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The Hunter

By: Hotcappucino



My heart raced as I knocked on the dark blue door of apartment 301. It was 2:45 in the afternoon and I had 45 minutes before the roommate came home from her last class. Even though I'd completed many other successful hunts, even though I'd planned everything down to the smallest detail, there was always that nervous excitement that came with the execution of a new hunt.

All of my senses were heightened and I heard soft footsteps approaching from the other side of the door. The peephole went dark as someone peeked out.

"Hello?" I heard a soft, feminine voice say.

"Hi," I responded cheerfully, overcoming a catch in my throat. "I'm the plumber working downstairs on some noisy pipes in apartment 201, the apartment below yours. I need to come in to bleed the air from the pipes up here. Your landlady, Mrs. Gaul, said you'd be home."

Maybe it was my blue coveralls with the "Ace Plumbing" patch sown on the left breast. Maybe it was the baseball cap with the matching patch. Maybe it was the large toolbox in my left hand. Maybe it was my winning smile or maybe it was hearing her landlady's name. It was probably all of them put together -- I'm a stickler for details. In any case, I heard the deadbolt slide back and the door swung open to put me face to face with my prey.

She was prettier up close than through the binoculars that I'd been using to track her movements. Asian, short and petite, with long shiny black hair that stretched down to her lower back. Her dark brown eyes were tastefully lined and her pink lips shimmered with a faint pearly sheen. Small gold hoops decorated her earlobes. A red cotton knit camisole hugged her body from the soft curves of her bosom down to her narrow waist, ending a couple of inches above the top of a pair of jeans that rode low on her hips. Red toenails accented her bare feet.

"Sorry to bother you," I said apologetically. The fake moustache tickled slightly as I flash her another warm yet sheepish smile.

"It's OK, come on in." She smiled back and stepped aside.

Walking pass her into the small foyer, I scanned the living room straight ahead; as I expected, no one there. She turned to shut the door and deadbolt it. I quickly bent down to place my toolbox on the floor and smoothly rotated back towards her while withdrawing my right hand from the pocket of my coveralls. That hand held a Talon T-250C, a 250,000-volt stun gun that's very capable of incapacitating a large man for several minutes. As my prey turned towards me, I pinned her back against the door with my left forearm and stuck the contacts into the soft skin of her bare midriff. A squeeze of the trigger and I zapped her for a few brief seconds. I caught her as she became dead weight, her limbs twitching asynchronously.

I slipped the stun gun back into my pocket and eased the petite girl down onto the linoleum, working quickly before she could regain the use of her muscles. A stain began darkening the crotch of her jeans as she lost control of her bladder. I opened the toolbox and pulled out an eye mask. You know, one of those things that people put over their eyes to block out the light when they're trying to sleep? I positioned the mask over her eyes and secured it by pulling the thin elastic strap around the back of her head. The "Hello Kitty" design seemed somehow appropriate. 

She gurgled slack-mouthed as she lay twitching on the floor. I peeled off a strip of duct tape that was stuck underneath the lid of the toolbox, leaving another one there for later use on her roommate. Sealing the Asian girl's mouth shut, I made sure she had enough space under her nose to breath. I pulled out a pair of soft ballistic nylon cuffs that I tightly wrapped and strapped around her wrists, and clipped the cuffs together behind her back. Next, I bound her ankles together using an identical pair of cuffs. After I had finished, I grabbed her under her armpits and dragged her to the middle of the living room floor, where she wouldn't be able to make a lot of noise kicking around.

****************

It's funny how I'd come to regard these adventures as hunts. I grew up outside a small town in Montana. My father spent a lot of time working the family cattle ranch, so I mostly hung around my grandfather, who taught me, among other things, how to track & hunt. I got good at it -- if it moved, I could track it, kill it and skin it. In fact, I made quite a bit of money in my teen years trapping and hunting, enough to buy myself a brand new Jeep Wrangler in high school.

Later on, after graduating from Montana State, I moved to Houston, taking a job with a mid-size consulting firm. I quickly rose through the ranks and established myself as an ERP expert. Being a consultant, I can spend anywhere from a few months to a year and a half at different companies, different cities, across the country. I manage to keep myself fit, even on the road, making sure the hotel where I'm staying had a workout room or at least a 24 Hour Fitness nearby.

The concept of hunting people, specifically young women, developed slowly as a way of transferring my skills from the wilderness to the urban jungle. It's hard to describe the rush I feel during a hunt. Weeks of planning and preparation, of stalking your prey so that you feel as if you've known her for years, culminating in an intense sexual release combined with the feeling of complete power over another individual; it is as strong an aphrodisiac as you will ever know.

My hunting grounds are the colleges and universities that are somewhat close to the city where my consulting engagements happen to be located. Fridays are usually travel days for consultants; most fly back to their home town to spend the weekend with their families. Not for me. Fridays are my hunting days. Early in my engagement, I'll drive out to a residential area close to the campus I've targeted, looking for apartment buildings that cater to students. A vacancy sign is an easy opportunity to meet the manager and get his or her name; throwing out the manager's name to your quarry is a very effective way of opening doors.

I'll stake out a couple of buildings over the next few Fridays, scouting for potential prey. I'll look for young ladies who are returning to their apartment early in the afternoon, during a time when most other students are still at class. If I find someone with potential, I'll get her schedule down over the next several weeks, making sure she has a regular Friday routine. Many times, there will also be a roommate to consider, so working out the timing is a little more complex. Bagging two birds in one hunt, however, is often rewarding enough to be worth the extra planning. 

Sometimes I'll spend the rest of the weekend hanging out in the same area. I'll check out as much of the landscape as possible, mapping the layout of the apartment building, marking the exact location of her apartment, and deciding on escape routes and parking spots. As a consultant, I can make good use of my analytical skills to develop a strategy that would maximize my chances for success while minimizing my risks. Geez, that sounds like some piece of BS straight from one of my company's glossy marketing brochures.

Outside of my preparatory activities (or should that be predatory activities?), I'll make a side trip to the campus, just to take in the ambience of the school or even to buy a souvenir T-shirt. Go Dawgs and all that stuff. Or I'll spend a few evenings checking out some of the local watering holes. I love hanging out in college towns. There's a certain energy that keeps me young, that keeps me fresh, that I miss from my college years.

This particular consulting engagement, scheduled to last 18 months, was in San Diego, a city on the Pacific coast just north of the Mexican border. Southern California is blessed with a relatively high density of colleges and universities, and the California lifestyle suits my tastes in women. I had decided the Los Angeles area, about a hundred and twenty miles up the coast, would be ideal hunting grounds for this particular engagement -- close enough where the commute wouldn't be taxing, far enough away to be safe. 

Last semester, I hunted at USC. When I was at Montana State, one image that had always stuck with me while watching USC football games on TV was that of the USC cheerleaders in their form-hugging sweaters, which always seemed to creep up to reveal their smooth tummies every time they thrust their pompoms high into the air. That alone was enough to stimulate the salivary glands of every red blooded American male, so I was eager to make USC one of my first hunts in southern California. It was tough finding a good hunting situation there, however. The neighborhood around the campus was pretty scary, even for a long-time hunter like me. The hunt turned out extremely well, though, even if I didn't luck onto any cheerleaders.

I never hunt the same campus twice in the same school year -- too risky. So my next hunt, my current hunt, took me to Westwood, which is the area surrounding UCLA. The University of California Los Angeles is only ten or so miles down the Santa Monica freeway from USC, but the two environments are worlds apart. The Westwood neighborhood is more upscale and considerably safer; coeds aren't as afraid of walking back to their apartments by themselves. 

Another plus for me was the high Asian student population at UCLA. I did some quick research on the web and found a racial makeup of almost 40% Asian. In fact, while I was hanging around the USC campus one weekend, I overheard a student disparagingly refer to their rival school as the University of Caucasians Lost among Asians. 

What is it about Asian girls that make them so attractive? Their exotic look? Their ultra smooth skin? Maybe it's that geisha girl mystique that guys fantasize about. In any case, it was going to be a lot easier here in southern California to find my preferred prey. Do you know how few Asians there are in, by comparison, Minnesota? Not that I don't appreciate the blonde Norse goddesses that are readily found in the Twin Cities area, but nothing, to me, blows my mind as well as a cute Asian.

I'd been tracking my prey for the past four weeks. She lived a few blocks from the UCLA campus, sharing her apartment with another girl who's somewhat average in appearance. On Fridays, the Asian regularly returned to her apartment at 2:30 while her roommate always got back an hour later at 3:30. Usually I liked to spend a couple more weeks to firmly establish the routine, but UCLA was on the quarter system, meaning I had less time to plan and execute this hunt than normal. I found a place over on Pico Boulevard to rent a plain white cargo van -- I didn't want my rental Sebring to be seen around my quarry's building -- and I'd already packed away some stolen license plates that I could use for the day.

****************

It was time to have a quick look around the rest of the apartment. "I'll be right back," I whispered to my captive. "Don't try to move around or I'll have to shock you again." I was reasonably sure she wouldn't fully recover in the next few minutes. Besides, my victims were so fearful of being stunned they always did what I told them. After slipping on a pair of disposable nitrile gloves, I pulled up my right pant leg to the knee and extracted an Antoni Stiletto diving knife from a sheath strapped to my shin.

I scanned the apartment as I knelt in the middle of the living room. The furnishings were sparse in typical college student fashion. A beige leather couch rested against the wall to my left, facing a small television on top of a TV stand to my right. Over the TV hung a framed Georgia O'Keefe poster of a yellow orchid.

Straight in front of me was a small dining area, beyond which was a window that looked across the way onto the flat roof of the two story apartment building next door. To the right of the dining area was a small kitchen with a phone on the counter. Behind me were the foyer and the front door. Avocado-green shag carpet covered the living room floor and ran down a small hallway on the right. I got up and disconnected the phone in the kitchen, removing the cord from both the wall jack and the phone itself. I took one more look at my captive to make sure she was secure and headed down the hall, knife at the ready. 

Halfway down the short hallway was a small, windowless bathroom that I confirmed to be empty. Continuing to the end of the hall, I entered a tidy bedroom. Sunlight filtered in through a window on the far wall, a small breeze slightly billowing the yellow fabric curtains. One bed was in the corner diagonally opposite me, the other more towards the middle of the room separated from its mate by a nightstand. The walls were bare except for another O'Keefe print hanging on the wall above the second bed, the purple petals of an iris curving sensually. A tall dresser was against the wall to my left, opposite the beds. On the other side of the dresser was a door, presumably to a closet. A couple of desks and chairs were against the wall to my right. On one of the desks was a softball mitt, and draped over the back of its chair was a bright blue jersey with "Ucla" and the number 14 in gold script. A dusty canvas equipment bag rested on the carpet nearby.

I walked over to the aluminum framed window and the latch clicked as I slid it shut. I then opened the closet door to make sure no one was hiding inside. It was a small walk-in, with clothes rods running around the perimeter. Turning on the closet light, I spotted a wicker hamper just inside the door. I rummaged through the hamper looking for trophies. I found what I wanted, a well-worn pair of white cotton panties. Bringing the padded crotch up to my nose, I took a deep sniff. I breathed in a sharp smell of sex mixed in with a light perfume fragrance. I looked at the label -- size large. Must have been the roommate's. I pulled an empty gallon-size Ziploc bag out of my coverall pocket and sealed the panties inside. I found a couple more pairs, neither of them as heavily scented as the first, and carryed them with me to the beds, where I deposited them on top of the nightstand along with the Ziploc bag.

A backpack lay on one of the beds and I rifled through it, finding a wallet. Inside the wallet was the Asian girl's driver's license. Elaine Kawakami, born June 6, 1984, with an address in Visalia, California. Her picture showed a cheery smiling face. I was willing to bet that after today, she wasn't going to feel like smiling for a while. 

I also found her cell phone and I removed the battery, returning it and the phone back into the backpack but in separate compartments. I moved the backpack out of the way onto of one of the desks and, on impulse, decided to toss the canvas equipment bag into the closet. No sense in having an aluminum bat around where someone might try to make a grab for it.

On top of the nightstand were a lamp, a box of Kleenex and a clock radio. The bottom one held a pliable purple vibrator hidden behind some books. You never know what you'll find when you go through other people's stuff, but after searching so many different places, you begin realizing that a lot more people than you would have thought have some sort of sexual secret. 

I twisted the switch on the back end of the dildo and it started vibrating. I turned it off and returned it to its hiding place. I pulled a couple of condoms out of a pocket in my coveralls and left them on top of the nightstand, along with another empty Ziploc bag that I'll use later to collect my trash.

I returned to the bathroom, leaving the door open. I set the knife on the bathroom counter then started to undress. First the cap, wig, glasses, work boots, socks, and finally the coveralls, until the only things I was wearing were a jockstrap, the gloves covering my hands, the sheath strapped to my right shin and my watch. I left the fake moustache alone -- it would have been too hard to glue back on when I was ready to leave -- as well as the colored contacts that changed my eyes from their natural blue to a dark brown.

**************

Except for my eyebrows, my body was completely shaved of hair. Call me paranoid, but I've watched too many CSI-type stories on TV where they're able to identify someone using a single hair, and I always want to leave as little trace of myself as possible. In fact, the way technology seems to rapidly advance, I will bet that within thirty years everyone's DNA sequence will be on some sort of database that can, and probably will, be used to hunt down criminal suspects. And this whole Homeland Security business will just accelerate that process.

As part of my pre-hunt ritual, I shave my entire body the night before. Since I turned prematurely bald in my early twenties, I'd been keeping my head totally shaved, so head hair hasn't been a problem. During my pre-hunt ritual, however, I also shave my legs, armpits, a little bit of hair on my chest that's concentrated around my nipples (now what selective pressure decided that it was evolutionarily advantageous to have hair around one's nipples?) and especially my pubic area. 

I'll shave in the bathtub with a lot of hot, soapy water into which I mix some lavender bath oil that I had swiped from one of my first victims; I like a luxurious bath just as much as anyone. While I'm shaving, I'll watch an MPG of one of my previous conquests playing on a laptop perched on the bathroom counter. The MPG helps me get the mood started, not to mention giving me the erection I need to make shaving easier. After my shaving is complete, I'll masturbate to a particularly intense scene. Jacking off in the tub becomes a complete sensory indulgence -- imagining the lavender fragrance is the scent of my prey, feeling the new smoothness of my skin, watching my prey being victimized again on screen, and hearing the terrified sounds of rape echoing off the bathroom walls -- until my cum shoots from my cock to form white stringy shapes floating lazily in the bath water.

**************

I put all my clothes into the bathtub, hiding them from view. Grabbing the stiletto, I headed back to the living room. Elaine was lying exactly as I'd left her. I slid the knife back into its sheath. The Antoni Stiletto is a wicked looking number, thin but of good quality steel -- Antoni makes good diving knives.

