GloryHole Rachele Richey 01 30 2017
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CowboyChapter 8 free porn video
It was night time; with the men at the head of the animals, Mrs O’Hara took a breath and started.
“You should know, I am expecting again. I haven’t been checked, but I am sure. I can feel it, as I felt you. Two months” Mrs O’Hara started in on a difficult conversation. The girls calculated back and realised it had been the time they had settled for a short time, minding a farm whilst the family went back East. Their parents had risen late every day, and every night the creaking of their bed was quite audible. They both smirked. After the night they had spent with Cavendish Young, sex was not far from their minds. They both involuntarily imagined their parents ‘doing it’ and immediately stopped themselves and replace their mother with themselves; Nuala replaced her father with Cavendish, Sinead found she could not and grimaced at the mental image she now had.
“Sinead! I am talking to you! This is important! Bear in mind, we are married. You two are not. Cavendish Young is a fine young man but he shows no desire to settle down. I know what you did last night, your father would be shocked so we shall not illuminate him. See to it that you do not fall pregnant to that boy. Take precautions.”
The girls did not understand.
“Really? Are you so ignorant? Oh well, I suppose that is natural. Out here morals are easier and so virginity is given up more freely, but the consequences still redound on the girl – both physical and reputational. In our home land, Galway, when a girl wanted to keep a boy but he wasn’t willing to commit yet. If he was being insistent. You know what I mean Nuala, stop acting the giddy goat!”
“Sorry Mama”
“When a boy was being insistent but perhaps was too young to marry, she could offer other things”
“Mama! We know about rubbing a boy’s thing. That’s actually all that happened last night. He is a gentleman and refused us though we offered. He said we might still escape”
“Well then, perhaps he would be a worthwhile catch after all. But your father would never have an Englishman in the family so he wouldn’t. And I’d not be so keen on a Protestant! Or maybe he’d convert?”
“He’s not interested; he said he’s for travelling for a while yet”
“Well, then daughters, listen carefully. In Galway, a girl might find she had another hole that could accommodate a boy quite well. It isn’t pleasant mind. Make sure he puts butter or cooking oil on it before ... What?”
Nuala was looking blank, she had no idea what her mother meant; Sinead was looking horrified, she had a clear idea what her mother meant. She leant over and whispered to Nuala. “Oh, yes! I see. That’s brilliant!”
“Aren’t you disgusted? I know I am”
“But Sinead, you are a prig. Look, if it goes in and you can’t get pregnant, where’s the harm?”
“Nuala! I am not advocating it! I am saying it can be used as a last resort. Oh, you’ll be the death of me!”
“Mother, did you... ?” Sinead didn’t want to ask if her mother had actually had anal sex with her father, she didn’t want to imagine it, but she did want to know if her mother was talking in theory or practice.
“No, I never did. Your father was a wonderful and patient suitor.
But your Aunty Angelina, I think. No, we shall never see her again, no, I know she did!. She was being courted by Derek Henderson, the son of the manager of the estate. You won’t remember him. He was handsome, though a Scot. I would often come across them, his hands were in places that a respectable girl would only allow a serious suitor to reach. Yes, you know what I mean!
She confided that she was thinking of giving way to his pleading. I begged her to be careful. Then one day I went into a barn and found her allowing him access to that other place. She told me later, now be warned, that it hurt like hell. But at least it meant she did not get with child. Which was all to the good because he married Cynthia Burley of Enniskillen the following summer.”
“But Aunty Angelina married Mr. Burke? Did he never know?”
“Of course not, a man might just; just!, I say; he might just accept a woman who was not a virgin, but he would never take a woman who had been fucked up the arsehole! Oh, excuse me!” She had forgotten who she was speaking to for a moment. “But the beauty of it is that, used sparingly, it is impossible to detect, and a woman’s purity remains intact for her wedding night.”
The girls were about to flood her with questions, but their father was coming back to them and the conversation ceased, never to start again “You two should be sleeping. We might push on in the daylight. The two of us could sleep if the girls could drive the train?”
They made good time, but it was not enough. With a day to go the water ran out. The track stretched across the land and nothing moved. Somewhere beyond the horizon the river was flowing in a shallow valley, but they wouldn’t make it. They passed a skeleton of a waggon, inside was the skeleton of a person. This was the price of failure, she had buried all the rest of her family (though passing coyotes had swiftly dug into the shallow graves) and then had died herself. Their livestock had probably died, there was no sign of their bones. Without the draught animals they were trapped in the desert and patiently waited for death, with the slight chance of another party passing and rescuing them. It hadn’t happened. This was a time of self-reliance and fatalistic acceptance of God’s judgment.
That evening the wind blew from the West. The humans were too dense, too poorly equipped after generations of living in houses, they could not smell the water. The bullocks could. They lowed loudly and strained at their harnesses. Perhaps that had happened to the wagon they had passed. “Quickly now, hitch them to the wagon, they will break free anyway. They may as well pull us with them” said Mr. O’Hara. The desperate animals moved faster than ever before, faster than was good for them or safe for the wagon; but no-one cared. When they reached the water, they let the animals pull straight in and drink their fill, they had earned it. It was midnight.
“Well” said Hank “I didn’t expect to see any of you again.” And walked away. He was a man of few words unless he was drunk, or angry.
Later the four ‘professionals’ sat and talked. “We’re losing time because of those damned Live All Nights. They won’t travel on a Sunday! Have you ever heard such a thing? Stupid fuckers! Anyway, now you’re back you can take a watch with the rest of us.
Well done for getting the O’Haras back. I’d have left ‘em there”
“You did”
“Yeah, I have a responsibility to the whole group. It wasn’t because they were fucking Irish! I would have left anyone. You have to keep going. I told everybody that.
You can have two days, no, that’ll make it Sunday. FUCK! Three days then.”
Later he had to admit that the one day of rest worked surprisingly well, they made the same distance in a week because the team – the people and the animals – had a chance to recuperate, do maintenance, rest. It worked. He hated the Livonites even more because of them being right.
“See that rock on the other side of the river? Up the bank. Yeah. It’s steep. Well from there you should be able to see out across the plain, and along the valley. That’s the direction they’ll come, one or the other. Get up there and keep watch will ya?” He was talking to Cavendish.
“Who will come?”
“The band that’s been watching us since we arrived. I know they’re around.”
“Why wouldn’t they come from up there, where you’re sending me? They’d have a brilliant view.”
“Yeah, they would, and we’d have a brilliant view of anyone coming down that slope. You couldn’t do it without being seen. The plane is rocky and flat, rocks for cover, flat for a rush. That’s where I’d attack from. But maybe they’re waiting till we get into the dry valleys. They’d need to know which one though else they’ll have a big workaround to do.”
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