In the Army Now, Chapter 2

June 1, 1944, Salisbury England

Tobey and I hustled into the company area, dodging others who were strewn about the area like flotsam on a beach. Some were sitting and talking, mostly quietly, with no small hint of fear. Some were sacked out like Olive Drab logs, catching as much shut-eye as they could, realizing that soon enough there'd be no time for sleep at all.

As we grabbed our packs from out squad's tent, Tobey asked “Hey Max, whaddaya think the sergent want's us for?”

“I dunno Tobey, you think he might have caught wind of the craps game?” We had been running a craps game behind the mess tent, and while not enough to get us drug up in front of the Captain, it was definitely enough to get the sergeant to discipline us on his own.

“Nah, even that asshole McGillicuddy, you know that guy from 4th that loses all the time, wouldn't let slip to the sergeant. He knows better than that.”

“Yeah, guess we'll just have to wait and see.”

By this time we were half way to the battalion armory, and we could see the sergeant standing out in front of the sandbag re-enforced tent. He was next to a jeep that had obviously been borrowed from the MPs, but manned by a definitely non-MP driver.

“Sergeant, Private Johnson reported as ordered with a detail of one!” I blared as we fell into line in front of the non-com, both at attention.

“Privates, you will find gear in the vehicle behind me. Once ordered, you will equip yourselves and then fall into formation behind the vehicle. I will then drive away watching you attempt to maintain pace with the vehicle. Do not fall behind. This exercise will continue until you learn to obey the rules. Do you understand?

Fuck no.

“Yes sergeant!” We shouted, knowing that to voice uncertainty would be worse that simply following instructions.

“Fall out.” he said.

Looking in the jeep, we found web belts with sidearms, magazine pouches for the pistols, retaining loops for truncheons and strange bulky pouches. Under the belts were wooden truncheons about 3 feet long and trench guns; M1897 12 gauge shotguns. Which explained the pouches on the belts, spare shells.

What the fuck is going on?

We armed up and fell in behind the jeep, while Sergeant Childers perched in the front seat looking backwards.

“Driver. At a medium pace if you please.” he smiled cruelly as the jeep led us out along the perimeter fence at somewhere between quicktime and doubletime. This lasted for about three minutes, until we were out of sight of the battalion area. The the jeep stopped, and the sergeant jumped down.

“At ease, Johnson come help me with this.” he motioned to a section of fence.

Now I really gotta ask what the fuck.

I moved to the fencepost the sergeant had motioned to and found that the whole section was held in place by rope, instead of the standard steel bolts. I quickly untied the knots and the sergeant and I carried the fence out of the way of the jeep, which the driver maneuvered through the hole. As we replaced the section of fence line and I retied the knots, I pondered the significance of what we had just done.

I, Private First Class Maximilian Johnson, in collusion with another private soldier and two non-commissioned officers deserted on the eve of battle from the United Stated Army.

I was going to hang.

What the fuck had I done?
                                                                             ***
 
March 19, 1942, Macon Georgia

When I awoke my head hurt. Not in a hangover kind of way, but in the “Sweet Jesus, kill me now!” kind of way. I opened an eye to survey my surroundings and immediately wish I hadn't. The cement wall and ceiling I could see were dingy and drab and illuminated by a bare, bright bulb surrounded by a wire cage mounted in the ceiling. The light was piercing, like a photonic icepick driven through my eye. I made a noise halfway between a scream and a groan, a scroan, if you will.

My mouth tasted faintly of copper and had a texture like it had been coated by a fine layer of velvet. I tried to clear my mouth and discovered that I couldn't generate enough saliva. I scroaned again from the effort. Realizing that my head hurt too badly to go back to sleep and that if I was going to be awake I needed to to rinse out my mouth I sat up, and immediately regretted it. The room spun, my head throbbed and my mouth slowly started to fill with a sour saliva. I leaned forward in an attempt to reduce my nausea.

It didn't help much. Suddenly my ears were assaulted by a booming voice.

“Good morning, Mister Johnson! Sleep well?”

I groaned and mumbled, each word a pain.

“Could you please not shout?”

“I'm not shouting, Mister Johnson.”

I retched softly and held my head. The booming voice chuckled and I retched again, trying to fight back the bile.

“Well you are about as sorry as a hound dog after he's been in the hen house. You want some water? Coffee?”

I nodded weakly, the movement sending shooting pains through my head and neck and eliciting another scroan.

There was a metallic rattling followed by a titanic crash, as if a bulldozer had run over a Packard, eliciting yet a third scroan, and suddenly a blazing hot hand pressed a few tablets into my clammy palm and a tumbler of water was pressed into the other. The pills were like chalky rocks in the dustbowl of my mouth, even drier than I was. But the water. Oh lord the water was sweet and cold and better than anything I had ever had in my entire life. I gulped greedily, swallowing convulsively to choke down the bitter pills and then relishing the cleansing tide of refreshing wetness.

Too soon the glass was empty and I felt slightly less like death. Well enough that I could look up at my benefactor without my head trying to fall off.

Crap.

My eyes fixated on the large and very shiny star pinned to the man's chest.

“Thank you sheriff. Umm...If it's not to much trouble?” I held out the empty glass.

The sheriff chuckled and took the glass. “Sure son. It's only fair I suppose, after how poorly Cletus treated you.”

Sipping at my refilled glass of life-giving water I started to feel more-or-less alive, and well enough to hazard a question.

“So, um, am I under arrest?”

“I'm afraid so son.”

“Oh crap. What's the charge?”

“ Well, Deputy Laughton booked you on a laundry list of offenses, but I'm dropping most of them, seeing as they're bull-shit.” He pronounced it as three words, bull-she-it. “But there is the one charge that I'm afraid I'm gonna hafta pursue.”

I groaned a bit and sipped my water. I think my headache was intensifying.

“Which one?” I asked, dreading the answer I knew was coming.

“Statutory Rape.”

My headache was definitely getting worse. I swallowed more water to keep from scroaning.

“Lemme explain sheriff....”

The big man held up a hand. “Hold your horses son. I'm feeling a mite hungry. I hate working on an empty stomach. You think you could eat?”

I was suddenly ravenous. “Sure.”

“Well come on then. Just remember, you try to run on me and I'll shoot you.”

I'm not sure I'm gonna be able to walk fast, much less run.

I just nodded, my head pounding.