I took out a hunting mask and pulled it over my head. It was a Primos full hood ninja mask that completely covered my head and neck. The generous eye holes gave me plenty of peripheral vision and the mouth opening gave me the ability to, well, use my mouth. Plus, the cammo design was pretty cool and, I imagine, somewhat intimidating to my captives.

I latched up my toolbox and lugged it into the bathroom, putting it into the tub atop the stack of clothes. Opening it again, I pulled out the additional pairs of cuffs I would need for the roommate, arranging them neatly in the tub. A strip of duct tape was lightly attached to the edge of the bathroom counter. Lastly, I pulled a digital camcorder out from the tool kit and carried it to the bedroom. 

I put the camcorder down on the nightstand between the two beds. It was a Sharp viewcam with a double battery pack so I could record up to 3 hours -- not that I would ever need that much time. The lens housing swivels from the side of the camcorder's body such that it can be rotated up and down; I don't have to worry about bringing a tripod in order to point the viewcam accurately. That's one aspect of my conquests that I really love: capturing the sights and sounds and replaying them on my laptop after converting them to MPG files. I store the MPGs in an encrypted archive file, which I then burn to a CD and lock away -- no sense in leaving any incriminating evidence on my hard drive.

I returned to the living room for Elaine, bending my knees, sliding my arm under her narrow waist and hoisting her up. She whimpered as I shifted her body onto my shoulder. She wasn't twitching anymore, though her breathing was a little rapid. The slightly acrid smell of her pee-soaked jeans reached my nose as I carried her back to the bedroom. When I deposited her onto the far bed, her whimpering increased, as if fearing what was about to happen. She laid on her left side, facing me, legs bent slightly, hands bound behind her back, blindfold covering her eyes and her mouth taped shut. I checked my watch -- about 20 minutes before her roommate showed up.


The Hunter



Tonight was going just as she'd hoped for; in fact it couldn't have gotten any better. 

She'd spent plenty of time getting ready for this particular Saturday night, after all it'd been a couple of weeks since she'd last had the chance to get out. She'd splashed out on a new cut and colour for her hair, changing it from her usual brunette to a rather striking black bob. As she swung her head, she could she the flashes of scarlet that were hidden by beneath the surface colour. Just like that lass from Republica, she thought.

One last look in the mirror before she left, just to check the look was all it took to convince her that tonight was going to be a spectacular success. She was wearing a tight, cropped top, showing plenty of midriff, the stretchy material held her small, boyish breasts snugly without the need of a bra. Tight jeans emphasised her tight ass, pert and as firm as a peach. The legs of those same tight jeans hid the true height of her heels, heels that made her appear taller than her natural 5'6".

Stopping only to grab her purse she set off. She started by checking out the local pubs, but the night was still young, and they were relatively quiet and empty. Disappointed, but not surprised, she moved on to the city centre clubbing scene. Even at this early hour they were showing signs life. Perfect she thought.

It didn't take long for the lads on the pull to start hovering round, offering her drinks and a dance. She gave each would be suitor a knowing look before dismissing them. These were just the lads, out early, with no staying power; they were just looking for a quick shag against the back wall of the club, and she was in a mood for more, much more.

As the night wore on, the crowd suitably changed, the women got younger, the men older. As she watched, she saw her prey enter the club, along with his mates. They took up one end of the bar, talking and drinking loudly. Even from this distance she could hear them going on and on about the game, how they'd stuffed the local opposition.

One of them looked her way, catching her eye. She smiled knowingly, then blushed and looked away. She held her breath, hoping, praying, and was rewarded when she felt someone enter her personal space. She looked up into a pair of soft brown eyes above a generous mouth. "Hi I'm Mike" he said.

"Pleased to meet you Mike", she grinned, "I'm Felicia."

She took the moment to look him over, feeling more and more pleased with what she saw. He was tall, well over 6' she thought, and well built, large even. He had a narrow waist atop large powerful looking thighs. He was exactly what she was in a mood for. As she gave him the once over, she noticed that he too was taking a surreptitious look at her, and judging by his growing grin, he too liked what he saw.

Just as he started his no doubt tried and trusted chat up lines, she interrupted him, "Fancy a dance?" she said, taking him by the hand and leading him onto the already packed dance floor. 

She let the beat move her body in time to the music; she was pleased to notice that he was light on his feet, showing a surprising amount of grace for one so large. 

During the slower numbers, she surprised him by leading the way, letting herself snuggle against him, her hands gripping his tight buns. She didn?t stop his busy hands, in fact she positively encouraged them, and when they settled on her ass, she let him pull her close, tilting her head for the first kiss of the night.

She wriggled her cheeks against his hands, letting her body tell him that she was interested, very interested in him. During the course of the evening she learnt a bit about him, not that she was really that interested in his university life, nor in his rugby career. She managed to defected most of the personal questions that came her way, only letting him know that she was a student nurse. 

The evening couldn't end soon enough for her. She was more than eager enough to go, but she knew not to rush things, she wanted him to lead the way, the have that illusion that he was in control of the nights events. As she went to the ladies, she knew he'd rush over to his mates; he'd want them to know he'd scored for the night. Let him have his moment, hers would be here soon enough.

When she returned, their mouths hungrily sought each others, their tongues probing, tasting, entwining. Her breasts were pressed tightly against his strong chest, her groin tight against his. His hands got bolder, and she let out a low moan to encourage him, as they slipped down her back and into her jeans. She was watching when she saw his eyes open as he discovered that she was wearing no panties. 

She tightened her ass, squeezing his exploring fingers, and was rewarded with the feel of his member selling against her. She rotated her hips, continuously rubbing him up and down, helping him get as hot as she was feeling. She wasn?t faking her desire; she wanted him as badly as he probably wanted her, but probably not in the way he intended.

Eventually they broke apart, and she breathlessly whispered "My place or yours?" The decision was made, and they hurried off to find a taxi. On the trip back to his digs, she sat on his lap, squeezing his cock with her checks as her mouth sought out his. It seemed to take forever, but finally they arrived, and they ran up the stairs to his rooms.

Once inside his rooms, he turned into the perfect gentleman, offering her a drink, hoping to get to know her a bit better. She took the opportunity when he had to go and relieve himself, leaving his drink unattended. 

They sat entwined and talked about this and that, then she noticed that he was suddenly having trouble keeping his eyes open; in fact he could barely keep his head up. "Are you OK?" she asked, concern etched deeply in her voice. "Yeah, sure?" was about all he managed before he fell deeply asleep.

It had been a bit of a struggle to get him to bed, but nurses were used to shifting uncooperative patients. Stripping him was no problem, and by now she'd perfected her ties. His ankles were tied together with a cable tie, pulling his legs tight together. A cord ran from his ankles to another tie, around his balls, causing them to swell slightly. His knees were bent and any attempt to straighten his legs would rip at his now tender balls. 

His hands were held in another tie, and then tied to the top of the bed, immobilising him on his side. In his mouth was a studded ball gag, the harsh points digging into his mouth and tongue. A small trickle of drool completed the picture as it slid from his slack mouth.

She was finished with her preparations, and it was time for him to awake and take part in the evening's fun and games. Slipping a small syringe from her purse, she jabbed it into his ass, and pumped the antidote into his system.

She sat on the bed, watching him, and as he regained consciousness, she was gently stroking his head, making soft reassuring sounds. A smile crept over her face as she watched his eyes open, as his mind tried to understand what was happening. She tried to calm him, but before she could warn him, he discovered the link between his legs and his balls; a muted Arrg escaped the gag.

"There, there Mike," she crooned, "it'll be all OK soon."

His eyes were pleading, trying to make some sense of the situation he was in. Almost idly she reached out, and took his soft cock in hand, and started to gently squeeze it, before stroking it along its length. "I know Mike that you were hoping to put this to some use tonight. But I've a better idea. Why don?t you relax and let me show you?"

His body softened slightly, and she bent forward, showing him her opening mouth, and her moist tongue. Licking her lips, she lowered her head and kissed his open mouth, not minding the sharp sting of the spikes. Her mouth then trailed down his neck, her tongue flicking and licking as she moved. 

She reached his nipples, and gently bit down on one, before giving it a lick. She was rewarded by a moan escaping his gagged lips. Glancing down, she could see that his cock was stiffening, getting nice and big. She looked up at him, and thought she saw relief in his eyes, he obviously thought that she was just into kinky sex. She was, but not in the way he was thinking.

Her tongue trailed down past his belly button to the dark curls at his groin. He was desperately trying to keep his hips still, as the tie around his balls stopped him from thrusting too much. He gasped as she took the head of his cock into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the tip, tasting him. He was circumcised, a personal preference of hers, a fact that just made the evening even better.

Taking a deep breath, she slowly slid her mouth down, deep onto him. Relaxing her throat, she felt his cock slip into her as her nose buried itself against his groin. She ran her tongue along the underside as she swallowed, squeezing the head with her throat. Mike's groans were increasing in intensity, and his hips tried to buck, to force his cock further down into her, but the tie around his aching balls stopped him from making too much movement.

Pulling her head off, gasping for air, she asked was that good? He eagerly nodded, his eyes begging for her to return to his member.

All this attention to him had got her further into the mood, her pussy was moist and hot, desperate for her to finish the foreplay and to move onto the main event.

She stood, and slowly slid her top off, dancing to music only she could hear, giving him a slow teasing striptease. Every time she glanced down at his cock, she noticed it twitching in time to her bodys movements, leaking a drop or two of pre cum onto the sheets.

She bent over, giving him a good look at her ass, her hands spreading her cheeks, letting him see her tight rosebud, and parted pussy. The scent of intense arousal filled the air, making her head swim with its intensity.

As she was bent over, she reached into her bag, and produced her favourite double dildo, a Nexus. She turned and showed it to him, savouring the moment when he took in the double-ended design. It was almost L shaped, the part for her was not quite as big as Mikes member, but big enough to give her pleasure, it then flared up a little, with small nubs that would press against her clit before turning into a large cock, just as big as Mikes.

His eyes widened in shock, and he shook his head, trying to tell her that he wasn't interested, and could they please go back to the blowjob?

She smiled, not quite as pleasantly as before, and informed him that since he went on out the pull, he shouldn?t complain when he scored.

Making sure he got a good view, she slowly slid the dildo into her pussy, enjoying the slick feel as it parted her wet pussy. She stood over him, slowly sliding it in and out, fucking herself for both their pleasure. Her other hand parted her lips, and toyed with her growing clit, making her feel weak at the knees.

Looking down at his cock, it seemed that the immediacy of the moment had slipped his mind, and his cock was growing again. Taking a tube of KY from her bag, she slowly worked a little onto the tip on the protruding silicone cock, telling him just how much she was going to enjoy taking him. His cock drooped at the news, obviously not interested in getting his ass reamed out.

She lay down behind him, letting the stiff dildo press between his cheeks, he jerked, trying to put as much distance between them as possible, but his tied balls limited his movements somewhat. 

She reached over his hips, and took his now limp cock in her hand, and slowly tightened her grip. She could feel the pulse as his vein throbbed. Timing her movements to the pulse she slowly started to slide her hand up and down his shaft, building him up to full hardness. Although it took a little doing, eventually his cock stiffening completely rewarded her movements.

Sliding her other arm under his head, and around his neck, she pulled him back onto her, his back crushing her breasts, her hard nipples sticking stiffly into him. Holding his cock tightly, she positioned her hips so that his part of the dildo was pressed tight against his ass.

"Ready Lover" she cooed, pressing her hips against his. She grinned, un-noticed by him as his hips convulsively jerked away from the probing tip, trying to separate his ass from her cock. This was the moment she had been waiting for; she enjoyed the way they always tried to wriggle away, to put as much distance between their virgin rings and her fake cock.

She tightened her grip on his cock, and around his neck, immobilising him further, then slowly increased the pressure her hips exerted. She felt his ass give slightly, and the tip was in. "Not so bad? Was it?" He grunted, trying to tell her it hurt like hell, but she deliberately took the sound as a positive sign. Her hand continued to work his cock, and although it had softened slightly, it was no way limp in her hand.

She paused, not only to let him get used to the feel of the intruder in his ass, but to saviour his stiff body, to feel his struggles to free his ass. Her tight grip made sure that he didn't slip off, not that it would have mattered, she had all night to break his ass in.

She pushed harder, and since the tip was already past his sphincter, it slowly slid in, and although he resisted as best he could, he couldn't stop the dildo from taking his ass. The pressure forced her part deeper into herself, filling her, and the nubs pressed sweetly against her swollen clit. This was so exquisite; the pressure on her was turning her on more and more. She could feel her nipples hardening, her clit swelling against the little bumps, turning her on more and more. 

She paused, letting him get used to the feel of a full ass, before slowly building up her rhythm. She timed her hands movements so that every time she thrust the dildo into him, her hand slid down the length of his cock, so that it was like his cock was fucking her hand.

She could feel that his member getting as stiff as a board, and that at least part of him was responding. Her other hand held his hips tight against hers, ensuring that she was buried deeply in him. This was so good, this is what she had missed these past weeks, fucking a guy was such a sweet thrill. 

Soon, she felt the first of what she hoped would be many orgasms rip though her, her body shuddering with the intensity of it, making the intruder jump inside him. She could feel his cock start to twitch, betrayed by her hands soft caresses, but she pinched down hard at the tip, stopping him from cumming.

She waited, getting her breath back, before starting again, all the while leaving it buried deep in him, getting him used to the feel.

This time she moved slightly away, so that she could slip the double dildo out of his ass before slamming it back in. This second fuck was better than the first, his body jumping to the savage thrusts, the intruder slamming into the pair of them. Every thrust caused him to stretch his legs, tugging on his tender and abused balls. She reached around him, taking them into her hand, feeling the heavy weight of them. "Hope you've a good load stored in them lover" she whispered into his ear.

She changed the angles slightly, so that the dildo in his ass would press more heavily on his prostate, massaging him internally. She cried out in ecstasy as she orgasmed again, burying the cock as deep into him as she could manage, her hips pressed firmly against his cheeks. As she bucked and shuddered, this was seemingly enough to bring him off too. His cock started to spurt, pumping a large load of cum onto her hand and sheet.

Spent, she rolled away from him, getting her breath back. "Thanks Lover, that was intense!" she murmured.

Eventually she stood, leaving the dildo in his ass, and took a Polaroid camera from her bag of tricks. She moved round him, taking snap shots, making sure she got the spunk and dildo, but missing out the ties. Putting the camera away, she mentioned casually that she was sure that he wouldn't want his mates at the rugby club to see these, would he. Throwing one of the more interesting ones down on his chest.

