He had perhaps, a little more of the potent rum than he should have. Not quite drunk, but near enough for his coordination to be affected. He sat down... heavily on a tree trunk, hoping that his head would clear sufficiently for him to make it back to the colonial style house.As the eldest son of the Plantation owners, he was treated with a deference and respect above his young age. At twenty-one, he had seen and experienced rather more than the average young man in the 1760’s. To his credit,. Inside, everything has been gutted and in place of traction motors, it carries different rail sensors mounted on the trucks, lasers for tracking the profile of the rail, and even cameras for visual inspection of the rail and ties. With roof mounted antennas recording GPS data, we can exactly match the collected data and the physical location it corresponds to and transmit it all in real-time back to our track maintenance depot, or even straight to corporate, in Norfolk. My ‘23-Skidoo’ also has. He felt his cock pulsing just thinking about pounding his brother's ass."Get some soap and lather up my ass ... to give it somewhat of lube."Marc's shaky hand grabbed the bar of soap and he began to lather up his hands. Tons of soap spuds covered his hands. He moved his hands towards his brother's ass and gently massaged the soap on Darren's ass cheeks."Mmmm," Darren moaned. "Ok now spread my ass and get some soap going there too bro."Marc gently pushed Darren's ass open and let the soap suds. ..Whoa...There! It’s there!Okay, now you know it’s up and you’ll have something to read after work.Oh, who are you kidding! You know you have to read it now!I steal a nervous glance at the closed door. Sure it locks, but I can’t risk it. So I’m reading, eyes tracking sentences like lighthouse beacons, heart banging like a loose shutter in hurricane season, and already the locks on the Panama Canal are failing. All the familiar tingles and throbs are at high frequency and multiplied.