                                                                                 ***

Breakfast turned out to be a lunch of fried fish, a lump of an amorphous boiled green thing and a small parfait-mound of an unidentifiable white substance topped with an unidentifiable yellow substance topped with a chopped mixture of green onion, tomato and crispy bacon. The plate was set down along with a glass bottle of an amber liquid that was stuffed with chili peppers. I eyed the food uncertainly as the waitress, a busty lady with a bright smile and a sweet Georgia accent to go with the wiggle in her hips that would make a priest cross himself, set down an enormous tumbler of something dark and laden with ice and a slice of lemon.

“Catfish, collards and grits, gentlemen, and sweet tea. Y'all just let me know when y'all are ready for pie, Sam made up a lemon meringue that's to die for.”

The sheriff smiled up at her. “Sure thing darlin'.”

As she walked off I poked at the mound with my fork. “Grits?”

“Ayup.”

I prodded the green lump. “Collards?”

He chuckled. “Ayup. Like spinach. Put some of the pepper sauce on it, It's good eatin' son.”

I debated only eating the fish but then my stomach filed a formal complaint against my brain, so I sprinkled some of the amber pepper sauce on the greens and was rewarded with a mouthwatering waft of vinegar.

The Sheriff spoke as I ate.

“What you need to understand is that Katy-Anne's not quite what you'd call a “good girl””

I almost choked on the bite of crisp catfish I had just taken. I nodded as I tried to swallow remembering how it felt when she grabbed my joint in the parking lot and when she felated me as I drove.

Yeah, I'd agree with that. Kitty's definitely a bad girl.

“You'll be the third fellah Cletus's caught with Katy-Anne. First one he's ever laid out though. You musta pissed him off something fierce, boy.”

I remembered with some satisfaction the sight of Kitty slumped over the trunk of my Packard, cum leaking from her asshole and nodded.

Yeah, you could say that.

“In fact Mr. Johnson, You'd be hard pressed to find 20 men in Macon county who, hadn't torn off a piece of Katy-Anne's ass, me included.”

Again, I almost choked on my food.

“But not Deputy Laughton. Which may explain the intensity of his displeasure with you. For all her other faults, Katy-Anne doesn't dabble in incest. She simply won't give him the time of day.”

I nodded as I forked a mass of dark green vegetation into my mouth, the bitter greens sweetened and offset by the spicy, sweet-sour vinegar.

Stood to reason, no one gets that pissed over a girl unless they're sweet on her.

“And fortunately for you, the judge is an understanding sort, especially since he's Katy-Anne's grandpappy.”

I didn't choke this time, but I did stop with a forkful of what had turned out to be very thick, crunchy, cheezy cream-of-wheat.

“Her grandfather?”

“Ayup”

I finished my bite, chewing slowly, I don't think I actually tasted it. My mind was racing.

“Your best bet is gonna be to plead guilty and throw yourself on the mercy of the court. Can you afford a lawyer?”

I shook my head no.

That means you'll be assigned one, probably that drunken reprobate, Lucious Thibedoux. Trust me son, you'll be better off taking your chances with the court.

I thought about it and when I looked down I noticed that my plate was empty.

The sheriff signaled the waitress. “You about ready for pie?”

                                                                                   ***

The time passed slowly in jail. I'd come-to on Saturday morning, court wouldn't convene until Monday, so I had about 40 hours to contemplate my navel before going before the judge. The few hours that passed after my return from breakfast (which had done wonders for my head, though it still ached somewhat) were tense and fraught with worry. I recounted my evening with Kitty, and I was so worried that I couldn't even enjoy the sordid parts. Then I parsed and re-parsed my conversation with Kitty, and then the one with Cletus and finally the one with the Sheriff.

After about 6 hours or so of worrying myself into an ulcer Sheriff McNamara escorted in the waitress from the diner who bore with her a tray loaded with food. Pork chops with applesauce (which I found weird until I tried it), a caldera of mashed potatoes filled with a rich brown gravy and curious green cylinders coated with a golden fried rime of something crunchy which the waitress identified as something called “okra” and of course, a quart sized mason jar of the ubiquitus iced tea. Desert was a a bowl of something that looked like a cross between bread pudding and some sort of yellow jelly with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on it.

When I sniffed it cautiously the waitress informed me happily “that's Sam's peach cobbler ala mode.” I stared at the food, my stomach a churning sea of acid.

“Thank you miss.” I said as I accepted the tray of food that I didn't really want.

“You willing to take a nickel's worth of free advice son?” said the sheriff, after the waitress had left.

“Sure.”

“Stop worrying about it. You can't change anything right now, so relax. Eat your dinner and put it out of your mind.”

“But...” I started.

“Stop. Worrying.”

“I could....”

“Nope, you can't.”

“But...”

“Eat.”

I looked at the food, it did smell good.

“Alright.” I said.

“Good. I'll be back in an hour or so for the dishes.”

“Thanks sheriff.” I replied, unwrapping the plate.

“Not a problem, son.” Said the sheriff, walking back out into the office, the door swinging shut on his words.

                                                                                       ***

I finished the last of the “cobbler”, which was delicious, and set the bowl on the plate, sliding the stack of crockery under the bed. The Sheriff was right, not worrying helped my appetite and eating helped me to not worry. I lay back on the less than comfortable bed and stared at the shadows on the ceiling, idly I wondered what Kitty was doing right now. Probably on the prowl. Setting up another innocent man to be beaten and berated by Cletus-the-slack-jawed-yokel and sent off to prison.

I heard the door open, and I wondered what the chances of getting the sheriff to get me a beer or a small bottle of bourbon might be. I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bunk.

As I straightened up, I spoke “Your hospitality wouldn't extend to a libation slightly stronger than tea, by any chance?”

“I can't manage that honey, but I think I can come up with something else to relax you.” came the reply, in a sweet soprano, rather than the sheriff's smooth baritone.

My head shot up and there she stood before me, a vision in a buttery-yellow summer dress.

“Kitty!” I blurted. “You can't be here.”

“Obviously I can be here. Maybe I shouldn't be here, Max, but I definitely can be here.” she said pertly, sashaying forward to the cell door. Her hips swayed and her breasts strained at the buttons of her frock.

“I can't believe you're here. After what you did to me...” I growled, suddenly angry, my initial shock melting away.

“I'm dreadfully sorry about that honey, but how was I to know that Cletus was gonna be all the way out there?”

“Cletus? THAT'S what you're sorry about? Not the fact that I'm gonna go to prison because you couldn't keep your knees together? Or at least stick to fooling around with the boys out at lover's lane.”

