“Feathers show number of sexual partners,” the chief replied.Pointing to a nearby young brave, he continued, “Him? One woman, one feather. Him?�...�, pointing to a second, older man, “Three women, three feathers.”The reporter looked at the Chief’s headdress. “But you have so many feathers!”The Chief proudly slapped his chest. “Me Chief. Sleep with all women. Big, small, fat, tall.”Horrified, the female reporter said; “You ought to be hung!”The Chief said, “Damn right. Me hung big like buffalo, long. There was nothing I could do, not even to protest! I was fucked for what seemed like hours the whole gambit, , all I could see was blackness, hands groping my tit`s, if I was lucky lips on my clit, fingers delving into my sex, or a dick forced up me in a hurry as if lives depended on spewing one more load into me. I was like this for an absolute age, I had long since lost count, 20, or perhaps 30 went and came, if you will excuse the pun I could hear them all the time of course, the door would. More

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