He nodded, his face coloured by the shame that he'd came whilst being buggered, and by a slip of a girl too.

She quickly dressed; her body tingling from the intensity of that evening's fun and games. She paused, removed her gag, replacing it with his discarded underwear. She threw a kitchen knife down by his hands as she gathered up the rest of her things and left, sure that she'd never be hearing from him again.



The Hunter



The forest was silent, despite the wealth of birds which usually inhabited the trees. 

Laura was aware of this, having heard the songs cease but a few moments ago, something painfully obvious considering the relative din which the native wildlife created usually. However, she was not scared of wolves, bears or other such creatures that might be heralded by such a sudden quiet. 

"No," she thought to herself as a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, "My hunter is much more interested in me than any animal that i've encountered in these woods before." 

She walked along the path brazenly, openly, but cast a searching gaze about her nonetheless, searching for he who followed her. 

"Can't make it too easy for him..." she muttered under her deepening breaths. 

As she strode through the trees, Laura allowed herself to think of the castle that she had called home all her life. Some women of the keep, though as needy of attention as any, were content with the fawning's and subsequent flings of the empty headed courtiers that plagued the keep. However, Laura had quickly found the ministrations of those imbeciles to be lacking in...substance. Always a strong willed woman, she had cast aside those who wished to speak honeyed words in the shadows of the courtroom, much to the shock and laughter of those she called friend. 

No, Laura looked for more...excitement...than any at that place were capable of giving her. Fortunately, she thought with a smile, she might have found someone worthy of the hunt. The woodsman had been seemingly hesitant at first, regarding her with the same piercing gaze as he did with all the others who were not of the woods, but she had sensed a curiosity within him. 

She could certainly relate to that. 

The woodsman was not overtly muscular as many of the knights and soldiers that paraded the grounds outside the keep constantly, nor as obviously self-centred as those simpletons that searched for her favour in the courtroom, leering at her body behind the masks of ivory that covered the faces of all who danced in the frequent parties the Duke threw for his allies. No, the woodsman was...different somehow, in a way that she had not come across before. It was intoxicating, Laura thought as she slowed on the trail, her hand unconsciously drifting towards her chest as she was increasingly drawn into the half formed fantasies of the mind that she had been forced to follow today. 

No...the woodsman was definitely something she had not encountered before, lithe and slender in form, shaggy hair covering his head as he went about his business in a loping stride which reminded her of the wildcats she had seen as a child in the northern mountain ranges of her father's land. That was when, with a pang of longing, she realised what her pursuer was to her. He was a seeker, a predator, pure in nature and beautiful in form. And she, Laura thought with an answering throb deep within her, was the willing prey. 

Laura shook her head free of lust before she was forced to act on her impulses and end the game prematurely. 

"No, I am enjoying the game of the hunt far too much to stop now" she realised as her steps increased in speed. 

She continued like this for a while, lust and wanton thoughts battling with her will as she ended up running through the forest, feeling more alive than she had ever done in the marbled halls of her family's castle. 

"This is where I belong..." she whispered as she followed the trees deeper and deeper into the woods. Almost as if in answer to her revelation, she heard the unmistakable snap of a dry twig somewhere in the canopy above her head. 

"Impossible." she muttered to herself as she drew to a stop. 

Gazing into the treetops, she was able to catch a flicker of movement above her as a dark shape leaped to a branch over her head. With a peal of laughter, Laura ran. 

Behind her, a deeper, shiver inducing rumble of amusement signalled that he had found her. 

It was not long before Laura was stopped in her flight by the mass of a fallen tree in front of her. The moment she halted, powerful arms drew her arms behind her back, and Laura gasped in shock and excitement. He held her still, resisting any attempts by her to turn and face her captor. Laura's growing need and impatience was answered at last by the feeling of hot breath on her neck, as her hunter tasted her scent. She shivered, both due to the sudden hot air tickling her neck, and due to the almost unbearable need to take this man, have him inside her. 

His only answer to her increased wiggling was to lick up the side of her neck, causing a gasp from Laura, followed by the pressure as he grazed her neck with his teeth. Laura prayed to whatever gods would listen that he would finally claim her, but her thoughts were met only with the feeling of silken rope around her wrists, followed by a sudden tug and ripping sound as she felt the man behind her tear a strip from her dress. 

Laura's world darkened as she realised what her hunter had done: he had used her own dress as a blindfold. None had been so daring at court...but then again the moisture threatening to run down her leg assured her that she liked it. 

She felt herself bent over the log in front of her as her arousal peaked to almost unbearable heights. 

"Please" she begged the unseen man. "Stop playing around and fuck me!" 

The man's teeth left her neck, as she felt him pause behind her. Her disappointment at the small contact she had had before vanished with a moan as her clothes were roughly ripped aside, followed by the heat and movement of the man's breaths against her bare ass. 

"Finally" she thought as the man grasped her cheeks, pulling them gently to the side as his breath moved, from the small of her back downwards...downwards... She almost screamed in frustration when he paused again, the barest of air movement brushing against her glistening nether lips. 

"STOP TEaoooooh" she finished with a moan as the man's tongue found her inner thighs, tracing a searing path to her core. As she waiting, she felt a rumble of amusement from her tormentor. The bastard was actually laughing at- her thoughts were cut off as a needy moan was ripped from her mouth, as the man's wide tongue dragged heavily across her slit. 

Once a taste had been taken, the man's ministrations truly began. Laura's world fell apart to the sound of her breathy cries and moans as his tongue delved deeper into her folds, before it retreated to her chagrin. She stiffened as the tip of his tongue circled her clit, drawing a gasp as his long finger entered her from behind, followed by a second as she writhed in pleasure at the intrusion. She felt her orgasm rise as the man suddenly locked his mouth around her clit, sucking hard. Screaming, her body arched and she pushed against the man as she came, her juices gushing down her captor's chin. Her orgasm continued for what seemed like a bliss filled eternity, until she finally slumped back onto the log, shuddering in the aftershocks of her climax. 

She quickly discovered that she had a deeper need, the fires of which had only been stoked by his tongue. She stood shakily as the man backed away, cutting the ropes that bound her wrists. 

She turned around and beheld the huntsman with a hungry gaze as she pulled the covering off her eyes. He stood gloriously bare to her gaze, taught muscles gleaming with sweat in the fading sunlight. Looking into his face, she saw eyes locked on her with a breath-taking passion, before her eyes were drawn downwards over his body. 

She gasped as she saw his manhood standing proudly at attention from the joining of his thighs, head glistening as it twitched under her gaze. She looked with unbearable hunger at the instrument of her pleasure, noticing at once that it was larger in length and girth than she was used to. Her pussy throbbed as she felt the desire to take this man, let him enter her, use her. 

With a lust filled groan he suddenly rushed at her, pinning her against a nearby tree with one arm locking hers above her head, as he roughly claimed her mouth with a passionate kiss that left her heart thundering and her lungs gasping for breath. She wrapped her legs in a lock around his ass as he kissed her, pulling him towards her even as he left her mouth and ripped away her top, claiming her aching breasts with his lips and tongue as she held him to her chest, arms locking around his head. He dragged his teeth over her nipples, causing them to stiffen even further as she moaned her need to the forest. 

After paying tribute to her already sensitive breasts, he grasped the base of his manhood with one hand, and she realised it didn't even cover half of his length. He pressed his tip against her folds as she froze, feeling every twitch of his body as he held himself there, rubbing his tip over her outer lips. Writhing, she begged him to enter her, and he contemplated her pleas as a wry grin covered his face. 

Suddenly, he thrust into her, burying himself to the hilt in her depths as she screamed in ecstasy. He stretched her beyond what she had expected, a pleasurable torture that soon became an overwhelming desire to continue, as she hungrily pressed her lips against him again, arms still held aloft by one of his. Slowly at first, but rising in speed, he began sawing in and out of her, withdrawing until only the tip remained inside and then plunging back in as his pelvis ground against her clit. 

She lost herself to everything but the sensations which he awoke, as they thrust against each other savagely, with primal need in the woods. She suddenly tensed against him as an orgasm tore through her body, with her screaming out her release as she came hard around him. He grunted as his cock stiffened further, the hunter hammering into her with greater and greater force. 

She had barely recovered from coming when another monumental tide began to shift within her, as she felt waves of pleasure pulsing through her. Her body shook and stiffened as he latched onto a breast with his lips, biting down slightly on a swollen nipple as she finally came again, body shuddering in release. As she tightened around him, she felt the hunter's cock inside her stiffen from wood to steel, as he roared out in triumph and pulsed deep within her as she felt him come hard, thrusting as deep as he could within her and holding fast. 

As they came down from their shared highs, Laura found herself resting on the hunter's heaving chest, both of them gleaming with their exertions. 

"I...would know your name, my hunter..." Laura breathed, even as she felt the beginnings of lust returning to her. 

"My name..." rumbled the hunter as he toyed with one of her breasts absently, his length already hardening beneath her. 

"...My name, is James."



The Hunter



The four occupants of the late model, 4 wheel drive vehicle, got out and stretched their limbs. They breathed in the clear mountain air, briefly admired the scenery and began to unpack their hiking equipment from the trunk. It was late afternoon in mid-summer and they felt the warm air, despite being in the mountains. All four had experience and were looking forward to three days hiking. 

Harry Chalmers and his Vietnamese wife Kim had been married for 18 months. They often walked the mountains together. Their Best man, Marty, was the most experienced of the group, having hiked in various countries. Kim's friend Anh, recently arrived from Vietnam, made up the party. She had never previously hiked in the USA. However, she had spent days in the forest in her native country and was well practiced at walking considerable distances.

Anh had come to the United States to study. She had a two year visa and was enrolled at a community college. Kim, who had lived in the US since she was 10, had agreed to look after Anh during her stay. Their mothers had been friends back in Vietnam. Anh was a shy girl, even in her native Vietnam, so she appeared very quiet and reserved to Kim. However, she had a steely resolve and when she decided on a course of action she would not be dissuaded. Thus she had travelled to a foreign country to further her education.

Kim's father was American and her mother Vietnamese. He had been working in Saigon and had met and married Kim's mother, before moving them all back to the US to commence a new job. Kim was a slender, attractive young woman, with wavy shoulder length hair. She had met Harry at College, when aged 18 and they married two years later. 

Harry was a tall, good looking young man. At 6 foot he was a full eight inches taller than Kim. Despite his looks he considered himself very fortunate to land a girl so attractive. They were deeply in love and shared similar interests. Her mother would have preferred Kim to marry a Vietnamese boy, but she accepted Harry.

Harry and Marty had been friends since High School. They were athletic, played tennis together and competed up to State level. Both were competitive. Marty had many previous relationships, none of which lasted more than a few months He was viewed my many as arrogant, but Harry always dismissed this criticism of his friend. Harry was as loyal to Marty as he was to Kim.

Once they had unloaded all their gear and arranged their backpacks, the four set off into the mountains. The men were impressed that Anh carried as much as Kim, despite being shorter and slighter in build than her part European friend. Marty had his 22 caliber hunting rifle slung over his shoulder. He always took it with him when he went hiking and had it loaded in case he sighted some game or they came across an aggressive bear. It gave him a sense of security. He enjoyed the fact that it often caused unease among his tramping acquaintances, especially the women.

The weather forecast was for fine weather and they planned to wander the trails taking in the sights. The boys and Kim had done this a number of times previously and Marty, in particular, knew the trails very well. Both boys were in buoyant moods as they walked along in the late afternoon sun. The girls were a little more subdued for differing reasons.

Anh had only been in the US three weeks and was somewhat overawed by the experience. Being a bright, middle class, 22 year old from Saigon, she was familiar with a cosmopolitan lifestyle. However, any new country required adapting too. The food, the language, the customs, were all foreign to her. Kim had been very helpful with this, but it was much to take in. 

"What do you think of our mountains?" Kim enquired.

"Beautiful and pleasing," Anh replied, limiting her response to English words she knew well.

"Yes, very pleasing," Kim said smiling, as they trailed the two young men.

This was the first time Anh had seen Kim smile since they first got into the car to travel to the mountains. She had wondered if something was wrong with her friend or maybe between her friend and her husband. They continued to walk in silence, listening to the men talk about which trails to take and where they would camp the night. Then Kim spoke in Vietnamese, which she knew the males had limited knowledge of.

"You must be wary of that one," Kim said indicating toward Marty.

"Why?" Anh replied, unsure why her friend would utter such a warning. Marty had been a gentleman since she had met him a week ago. Far more polite and non-threatening than some of the young men who she had encountered at the College.

"Just remain on your guard with all American boys," Kim said, deemphasizing Marty.

"Ok, Mum," Anh replied in English, with a smile. Kim was not telling her anything she did not already know. She was merely echoing her mother's parting advice. She smiled inwardly, feeling Kim was being over protective.

However Kim was not merely being protective of Anh, in regard to Marty. She derided herself inwardly for not having the guts to press on with her warning about him. Her husband's friend had two sides to him and the one he kept hidden was far from pleasant. Kim had experienced it first hand, but she was safe with her husband alongside her. Anh had no man to protect her, so Kim knew she must take up this role.

They walked onward passing no one on the trail, until the light began to fade. They found a clearing near a stream and set up camp for the night. So far everything had been uneventful and the walk most pleasant. Kim began to relax. Harry noticed this.

"You Ok now?" he said giving her a hug. "Anh seems to be enjoying herself."

When Harry had suggested going hiking with Marty and Anh, Kim had been strongly against it, making all sorts of excuses. Harry had ignored her and when he asked Anh directly, she had said she was very keen to go into the famous American mountains. Harry had noticed Kim was sulking in the days leading up to the trip, but was unsure why. Being an upbeat sort of a man, he was happy that she now seemed to be coming out of her sullen mood.

"It's just great out here," he said looking around, putting out his arms and drawing in a deep breath. 

Harry turned her gently and enveloped Kim in his arms. They were facing away from the other two, who were conversing. Harry took the opportunity to envelope one of Kim's breasts with his large paw. 

"Stop that," Kim said in a stage whisper.

"Why? You like it, I know you do," he said, while he continued to massage a handful of breast through her T-shirt and bra.

"He's right," thought Kim. "I do like it."

"You two need some time alone?" called Marty. He had been watching Kim. 

Kim shrugged out of Harry's arms. She did not like the idea of Marty watching her play fight with her husband, let alone become aroused by this play. She went off to collect some firewood.

Marty went back to telling Anh about the wonderful view from Pine Ridge.

"It will be nice to go to there," she said

Marty smiled. "It will be nice," he thought to himself. "But only if I can get rid of these other two." He knew that would not be easy, with Kim on the alert.

