The winter was mild and Bain’s head throbbed in the light of the merciless sun of the Texas panhandle, as if a brass band marched inside his skull. ...he two-month-old wound had healed, but still, the pain persisted. He cursed the trooper who had cracked him on the back of his head. What a wicked work of butchery that day had held. Old Indian men, squaws, and children had been slaughtered in cold blood. Its author had been his friend, well, now ex-friend, George Armstrong Custer. And he’d done. " Timmy coughs, "zoom in – I love the way the saddle holds her lips apart. I can just imagine you eating her out through that soft fabric. My step-sister caught me spying on her this morning. Molly's got an exercise bike in her bedroom, always leaving the door open for me. Just wearing her favourite blue panties, she was cycling hard and getting really sweaty. You could see a huge damp patch between her legs and smearing onto the saddle when she leant forward. When she eventually climbed off. More

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