Pasayten PeteChapter 2: Homesteaders free porn video

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Dee Johns found her home at the end of a washboard gravel road four miles northwest of Winthrop. "A place to settle down," she said. They were at Wolf Creek where it emerges from a deep canyon that cuts between the north end of Thompson Ridge and the south end of Virginian Ridge, the western wall of the upper valley.

It was a sweltering 100-mile drive northeast along the Columbia River, then north along the Methow River, following sharper and narrower bends, climbing and winding, crossing from side to side over bridges to skirt along skinny riverside benches where isolated homes and apple orchards lay squeezed between the river and the canyon sides. Finally, hours later, they saw through the cranked-open windscreen of the hot and clattering '37 Chevy panel truck a wooden signpost: "Wolf Creek Road 4 mi."

The house wasn't much. The lower log story was sheathed in vertical planks of rough-sawn lumber. It supported a plank-built upper story. The roof was covered with rusted flat metal sheeting. Two rooms downstairs and two rooms upstairs were divided by a steep and narrow central stairway that ran between enclosing walls, splitting the house cross-wise into equal halves.

A bay window extended the downstairs west end of the house into a tiny fenced yard, where yellow homestead roses still bloomed. Warm daylight flooded the interior. A screened half-porch sheltered the side yard entrance as a work space for laundry and rinse tubs.

The stairway footed at a seldom-used front door opening into a south yard and a pair of young elm trees pock-marked by vertical rows of Flicker borings. A narrow, rock-choked irrigation ditch flowed east beyond the yard, carrying snow field water from Wolf Creek to a barren pasture below the house.

Upstairs, two plank-floored bedrooms were spanned at their backs by a single walk-in closet that bridged the stairway and could be walked through from doorways at each end. Windows in each outside wall provided light and ventilation. Dee chose the room overlooking the west yard and driveway. Alex Jr. and Graydon got the room over the kitchen.

A black cast-iron, pot-bellied parlor stove with chrome trim and a mica-paned fire door heated the main room. Its black steel stovepipe rose up through the floor above to a brick chimney, its base set on a shelf high in the stairway enclosure. A cast-iron wood-fired range with high-backed warming ovens stood against the kitchen side of the stairway enclosure. An under-stair pantry stood beside the kitchen entrance. The two stoves heated the entire house.

Sawdust filled the spaces between the sheathing planks and the log walls for crude insulation. Under-layers of thick felt paper topped with layers of cracked wallpaper covered the downstairs log walls and the upstairs plank walls. Other than sawdust and layers of paper, the house had no insulation. When the wind blew, window drafts would flutter the flour-sack curtains Dee made with her foot treadle sewing machine. Winters in the Methow Valley commonly reached 20 and 30 degrees below zero.

Plumbing was primitive: one cold-water faucet over an enameled cast-iron sink. The sink drained to a dry sump outside the kitchen wall. A weather-beaten privy stood in a weed-choked apple grove 50 feet from the house. The door of the "two-holer" leaned open, hanging from dried and cracked leather hinges.

A smaller two-room, single story bunkhouse stood in fair repair across the main yard. A rock-walled root cellar lay buried under. A woodshed stood beside the cellar entrance. The bunkhouse and cellar doors stood half-open; the interiors reeked a musky stench of groundhog dung scattered on floors and shelves. A fresh groundhog burrow tunneled under the bunkhouse floor beside the cellar entrance.

The farmyard north of the house and bunkhouse lay divided by a shallow irrigation ditch, bounded on its east side by a chicken house with a screened run, and a teetering open-front machine shed. A rough-plank barn stood on the yard's west edge, next to cow sheds and a cluster of four pig shelters in a tumbled-down rail corral. All were in disrepair, boards warped and weathered, pulling loose or broken, long neglected. A log tripod held a long hay-stacking pole balanced in a swiveling chain loop. A rusty cable sheave hung from its narrow tip 30 feet above the ground. The cable lay tangled in coils around the base, buried in years of weed growth. Many years had passed since this homestead had produced either hay or livestock.

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Chapter 2: Homesteaders Videos

Pasayten PeteChapter 5 The Fight

The yellow school bus pulled up to their narrow drive on the gravel road, loaded Graydon and Alex Jr, drove a hundred yards to the "Y" intersection of the Wolf Creek spur and turned around. Their house was the last stop. It was four miles to school. Graydon sat at the window with Alex Jr. beside him. He watched the sagebrush flats roll by, the rock piles and stunted apple trees and lilacs marking where earlier homestead efforts had withered from lack of water. Wolf Creek was a seasonal...