That night they sat around and the boys smoked some weed that Marty had brought with him. Kim and Anh declined. Kim because she was weary of its affect and Anh because she had never tried it and did not intend too. She momentarily wondered about the loose morals of some of these Americans. Marty spent time cleaning his rifle as was his habit during camps. As he cleaned he chatted with Harry and watched the women.

He liked Asian women and found them both attractive, but Anh was shorter, slighter in build and had straight hair. Usually dressed in jeans, he was pleased she had worn shorts on the trip. He watched her walk around and kneel, admiring the slender smoothness of her slim legs.

They had brought small, two man tents, but it was warm enough not to need them. They slept by their campfire, in sleeping bags, under the stars.

Next morning they were up early and soon on their way. The trek was proving uneventful and all of them, including Kim, were in good spirits. By early afternoon they had tramped some considerable distance at a good pace. They were all hot. They'd passed a stream that had an inviting pool, but the boys in the lead merely pushed on past it. Kim did not say anything at the time, as she did not want them all stripping off in front of Anh and she did not want Marty looking at her body. About half a mile further on they rested for a siesta.

Kim took her chance, saying she was going back to the stream for a swim and a bit of time on her own. The others indicated this wasn't a problem and she went on her way. She stripped to her bra and panties and dived in. It was refreshing and she frolicked in the cool water for about 20 minutes, before getting out and dressing. When she wandered up to where she had left the others she could only see Harry sleeping and was immediately concerned.

"Where are the other two?" she quickly called to Harry, waking him.

"Well Marty thought Anh would like to see the view from Pine Ridge and that you and me could use a little time alone. We're going to meet up at the Twin Creeks Fork."

Kim was shocked, her heart racing and her mind ticking over.

"No we're not," she said abruptly. "We're going to follow them."

"Why'd we want to do that?"

Now Kim was facing a dilemma. She knew full well why they needed to go after Anh. Marty was a sexual predator and would fuck her as soon as he had the chance. It would not matter to him if she protested. Kim knew that all too well.

"We have too," Kim said, feeling a lump in her throat, before repeating sadly, "We just have too."

----------------------------------

Six months earlier, Harry had travelled to attend a seminar, which took him away for two nights. Had she been able to, Kim would have accompanied him, but she had to remain home to work. The first night he was away Kim had arrived home from work, exercised and showered. She put on loose fitting, knee length cotton skirt and a pastel pink shirt, with no sleeves. She wore panties, but no bra and padded around the apartment in bare feet, a wine in her hand.

Kim was not expecting any visitors; otherwise she would not have dressed so informally. So it was a surprise to hear her buzzer sound. She went to the intercom and inquired who it was.

"It's me Kim, Marty. Can I come up?"

Kim hesitated a second. Marty would often drop in to see Harry, but not usually unannounced.

"Harry's away Marty," Kim said hesitantly.

"I know. I had some free time so I thought I'd just drop in."

"Ok come on up," Kim said, not wanting to appear rude in any way. Marty was a friend of her husband, had been their Best man and, as such, Kim felt she must show him due respect. This was despite the fact that she was a little weary of him. He held her gaze for longer than Kim felt was polite and he freely allowed his eyes to rove over her body. He was an attractive man and part of Kim found this flattering, but also a little unsettling.

Kim unlocked the door and waited for Marty.

"How are you my little Asian Princess," Marty said as they exchanged kisses on the cheek. "Wow you look good in that."

Kim blushed, realizing he was looking directly at her chest and wishing she had quickly donned a bra.

"What's up Marty? Harry's away at that seminar for most of this week."

"I know, he told me. I thought I'd come over and keep you company for a while."

"Really," said Kim, feeling a little perplexed by this.

"Yeah, I've got a little something here that I needed to share with someone."

Marty pulled out a silver cigarette case and opened it to show Kim a large joint. He was aware she smoked, as they had done so together with Harry, a number of times in the past. However, the two of them had never socialized alone together.

"I've got a bit to do this evening Marty," Kim said trying to put him off, but Marty would not be dissuaded.

He had immediately noted she was braless and he found her plain barefoot look very alluring. He had come around to test the waters with his best friend's wife and her attire was the perfect start. He had no intention of backing off now.

"C'mon, don't be a party pooper. Let's start with a wine and then indulge in this little beauty," he said again holding up the rolled marijuana. He walked over and sat down on the couch.

Kim felt his eyes on her as she walked to the fridge and got out a bottle of white wine. She poured them both a drink and handed one to Marty.

"Sit down," he said patting the sofa beside him.

She reluctantly sat, leaving a gap between them. Marty immediately shifted to close the gap and brought his glass to hers.

"Cheers, it's great to see you Kim, you look so relaxed. You enjoying having the man of the house away?"

Kim merely looked at her glass and forced a smile. She did not feel relaxed, now that he had moved into her personal space. Despite this her senses were alerted. She could feel the warmth emanating from his body and noted his masculine odor.

Marty chatted away as they discussed nothing in particular. He was good at this, always having the ability to lead a conversation. Occasionally he would glance over at Kim who would rarely meet his eyes. He noted the contour of her breasts, sitting under the flimsy garment.

Marty had lusted after Kim since soon after Harry had introduced them. Harry talked too much when drunk and had not held back in describing his wife. 

"She's shaved herself for me," Harry had told his friend. "She gets horny real easy and rides my cock like a pro every night."

Marty reveled in hearing these descriptions. He always replied in kind with descriptions of sex with any one of his many girlfriends. He would always finish a description with, "Does Kim do that?" 

Harry never once held back information when inebriated. The result being that Marty knew all about what Kim looked like naked, what aroused her and her favorite sexual positions. 

Now, they'd been married a year, Harry was absent and Marty had decided the time was right to throw caution to the wind. He knocked back the last of his wine and brought out the smoke.

Kim remained uncertain. She'd had two wines and the cannabis would further lower her guard. While he had never hit on her, Marty had certainly looked at her in a manner that she felt was inappropriate. She knew he had bedded many women. In addition she was concerned about her own reactions. Marty was very good looking, he was sitting close and his maleness was continuing to invade her senses.

"Bottoms up," said Marty, indicating to her glass, before lighting the smoke and drawing back deeply.

Kim did as instructed, placed down her glass and took the joint. Her manners overrode any apprehension she felt. 

Marty smiled as she drew back on the joint. He had used the very best buds for this smoke. Top quality and extra strong, certainly superior to any Kim would have previously smoked. This would soon make her very mellow and, he hoped, very compliant.

Marty continued to prattle on as they smoked the joint. Kim began to feel the effects. She found herself relaxing and finding humor in Marty's aimless prattle. She became increasingly conscious of how close he was.

"Kim," Marty said quietly.

"What?" she said, slowly turning her head toward him.

Marty immediately brought his lips to hers. Kim, taken completely off guard, did nothing to stop him and this fact would later haunt her. She was a married woman and allowed her husband's best friend to kiss her on the lips. Worse she opened her mouth and welcomed his tongue.

The drugs heightened her awareness and Kim reveled in the touch. His lips were soft, his tongue flicking lightly onto hers. He tasted good.

For his part Marty could not believe his luck. He had anticipated immediate rejection.

"Maybe I've misjudged her," he thought, as he brought a hand to her breast and began to lightly lift it.

The kiss had already begun to arouse Kim and when Marty touched her breast the hormones flooded her groin. The alcohol and the drugs were dictating her responses. She let out a light sigh, which did nothing to inhibit Marty's attentions. He moved his hand to manipulate her nipple through her shirt.

It was not until Marty brought his hand off her breast and moved it to the bare skin under her loose dress, that she first felt apprehension. She suddenly came to the realization that this wasn't right and was quickly getting out of hand. Kim pulled her lips from his.

"Marty this is wrong," she said, looking directly at him through glazed eyes.

"Golly, he's got beautiful eyes," she thought as she felt his hand slip higher between her thighs, onto the soft flesh located there.

"Marty please," she protested, but briefly accepted his lips again, delighting in his taste and touch. At this point she was completely compromised.

"Marty please, we can't do this. It's not right, think of Harry."

"Harry's not here and we will never tell him," Marty said, now pressing his hand into her crotch through her panties. He smiled as he felt heat and dampness.

Kim felt his fingers slide easily up and down her lips. She felt shame at her body's arousal.

"Look..., look," she said, her heart now racing, as Marty's fingers began to have the effect he had hoped for.

"Look what, baby? I'll tell you what. Let's take off our tops, make out for a while and leave it at that. Is that OK?"

All the time Marty continued to manipulate her labia and clitoris through the panties. His touch felt good and she longed for him to touch her bare flesh, but hoped he would not.

"Ok," she reluctantly agreed. She thought this might calm things, while bringing his hands back to her, now aching, breasts.

She seperated from him and pulled her shirt up over her head and Marty did the same with his T-shirt. She was happy when Marty pulled his hand off her panties, however unprepared for the effect her semi-nakedness would have on both of them

Marty looked down at her and for the first time saw her naked breasts. They were just as Harry had described. Plump and firm.

"Perfect," he said softly as he swiveled and brought hands up to cup each of them. Then he moved his mouth down to her small, brown nipples, kissing each one in turn.

Again Kim did nothing to stop him. She did not want too. Her loins were on fire and she felt safe in the knowledge that Marty had agreed they would merely make out. Safe from him and safe from her own feelings of lust. Through the fog of the drugs and alcohol she thought to herself how she would enjoy this interlude, he would leave and she would masturbate in the shower. Harry need never know. 

Suddenly Marty brought his lips back to hers and moved both hands under her dress. While she again enjoyed the kiss, she knew this was not part of their arrangement.

Marty had no intention of merely making out. He was now rock hard and Kim was semi-naked, He wanted to be inside of her, to own her and he would be dissuaded. There was no turning back. He slipped his thumbs under her panties and pulled them down her thighs.

Kim was taken by surprise and wanted to resist. However she was pinned to the back of the sofa. Marty released her only so he could reach back to take the panties clear of her ankles.

He then stood up, dropped his shorts and she saw his hardness spring free.

"No Marty you promised. Just making out you said," Kim said, realizing she sounded like a naive young girl.

"Tell me you're not horny as hell? Go on tell me?" Marty said completely ignoring her protests. With that he grabbed her legs and roughly turned her sideways on the couch.

Kim's head was still swimming and she could not react as she wished. When she tried to get up, Marty merely lay on top of her, pushing her skirt higher and forcing his legs between hers. She felt his cock pressing into her inner thigh. Kim now found some clarity and became very forthright.




The Hunter



"No Marty, I said, 'No' and I mean it. I want to stop."

"Well that's too bad."

He pushed her loose skirt up around her waist completely baring her naked sex. He took hold of his cock and touched her with it.

"No Marty, please don't," said Kim, starting to cry, as she felt him run his cock head up and down her hairless, wet opening. Despite her protests, when it touched her clitoris it sent another strong surge through her.

"It's going to happen. Now lift your legs higher," he demanded curtly.

At that point the fight went out of Kim. He was to strong; she'd allowed her position to become too vulnerable. She could barely acknowledge the fact that her lower regions were betraying her and she longed to be filled. She bit her lip hard and turned her head as tears stung her eyes. She raised her knees up to Marty's flanks in a sign of surrender.

Marty knew he had won, brought a hand to her breast and pushed his hips forward, burying half his cock inside of her. He saw her react, but couldn't tell if it was pain or pleasure. He didn't care, withdrawing then thrusting forward again. This time he was more certain.

"You like that, don't you Kimy?" he taunted her.

Kim was ashamed. His manhood filled her, just as her body desired. She raised her hips a little more and pulled her knees further up his body. He accepted her invitation and began to fuck her. At first he used long slow strokes, then began picking up momentum. Kim moved her own hips in unison to his and soon there was genuine mutual lust in their mating.

Kim had now completely surrended to her physical feelings. Very soon she felt that familiar rise of sensations in her lower back, buttocks and labia. She closed her eyes tightly and willed the feelings on. Eventually, it came upon her with a rush.

Marty felt triumphant as he felt his friend's wife clamp around his cock. He stopped thrusting so he could watch, her face screwed tight in ecstasy, while she contracted time and again. He was so turned on he had to fight to avoid going over the top himself. He had no intention of finishing just yet.

As she finished her huge orgasm, Marty withdrew his cock. This occurred too rapidly for Kim and she wanted him inside her again. Marty moved to sit on the sofa, pulling her skirt off her legs as he went. He pulled her up on top of him, roughly pushing her legs to either side of him. Kim did not protest when he found her lips with his. She kissed him back, pushing her aroused nipples into his chest, no longer caring who he was or how he had not listened to her protests.

"Take my cock and put it inside of you."

Marty's blunt command jolted Kim back to some reality. Her first reaction was to deny him.

"No." 

"You loved being fucked, I got you off and now it's my turn. Do it," he commanded her. As he said this he held her tightly above him as he slumped back in the sofa.

"Fuck it," she cursed to herself. "What a mess I've made of this. Fuck it, fuck it." 

Kim could see no way out. What point was there in denying him now? He had already fucked her and she had orgasmed while he watched. How could her embarrassment worsen? She would give him what he desired and be done with it.

Kim brought her small hand to his cock, holding it for the first time. She noted it was larger in girth than her husbands. This thought caused her more shame, so she quickly lined his cock up and sank down onto it. She was so well lubricated that Marty was immediately buried to the hilt inside of her. This sense of fullness again caused her much pleasure.

Kim quickly went to work. She pushed herself up with her hands on his chest and looked him in the eye. 

"Fuck him, I will not look away," she thought and began to ride his cock.

Kim and Harry often fucked in this position. She enjoyed it and knew what a man liked. Marty knew she liked it as well, because Harry had told him. 

Marty brought his hands to her buttocks and began massaging them, while marveling at the way she rode his cock. Her full hip movement brought her butt high to the point where he almost slipped out of her. She then regathered him and pushed her butt down, impaling herself on his hardness. This motion was repeated at speed. When Kim began to actively contract her vagina around his shaft on the upward movement, he felt his juices begin to rise.

Kim saw his face muscles tighten and knew he was close. She renewed her efforts slamming down, forcing his shaft deep inside of her, before milking it as she withdrew. Suddenly, without warning, a smaller orgasm gripped her and she stopped moving to fully enjoy the sensation. 

Feeling her orgasm again was too much for Marty. He grabbed her ass tightly and released his seed deep into her womb. As he did so he let out a loud groan, his eyes shut tight. Kim fell forward onto his chest, grinding her pelvis into his, to keep the blissful feeling coming. They lay like this for a minute or more, panting from the exertion, physically satisfied. 

Soon Kim came down off her sexual high and shame flooded in. If there were a knife close by, she would have rammed it into his chest. Not only had this man fucked her against her will, she had been unable to control her own urges. She immediately hopped off him, sat down and covered herself with her clothing.

