No, she wanted to be ready for Tall Elk’s return. The quiet sloop, sloop, sloop, of the dog’s tongue was rhythmic. It might have lulled...her to sleep, if it had not been accompanied by the burning fire spreading in her loins. She grunted and hunched her pussy against the dog’s tongue. It continued lapping eagerly, unaware of its effect on the beautiful Indian woman. A simple black and white dog, a mut, was doing what most of the men in the tribe fantasized about doing. Tall Elk was no. The jet spurting from under the all covering flowery dress, d****d over her knees. Again, that brief eye contact, but this time he dropped his eyes to the thin stream of urine, she sliding the dress back allowing him to see the mound between her legs, hairy but not excessively, the stream coming from below that, but still not a sight of the centre of his eager minds imagination. Moments past, the stream dried, his eyes never leaving the area as her right hand with a tissue from her handbag,. More

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