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I didn’t require much of a push. I glanced around the bar room, again, no one was looking, and grabbed the shot glass. It was still warm and his whitish semen filled the glass. Imitating the downing of a shot of liquor, I moved the glass to my lips, tilting my head back, and pouring the liquid into my mouth. “Swallow, dear”, I heard Bill say. Looking into his eyes, I did as I was told. He smiled. “Now, go to the men’s room and see those posters. Don’t touch yourself, just look. I’ll pay our bill and we can meet at the front door. I need to push off.”I went to the men’s room, and sure enough, posters of naked women covered the walls. I glanced in the stall, and sure enough, there was a poster on the walls of the stall, too. What surprised me was the panties that hung on the back of the door on a hook. Damp and crusty, they had obviously been used for masturbation and left for others to use. They may have started as trophies from women in the bar, but they were now damp and cum-covered!. None of the original inhabitants were still around, and the fur trade had eventually gone another route. Nobody alive had seen an actual beaver in Beaverton, though they could still find them in the North Platte. But all that didn't matter. Founder's Day wasn't really about the actual history of the town, though it was brought up and talked about each year. What Founder's Day was, was a reason to have a party, and there were far too few reasons for that around.So everybody within fifty miles got excited about Founder's Day in Beaverton. There was a huge cookout all day Saturday. Each family brought what they could offer to load down the temporary tables made of saw horses bridged by planks. Children had pretty much free rein to run and play wherever they liked. Those in their teens sought to find out about those things all teenagers were curious about - the opposite sex. Business was done, though that was usually dealt with quickly and efficiently, so that people could take their ease.
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