“The boys out at lover's lane are stupid. They're really bad at it. And they talk. A girl has to maintain her reputation after all. And you're not gonna go to prison. Not over lil' ole me.”

I hate to tell you this Kitty, but men talk too.

“It sure looks like I am going to prison. The sheriff's dropped all the other charges. I go before the judge, your grandfather, on Monday, charged with statutory rape.” I could feel the tension starting to build again.

“Oh pshaw! Pappy is not gonna send you to prison. Not once I tell him how much I like you.”

Oh fuck me, that is NOT gonna help my case.

“Kitty, do not tell anyone how much you like me.”

She looked worried. “But why not? I do like you.” She reached up behind her neck and undid the top of her dress, sliding it down, allowing her massive tits to swing free. “I like you an awful lot.”

I groaned inwardly, her tits were spectacular.

“Don't you like me?” she pouted, stepping forward, her tits pressing through the metal bars of the cell, her thimble sized nipples pressed up against my chest, poking me. “You liked me the other night. And I loved what you did to me, what we did together.”

“I..” I stammered.

“Don't you wanna do it again?” she asked softly leaning in, her lips just brushing against mine.

“That's beside the point...” I started, then she kissed me.

I knew it was wrong, her being just a kid, but damn did her tits feel nice and she sure didn't kiss like a little girl. Her tongue was wet and warm, her lips, soft. I didn't pull away, my hands convulsively gripped the bars of my cell.

“I knew you liked me.” she said pulling back, and smiled knowingly.

“Of course I like you Kitty but this is wrong, you're just a kid, I'll go to prison...”

“Would a kid do this?” Kitty knelt down and reached through the bars, unbuttoned my trousers and pulled out my flaccid John Thomas.

I was stunned, Here I was in jail for and the object of my “assault” was assaulting me!

“Oh, fuck it!” I sighed as she sucked on the head.

I was hardening rapidly, and she pulled off my cock with a pop. “I can't quite yet, honey, you're gonna need to be harder.”

Well, in for a dime, in for a dollar. I thought, if I was gonna go to prison for fucking this girl, I might as well fuck her as much as I can.

“You keep going on like that an I'll be hard enough in a minute.”

My Johnson was once again engulfed in warm, wet suction as my hips were drawn against the bars. This girl could suck a golf ball through a garden hose. As my cock hardened in her mouth Kitty made lewd sucking noises as the powerful suction occasionally broke through the seal of her lips and she moaned in pleasure. I sighed as she sucked and closed my eyes, my head tilting back as I concentrated on the incredible sensations this girl, young woman really, was causing.

By now she had a little more than half my cock in her mouth and I could feel the opening of her throat against the head. I grunted as she gagged slightly. She took a deep breath through her nose and then slowly forced my dick into her throat. It was very tight and I could feel the muscles in her neck massaging my joint. My hips bucked forward and she responded by shoving back, helping my to cram the rest of me in, until her nose was buried in my short and curlies.

After holding it for a moment she backed off, blowing and trying to suppress her gag reflex. Once clear, she looked up at me, eyes wide, mouth open, a strand of saliva connecting my cock and her lips. I looked down at her and realized right then that I wanted to look down at her swallowing my cock for the rest of my life.

“Get up Kitty.” I said, my voice firm for the first time since Cletus clocked me. “Take off your panties.”

She stood up and frowned “I'm sorry Max, I can't.”

“And why not?” I asked frostily. You'd better not be teasing my prick.

“I'm not wearing any.” she replied coyly as she finished unzipping her dress. It fell to the floor in a yellow pool around her feet and I was greeted with the sight of her golden thatch framed by a black garter belt . She stepped out of the material and gripped my Johnson, stroking it.

“You've been a naughty girl haven't you Kitty?”

“Just a lil' bit.” she smiled guiltily. “What can I do to be a good girl?”

I decided to take a chance and bring up something from the other night.

“You can start, by calling my daddy.”

She gasped and reddened, looking down. In a quiet voice she said “Yes Daddy.”

I smiled. “That's better. You really are a bad girl. Pretending to be a big girl and drinking in bars, no panties, three men sent to jail because you like to fuck, I think you should be punished, don't you?”

She stopped rubbing my joint, her bottom lip trembling. “Yes Daddy.” she whispered.

“Did I say you could stop stroking?”

“No Daddy.” She said in a small voice and resumed jerking me off.

“Now, what do you think your punishment should be?”

“I dunno.”

“When you were little, how would your father punish you when you were bad?”

“A spanking.” she whispered.

“What was that?” I asked, chuckling inwardly.
“A spanking.” she said a little louder.

“That sounds like a good start. But it's not like I can give you a spanking right now.” I tapped the bars. My cock was so hard it hurt. “Perhaps you can come up with something else suitable for right now.”

She looked up, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “I know just the thing Daddy!”

“What?”

“It's a surprise!” She practically bounced in place, which did interesting things to her anatomy. The glee with which she taunted me with her own punishment was strangely hilarious and I chuckled.

“Alright then Kitty, show me.”

“Yes Daddy.” Kitty said, turning around, bending over and backing onto my cock.

I drew in breath through clenched teeth. Her cunt was scalding hot and dripping wet.

“Ohhhhh Ddddaaaddy.....” she moaned as I filled her.

Her pussy was tight and gripped my tumescent member like a wet fist. But she only thrust back and forth a couple of times before pulling off my cock completely. She held herself with my cock just brushing the lips of her pussy, the whisps of hair tickling the head of my shaft.

“Please Daddy, put it in my bottom.” she pled. “Hump my bottom, punish me! I don't want to be a bad girl. I want to be good.”

Was she really asking me to buttfuck her? Damn.

This was one strange girl, but what the hell, you never get that kinda request, not even in TJ. So I pressed the head of my cock against her asshole and she leaned back, grunting loudly as it spread her tiny rosebud open.

Holy fuck, she was tight.

She slowly backed down my johnson, grunting and crying gently. It was too slow, I was ready to pop, I needed to get inside her fully so I could take a moment and get my orgasm under control. I reached through the bars and gripped her hips tightly, she looked back over her shoulder at me with fear and pain in her eyes and nodded slightly.

I pulled her tight against the bars and she screamed through her teeth and her legs started to collapse. I held her there, straining to support her weight, fortunately it gave me something to concentrate on rather than the wonderful sensations radiating from my cock.

“Daddy! Oh please Daddy, it hurts.” she whined.

“Do you feel sorry for all things you've done wrong?” I demanded.