"Get out."

"Fuck Kim, that was awesome."

"Get out, you prick," she yelled at him.

Marty had never heard Kim swear and smiled broadly. Slowly he began to rise. He had not had a fuck like that in a long time. Harry had not been exaggerating when describing his wife. Marty would have been happy to go again, but thought it best to depart.

"Maybe I can call in again tomorrow," he said, gathering his discarded clothing.

"You bastard, you raped me."

"Whoa, settle down with that sort of talk. I think I felt you orgasm a few times there."

"I said, 'No', and you continued regardless. There will be no tomorrow for us. It will be, 'No', forever and if you try it again, I'll tell Harry myself."

Now Marty felt slightly anxious. The prospect of telling Harry was his trump card, not hers. He was concerned that she was saying such things. It was time to leave.

"Ok, Ok, settle down. No one wants to hurt old Harry boy. This can stay just between us. I'll see you later."

With that he quickly dressed and walked to the door. He couldn't leave without giving her one final reminder of what they had done.

"You're a great fuck Kim. Harry's a lucky bastard."

With that he was gone and Kim burst into tears, pulling her knees up to her chest and rocking quietly. She felt nothing but shame.

-------------------------------------

Anh watched Marty as she walked behind him. The trail was narrow and they had walked in single file the entire way up to Pine Ridge. Marty had been telling the truth, the views were magnificent, all the way back down the valley and out to the plain in the far distance. They had rested a while and eaten. As usual Anh watched with interest while Marty cleaned his gun. She knew about guns and was fully aware that there was no need to continue to clean it.

"This man has an issue with guns," she thought.

They resumed their trek, Marty continuing to lead. When they came to a fork in the trail, Anh was certain Marty had taken the wrong trail. This time she spoke up.

"Will this not take us further from Kim and Harry?" she asked quietly.

"No, this one loops around on easier terrain. That other track leads into rough country," Marty answered her confidently, as he strode on.

Then, as if to confirm her feelings about Marty and guns, he unslung the hunting rifle and fired off a shot at a deer on the far ridge. Anh knew the deer was well out of range and saw it bolt off the ridge and out of sight. Marty reached into his pocket and reloaded the rifle. Anh thought the shot was fired merely to impress her, but said nothing.

Marty was feeling buoyant. Kim had continued to reject him since that night. Marty genuinely felt she had no reason to do so. She'd had two orgasms and fucked him with passion. 

"Why then would she not want to repeat our lovemaking?" he had wondered.

This continued rejection had begun to eat way at him over time. He became increasingly angry toward her, although he was careful not to show this. Anh's arrival had been more than he could wish for. As soon as Harry had mentioned it to him, he had determined that he would have her. If Kim would deny him then he would have her friend.

------------------------

Back on the main trail Kim and Harry heard the rifle shot. They had argued and Kim had remained upset about her friend going off with Marty. Harry had refused to follow Marty and Anh saying it was stupid to do so. In addition, as far as he was concerned, Kim could not come up with a good reason why they should. Harry was aware Marty knew the country well and believed he would look after Anh. Now, as they walked along, he knew they would not have the sex he'd anticipated, with his wife 20 yards in arears and clearly angry.

"We'll meet them by evening," he called back at her, but was met by stony silence.

Kim recalled what had occurred in the apartment two months earlier and a shiver went through her, despite the heat of the day. Marty had buzzed her the following day and asked to come up. She had thought this so brazen and had to reaffirm her position. His words came back to her now.

"I'll go now, but you and me are going to fuck again Kimy. You're a great fuck, you liked it and I love fucking pretty Vietnamese girls. It has to happen again, sooner or later."

"Poor little Anh," Kim said to quietly, as she recalled his direct language.

"What's that?" her husband said turning his head to look back.

"Just hurry up and lead the way," Kim called back, anxious to get to the rendezvous point as quickly as possible.

------------------------------------------

Marty had taken another right hand trail and he and Anh had topped a ridge before heading down. She was certain they were heading the wrong way, but felt it impolite to question Marty again. She noted the terrain was more rugged and the trail had narrowed to be barely discernable. She saw the sun was getting low in the sky and wondered to herself how they would make the scheduled meeting by dark.

-----------------------------------------

When Harry and Kim made the rendezvous point at Twin Creeks Fork, there was about a half hours light left. When Kim saw that there was no one there she felt her heart sink. She knew with the animals and rough tails no one would trek at night and the two parties would be forced to camp apart. That would leave Anh alone at a campsite with Marty. She shuddered again.

"Where are they?" asked Kim.

"How should I know," Harry answered, clearly irritated by Kim's continuing concern over the two parties being seperated.

"Call Marty," Kim said.

"Cell phones won't work out here. They'll get here and if they don't we'll just wait, they'll arrive in the morning."

Kim said nothing in reply. She was extremely frustrated. She had let Anh down. She had left her friend alone and vulnerable.

-------------------------------------

Marty stopped and turned to Anh. He unslung his beloved rifle and took off his back pack.

"We're not going to make it by nightfall. We better set up camp here and trek on in the morning. They'll wait for us."

Marty knew there were at least 5 miles, as the crow flies and three ridges between them and Kim. Even if she had wanted to follow, she would not find them. He and Anh had passed no one on the trail. They were alone for the night. He looked at her small figure, as she put down her back pack and stretched. This action, with her hands on her hips, pushed out her breasts. Marty felt his cock stir.

"Let's pitch the tent and get some firewood. It might get a bit colder tonight."

They busied themselves setting up camp and cooked some food as night descended. After eating Marty sat cleaning his gun and pulled out a hip flask. He took a drink and offered it to Anh. She thought it impolite to refuse and took a sip.

"Go on have a decent drink," Marty said, indicating what he meant with his hand. 

Anh put the flask to her lips and took in a large gulp. She felt the warmth in her stomach, but was not used to drinking straight spirits. It made her feel a fraction nauseous. Marty laughed at her expression, accepted the flask back and took a drink. Then he flicked open a plastic container and sorted out a number of pills, which he washed down with the alcohol. He returned to rubbing his gun, while he stared at Anh.

Direct staring like this was not polite in Vietnam and Anh felt uncomfortable. She quickly looked down.

"Time for bed," Marty announced suddenly. "We'll need to be up early."

They moved into the tent which was high enough for Marty to kneel and accommodated their two sleeping bags, side by side. Anh took off her boots and socks and Marty sat down and did the same. She was tired from the days trek and was thinking how she would sleep well. She moved toward the top of the sleeping bag. Marty firmly took hold of her arm and pulled her back to kneel facing him.

"Take off your shirt," he said.

Anh was taken aback. She was unsure if she had interpreted him correctly and just sat, kneeling, not moving. Marty repeated his instruction.

"Why?" said Anh, as she gestured toward her shirt with both hands.

"Because I want to see you."

Suddenly Anh was deeply concerned. She searched his face for some answers, but he merely stared back at her in a deadpan manner. She again lowered her head, to avert her eyes, as she considered what he had said. She decided the request was sexual, which made her uncomfortable, but at the same time excited her just a little. She decided to comply.

Anh took her T-shirt and slowly pulled it off over her head, bringing it back to cover her front. Marty immediately reached out and pulled the garment from her. Now she knelt in her pink bra, with growing apprehension. Anh had never been unclothed in front of any man before. She had kissed Vietnamese boyfriends, but had gone no further than that. She was a virgin.

Marty looked at her. He took his own T-Shirt off and then discarded his shorts, sitting naked except for his boxes. 

Anh couldn't believe what was happening, nor what she was looking at. She was with a man, half naked and miles from anywhere. In addition, this man was huge, with well-defined muscles that flexed as he moved. Then she looked at his boxers and her alarm grew, becoming obvious on her face.

Marty was enjoying this game and was semi erect. His boxers were tight fitting and did nothing to hide his arousal.

"Have you ever seen a cock before?" he asked, gauging by her look that she most likely had not. "I'm going to show you, but first you must take off more clothing. Take off your bra."

"Please..., no..., I don't want too."

"You don't want too, but you will. Take it off."

The command was forthright and did not beg any negotiation. However, to remove her bra would expose her breasts to a man's gaze for the first time. Anh hesitated weighing her options. Then she noted his face harden further. She was fearful of what this meant.

Anh reached behind her and unclipped her bra, before moving it off her arms. Marty glimpsed her bare breasts, just before she covered them with her hands. It was more than he could have hoped for. While small they clearly hung free from her slim body.

"Now your shorts."

Anh knelt, frozen to the spot. She did not wish to take off her shorts, nor to expose her bare breasts.

Marty sat up and placed a hand on each of her shoulders. She shivered at his touch. He brought his face close to hers.

"Look Anh. There is no one close by. It's you and me, alone in this tent for the night. When two young Americans get together in a tent, they get naked, they kiss and they touch. That's the way it is here in this country. You understand that don't you?"

Anh looked down and thought about what he said. Despite her being aware that Americans had loser morals that Vietnamese, she did not believe two people, who were not a couple, would always indulge in casual sex. However, the part about being alone and far from help, she knew to be the truth.

"He could merely beat me and takes what he wants," she thought, noting his height and weight advantage. "Even if I escape the tent and run, I am half naked and at the mercy of wild animals. Better to face the animal in the tent."

Marty watched Anh turn and sit. She released her breasts and his cock pulsed. He saw them sitting pert and free, topped by brown nipples. She unbuckled her belt, slid down the zipper, then shrugged out of the shorts and pulled them down her slim legs. She returned to her kneeling position, but this time made no effort to cover her breasts.

Marty sucked in his breath. She was a slim beauty, kneeling there. He wanted to enjoy this body. Lying back he pulled Anh down beside him, so their faces were aligned. Then he lent forward and brought his lips to hers.

Anh didn't find Marty's lips unpleasant. She kissed him back and her nipples brushed his chest. She felt a small charge in her lower stomach. This was heightened when Marty brought his hand to her breast and began to lightly massage it.

Marty had wanted to draw out this foreplay, but the physicality was now making him more urgent. He broke their kiss and moved his mouth to her breast, sucking lightly on the nipple, which hardened between his lips. He heard Anh release her breath.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you Anh?"

"It's nice," Anh answered with naïve honesty.

"What about this?" Marty said as he moved a hand to cup her bush, hidden beneath her pink panties.

"I..., I..., don't know," she lied, because his touch caused the sensations in her groin to grow.

"Maybe we will touch and that will be all," she thought, happy with the way Marty was being so gentle. "Learning to touch a man will help me please my husband when I find one."

Marty had no intention of stopping at touching, but he was very pleased with the way Anh had reacted so far. He thought how different her reactions were from those frigid American virgins he had forced his attentions upon. He had brought lubricant, but liked his prey to become a little wet. He slipped his hand inside her panty line, pushed across her hair and let his fingers lie along her labia.

Now the pleasurable feelings in Anh's lower stomach became a torrent. She had masturbated, but this was the first time another hand had touched her. She closed her eyes and pushed her hips forward to enhance the pressure. Her arousal was such that she barely noticed him push her panties to her knees. However as they came of her ankles she opened her eyes and looked at him with some concern.

"Quiet," was all he said, as he settled his hand back down between her slightly parted thighs. She welcomed its return and searched for his lips with hers, once again pushing her breasts into his chest.

Soon Marty found the moisture he was looking for. He moved his hand up and down letting the middle finger slip into the cavern between her swollen lower lips. He smiled to himself at her obvious arousal.

Marty's experienced hand action caused Anh's clitoris to swell and she ground it into his finger. Within a minute the sensations rose and spread to her backbone and throughout her lower regions. She reveled in the intensity of the feeling, while she clung onto this large European man, kissing him deeply.

Marty felt her orgasm and allowed his middle finger to slip into her hole. He found what he was looking for.

"A virgin," he thought with delight, finding his way blocked.

As she came down from the blissful heights, Marty broke their kiss and smiled at Anh.

"Thank you," she said, still trying to catch her breath.




The Hunter



"This is how you thank a man," Marty said turning to lie on his back and shedding his boxers. Anh got up on one arm and gasped when she saw the thickness of his manhood, lying across his upper thigh.

Before she had time to gather her thoughts, Marty had taken her hand and squirted lubricant into it.

"Rub it," he ordered. "That is what you do to make the man happy."

Anh felt she must please him as he had her. She brought her small hand to his cock and lightly rubbed the lubricant up and down the shaft. She could not fit her hand the entire way around

"How does this fit inside a woman?" she thought to herself, happy that they were only touching and still feeling she had some control. Then to her amazement, the pole began to grow in her hand

Marty propped himself up and watched as she lathered his cock in lube. He allowed her to do this with one hand for a time, as his cock hardened further.

"Sit on my legs and do it with both hands," he ordered.

Anh quickly straddled his legs and brought both hands to his shaft. Marty watched her breasts swing freely as she leant forward. She looked up at him and smiled.

"Is this good?"

"Use that hand on the top part, and the other on my balls," Marty instructed.

Soon she was kneading his balls, while circling the head. She was doing a nice job and he felt his juices begin to rise.

"You're a natural," he praised her honestly, while planning how he would take her. He considered just picking her up and lowering her onto his cock, but thought this would not prove easy with a virgin. He decided to proceed in the most reliable way and later he could try other positions. It would be a long night.

"Stop now," he ordered her. "Come up here."

He pulled her onto his body and brought her head up to hers. Her legs slipped to each side of his torso. He kissed her deeply, with Anh returning the kiss with some passion. She felt she had pleased him with her touches and this gave her a sense of pride. 

Suddenly Anh felt herself rolled and crushed beneath him, the wind knocked out of her. She let out a cry and felt him lift himself slightly and slide up her body. Her head now faced his chest and she felt his hardness resting on her inner thigh. She immediately realized what was about to occur.

"No," she cried. "Please, just touching, only touching."

Marty merely laughed at her as she struggled beneath him. Then he rose and dropped himself down hard upon her, once again squashing the breath from her.

"If you fight it will hurt. You need to relax and then you will enjoy it"

"I don't want this."

"That's too bad," he said without any compassion. "We are doing it one way or the other. We are going to fuck, whether you like it or not. Stop fighting and it will be ok."

His blunt description of what he was intending shocked her. She had seen the size of him and feared he would not fit easily inside of her. For a time she continued to move her pelvis, so he could not line her up. However, eventually, she decided she had no choice. Anh stopped struggling.

Marty again rose on his elbows and put his hand between them. He moved his lubricated cock to her wet opening and began to move it up and down her slit.

"Relax and it will be better for you."

With that he pushed the head of his cock between her lips. She tensed, although there was very little pain.

"Relax," Marty told her again as he held the head poised against her hymen, barely inside of her. When he felt her relax, he jerked forward, entering her fully.

