We finished our beers and headed down to the bank to ask if a reward had been posted. When we got to the bank, the manager brushed us off, assuring us...that the marshal would take care of everything. Well, that manager was such an ass that we wanted nothing to do with his troubles—he wouldn't even tell us how much money had been taken in the loot.We decided "to hell with it" and got back on our horses. If that was the way the bank manager was going to act, he could hunt for the loot all by. It was hard to tell where the music came from—if they were still singing, or if the song was all in his head. Either way, he watched, mesmerized, as they moved their writhing bodies closer; undulating, encircling, and beckoned him to join.With a drunken smile, he tried to stand—but dizziness caught him, and he crashed onto the deck. They laughed, and helped him up, leaning him back against the mast.“Dear boy,” the singing stopped, “I think you’ve drunk enough to drown.”His head sank, and he. Here I was losing control over myself, even her scream where now sounding like a moan, I dared and parted her legs little, and started massaging her at lower part of her waist, she had closed her eyes, she was enjoying the massage, I slowly started moving my arms little lower and sliding her thong, she didn’t object, so I slide it to her thigh and started massaging her ass.She was now moaning in pleasure, here my dick was also hard and poking through my pant to get free.I slide her underwear. "CCTV. Can we see the tapes?"The officer chuckled. "They seem to have avoided them. Three shadows in the distance from the one across the garden and that is about it really. The camera up there," the officer said, pointing to the wall, "is not working. Richard Williamson snorted. "Inside job?"The Inspector looked behind him and then nodded. "Maybe. Do we know why it's not working?" Something sprayed over it, the forensic guy reckons. Some sort of hairspray like substance to mess with the lens.".
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