She thought for a few seconds, then responded “Not yet Daddy. Punish me!”

“All right then Kitty, say you're sorry.” I commanded as I pulled back slowly, still holding her cheeks firmly against the bars.

As I pushed forward just as slowly, invading her rectum she wailed “I'm sorry Daddy!” her colon clenching and spasming along the length of my cock.

Goddamn but her ass felt good, maybe as good as her pussy. Maybe better. I rested for a few seconds buried inside her.

“Say you're sorry.” I again ordered as I drug my cock put of her.

“I'm sor-RY daddy!” she squealed as I rammed forward.

As I set up a steady rhythm, pulling back slowly, then thrusting in hard, she yelped with every thrust and began to chant “I'm sorry!” with every thrust and tugging on her nipples. After a few minutes of chanting with every thrust, she just sort of devolved into mauling her tits and mumbling “I'm sorry...” over and over. Meanwhile I had evolved from a slow and fierce rhythm to a fast, savage pounding of her anus.

There was blood crusting around the base of my cock. Her rosebud was red and angry looking and I was beginning to feel the creeping feeling of my impending orgasm. I decided that I didn't want to blow in her butt. I figured I'd add a cherry on top of this punishment parfait.

I yanked my Johnson out of her ass and pushed her to the floor. “Come here Kitty, time to take your medicine.”

She looked up dazedly, mouth agape and her eyes slowly focused on my cock, my dirty, bloody cock, and staggered to her knees. She crawled over and sucked the head of my dick into her mouth.

“That's right Kitty, be a good girl and clean my cock and drink your medicine.” I smiled down at her as she bobbed fast, sucking hard. I couldn't hold back anymore and gripped the bars of the cell in my fists as I fired a half dozen shots of thick spunk across her tongue.

She swallowed like a nursing calf and continued to suckle for a minute or so as I gasped and writhed in place. As I wriggled free of her vacuous mouth I spotted the door to the sheriff's office close.

Shit, did he see us? Fuck I'm definitely going to prison now. Well, at least it wasn't Cletus. Fuck it, nothing I can do about it now.

I gathered Kitty up and held her through the bars, my anger over what she had done somewhat mollified. Again I felt that unsettling feeling towards Kitty. I wasn't sure what it was, and I still wasn't certain how I felt about feeling it. I did know that I wasn't interested in letting her go. And with me going before the judge in 36 hours.

After a little while Kitty asked quietly “How did you know?”

“Know?”

“That I wanted to call you Daddy?”

“I pay attention Doll. You screamed it out the other night at the wall.”

“You must think I'm just horrible.”

“Nah, just....well, let's just say that some of the things I think and do might seem horrible to you. Besides, It's not like you're hurting anyone. Well, that you're 16 and keep sending men to prison for statutory rape is, but otherwise you're fine.”

“I know it's wrong, but I just can't help myself. It feels so good, and the men are such better at it than the boys at school. Besides, they never go to prison.”

“Wait, what?”

“Sure. Pappy just makes 'em join the service instead.”

“The army.”

“Yeah. Well, the last one joined the Navy.”

“Hrmm...that changes things.”

“Does it?”

“Yeah, it means I can relax.”

“It does?”

“Sure, the army will be a piece of cake compared to well...this.” I looked around the room, at the bars.

But would it? There was a war on for Christ's sake!

The Nazis had taken pretty much all of Europe, the Japs had attacked Pearl Harbor. The Italians and the Krauts were all over North Africa. I began to wonder if prison wasn't a preferable alternative.

In the Army Now, Chapter 1

June 1, 1944, Salisbury England

“Johnson! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

That was Sergeant Thomas, my platoon sergeant; he’s always trying to find one of us goldbricking. It’s like it’s a big turn on for him whenever he could catch us doing something we weren’t supposed to.

“Nothing sergeant!” We chorused.

“Well God damn it, the army doesn’t pay you to do nothing! Go get your packs and meet me at the arms locker!”

What the fuck was this all about?

As Toby and I shagged ass over to the company area to grab our packs, I reflected on what had led me to this point in my life.

____________________________________

March 17, 1942, Macon Georgia

I had found the girl in a beer joint just off the highway; she was hot in more ways than one. Her blonde locks and blue eyes glimmered when they caught the feeble light in the bar, as she introduced herself as Kitty.

“I’m Max” I said looking at her knee length skirt, and the respectable blouse that barely restrained the respectable rack that she had. “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a joint like this?” I asked. You know, I think I might have been the first guy to use that line.

"Looking for a good time, how about you?” She said with a twitch of a smile and an arched eyebrow.

“Well, I’m always looking for a good time, toots, how good a time was you thinking about?” I replied coolly, sliding along the bar a bit to put myself right up against her. I figured she would either want to bolt now, or wouldn’t want to advertise to the barman and sundry what she was up to.

“Well, I really think you’re cute, and since my boy friend went off to the navy last year, I haven’t had a man in me at all.” She was almost pouting, her crimson red lips parting slightly as the tip of her tongue peeked through.

I suddenly felt a pressure on my thigh. I almost jumped out of my skin when she ran her hand around from my hip to my groin and started to massage my joint right there in the bar!

“Hot damn lady, you really are ready for it aren’t you?” I gasped, my dick sluggishly stirring.

“You have no idea.” She said wickedly, a salacious smile spreading across her face. She looked up at me from under her lashes and continued to run her hand over my rapidly stiffening penis. “Let’s take your car.”

I groped in my pocket for two bits to cover our beers and dropped them on the counter.
Holy shit! I thought I think I’m going to get laid.

While this is not an unusual occurrence, in my life, it was the first time that a girl had picked me up.

We walked quickly out the door, me with my turgid cock pressed closely against her backside, trying to hide my erection. My car was at the back of the small lot, not very far, but it seemed like an eternity as I steered her across the rough packed dirt of the parking lot and over to my 1939 Phaeton convertible. As I reached to open the door for her, she suddenly turned around and I found myself face to face with the biggest set of hooters I ever laid eyes on. I mean her breasts were at least a D cup and there was no cup between us.

“You’re not wearing a brassier.” I blurted stupidly.

“Haven’t you heard, all the patriotic rubber has been turned into rafts and tires” she laughed, delightedly, I guess at the stupefying effect her bosom had on me. That should have been my first clue.

I grasped her by the waist and lifted her up onto the edge of the door.