Anh felt her hymen tear. Her piercing scream ripped out of the tent and down the valley. Now there was pain, intense pain and it felt like she had a log inside of her.

"Take it out, please take it out," she pleaded.

''I'm hardly in," Marty laughed at her, knowing his cock was not even half way inside of her.

He began to withdraw and she naively thought he was listening to her pleas. Just as suddenly he pushed back inside of her, deeper this time. No scream only a whimper this time.

"Please, no more."

Marty reached behind and pulled one of her legs up sharply toward her chest. He delighted in her tightness and moved deeper into her with short sharp thrusts.

Despite the lube, Anh struggled to adapt to his size. Each movement caused her pain, as he pushed further into her. Eventually they both felt his balls hit her butt. There he rested, his cock fully buried in her. He felt triumphant.

"Just relax my little Asian angel. Your friend Kim is not here to protect you. No one is here, only you and me and we are going to fuck properly now. If you relax your cunt it will not hurt so much."

With that Marty began to move with purpose, withdrawing fully before driving his cock back inside of her. Anh did her best to relax and managed to make it marginally less painful. She raised the other leg and finding this more comfortable, pulled it up all the way.

"My, my, the little minx is getting into this," Marty gloated. He raised himself higher so that his cock was the only part connecting them. He looked down from his vantage point savoring the sight. He watched his cock as it moved rapidly in and out of her of her tight hole.

Anh was not sure how long her ordeal continued. It seemed like many minutes. She thought she may have passed out. When she came back to her senses, his shaft continued to piston in and out of her, until suddenly Marty gasped and left it inside her. A sudden realization overrode the pain.

"No, not in there, no protection," Anh cried.

Marty could not care less about possible pregnancy. The fact was he would have the ultimate payback for Kim's rejection, should he impregnate Anh. He liked that idea and released his stream deep inside of her, his hand clenched tightly on her breast.

Once finished Marty withdrew his cock and lay on his back beside his victim. Anh put her hand between her legs and felt moisture. She raised it and stared at a mixture of lubricant, cum and blood. She sobbed quietly.

"That was a great fuck, did you enjoy that? I sure did," Marty said for his own amusement. He felt very content, now he had another virgin's notch for his bedpost and had paid back that bitch Kim. His revenge was complete. He could have left it there, but he did not intend too. He would be hard again soon.

----------------------------------

It was 10am the following morning. Kim and Harry had been able to do nothing except wait. There was a maze of trails in this country and they had only a rough idea where Marty and Anh would arrive from. Kim was now beside herself. She paced around ignoring Harry's pleas for her to relax.

Suddenly, a shot rang out and they looked up to see two figures coming down the slope toward them.

"There I told you they'd be Ok. All that fretting for nothing," said Harry still unaware of the basis of Kim's concerns. He knew Marty as a good guy, who would have looked after Anh. He had heard tales of Marty being a little too pushy with women, but these were women who were not their friends. Anh was a friend and therefore he expected Marty to have been a perfect gentleman.

Kim's experiences led her to believe the exact opposite. As the couple drew closer she noted Anh trailing Marty, her head bowed.

"Hey Marty boy, Where ya been?" Harry yelled at the approaching couple.

"We camped out overnight," Marty jested in return.

Kim rushed past him to Anh's side.

"You alright Anh?"

The smaller girl looked up at Kim through sunken eyes. "I'm Ok," was all she said.

As the four of them stood around Kim felt her anger rise. Her women's intuition, her knowledge of what Marty was like and the look of Anh, all led her to think the unthinkable.

"The poor innocent girl alone all night with this pig," she thought to herself, glaring at Marty.

Marty caught her look. "What?" he said. "We had a rough night, couldn't find soft ground up there, so didn't get much sleep."

"Is that right Anh?" Kim said turning to her friend.

"Yes, not much sleep."

"Well we're not sleeping here," Harry interrupted. "Let's get going and we can rest up around midday at the Coby Falls."

The others watched him set off, on the trail beside the small river, before slowly following after him.

As they walked, Harry and Marty again led the way, chatting aimlessly. Kim tried to talk to Anh, but became frustrated at her one word answers and eventually they walked in silence.

After two hours hiking they came to the Coby Falls. It was hot with the sun almost immediately above them. The 20 meter high falls, with the wide blue pool beneath, was a welcome sight to all of them.

The boys dropped their packs, Harry began to unclothe and Marty sat down with his rifle.

"I'm goin straight in, c'mon Kim."

Kim was reluctant. She didn't feel in the mood to swim, nor did she want Marty to see her semi naked. She hesitated.

"Yeah, c'mon Kim, get your gear off and get on in there," said Marty as he pulled off his shirt and began to run a rag up and down his rifle barrel. Kim saw the action as deliberately sexual in nature. She glared at him. Harry again encouraged her to come in, telling her how beautiful the water was. Suddenly Anh leaned close.

"Go into the water," she said it a very matter of fact manner.

Kim looked at her friend trying to work out why she would encourage her in such a way. Anh's face remained gaunt and expressionless.

"Go in," she repeated, emphasizing this with a gentle push on Kim's back.

Kim felt she must go into the water and began to shed her clothing with her back to Marty.

"Geez you've got a beautiful ass and you know how to move it," Marty said taunting her softly enough so that Harry could not hear.

"Get fucked," Kim shot back at him, before running to the pool and diving in. 

Kim swam to her husband, feeling safe when he put his arms around her. She pushed her butt back into his cock and felt her nipples harden as she did. They usually made love daily, but, because of circumstances, this had not occurred on this trip. Her mind drifted, imagining Harry taking her from behind, she began to move her butt against his cock.

Suddenly Kim was jerked back to reality. On the bank Anh had moved to sit beside Marty and placed her head on his shoulder. 

"What the...," Kim thought to herself as she pulled away from Harry. "Anh has not said one word to Marty since they both returned. What is she doing?"

"Come back here," Harry said breaking into her thoughts. "Looks like those two might have made friends last night. All that worry for nothing, I said you needed to relax."

Kim could not understand it. She knew what Marty was like. He was not the man for Anh, yet here she was getting up close to him.

Harry could not care less about Marty and Anh being a couple, but he was excited by their closeness. As he watched, Anh pulled off her T-shirt revealing her pink bra, brought her head back to Marty's arm and her hand to his rifle barrel. Together they pulled the rag up and down, in an overtly sexual manner.

Watching this made Harry harden and now he wanted to frolic with his wife. He turned her toward him as he stood on his toes. He found her hand and brought it to his cock. Kim again began to concentrate on her husband and slipped her hand inside his boxers. She began to gently massage his erection. 

Now both of them were aroused and oblivious to the couple on the bank. Kim's legs wrapped around his torso, while her hand continued its work. Harry's hand found her breast and their lips met.

Suddenly they both jumped apart, startled, as a gunshot echoed around the high cliffs surrounding the pool. They jerked their heads in unison toward the bank, where they saw both Marty and Anh lying motionless.

"Marty, Anh," Harry shouted, as he reacted first and began to swim to the shore.

Kim was more shocked and merely stared toward the prone couple, as she treaded water.

When Harry ran up the bank, Kim saw him stop and sink to his knees. She quickly regained some composure.

"What is it Harry, what's happened?" She began to swim to shore.

When she arrived she found Anh lying with her hands over her ears. Her husband lay sobbing, his head on Marty's lifeless body. She saw that the top of Marty's head had been completely blown away and was now a bloody pulp.

"Oh my god," was all she could say, as she turned her attention to her friend.

---------------------------------

Marty had given Anh little respite that night. Every time she thought he was done he would return to use her body. He paid no heed to her protests, so in the end she stopped protesting. She hoped he would fall asleep, but feared the drugs he had taken were preventing this and continuing to drive him on.

At first he had tried to arouse her again with gentle touching of her breasts and lower regions. However, this had little effect on her, due to his savagery when taking her virginity. As a result he had merely lubed himself, rolled on top and taken her in the same aggressive manner.

Later in the night he had tired of this. He began to have her undertake sex acts she was not familiar with and found distasteful. Anh had to lick his cock and suck each of his balls. He made her put the head of his cock in her mouth. When he became dissatisfied with her oral efforts, he used his cock to slap her on the face. He also hurt her by biting her breasts, nipples and inner thighs, leaving bite marks on each.

The final act of humiliation occurred just before dawn, when Marty forced the exhausted Anh to her knees and pushed his cock back into her, now raw channel, from behind. He had gripped her hips and thrust in, even deeper than before. Soon tiring of this he had rubbed a lubricated middle finger over her tight, little rosebud rear hole. Anh had said nothing as he continued to thrust in and out of her. Then he had pushed the finger into her ass hole. She let out a wail.

It was then Marty said something that galvanized Anh into knowing she must take action.

"Now you and I are lovers, the next time I'll show you how to take my cock in your tiny ass." With this taunt he had begun to alternately thrust his cock and finger into her two holes. 

"Oh yes, we are going to have many great nights such as this my little Asian doll," Marty had said laughing, as he continued to abuse her.

Anh knew she could not allow this to happen. She would not continue to be this man's plaything. He was depraved and his equipment was clearly too large for her body to comfortably accept.

In the morning he had told her to dress. There was nowhere to bathe and fluids dribbled out from between her raw, swollen lower lips, down the inside of her thighs, while they broke camp.

Kissing her deeply one last time, he thrust his tongue inside her mouth. 

"Yeah, you and me will make a nice couple." With that he had turned and walked off. 

They walked in silence, Anh trailing some yards behind. Her body ached, but she felt little emotion and her mind remained calm and calculating. She considered the recent events.

"Kim gave me a warning," she thought. "He has done this to Kim and probably to other women as well. He will continue to do this to others and to me. I cannot allow this to happen." 

----------------------------------

After the group had reunited and hiked to Coby Falls, Anh saw Marty sit and begin to clean his beloved rifle. She knew it to be fully loaded. She knew guns well. Her Grandfather had been in the war and kept a rifle. He had taken her to the forest and allowed her to shoot animals with it. She had skinned and gutted these same animals.

"Only an arrogant fool would keep his gun loaded while he cleaned it," thought Anh she watching him in silence.

Marty looked across at her and she knew what he was thinking. He saw a young woman broken, in body and in spirit. A woman who would be compliant in the future.

"Had Kim continued to be compliant?" she wondered.

They saw Harry go into the pool. Anh told her friend to swim after him. Kim had reluctantly complied.

Anh then moved close to Marty and heard him chuckle when she rested her head on his shoulder. She felt no emotion. No fear, nor loathing. She was completely focused. She brought her hand to the rifle barrel and began to rub it in unison with Marty's hand. He laughed aloud.

"Just like last night," he said as their hands stroked the barrel.

"This is for last night," Anh whispered, pulling the barrel under his chin, at the same time finding the trigger with her other hand.

When the rifle went off it blew out her ear drums. However, this time the pain was bearable. The bullet went in under Marty's chin, up through his mouth and into his brain. It exited through the top of his skull. Anh looked and saw the top of his head blown away. She lay beside him, her job complete. She felt nothing.

Later she would hug Kim and not let go, telling her she did not know what happened. 

"One minute he was cleaning the rifle, the next it went off."

Kim looked at her friend and was concerned that she had not cried. Kim thought she must be in shock. Then the women busied themselves preparing to leave, while Harry continued to cry for his friend. 

Anh said one thing to Kim before they left.

"Now we don't have to worry about him anymore," she said looking directly at Kim, without expression. 

Kim was taken aback at the harshness of this comment, given the circumstances. She looked at her friend, searching for a sign of emotion. She found none and it made her feel uneasy.

"What the hell has just happened here?" Kim thought to herself.

When Harry regained some composure he cursed his dead friend for always having the rifle loaded. Then he led the way back toward civilization, still deep in grief and not thinking straight. If he had been he would not have left the body alone at the Falls. Animals would get first go at the corpse.



The Hunter



Here is where a say a few bits.

1) Please do not read if you are underage.

2) Please do not read if you are not in to water sports or do not know what that means.

3) Thank you proff for your help here.

* * * * *

I am what is politely known as a piss hunter or, as I like to call myself, a squat watcher. What the hell is that you ask? Well I will tell you, but first let me just say; I am not a pervert or a bad person. What I am is a man who likes to see women pee.

I know there are people who think this is odd, or even sick. A close female friend asked me what I got out of it, what the turn on for me was. I told her the truth, its the way women pee, for me, its just so sexy and demure. Whether it is sitting on a toilet, which I rarely get to see, or in public.

What I am going to tell you was, for me, what used to be a night of fun! The reason for the past tense you will find out later. But I would like this story to be a warning to women who do not like to be watched when peeing.

The first time I knew I was in to peeing was years ago; I was on my way home from a night out on the town. I was walking towards the town hall, when I saw someone standing near the bushes. They had on a tracksuit with the bottoms pulled down just a bit. I realized it was someone peeing I, at first, thought it was a man playing about, you know pushing his dick between his legs. 

They had their bum pushed out just a bit. It was then that it hit 'that's a woman peeing'. I had never seen anything like that before and I have to admit it was a big turn on, so much so it gave me a semi-hard on. The woman was in her late teens (18 or 19) to early 20's. She had long, brunet hair in a ponytail. Her face was like a china doll. 

As I walked past her, she shouted to me. "What's up with you into water sports or something? Perv." That got me thinking and on the road I am now on.

You may have noted that I called myself a squat watcher, making a comparison to bird watching. Well there are things in common with that. 

1.You never want the subject to know your there. 

2.You need something to record the event. 

3.You need to know the best places to watch. 

Now, as for #1, your best bet is to get a hive of sorts. A car is best, you'll see why latter. As for #2, get yourself a camcorder or something like that, and get something with night vision. Oh and just incase you didn't know, most people do not like to be watched peeing let alone filmed, so get something cheap and cheerful. And for #3, you know to scout out the area that is where the hunting bit comes in. Each town and place is different. But my advice is to look for a place with a mix of lots of pubs, clubs and alleys/car parks. 

The night I am going to tell you about is one of by better memoirs. I had drive into the car park, at about 00:00 hrs (12:00am). I put the tape over in my camcorder light so it wouldn't show, and waited.

I had been there about 45 minutes when the first 3 ladies came my way.

They where giggling and the first two I saw seemed to stumble about a lot. "Ere-Leann, can you stand guard, so me and Sue can have pee," said the taller of the two. 

She was blond and had her hair up in a ponytail.

She wore a pair of black jeans and a red halter-top.

Sue, her friend, was a bit of a BBW, but was not really fat. She had curly, dark hair and wore a pink spaghetti-string top, and a black mini skirt with black ankle boots.

The two of them went to the corner, while their mates waited, just out of sight. The blond one unzipped her jeans and pushed them down to her knees and I could just make it that she had on a light blue thong. 

