6 Sold! That bitch for my ring! (1/2)

”Aah! This bitch, this bitch! When I think that right now she's probably getting threaded by the first dick that crossed her path. Aaaah, that pisses me off. BITCHHH!!!”

Even at at this late hour of the day, the many, many people who are still hanging out in the streets and going to their favourite gambling places, watch in amazement as this handsome young monk with long brown hair scream out so many atrocities.

In this place far from everything, where violence prevails over all established laws, gambling is one of the most popular forms of entertainment.

During these evenings when the cards pass from hand to hand, it is not uncommon for some participants accused of cheating to lose limbs.

Around the tables specially set up for these frenzied games, each player keeps a sword, an axe, or even a simple, sharp machete close by.

Remembering the tender tongue of his Rhea wrapping around his glans, Dimitry, still angry, ignores the fact that he wears braided straw sandals and kicks in a pile of rubbish.

He's much better looking that all those hillbillies hanging out on the street and yet, he's convinced, the bitch probably has to offer her little hole to one of them.

He's much younger than that old asses and his sex must be much more vigorous than the soft things that hangs between that peasant's flabby white legs, so why did his Rhea did she abandon him to get filled somewhere else?

”Hey handsome, would you like to come and have fun with us?”

What was he thinking again? Why a moment ago, was he angry?

In front of the two pretty brunettes dressed in light dresses, Dimitry feels his mouth unwind.

Relaxed by the thin lace dress that allows him to guess the big erect nipples of the older of the two pretty girls, he quickly calms down and where everyone could read a deep anger, the most charming smile emerges.

When he was still a pre-teenager, one of his brothers, who had joined their little community late, had told him about these holy communions where a man mixes his body and mind with two saints women.

He doesn't remember exactly of the entire contents of this highly spiritual conversation, but Dimitry knows one thing.

How many evenings did he see his roommates fondling their sex by dreaming of a threesome? Was it not in dreaming of such communions that they hid in the women's dressing rooms when once a year the nuns honoured the brothers with their divine presence?

Sister Maria, Sister Lydia, how many times has Dimitry himself thought of giving them a bouquet of tulips?

”Yeah, I come. I'm too hot to turn down an opportunity like this.”

...

Although pure, Dimitry was not unaware that vice is part of every man. Yet he who had always kept away from evil, now follows with his eyes three small green and yellow cups that go from right to left and from left to right so quickly, that he has just lost the one that will make him a rich man.

Surrounded by the two beautiful young women whom he had previously met, the naive young monk, who is merely observing the cups, is more out of breath than the swindler who officiates as a croupier.

”The one on the right, my six silver coins on the one on the right.”

Exhilarated by this highly addictive game and encouraged by the two pretty young women who don't miss an opportunity to stick their tempting bodies against his own, the young monk doesn't react much when he sees that these are the last coins he has slowly saved since he was six years old.

The grey-haired man puts his finger on the cup designated by this boy who for him is a hen with golden eggs, and without a word, with a slight pressure, he unveils its contents.

”Still lost young man, but don't be so disappointed because I feel that the luck is about to turn in your favour. You can believe in my predictions. I've been doing this great and glorious job of entertaining crowds for more than 30 years, so if I tell you, you can be sure of it.”

When he opens his surprisingly light little leather purse, Dimitry feels his heart crack. How did he end up in that little bar located in the basement of a gun shop again?

So much hard-earned money, spent so stupidly in less than thirty minutes. His brothers would certainly laugh at him if they saw him now. As for his elders... Thinking of them, the young monk, ashamed of himself, closes his eyes.

”You are our Hero. Go ahead, be the bravest and get back all the money stolen by that wicked bandit.”