He plunged a finger in, and told me to go ahead. So I did, slowly, carefully, while she made small movements to help, and soon enough I was also all d...ep into her asshole. I was starting to pump, when Mr. Dobbins told me to stop, all inside her, and rest on her back. I did not understand but complied, and I felt his finger and a glob of cold K-Y inside my buttocks. I squeezed them, froze, and yelled Stop, Mr. Dobbins! Andy boy, you can call me Mike, you are fucking my wifes ass and I am going. She knew the situation; Father had heard the tale in the tavern this morning and had known to approach Mr. Ingram: An English gentleman, his wife, and their three children were traveling to Saint Louis in America. He had business holding there. Their proper English nanny had taken ill on the boat out of England and had died during the night. The boat, a large, modern vessel with both sail and smokestacks, had docked in Ireland for only a few hours to pick up cargo and steerage passengers. Molly. After ten men had dumped their loads inside me, a new group snatched me, and pressed me against the wall. With my face grinding against the stones, and my breath fogging the window across from me, they forced me to bend over, and they began taking turns in my ass. Oh, they were brutal with me, holding me against the wall in such a way that my chest was in line with my legs, but my abdomen and hips were perpendicular. In the position, they drove deep into my rectum, opening it, punching through. Christ, he needed it to stop. He needed to bury himself in a warm, willing woman. With a harsh sigh, Jake reached for the bottle of whiskey going around. His men went momentarily quiet as they watched him take one pull, then another. They'd rarely seen him indulge in drink. Jake noted the silence as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “What?” he inquired a bit brusquely. The eyes goggling all around him suddenly found other places to land, throat clearing all around. Someone said, “Nothin' boss..