Pasayten PeteChapter 6 Lights in the Night

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Pasayten PeteChapter 7 Winter Lodge

Winters in the Methow Valley were cold, sometimes bitterly so. Temperatures ranged well below zero. The snow would pile up two and three feet deep. It fell to Graydon to keep the driveway into the Wolf Creek homestead shoveled out when the snow got deeper than the sedan his step-father drove, or the panel truck, their faithful Blue Goose, could break through without chains. Graydon would wax the flat-bladed shovel and begin cutting blocks from the deep snow, lifting each, and heaving it to...

Pasayten PeteChapter 8 Spirits in the Fire

Graydon could feel himself evenly balanced on his skis. He could feel his arms bearing down on his ski poles, planted firmly to each side. Otherwise he felt suspended in space, hanging in milk. His feet ended at his boot tops and no trace of snow or shadow or outline or slope or mountainside existed in his vision. There was no horizon and no sky. It was a perfect "whiteout," that rare condition of light in which snow and sky are perfectly blended together and there is no trace of shadow or...

Pasayten PeteChapter 10 The Snake Hunt

The winter passed quickly for Graydon. School classes, homework, homestead chores, Christmas, the February chinook winds that brought a sudden thaw to the deep snows and turned the fields into lakes and the roadside ditches into torrents, followed by a hard freeze and a snowfall that locked the valley into another six weeks of winter; everything mixed his days into a hurried winter passage. Weekends allowed time for cross-country ski treks, either across Wolf Creek and up to the old lodge,...

Pasayten PeteChapter 11 Graydon Wins a Fight

Spring merged into early summer; it was June and Graydon found himself working, putting up hay bales for a rancher from whom his step-father had borrowed money. Graydon was working off the debt. He was able to handle the bales, averaging 60 to 75 lbs each, walking beside a tractor-drawn wagon and grabbing each bale by its wire bindings and swinging it up to another teenager with hay hooks, who would swing the bale into place on the growing load. Even for June it was damned hot and sweaty...

Pasayten PeteChapter 12 Rock slide

The trail into upper Wolf Creek canyon was open; the last snows had melted out of the north-slope shaded areas and the spring floods had subsided. Graydon was restless. He gathered together his packsack gear, some staple foodstuffs, his fishing pole, and told his mother that he'd be hiking up the canyon, perhaps as far as Gardner Meadows, at the base of the mountain. He planned to be gone three days for some early season trout fishing on the way up, and two nights of sleeping out. Actually,...

Pasayten PeteChapter 13 The Rescue

There was little that Graydon could do for Mike beyond what he'd already done. He refilled his water bottle and left that within easy reach, with some dried fruit, nuts, and chocolate snacks. He put a rolled jacket under Mike's head, and carefully lifted his right side to lay a folded wool blanket under him, and another blanket over him to ease the cold and reduce the shock from his injuries. He'd built a tiny fire, just enough to make a pot of camp coffee and to boil panels of t-shirt...

Pasayten PeteChapter 14 The Shaman

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Pasayten PeteChapter 15 The Apprentice

Fall arrived in a series of storms, each more intense than the last, until just after Halloween a cold air mass from the north mixed with a wet air mass from the west. The valley lay blanketed under its first heavy snowfall. Time had passed rapidly for Graydon and Mike; Graydon was unusually busy for a teenager: school had started, homestead chores and homework took much of his time, and he spent nearly every weekend at the Brightman ranch. Mike had strengthened his leg and walked with only...

Pasayten PeteChapter 16 Marilee

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Pasayten PeteChapter 17 Disclosure

"I saw it. A darkness. It dims her spirit, clouds it, weighs it down and she is lost in grief and sadness. I've never seen anything like it before." Graydon sat in the warmth of the small fire outside Mike's cabin; they shared the flickering firelight. Fleeting shadows outlined worried frowns on their faces. "I've seen it before. Not often, but often enough. It weighs so heavily on a person's soul they can become lost, lost to themselves and everyone around them. This is a terrible...

Pasayten PeteChapter 18 Foundations

Graydon was exhausted. His eyes had sunk into their sockets, dark circles lay sagging above his gaunt cheekbones, and his face bore signs of strain and a weariness beyond his years. For a week he had spent his nights alone in the hayloft, isolated and immersed in his connections, seeing the harm that had befallen the Jacobs family. His days were filled with work, sweating to clear ditches, cut brush, weed the garden and repair fences around the old homestead. He drove himself hard, stopping...

Pasayten PeteChapter 19 Pride and Punishment

Father Bernard looked up from his sheath of papers to see an elderly man standing before his desk, a man in casual clothing such as a rancher might wear. Such attire was not uncommon for this midwestern region, but it was exceptionally unusual to find one dressed so casually in his private office, especially one who was both uninvited and unannounced. "How ... Who are ... Sir! Who are you, and how did you get into my office? No one is permitted in here without prior appointment! Miss...