She then squatted all the way down and I got a clear shot of her pussy as she began to pee. From what I could see, it looked like she shaved.

Sue hiked up her skirt, pulled down her panties, and went into a half squat-half sit position. Her panties looked like a pair of pink full-bikini briefs.

Her bum seemed to hover in front of me, so I did not get to see her pussy. I did get to see the pee spraying out from between her legs, and man what a turn on.

After a few seconds, they where both done at about the same time, the first one just stood, pulled her panties and jeans up. Sue, on the other hand, bounced a few times and then started to pull up her knickers.

Then they both went back to Leann and walked away, shame really, I would not have minded seeing Leann.

The next to come along was about an hour later. She was a tall, busty women with should length ginger hair. She was dressed in a shiny black halter-top, and a cream knee-length skirt, with high-heeled cream and black shoes.

She walked over to almost the same spot as the last two and had a look around to see if anyone was in the car park. Having done that, she hiked up her skirt and pulled down her write sting bikini. She squatted all the way down and I could clearly see she had a full mound of ginger pubs. She began to pee and I could see this powerful jet of piss shoot out of her pussy lips. When she was done she reached into her bag and pulled out some tissue. She wiped her pussy and stood up, and pulled up her knickers, dropped the skirt and walked of.

By this time, it was 0130 hrs (1:00am) and I had to be at work the next day, so I put the camcorder away, and drove home.

Now I used a past tense before and this is why.

Last weekend a few friends and me went out for a drink. One of them is a close friend of mine; she is a really nice person. She has a heart of gold. When we left the pub, I asked to walk her, as it is on my way to my place. About half way there she looked at me and said, "I really got to pee and don't know if I can make it home?"

"So? Just go down an ally or something, men do it all the time," I said.

I know what you're thinking, but that was not on my mind and that is the god's own truth. She is a fried and I respect all my friends, and that includes their privacy. 

We found a really discrete pace that we thought no one would see us. I then stood out of sight where she could do what she need to, without me seeing, but where she knew I could hear her. 

A short time later I heard a scream, followed by my friend shouting my name.

I shot around the corner, like I was fired from a cannon, to see her up trying to cover her pussy with her panties and skirt, standing against the wall. I just caught sight of someone going around the other end of the ally.

I told her everything was ok, as she was in tears. She rearranged her clothes and we walked the rest of the way back to her place in silence. When we got there, I asked if I could come in, and make sure she was ok, as she seemed upset.

When we got in, I let her sit down and went to make some tea. After all, the British Empire was built on the stuff. I walked back to her living room and she had started to cry again. I handed her a cup of steaming hot tea and asked, "Do you feeling like talking about it?"

"Yes ok." She replied. "I was just having a pee, when a had a funny feeling, creepy like. So I looked up and saw this guy leering at me. The worst bit was he seemed to be getting off on it. I could have swore he even had a hard on. He then called me a slut and that's when I shouted for you. I am not am I? I mean I just needed to pee is all."

"No, you're not a slut and anyone that thinks that is just a prick. I mean think about it, men pee in public all the time and no one says anything, do they?"

"No, they don't, thanks. It's just, I have never done that before and I don't think I will again," she said, in a shaky voice.

I left her place about 20 minutes later, when I knew she was ok. What had happen had really shaken her up, and like I said, she is one of the nicest people I have ever met in my life. I never really thought about it, but what turned me on, had really upset someone I cared about. 

That is why I am not going to do it again. It's also why I wrote this to let people, (mainly women) know what is out there and what to look for, really.



The Hunter



It was mid October. Across the bristling hillside the cedar and silver birch trees were slowly swallowing the withered sun. Soon the night would reclaim them. And soon, thought Larissa as she felt the evening frost sting her fingers, soon the snows would come, and then perhaps he would come too.

He had come to her last fall. Trekking back to Fort Compton to sell his furs and to shelter for the winter, he had asked whether he might rest awhile. He had stayed nearly a week. In their giving and taking, Larissa had thought they were merely bartering need for need, as he had bartered with Mohawk and Seneca. Only when he left, did her winter truly arrive, and only then did her empty heart discover the cost of their trade. Now her sole comfort was the prospect of his return. So Larissa watched the skies and counted the days, and waited.

The first snow arrived a few days later. To the other farmers around Kimberling it was an early, unwanted guest. But Larissa welcomed the snow like an old friend. She busied herself, stabling the horses and stacking logs next to the fire and stove. From the cupboard she retrieved a pair of old silk sheets and laid them across the thin mattress of her bed - just in case, she told herself. She took out a white, laced dress that her grandmother had bequeathed her. Holding it against her body, she pushed up her hair and regarded herself in the mirror. Then she pulled a face at her reflection and put the dress away.

It snowed for three days and nights, sifting floury, thick flakes upon the trees and pastureland. On the fourth afternoon, Larissa was looking out towards the west. There she spotted a figure, pulling a string of mules, shapeless and almost indistinct against the grey, white and black of the forest. Her heart leapt as she recognised his loping stride. From the farmhouse she tracked him as he worked his way down the ridge and across the fields. Behind him lay a trail of footprints in the thick carpet of snow. Tomorrow, she thought, his prints will have gone, and soon he will have gone too.

She put on her greatcoat and ran out to meet him by the Dutch barn. 

'You've come back,' was all she could think to say.

Nathan was bearded, weather-beaten and weary. Even under the thick bearskin coat, he seemed thinner than she remembered.

'Yes,' he agreed uncertainly, as if surprised to find himself there.

'Eat or sleep?' she asked.

'Eat,' he answered.

As Nathan tended to the mules, Larissa heated up some stew and poured him a large glass of rye beer. He was hungry and devoured the food in quick, heaped spoonfuls. They sat in awkward silence but, as he ate, he watched her with appraising, hunter's eyes. And she watched him too, occasionally touching his arm across the table, as if by accident, but really to convince herself that he was not some cruel apparition that her loneliness had summoned from the past.

Almost as soon as he had finished, he fell asleep by the fire, lulled by the journey, the warmth and the beer.

When he awoke, Larissa was beside him. She had changed into her grandmother's dress. Nathan admired her slim forearms and calves, browned by the long summer days working the fields, and now reddened by the fire's glow. She had loosened her hair and it tumbled over her shoulders in liquid tresses, as dark and deep as her eyes. 

The sleep had refreshed him. He drew her face to his and tried to kiss her but she pulled away.

'Not yet. I want to wash the forest from you.'

'It'll take more than soap and water,' he shrugged.

She poured him a bath by the fire. Nathan struggled out of his dirty, ragged clothes. 

'I'll wash what I can,' she called from the kitchen, 'but I'll burn the rest of your clothes. I'll give you some of John's.' Through the doorway she watched him from behind. His body was lean and hard. Even shaving, his movements were easy and economical. 

Larissa brought Nathan fresh clothes as he towelled himself off. Now, she found a quite different man before her, beardless and younger-looking.

'I barely recognise you,' she laughed. But at once they seemed easier with one another, as though the year apart had been no more than a few days.

They lay beside the fire. He told her of the summer, of his dealings with the Indian tribes and of his hunting, but mostly of the forest. 

'The forest scares me,' she said. 'It's so wild. I'm always careful to keep to the paths because I'm afraid of getting lost.'

'That's because you fight it. You want to control it, like this farm. But you have to surrender to its moods. Then the forest will protect you, just as it protects the wildcats and wolves.'

'Exactly,' she laughed.

He stroked her hair. 'One day I'll take you with me. We can trek for a week and I'll take you to Magic Lake. I'll teach you to trust the forest. Soon you won't want to leave.'

She told him about the farm. It had been three years since John had died and each year had been harder for her. He asked her about the harvest, the prices she had gotten for her produce, how she managed to cope.

'Haven't you thought of re-marrying?' he said.

Larissa blushed. 'Oh, my neighbours would marry me off in a moment, but the sons just want an unpaid servant and the fathers want my land. I'm better off on my own.'

As she spoke, the firelight cast flickering shadows on her face like clouds drifting across the moon. He stroked Larissa's cheek as if to dispel them. She ran her hand across his chest. She felt a ridge of hard skin beneath his shirt. She unbuttoned it and found a long, jagged scar, still livid.

'How did you get that?' she asked, touching it tentatively. Her fingertips traced the length of the scar.

Before he could answer, she had bent forwards and licked it. Nathan pushed back her face and kissed her mouth. She smelled of soap and lavender. Larissa closed her eyes and his lips stroked the lids, brushing her lashes. As his hands stroked the nape of her neck, his lips traced her cheekbones until he was again kissing her mouth, his tongue hungrily exploring her own. To Larissa each kiss seemed to be a smooth pebble gliding across a shaded lake, barely rippling the surface of her skin but stirring deep undercurrents of desire.

Nathan drew her up and led her to the bed. They knelt against each other, his chest pressing hard against her breasts. Through her dress he could feel her hardened nipples and she could feel his hard flesh. He pulled the dress over her head and, as it shook free, a cascade of water-falling hair lapped against their faces. He caressed her throat, drowning in the dark, flooding waves. She eagerly undressed him in her turn. With each kiss she felt the calm and order of her life receding as he led her from the narrow track of her daily existence farther and farther into a bewildering forest of emotions. Soon, she knew, she would lose all bearing but onwards she went, guided only by her instincts, her needs and her lover.

Now his lips were on her throat, her shoulders, and then her mouth again. As each kiss grew harder and deeper, she imagined herself tumbling down ravines and hillsides, falling head-over-heels and then landing on the snow-cool softness of the silk sheets. 

Nathan had pushed her down onto the bed. His hands were feasting upon her, sliding across her body, scooping her breasts into his mouth. He sucked her nipples, as hard and sweet as wild cherry stones. She gasped. He licked her belly and slipped his tongue into its recess. Now, for Larissa, there was only submission to the chaos of her senses. Her fingers were in his hair, pressing his face lower until he tasted her salty sweetness. 

Nathan ran his fingers through the thicket of her hair, massaging the soft mound above her slit. As he pressed and rubbed his palm against her, he lowered his head between her thighs and sucked on her pink, yielding lips. Then with broad, slow strokes his tongue claimed her clitoris. Larissa groaned and spread her legs wider. Up and down, his tongue slid over her, flooding her limbs with tides of exquisite agony.

After several minutes Nathan stopped licking and, looking up at her face, grinned. 'You're so smooth and wet and warm,' he whispered. 'We've waited so long for this. Tell me how much you want it.' 

'Oh yes, darling,' she murmured. 'I've wanted you so much. I couldn't wait any longer.'

Then, as he held her gaze, he slipped two fingers into her. She closed her eyes, gasping and bucking against his hand. He slid in and out of her, all the time watching her face and feeling her heave against him. Then he withdrew and held his hand above his mouth. She opened her eyes and watched him catch a silver thread of her juice on his lips. 'You taste so sweet - like wild honey,' he said, licking his fingers. He eased them back into her, and resumed licking at her clitoris, fingers and tongue working together in a sensual duet. 

Swiftly he brought Larissa to the edge of a tantalising precipice; then, as she felt herself about to plummet, desperate for the headlong, ecstatic fall, he withdrew. Tenderly he rubbed around her slit and nibbled at her breasts.

'Not yet, my love,' he whispered. 

Gradually her breathing slowed and her moaning receded. At that point he gently drew back the hood of her clitoris, revealing the lovely, pink bud and started sucking on it, gorging himself on her succulent fruit. 

'Don't stop. Never stop,' she cried. 

But Nathan ignored his lover. He brought her gasping to the brink for a second, and then a third time. Larissa could stand it no more.

'I want you in me, darling, please,' she pleaded. 

He sat back and wiped his mouth with his forearm.

'No, no,' she said, 'Here.' She drew his face to her mouth and lapped at his lips and chin, savouring her own juices. 

He pulled away and pressed her back against the bed. Kneeling above her, he ran his hands across her shoulders, over her taut breasts and down to her hips, admiring her body and his control of it. He cupped he buttocks and pulled her on to his lap. Then he spread her thighs, brown and slick with wetness, wider yet. He rubbed her slit with the palm of his hand and, with his thumbs, parted her and drew her on to him.

'Oh God, you feel so big and hard and wet,' she gasped.

His hands were beneath her, pulling her against him. Her long legs enveloped his waist, holding him tightly as she arched against him. She wanted to feel his full force. At once she was lost again to the one, all-consuming sensation, feeling him in every part of her, and wanting to stay in this sacred place forever.

Beyond the forest of their bed, the wind sighed, the larch tree beat its branches against the window and the beasts howled. 

Larissa held Nathan within her as their bodies ebbed and flowed with the rhythms of the night. He thrust into her deep and hard and steady. Then faster and harder yet. Still harder. Only Larissa's shoulders were on the bed as she clung to her kneeling lover. She felt herself coming to the edge of her precipice again. Only this time he was with her, pulling her against him as he pressed ever deeper. With one last lunge he drove her back against the bed. She took his full weight upon her as she felt herself falling, tumbling through the air, sobbing breathlessly and clinging even tighter to her lover. His cries mingled with her screams as he expelled his seed into her. Their bodies shuddered in fits of ecstatic relief, squeezing every last sensation from their coming.

Larissa and Nathan lay in each other's arms. 

Their wanting bore the briefest rest. Larissa leant upon her elbow and stroked her hair against Nathan's matted chest. 'So is that the forest you wanted to take me to?' she said. 'You're right, I don't want to leave it. In fact, I need to explore it further.' He smiled as she kissed him again and felt him harden in her hand. 

They slept very little that night. 

When Larissa awoke, Nathan had already made coffee. He sat beside her on the bed, combing her dark locks between his fingers.

'I've been thinking,' he said. 'I have to go Fort Compton soon. But afterwards I could come back here and help you on the farm. Would that be alright?'

She smiled at him with loving eyes, and sipped her coffee.

Who is the hunter now, she wondered, and whom the prey?



The Hunter



Patrick Murphy walked slowly and silently through the wooded area. His eyes were constantly moving, viewing everything around him, watching where his feet would step, looking for any sort of movement. His rifle was across his chest in both hands, ready to fly to his shoulder for firing.

Nothing moved, he heard no sounds. He didn't like it. He was not disturbing the animals and birds but they were not moving. A movement caught his eye. It was a squirrel. Low on the side of a tree. It was watching something. It was not looking at him. He took a step between two oak trees growing close together. The squirrel was still looking away from him.

He knew he was not very far from the road between Orange Springs and Payne's Landing. A bird flew across in front of him and suddenly veered away from something. Then he saw what he was looking for. He saw the form of a man crouching by a small palm tree. It was a black Seminole, he was difficult to make out. 