“Eeek!” she screamed and giggled

My mouth dropped to her chest, seeking the nipple that called to me in a voice only I could hear; a voice that said in a very sultry Mae West, “Hey Sailor!” My tongue twirled around and around as I applied suction to her breast causing her already erect nipples to stiffen almost painfully. She gasped and moaned softly, her hand seeking once again the cannon in my pants.

As I moved my lips to her other nipple I felt her unzip my trousers and reach inside, fishing for my John Thomas. As I worked on stiffening her other nipple her small hand found what she sought, and she gasped; this time not in pleasure, but in shock.

“God in heaven, mama told me there were men like you, and I thought she was lyin’!” she had drug my cock out of his confinement and was stroking him, all along the ten inch length of him.

At just that moment, headlights crossed us, and I heard the crunch of tires on the parking lot.

“Kitty, baby, if we don’t want to go to jail, maybe we should take this to your place.” I said painfully, her hand was still stroking away on my cock, I noticed that her hand didn’t quite meet when she fully grasped it.

“Not my place, I’ve got nosey neighbors, what about yours?”

“I’m just passing through, got no place to take you.”

“Wait a moment.” She said looking up, as though thinking over something “I’ve got just the place.”

She was still stroking my cock, and I thought turn about was fair play, so I slipped my hand up her skirt. I slid my hand along her stocking clad thigh until I found her panties, then I slipped two fingers under the band against her outer thigh and slid them around until I was holding the gusset. She moaned a bit louder and leaned in to kiss me, and as our lips parted, so did her lips. My knuckles rubbed against the soft inner labia, and brushed lightly against her clit.

“OH, OH, OH, OH!” She cried and convulsed against me, the fell back into the car.

He first orgasm in a long while I thought. As she was recovering, I curled my fingers and stripped her panties from her now damp cunt, stuffing them into a pocket for later use.

I tucked John Henry back into my pants, and walked stiffly around to the other side and got in. She was lying across two thirds of the front bench, with her legs sticking out over the door. I fumbled momentarily with the keys, watching her as she moaned and played with her tits. Finally, the ignition on, I punched the starter and she roared into life. Backing out of the space, and spinning the wheel, I noticed that I had caused her to roll into the floor of the car. I reached down and slid back the bench, gaining another six inches of “leg” room.

I looked down at Kitty and said “You liked that babe?”

She nodded, looking up at me, big eyed.

“You make a left going out of the lot, get on the highway and drive to the next exit, get off there and then make a right and then the third left, don’t stop till you see the wall” she said breathlessly, reaching for my trousers, and my cock.

“You like to go fast? “ I asked and she nodded, working on my belt “You do this right and I’ll go as fast as you want.”

She squealed like a little girl and practically ripped open my pants, grasping my dick with both hands and licking like a lollypop at the pre-cum oozing from the tip. I placed one hand on her head and gently pressed it onto my Johnson, feeling her lips stretched tight and her tongue lapping at the underside. I floored it, and peeled out of the lot.

The faster I drove the faster she bobbed her head. The louder the engine got, the harder she sucked. When I took a turn fast, she would squeal into my joint, and when I began to loose it, she knew to slow down, to tease, and just how to make me keep from blowing my top.

As we began to make the last turn, she quickened her pace, one hand around the girth, the other rolling my balls in the palm of her hand. The road suddenly changed from paved to dirt, and shitty dirt at that. But as the road became bumpier, her attempts to swallow my tube steak grew more animated, until she was going from just the tip, all the way to the bottom. Taking my cock into her throat, I had never found a girl who could do that for me before. I began to help her, thrusting upwards, into her throat, and I reached over and pulled her skirt up, caressing her perfect white ass. I was close to blowing my load, and as I slid my middle three fingers down the valley of her ass, across her rosebud, and her pussy she shuddered a little and moaned into my fully engulfed cock. The feeling was indescribable, but it incited me to slip my middle finger into her twat and push the other two forward, so that they just barely tapped against her clit. She began to moan into my cock, and I sped up as she did.

Jesus my fucking eyes are closed! I though, panicked and snapped them open to see an ancient stone wall zooming up towards us.

I slammed on the breaks just as she started to lunge at my lap with her face again, and just as I made the last thrust before my dick exploded in her mouth.

I swear on a stack of bibles, it was the most terrifying moment of my life; and until much later it was the most intense orgasm I ever had. I could feel her throat convulsing around my cock, I could feel her pussy gripping my finger fiercely, like a terrier with a rat, and I remember knowing that we were going to die when my car rammed that wall.

When the dust settled, and my vision retuned, I realized that I was still alive, that my bumper was just touching the fieldstone of the old wall, and that Kitty had just swallowed about a quart of cum.

As she slowly backed off my softening joint, sucking and blowing all the way, I noticed that my hand was drenched. She had come as hard as I had. I looked down at her and she looked up at me. Her face sweaty, her lipstick a bloody smear across her chin, the glorious gold of her locks in fabulous disarray. I then saw something else, in her eye was a look, a glint, a hunger. She wanted more; more pleasure, more cock, more me. And Christ I was spent.

She crawled up my body, pulling herself up by my tie. She looked into my eyes and snarled “FUCK ME!”

Oh shit!

I opened the door, and slid out. She tried to follow me, but I gently pried her off and pushed her back into the seat. I walked around to the front of the car, and examined my bumper. It was fine; I then turned and faced the car with my reticent Johnson still hanging out the front of my open pants. I slowly took hold of it, pulled the foreskin back and began to urinate.

My stream came forth in a torrent, a golden flood that spewed forth like a garden hose. As I pissed, I saw Miss Kitty standing in the seat of my car, holding onto the windscreen staring wide eyed at my fire hose. As I shook the last drops from my hose, I noticed that only one of Kitty’s hands was holding onto the windscreen, the other was pushed down the front of her skirt, buried in her twat.

I walked around to my door again, opened it and turned off the car. Kitty was still standing in the seat, one hand in her cunt, the other tugging at her nipple.

I looked up at her “Strip Kitty, get naked for me.”

She ripped her blouse off, buttons flying, and struggled with the skirt, finally getting it off by the simple expedient of pulling it down over her hips, and be damned to the buttons. I was treated briefly to a glimpse of her bush, a wild thatch of golden fur, like the fleece of legend. She bent down to unhook the clips of her garter belt that attached to her stockings, and I stopped her.

“Leave those alone baby, they’re so sexy.” I said and she dimpled at me. My cock twitched.

I held out my arms and she leaned into me. I swung her legs over and lifted her up while kissing her glazed eyed countenance and carried her around to the boot of my car. As I set her down on the boot, she yelped a little.