Pasayten PeteChapter 20 Healing

The suicide of the priest was front page news on all of the city and regional newspapers. It was even featured on both national wire services. Frank and Madeline Jacobs, who had known Father Bernard and attended his church for most of their adult lives, were stunned. Frank struggled with conflicting emotions. He wanted Father Bernard punished. He wanted him jailed and defrocked for his crimes against Marilee. But suicide? God forbid that Frank should feel any satisfaction at such an end....

Pasayten PeteChapter 21 Transitions

"My name is Michael Peterson. My friends call me Mike. I've lived in the valley for many years, but it's a remote area and other than a few close friends I pretty much stay to myself." Mike sipped his second cup of coffee, leaning back and thinking to himself that Madeline Jacobs baked a fine pie. He'd savored that slice. Good home cooking never escaped his appreciation. Like most elderly bachelors, Mike cooked to survive but he didn't often take time to turn out a gourmet meal....

Pasayten PeteChapter 22 Investigations

"You are absolutely certain, then? The coroner's report shows no drugs, no hallucinogens, no substances of any kind?" "No, sir. Father Bernard's body showed no evidence of any substance that might have caused hallucinations or insanity. There are no drug traces or other physiological evidence pointing to a trigger for his breakdown." "Yet he virtually tore himself to pieces. His face was a mask of utter terror. This is not the act of a rational man, obviously. The simple conclusion...

Pasayten PeteChapter 23 Marilee Fights

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Pasayten PeteChapter 24 Relocation

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Pasayten PeteChapter 25 Father Ambrose

"This is entirely too much! This generosity exceeds our demands; I've provided for every needy family in the valley! Where can I possibly use all this money?" Jim Brightman smiled to himself; such a complaint could come only from Fr. Ambrose, the elderly priest who had devoted so many years of his life to his small parish. "You know as well as I, this money comes from our friend in the mountains. He was led to it, that it might serve those whom the spirits would aid. That means you, and...

Pasayten PeteChapter 26 Vitellis End

Marilee came through the front door with Graydon right behind her. They stopped in the kitchen doorway. Her parents sat at the table with Fr. Ambrose, his back to the two young people. When he saw Frank's eyes lift toward the doorway, Fr. Ambrose rose from his chair and strode forward, extending his hand. "Good evening, Marilee. It is good to see you again. Who is this young man with you?" Marilee blushed shyly. She turned to bring Graydon alongside. "This is Graydon Williams, our...

Pasayten PeteChapter 27 Vitellis Hell

M. Vitelli froze in mid-step and stared, unbelieving, at the two figures holding hands, standing side by side on the altar of the small chapel. There were only the three of them there in the gloom. Vitelli spun around when the front door he had arrogantly left standing ajar slammed shut. The room reverberated with the sound. The interior gloom intensified. He could barely make out the walls of the small chapel, scarcely three strides to either side. The darkness seemed to close in around him,...

Pasayten PeteChapter 28 Reunion

Jim Brightman, Mike Peterson and Father Ambrose sat around Vi's kitchen table, delighted to be reunited after so many years apart. They sat sipping coffee after one of Vi's delicious meals. She decided to leave the three old friends alone and slipped off to the other room. It was a time for catching up, for reliving old memories as older men often do. Time slipped away as they talked. Vi came in, put another pot of coffee on the stove and served up dishes of fresh apple pie with homemade...

Pasayten PeteChapter 29 Altered Plans

"As I see it, we have a number of problems to deal with. Some are moral and spiritual, and some are practical." Mike and Father Ambrose rested in their hotel room after a light meal. Both were troubled. They were confronting a massive problem, head on, and neither was sure how to proceed. Following the first rule of consultation, "two heads are better than one," they were engaging in some sincere discussion of their goals and how best to achieve them. "Our biggest problem is the good...

Pasayten PeteChapter 30 Bishops Nightmare

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Mark is sat at his computer looking at porn and wanking himself off before his wife gets home. Tina has sent him an email thanking him for yesterday and telling him that she can’t wait until he visits her again today and fills her cunt with his cock and semen. The email finishes with ‘See you at 7pm … but here’s a little something in case you can’t wait either …’ A video clip is attached. And that clip, is what Mark is wanking himself off to. His face is getting sweaty and his hand is...

My BBC fantasy

Here is my fantasy, its my first time writing so bear with me!!I'd been fascinated about sleeping with a group of black guys for a while now. I love my husband wholeheartedly but something about a group of big black cocks made my juices flow!! One drunken night with a bunch of girlfriends, the conversation turned to sex and our fantasies. Feeling a little worse for wear I revealed my fantasy to my friends who were surprised to say the least. They had no idea!! A few days later my husband came...

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