The rest of mine and John's days were spent in sharpening tools, repairing harness, repairing tack, and making things out of wood or leather.While John and I were gone on our trap lines, the women would cook breakfast and clean the cabin. The rest of their days was spent cooking, doing laundry, washing dishes, tanning hides and a million other little chores that had to be done almost every day.The women had gotten very good at tanning, and they were making some fine buckskin and doeskin. All of us worked at making moccasins, and pants and tunics. John and I became quite good at sewing leather.We had a water barrel inside the house that John and I kept full. Sometimes we'd have to make five or six trips a day just bringing in fresh water. The kids usually saw to bringing in firewood, and we seldom had to remind them to do it.Taking a bath during the winter months wasn't easy, and taking a bath with any privacy was impossible. We had a washtub that was about three feet across and was. It slid in with ease, all the way in, not a hard thrust, tender pressure from his hips and an encouraging pull from his hands on my bum.I was no proper princess of sex and knew that his cock was not the size I had come to know of my hubby. His was smaller, more slender, which allowed it to enter without complaint, but also without the gasp of pleasure. Not sure if he sensed it or read my mind, but I felt it swell inside of me. A tell tale sign that a man was about to give up his essence. He moved in a smooth motion, like a violin bow sliding across the strings producing a continuous harmony, unbroken by the change in direction. Bigger, longer, I sensed it more than felt it. I gasped in pleasure. There was no way of measuring how big he was now, but it was pushing the line between pleasure and pain, stretching and pulling my labials as it moved, penetrating deeper than I thought any man could. Even my clit, felt the tug, arousing it to new heights, taking me higher before releasing.
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