“Oh damn baby. That’s cold!”

“Hold on a moment, and we’ll warm it up.” I replied, grinning mischievously.

“What are you going to do; I’m too high for… AHHH!!” Her complaint turned into a shriek of pleasure as I leaned her back and plunged my head between her creamy white thighs.

I began by kissing the back of her silk covered knees and continued down and around the thigh until I was nibbling the hollow between her thigh and cunt. She was writhing all over, and clutching at my head, trying to force me to touch her pussy, but I resisted. I began the whole process over on the other leg, and by the time I was ready she was right on the edge of orgasm.

As I placed the tip of my tongue against her tiny dimple, she cried out and by the time I had drug it up her slit and was tippling her clit she was screaming and gushing against my chin. I backed off for a moment and nipped at the soft spot where the buttock joins the back of the thigh, like a sheepdog with its charge; though I very much doubt that any sheepdog had ever banged any sheep.

She had calmed down a bit when I decided to start the French fucking in earnest. I had one hand turned around, holding her pussy open from the top and pressing on the front of her mound. My lips grasped the whole of her clit and my tongue danced around it, tugging at the hood, sluicing up one side and down the other. Swirling around it but never making any solid contact with that sensitive nubbin.

A barmaid in Tijuana taught me that. That a girl’s clit was usually too sensitive to be attacked directly, and needed to be teased into release, she also taught me this other trick, I have no idea where she got it, but I’m grateful for it. As Kitty was gripping my hair and trying to shove my head into her twat, I was slipping two fingers into her.

First my middle finger slid into her cunt, and swirled around eliciting a moan and a jarring thump, as she thrust her pelvis against my face, and humped up to meet the pleasant intruder. Then I pulled out, and started to slide my index finger in, in its place and just as I got the first knuckle into that tight cunt, I started to worm my middle finger inside that little dimple just aft of her cunt. She stiffened up a bit, but I lashed he clit with my tongue, pushed a little harder with my fingers and she opened up just enough for both fingers to slide home.

That was enough to send her over the edge for the second time. Her cries sounded angelic and guttural at the same time. She thrashed and tossed her head to and fro, her hands scrabbling unfeelingly at the steel of my car. I backed off again and leaving my right hand buried in both her holes, I moved my left hand up to massage her massive globes, leaning forward and taking one in my mouth.

She hugged my face to her bosom and kissed my head, making inarticulate sounds. After a few minutes of mauling her tits, I kissed my way back down to her downy cleft and resumed my gentle ministrations. Her sweet-tangy juices flooded my mouth and flowed over my chin at least twice more, as I sucked on her clit, nibbled on the rosy petals of her precious flower and rubbed the inside of the front of her clutching, milking, cunt. Some time during this process, she began to cry, and I knew I had her in that sweetly terrifying place only women can go. That place within themselves where nothing matters but the pleasure; the closest I have ever seen a man get to that place is on the wings of a morphine high.

I had also added another finger to her ass, pulling out of her pussy completely. As I rose from her delta, and leaned forward, she caught my face in both hands and pulled me to hers. Her kisses were tender and loving, even thankful, and the hunger of before was dulled. Not quite gone, but satiated. As we kissed, my fingers still slithered in and out of her ass.

She pulled back slightly and said with a naughty smile “My goodness Max, but you sure know how to show a girl a good time!”

“I try to ma’am.” I replied just as naughtily.

Kitty looked down at my steel hard erection, sticking almost straight out, and I could see that fire rise up in her eyes again.

“Now turn over Kitty, I want to pound that pussy.”

She squealed in delight at the prospect, and almost lost her seating as she rushed to turn over on the boot of my car. She almost lost her balance again when she went to roll over and spun her ass on both of my fingers.

“Ohhhh dammmmnnn, baby!” she cried, pushing back against my hand.

I just grinned evilly and slapped her garter covered ass playfully, pulling my fingers from her back door as I did so. She shivered but said nothing.

I dropped my trousers even further and moved up to stand on the bumper. I lifted my cock, feeling for the dripping tunnel entrance that waited hungrily for my hot rod. Kitty moaned a little as I found it, and pushed forward just enough to keep it in place as I placed one hand on each side of her waist, then slowly pulled her down the length of my shaft. Kitty made a wordless sound as all ten inches of my cock penetrated her constricting cunt.

“Ffffffffffuuuuuuucccccckkkkkkkkkkk.” I moaned, my head thrown back, I hadn’t been in a twat this tight in years.

“Silly, I thought that was what we were doing.” She giggled, and my laugh joined her’s.

After filling her hot box with all I had, I just rested there for a moment. But just for a moment. I moved one hand back and grasped her ass firmly, pushing her away from me, then pulling her slowly back down my dick with the hand on her waist. Moving slowly at first, but picking up speed.

Soon my hips were a blur, and her arched back bowed in rhythm with me, as she fucked back against my thrusts. I was in heaven. Her cunt had grabbed my cock like a fist and was massaging the length of it in a rippling convulsion I had never experienced before. Soon I began to slap her ass, gently and sporadically at first, but slowly growing harder and with increasing frequency. Shortly she was grinding her ass against my cock and screaming out with every smack.

“OOH YES DADDY! HARDER DADDY! SPANK ME HARDER!” That should have been my second clue. At the time though I just wasn’t thinking, y’know?

Her squirming, fully impaled against my stiff pole eventually caused her to collapse into the throws of inarticulate, panting, orgasm, and I had to shift my stance to stay in her. As she slumped forward, I stepped up and crouched over her rump, thrusting. This seemed to do what she needed and moments later she was screaming and shuddering, with me having to hold her hips up to keep her from falling completely. Her trick pussy was still massaging my cock, and I had just about had all I could handle. I could feel my balls tightening and that familiar tingle that began in the small of my back and slowly began to work it’s way up my spine and around to the base of my cock at the same time.

“Oh baby you’re making me cum!” I shouted, and she tried to pull away.

“Don’t spurt in me!” she cried.

Oh shit, she’s right, what the fuck do I do?

Then I had a thought. I pounded into her pussy twice, as hard as I could, then pulled out, and did a hopstitch that placed my hard throbbing cock at the entrance to her ass.

“YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!” she hissed, and I pushed as hard as I could.
Just as soon as my head entered her as, I could feel the tight ring of muscle clamp down just behind the head. I waited just an instant, and then pulled her to me as I pushed into her.

“GOD DAMN!” I bellowed as I spilt my seed into her clutching bottom.

