"No, no, moose-milk is pain-pig sweat comparedto what mugril produces. Just wait till you're feeling better, thenI'll let you milk her yourself!"Great... So there was some species of milk-producing animal that thisthing called a "mugril," or whatever, and he owned one, and hewanted me to milk it for him. My mind flashed back to the water-buckets he was carrying when we had our first (conscious) meeting.Maybe they were actually milk-pails?"Anyway," I said, "I'm actually feeling much better now" -. " and part of me ached, wanting to be that woman.When I looked back up at the man's face I saw he was looking at me, smiling, still thrusting deep into the woman, he didn't speak, but held up on hand, one finger, indicating I should wait.I didn't move, couldn't...didn't want to. I was amazed, I wanted to know this man and yet terrified to the core, he was a stranger, he might be a murderer or worse. I watched on as he bucked and thrust and finally grunted, releasing into the woman, after he. The city loved it as it meant more people to buy goods in town and to grow food to sell in town. It also strengthened the facade that I bought the land to farm. I was grateful that the women were doing so well selling the salt. It took half of my money to buy that much land, but I now owned a six-mile section of the river, stretching away from the river for nearly two miles. Aside from the church, I was now the largest landowner in the city. Suddenly, I was a big fish in a small pond.I hired a. His hands were exploring every inch of my cock and balls as if he was giving a medical exam, pulling the skin right back exposing the purple head before returning it in place. He then spun me around and I could feel his hands all over the cheeks of my arse, his finger running up and down the crack before bending me down so his finger could find the opening. I was dry but not for long as I suddenly felt his tongue and the wetness of his saliva penetrate my back door, it felt so good that when.