Then the second one, me bent over, wearing my wife's honeymoon thong with her glass butt plug inserted in my ass, holding in the loads of strangers wh... had bred me.... holy shit. The table behind you could clearly see our wedding photos! There wasn't even a question as to who it was. I was completely exposed in the pictures, completely emasculated and humiliated for anyone to see who clicked on the ad. There was no way anyone who knew me wouldn't immediately identify me. The text said simply. This meant bucks fighting for territory.I had tags for six deer, which included three does and three bucks. I had Mom and Millie get licenses for more tags so that I could remain sort of legal. I could use the landholder crop damage excuse, but I wanted to stay within the law as much as possible.Quietly making my way through the snow was easy, but I had to be careful as I had my military parka on and wasn't visible to other hunters. I kept a constant scan for tree stands to make sure I wasn't. Soon she came down and removed my pants and my inners and my 6inch tool jumped out. She said, ” not bad for an Indian “. Apparently, she thought Indians had small tool. She started to stroke it and was teasing me. I pushed her mouth into my tool and she licked and sucked it well and now I said it’s my chance.I kissed her belly and slowing came down and as the weather was cold and my tongue in her skin gave her chills. I pulled down her panty and saw a clean shaved pussy. It looked so inviting I. My thoughts turned to Brankston Tusker, Harwell's unfortunate brother. He was, I recalled, an experienced and capable engineer. As such, he was a member of a profession whose practitioners had both the means and the need to take advantage of my services. Perhaps, I thought, rather than an individual commission, I could convince the Institute of Practicing Engineers that a speculative investment on behalf of their members would be of value to the Institute. Perhaps it would even be a fitting.