“DDDAAADDDDDDYYY!!!” she screamed and collapsed onto the boot of my car, unconscious and taking me with her.

I don’t know how long we lay there, her weeping softly and shuddering as her ass milked my cum, me trying not to crush her small frame and catching my breath. Slowly, I could feel my now useless prick slip out of her anus. I carefully stepped backwards, and made my way off the car. I paused when I reached the ground and looked at my handiwork; a swollen pink pussy, still leaking the aromatic nectar of the flower of femininity and one fiery red anus leaking the pearlescent tears of my orgasm.

I was suddenly overwhelmed by a sensation I had never felt before. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I wasn’t sure that I liked it. My introspective reverie was interrupted by an unexpected sight. The wall was pulsating red. After a moment I realized that it wasn’t the wall that was glowing, but the gumball light of a cop car that had somehow crept up behind us. That bastard had enjoyed one hell of a show before he decided to bust us.

“Kitty, get up, it’s the cops!” I called to her, franticly trying to wipe both cum off my penis and stuff it back into my pants. She showed no response and I was suddenly struck by a horrible thought; I had killed her! Holy shit, I actually fucked her to death! Then my rational mind clamped down, and took over. I knew she wasn’t dead, I could see her impressive chest rising and falling, and that took a load off my mind, but what about the cop?

The cop had by this time gotten out of his cruiser and had trained the door light on us, as he approached, I could sense his smugness, his self satisfaction that he had busted the horny couple. I had heard stories about this, how cops would bust the couple making out, out at lover’s lane, and proceed to have their way with the girl, the threat of being arrested and convicted of a sex crime used as leverage on them both.

I suddenly felt the urge to kill this man, this pig, this cop. Where the hell did that come from? I’m not a killer, I’m a, well I don’t know what I am, but I’m not a killer. What the hell was I thinking?

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Asked the cop in the exact thick hillbilly accent I had expected.

I had to think fast. “Good evening officer, my wife and I were out for a drive, and the car broke down…” I said fast, not well.

“Don’t you lie to me boy. You were fuckin’. I know what I saw, and I saw you fuckin’. Not just that, but fucking in an unnatural manner. You know what we call that in these parts boy?”

“Um…” I faltered, for once caught without a glib reply.

“SODOMY!” bellowed the cop.

The slightly slurred voice of Kitty, just now retuning from the land of nod added, “Don’t yell, I think you fucked my brains right out of my head Max.”

I was really nervous now; at the very least I was looking at indecent exposure and possibly sodomy as potential crimes.

“Who is that?” asked the cop, stepping nearer to Kitty.

Close enough now to see the cum leaking out of her butthole, her perfect ass framed by the white garter belt. She turned her head and looked over her shoulder.

Her eyes widened sharply. “CLETUS!” She shouted, “Avert your eyes!”

Oh shit, she knows the cop, either we’re safe or I’m about to be beaten to death by Cletus-the-Slack-Jawed-Yokel.

“Katy-Anne! Is that you?” He called out.

“Of course it’s me Cletus; now quit looking at me I’m nekked!” She called back.

Whew, I think we're safe. That sounded like the banter of close cousins, not a cop and a criminal. I had a sudden vision of Kitty, or I guess “Katy-Anne”, making the beast with two backs with her cousin the cop, and my cock twitched involuntarily.

“What the hell are you doin’ Katy-Ann Meriwether!”

“I know you ain’t exactly Harvard material Cletus, but what does it look like I’m doin’?” She slid backwards off the car, and I noticed with a perverse sense glee that a nice big dollop of cum dripped out of her ass as she landed on her feet.

“It looks like ya’ll are violatin’ the laws of man and God” Snapped the cop, obviously growing cross.

No baby, do not piss of the man who can incarcerate us both. I prayed silently.

“Cletus Laughton, you are no gentleman, starin’ at me in my altogether, with man juice drippin’ out of me. Let me alone to get dressed” She said levelly.
Cletus the cop turned to me. The look on his face was not a pleasant one. I could hear Kitty moving around by the car, and my door opening, so I guess she was getting dressed.

“What should I do about this?” the cop said, rhetorically.

“Let us go with a stern warning?” I ventured, hopefully.

His gaze was much like staring into a blast furnace, only hotter.

“Give me your driver’s license, boy.”

I passed it to him without a word. He glanced down at it, and then pocketed it behind his badge.

“Maximillian Johnson, I hereby arrest you for Indecent Exposure,” Crap. “Lewd and Lascivious Behavior,” Damn. “Sodomy,” Shit. “Illegal Parking,” What? “And Rape.” Oh fuck.

He pulled out his service revolver with his right hand and pointed it at me. His right hand came up with a pair of handcuffs, and he tossed them to me.

“Put ‘em on, boy.”

I started putting them on, my mind was racing. What the hell was this farm fed pig babbling about? Rape, there was no rape! A little weird maybe, but not rape!

“Um, Officer, I think you may have the wrong idea of what occurred here…”

“Shut up Yankee! You think we’re just gonna’ let you come down here anytime you want and defile our children?”

“Children? What the hell are you on about man?” I was shouting now, the handcuffs chained to one wrist. “KITTY!” I bellowed.

“What is it?” she asked, walking up while tucking her blouse into her skirt.

“What is your name?” I asked, turning to face her.

“Kitt-“she started.

“Your full name.” I interrupted.

She turned a little pink in the cheeks and looked downwards. “Katherine-Anne Marie Meriwether.”

“How old are you Katherine-Anne?”

She blushed a bright crimson. “Sixteen.” She whispered.

“SIXTEEN!” I shouted, taking a step towards her. “WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING, GIRL!”

Katy-Anne started to blubber, and instantly I felt horrible. Then I felt worse, because the cop tapped me on the head with his Billy Club.

I could see the ground rush up as I collapsed; there was no sensation, other than the pain in my head. I could hear the girl screaming at the cop, the cop yelling back, and I felt the cuffs close over my free wrist, just before the world wandered away.

The Trek, Chapter 8

“Conq’aro, Hoggoch.” Said Grundei.

“Conq’aro Grundei.” Came the tired reply.

Well met in peace indeed thought Hoggoch. Like this damned trek hadn’t been one long battle from the get-go. The long walk from the place-of-all-lands would have been bad enough. The constant skirmishes and the need to move both quickly and without sign of their passing had left all of the members of the new and nameless sept weak with hunger, irritable with fatigue and sore from the few running battles they had entered into, made things almost unbearable. For almost a week now it had been a long cycle; run all day, fighting if necessary, hiding if possible then furtively gathering what food they could find and eating in a cold camp, before snatching a few precious hours of unsatisfying sleep. Then up before dawn to do the same over again. Everyone except Grundei.

