A bunch of girls my sister's age, 11 or so, sitting on the third base side, had even made up a "GO LILY!" sign. That was really cool.I finished my war...-ups, and took the ball. I stood on the mound, waiting for things to get underway. The PA announcer intoned, "Pitching for Westport today, number 45, Lily Woodard." That was good. Even though I wasn't wearing it, that's how they announced me. Number 45. That made me feel better.Of course, some wag in the opposing dugout hit right on it. " Number. “Let me at her.” I moaned around Carlton’s thick cock, my head bobbing up and down, sucking, slurping, making sure I got every last bit of coke off of it, while someone else yanked down my panties and impaled me from behind. The way I was feeling now, I didn’t even care which hole he nailed. He opted for sloppy seconds, though, pushing his prick into my dripping wet pussy and thrusting away. Thing is, with coke, sometimes it takes forever to cum, but while you’re riding the high, it feels so. .”“Your horses and mules are fine. Your prisoner is over there by the fire. I caught him trying to find the keys to his chains.”“Who are you?” Hoyt asked.The first thing Hoyt noticed about the man when he opened his one good eye, was the long jagged scar across the right side of his face, from his temple to his chin.“U.S. Marshal Lon Wolfe, out of Alamosa. I see by your papers that you’re a Bounty Hunter, posing as a Special Deputy U.S. Marshal out of Phoenix ... Man, you’ve come a long ways. After I finished college I was looking for work. I had completed a BS and an MS in Education. I could teach at any level from kindergarten to the 12th grade. But the job market was drying up in California. My degrees meant nothing if I could not find work. Finally, my parents suggested I head back east to our old home in Arkansas. I had heard some bad things about my old haunts there and decided instead to try Oklahoma. After all, we had relatives there. I sent off letters to my closest.