching walk. "Pssst! Sean! Sean O'Farrell!" In a flash, he was over by the person who had hailed him. "It is tonight, then?" asked the young girl. "Aye!", said Sean. "Captain's orders: All must be ready at the rising of the moon. " "Ah. The old place by the river?" "The same.
Welcome Home, Soldier
A veteran of the Desert Campaign, I was delighted to once again be on Australian soil. Actually, I only had to walk a few yards from the troop ship tied to a wharf in Sydney harbor to a train which was waiting on the wharf. While I walked, I breathed in the clean, fresh air and felt the warm sunshine on my face. It was good to be home. The sleeping car attendant showed me to my compartment.
Become a Patreon to help us grow the site
Post Your Stories on Taletopia