Grundei, the young shaman, flew instead of ran and ate whatever he could catch on the wing. Hoggoch knew he shouldn’t complain, after all at least he wasn’t stuck like poor Mil’onuq. The lanky bastard was almost a full head taller than the rest of them, and being from one of the mountain tribes, had no training at running and absolutely no grass sense, what his people called Fal’un Tyrpi’i. Still, it must be nice to be able to turn yourself into a bird.

“What do you want Harachim?” asked Hoggoch, a bit sharper than he had intended, the formal title an attempted sarcasm that the smaller man seemed to ignore.

“To give you this.” Replied the smaller man, holding out his fist, closed side down.

Hoggoch instinctively put out his hand before experience made him hesitate. “What is it?” he asked cautiously.

“Just a berry.” Replied the little man, his eyes twinkling in delight at the taller man’s discomfort.

“One berry?”

“One berry.”

“What good will one berry do?” Hoggoch was puzzled.

“Remember, Eris-Tull, the earth mother will provide shelter for the weary, nectar for the thirsty…” began Grundei.

“…and food for the hungry, they that do but ask.” Finished the taller one. “So.”

“So, I asked”

“And Eris-Tull the earth mother, the goddess of all, she who nurtures all life gave you berries?”

“Yep.”

Hoggoch thought it over for a moment and realized, that if Hoggoch could commune with the spirits and the goddess, the Hoggoch would be the one flying about disguised as a raven. He opened his palm.

“OK. Are there enough for everyone?”

“Of course there are.” He answered. “Call them in will you:?” The small man seemed to look about on the ground, then rummaged in his sling bag for a moment, withdrawing three sticks tied about the middle with a thong and connected to each other at one end by a scrap of hide. He fiddled with it for a moment, the twisted the sticks against each other and then sat them on the ground upright.

Hoggoch pursed his lips, warbled like a thrush and then took a knee while he waited for the rest of the sept to head in from the brush. He turned to ask what the devil Grundei was doing with the sticks, only to find that the small shaman seated upon a three legged camp stool. Suddenly he spun and rolled to the left, whipping out his Seax as something crashed through the brush into the small clearing.

It was Cerug’ip, laying face down, just inside the clearing. The half hidden rock he had tripped over was just visible under his foot.

“What the hell was that, stonefoot? You trying to imitate an aurochs?” called Helgli, coming in from the other side. All three of the sept members entering the open space chuckled at their unfortunate friend, who was looking up at the rest of the group sheepishly.

“Sorry Hoggoch.” He said dolefully

“A true warrior keeps his weapons close, his armor cinched and his feet light.” Quoted
Hoggoch sternly as the prone man leapt to his feet.

“And a true leader knows when to lead and when to drive.” replied the heavier man curtly, dusting off the knees of his breeches. “What do you wish of us, oh Korg’n?” he used the honorific for One-Who-Is-Wise-In-Battle as a barb.

“Grundei has been talking to the goddess, and she has sent us a present.” He held up, between thumb and forefinger one brilliantly green ovoid.

“Berries?” Asked Helgli

“Unripe berries, looks like.” That was Mil’onuq

“Not unripe, you bandy-legged son of a cliff-ape, duckberries!” quipped
Tormak-The-Drum.

“Tasty, but not exactly filling.” Said Cerug’ip doubtfully.

Grundei lept to hi feet and struck the ground with his spear. “You doubt the wisdom of the all-mother?” He thundered.

A chorus of denials returned the allegation.

“Then take the gift that Eris-Tull has sent for you!” insisted the shortest member of the party.

Each member in turn held out a hand and received a bright green slightly translucent berry. Looking around at each other they all tried to guess who would be the first to eat.

“Korg’n, will you lead us?” intoned Grundei in the formal tones of the shaman asking for the battle leader to stand forth to take command.

“As you ask, so I obey the will of the elders” came the reply. It was almost automatic, despite never having been called upon before.

Hoggoch popped the small fruit in his mouth and chewed gently. The burst of sweetness, flavor and then shocking tartness that exploded in his mouth was not the tart-sour taste one typically found in duckberries. In fact it was as if all the good tasting fruits in the world had been packed into this one tiny pod and given up, just for him. He reflected on the thought and then on the source of the gift and was awed.

“Harachim, you do the sept great service.” He intoned gleefully.

The others were now eating, encouraged by their leader’s obvious pleasure in the fruit. One by one, Hoggoch watched the faces of the sept members split in a grin of absolute pleasure. Then he noticed, that his tiredness had faded, and if the cuts and scrapes of battle were still there, then at least the bruises did not bother him as much. In fact he felt almost like one of the people again.

“Great service indeed!” he once again intoned respectfully, the others echoed his sentiment.

In the distance, the unmistakable gibbering howl of a gnoll could be heard. Everyone’s head perked up, straining to hear the reply. It was heard moments later, closer and off to the east.

“Shit! Grundei, high sentry, Tormak you’re up front, Cerug’ip in the back and try not to fall on your ass. Mil’onuq you’re in the middle with Helgli on the left, let’s move, we’ve miles to go before we can sleep.” Directed Hoggoch.

The band of Halflings separated and melded invisibly into the grass, and all that was left was the lonely raven, spiraling up, flapping frantically to gain altitude.

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The place where the small one had made his mistake was clear to even the poorest of trackers. Gerrolph was not the poorest of trackers. In fact he was the best tracker in the Red-Fang tribe, which was why he had been permitted to pick one of the females for his own. Usually he would not have been allowed to mate unless he could defeat one of the larger males in combat or at least make him back down, but Gerrolph had proven his value to Grith-knaak, and the flind had had told him to pick one of the unattached females from the bitches’ moiety.

The place of the mistake was just at the edge of a small clearing. The trails of the small ones were only barely visible, but one of them had made a mistake about where to put it’s paw, and had tripped over a rock. Casting about, Gerrolph found a strange thing, three almost identical marks, indentations in the ground. He could not figure what had made the marks, nor could he under stand why only five trails left from a place where six pairs of tracks entered. No matter, small ones always traveled together, never would one be left behind. With a lifted head, Gerrolf howled instructions to the rest, and the hunting group set off at a lope, in pursuit of their fleeing prey.