Then he heard voices. Female voices, giggling and laughing. He looked to his left and caught a glimpse of people on the road. He slowly raised his rifle. The Indian put his rifle against the palm branches and drew a knife and tomahawk. The brave made small movements as he gathered himself to spring on his prey. The man leapt toward the road and Pat fired. The body crumpled in the road. Pat shifted the rifle to his left hand while he pulled his pistol from his belt with his right hand.

He moved quickly toward the road. He heard foot steps running away and looked in that direction. He saw a figure in the road pointing a shot gun at him. He quickly held his hands up. "Whoa! I'm a friend, don't shoot."

The muzzle of the shot gun wavered and dropped a little. He could see it was a female holding it. He looked quickly around to be sure there wasn't another Indian. He watched her as he put the pistol back in his belt. He pulled his powder horn from behind him and put the tube in the muzzle of his rifle. He flipped the lever on the powder horn and dropped a charge into the barrel. The powder horn was put back in it's place and he pulled his bullet sack out and popped a ball in his mouth. He took a lard soaked patch from his possibles bag and put it over the muzzle of the rifle, spitting the ball into his hand he seated the ball over the patch starting it down the barrel, he yanked out the ram rod and with a quick motion shoved it down hard against the powder charge. His eyes never left the woman as he reloaded the rifle and replaced the ramrod. 

He looked at her feet and saw a small basket laying on it's side with blueberries spilling from it. "You are losing your berries Mam."

She looked down and then back at him. Her blue eyes watched as he took the knife and tomahawk from the body. He walked behind the small palm and picked up the man's rifle. His head jerked up as he heard, then saw riders galloping toward them.

The riders slowed and stopped and looked at the woman, "You alright, 'Cinda. Oh God! Look there. A dead Injun. This fella kill him?"

The woman looked up, "He sure did Pa. He would have had us if he hadn't got him."

Pat smiled at the girl, "Names, Patrick Murphy. Glad I could help, Mam." One of the riders jumped off his horse and walked to the dead Indian and flipped the body on it's back with his boot toe. The Negro Seminole was painted for war with red and black chevron shaped stripes over his chest, arms and face. He wore nothing but a triangular breechclout and moccasins. The rifle, tomahawk, a small bag, the powder horn, and knife were all his possessions.

Pat picked up the bag and opened it. There were some patches, flints and a small pistol inside. Pat examined the pistol. He had never seen one like it. There were other small objects wrapped in cloth with the pistol. He replaced everything in the bag and slung it over his shoulder.

The girl stepped close to him. She was beautiful. She had clear blue eyes and yellow hair in long braids. He tried to say something but words wouldn't come, he just stared at her. 

"Thank you for coming to our rescue, I don't know what would have happened to my sisters and I if you hadn't been here to save us. My name is Lucinda Martin, Mister Patrick Murphy. Are you from around here?"

"Ah, no, I'm looking for my cousin James who runs the Trading Post at Orange Springs. I was paralleling the road hoping to pick up a deer for dinner on my way."

"Oh! We know those Murphys. We only live just down the road from them. Please come and see us. Please."

"Come on 'Cinda, we got to get home and tell Maw you are alright. Thanks from all of us young man. Come for supper Sunday." The man reached down and swung the girl up behind him on the horse. They trotted off down the road. Pat grinned. 'Cinda was going to have a sore little bottom if they kept trotting for long. He picked up her basket and the scattered blueberries. He dusted some off and tried them. Delicious. Sweet, tart.

"Well I might as well get on up the road myself, the game is all scattered now." he said to himself. He walked up the tunnel like road. The trees met over the road and Spanish moss hung in swags from the branches. The road was covered in dead leaves from the past winter. He ate more berries as he walked.

He saw some shacks beside the road in a small clearing. Black farm hands sat with their children and watched him approach. 

"Hey! Can you tell me how to get to the Martin place?"

"Yas Suh! Ya jest goes up dis road 'bout nother most mile an ya caint miss it on yo Haw side."

"Thank you, see ya later."

He hurried up the road trying his best not to run. He was desperate to see 'Cinda again. He didn't know why, but he just had to see her again. The place came in sight about when they said it would. Dogs started barking as he walked up their road. Someone yelled, "Here comes dat guy who saved the girls." He heard a door slam. 'Cinda was the first to meet him. "What took you so long?" she asked. 

"Well, I found the basket you lost and I had to pick up the berries you spilled." 

She pulled his face down and kissed his cheek. "I didn't lose it" she whispered . He was tongue tied and didn't know what to say. A older woman ran to Pat and said she was the girls mother, she pulled his face down and kissed him on the lips. "Thank you for saving my babies, thank you so much." 

"Mam, your daughter 'Cinda was very brave and stood ready to shoot the Indian if I hadn't shot him first."

The mother looked at 'Cinda and said, "I wondered about that, I couldn't imagine 'Cinda running from anything."

'Cinda looked at Pat and smiled, "Mister Murphy, I will bake you a blueberry pie if you come for Supper Sunday."

"That is my very favorite pie. I'll be here." She placed her hand on his arm and he felt the tingle down to his toes. Wow! What a beautiful girl. He stood and looked in her eyes for a minute. "I will see you Sunday afternoon, I promise."

He turned and walked back down the road. He heard the girls chanting in the distance, "Cinda's got a boy friend, 'Cinda's got a boyfriend." He stopped and turned and saw 'Cinda chase the other two with a light switch. He smiled and felt a warm glow sweep over his body.

He arrived a half hour later at the Trading Post. It was larger than he had expected. He entered the store and asked for Mr. Murphy. The clerk went to the back of the store and came back with an older man. The man had dark red hair and a graying beard. Pat introduced himself. The man looked at him for a moment. "By God! Uncle George's son. I last saw you when you were just a babe. Welcome, come with me." He led Pat toward the rear of the store. A very pretty older woman met them and was introduced as Penny Murphy, James' wife. She had bright red hair. She kissed his cheeks and hugged him. They asked about his father and Pat regretted informing them that he had passed away almost six months before. They expressed their condolences. He was taken across the busy yard and into a house. 

"Welcome to our home. Please sit down and tell us why you are here."

"After father's death there was nothing to hold me in Virginia. I heard that land was very inexpensive down here so I put my inheritance into a sight draft on your post and headed for Florida. I thought to purchase some land suitable for starting a small plantation. Now that I am here I see that clearing the land would be a major task. I need your advise on where I might buy land."

"Clearing the land is not too bad. People usually just burn it off before they cut trees. How large a tract are you talking about?"

"Well, Sir, that would depend on the price of land. I need to hold back moneys for hiring people to clear and ready the land."

"What do you plan to grow?"

"That too is a thing I need your advise about. I have a background in the raising of cattle, hogs, and sheep. We also raised hay and other forages of course. What would you suggest?"

"Most of the very large plantations east of here raise mostly sugar cane and rice. There are only one or two in this area and they raise mostly sugar cane. There are a number of large tracts of land available. Some are thousands and up to the twenty and thirty thousand acre parcels. That is where the bargains are. The government land available is mostly smaller plots in the ten to one hundred acre size. The government land runs from fifty cents an acre up to as much as a dollar an acre for choice properties on the river. There is one parcel of prime river front land I have listed, By the way I happen to be the authorized Land Agent hereabouts. This land is about two miles of river front. It has a high bluff along the river, and extends westward about three miles I believe. It is partially cleared and has an existing house on it. The house needs a lot of work. The place is available at a very reasonable price right now because of the Indian situation. I would guess you could pick it up for under five thousand dollars."

"How far away is it?" 

"It is between here and Eureka, actually it is nearer to Payne's Landing."

"Is it near the Martin Place."

"Why yes, it is only a couple miles south of there. How do you know the Martin Place?" Pat told them of his adventure with the Martin girls.

James grinned, "Now, that little Lucinda Martin is a mighty pretty girl isn't she?"

"Hunn, I guess she is." said Pat.

"Now, James, don't tease the young man. You know she is beautiful. And very sweet. I love her. She always stops and talks with us and brings me flowers or things they find on the way. Oh My!"

James said, "What dear, what is wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong, this boy is in love with 'Cinda."

"What?"

"I can tell, am I right?"

Pat said, "I don't really know, I never felt this way before. I know that she has been on my mind ever since I met her."

James smiled at him, "How old are you young man?"

"I'm twenty one, Sir."

Mrs. Murphy grinned, "That's about right, "Cinda just turned eighteen. She has tons of men courting her though."

Pat frowned, "I am invited for Supper on Sunday."

"Oh! That is good, I have never heard of any man being invited for supper. "Cinda will not tolerate fools, she runs them right off, knows her mind, that girl does."

"Sir do you think I could rent a horse or mule and find someone to guide me to see the parcel of land you were talking about in the morning?"

"No, you can't rent a horse or a guide here. I will lend you a mount and ride with you myself and show you the land. Is it in your price range?"

"Yes Sir, That would be a good price for me. After I am settled I may want to buy more. This would give me a good start anyway."

"I guess it would. I haven't received the sight draft as yet. Do you have any notion of when it should get here?"

"I know it left Norfolk on the same packet I was on to Jacksonville or Palatka. I caught a steam launch from Palatka to Eureka and walked from there."

"Then you walked right past the place I am going to show you. You may have been close to it when the Indian jumped the girls. We'll get an early start in the morning, you will stay with us tonight and until you are settled somewhere. After all, you are kin.

The next morning after a short ride they entered the road to the Martin place. The dogs barked, a bell rang and men with rifles appeared as they neared the house. 

"Hello! It is the Murphy clan here to visit this grand morning."

Doors flew open and women and children rushed out. Pat quickly spotted 'Cinda. She took his breath away. She looked up at him with a huge smile on her lovely face. 

"Did you come to see us so soon?"

James grinned, "We sure did little lady, Pat has been chompin' at the bit to see you girl." 

Her eye grew wide as she looked Pat, "Really?"

Pat gulped, "Yessum." 

"Can you come in for coffee?"

James nodded to Pat, "Sounds good to me, are you in a hurry?"

Pat shook his head, his eyes never leaving the girl.

They dismounted and entered the house, Mr. Martin was sitting at a large table and rose to shake hands with both of them. Pat watched 'Cinda leave the room with a sense of loss.

"So James, what are the two of you doing down this way so early in the day?"

"Well, Robert, Patrick here may be a new neighbor. He is looking for land to settle on."

"Looking nearby?"

"Yes, we are going to look at the Wright place."

"The Wright Place? The one about a mile or two down the road? He can afford that? Most young men his age don't have two cents to rub together."

"He seems to think he can, I have never known of any of my kin to brag or lie, so I have to take him at his word."

Robert Martin looked at Pat with new interest. "We would be delighted to have young Mister Murphy as a neighbor, wouldn't we Lucinda?"

'Cinda's head jerked up and she almost spilled Pat's coffee. "A neighbor, that would be very nice. Where?"

"He and James are going to look at the Wright Place."

"The Wright Place, just down the road."

"You must have a wife and many children to need so big a place."

"I have no family. I am looking ahead."

"Daddy can we ride down with them. I would love to see the place again."

"Ask your Momma, if she wants we can take a couple of the boys and a wagon and ride down." "Cinda rushed off. She was back quickly, "Yes, Momma said Yes!"

It was some time later when they got on the road again. Pat rode well ahead as a scout. They saw him get off his horse and examine some tracks then beckon them on. He stopped at a slightly overgrown road. He looked back. James signaled to him to turn left. Ten minutes later the buildings came into view. When they got closer Pat was surprised they appeared to be in rather good condition. He walked to 'Cinda and asked if she wanted to look at the house with him. She nodded yes. The front was toward the river visible below down a sloped hill. There was a large covered porch across the front of the house. There was a living room and dining room on the ground floor. Behind them was a kitchen and pantry and two smaller rooms. Up stairs were two small bedrooms and a master suite with a small parlor and a huge bedroom. Most of the rooms had fireplaces and the condition was not too bad. Pat took 'Cinda's hand and asked, "could you fix it up?"

She looked up at him, "Me?"

"I mean could anyone fix it up?"

"Yes I think so, but it is way too big. No one could handle it without lots of help."

"Right, could you do it with help."

"Yes I could."

"OH!" Let's look at the out buildings. All right?"

"Fine, Pat, let's go." They ran down the stairs and out the door. They came to a small building and the steps were caved in. Pat took her by the arms and lifted her easily on to the porch. He jumped up himself and they went inside. It was completely bare inside. There was a loft above and a fireplace below. They had no idea what it had been used for. They examined a large barn with several stalls and a loft above. Seven small houses sat to one side. A large garden was behind them. Several cleared fields were near the house. Everything was over grown with weeds and vines. Pat asked 'Cinda what had happened here. Why had the owners left the place? Where had they gone? She told him that the owner had gotten sick and died. The wife took some of the servants and her children and went home to Georgia. No one bothered the place very much because there was a tale going around that there was a curse on the place left by the owners.

"Do you believe that, 'Cinda?"

"Not really, Miz Wright gave me five dollars to help start the story. I told every black person I knew and most of the whites. It has come back to me lots of times." Pat grinned at her. On the trip back Pat rode in the wagon beside Lucinda and her mother. By the time they reached the Martin home Pat was very much at ease with the girl and her mother. The more he was near her the more he hated to leave her. He loved to look at her. She had a way of looking at him over her shoulder with a little smile that thrilled him to his toes. As they neared the Martin homestead she whispered that she often walked along the path by the river before the evening meal. She held his hand much longer than necessary when he helped her down. She pretended to slip and he caught her and held her for a second. Then he helped her right herself. He thought the second he held her was the most wonderful second of his whole life. Pat looked over and saw James was mounted and waiting on him. He turned and looked at her. She smiled and whispered ,"Go Pat, hurry back."

He ran to his mount and swung aboard. They galloped out the drive. He didn't look back. After they had been back a while he went looking for James. He found him in the office of the trading post. 

"Have you got a few minutes?" 

"Sure, Pat, I always have time for you. How can I help you?"

"Well, first I want to make an offer of $4800 on the Wright Property."

"That is a reasonable offer. I will give you an answer soon."

"Thank you. I have a pistol I would like you to look at. I took it from the body of the Indian I killed yesterday. I have never seen anything like it." He handed James the bag he had taken from the dead brave.

James opened the bag and pulled the pistol out. He looked at it carefully. "It says, 'Pottet - Paris on the side, and up here on top it says "Clement Pottet, Pat. 1829 Paris, Fr.' It is a double barreled pistol. There are two triggers, I see no hammers. The barrels appear to be hinged right here. I don't see a place for flints or percussion caps. Wait, look the grip turns."

"Let me see!" said Pat." and James handed him the pistol. He took it and examined it. He turned the grip further and when it was turned at a right angle to the barrels he held it with the barrels level. They flopped down. The two looked at each other. "Look at this," said Pat, turning the gun so James could see better. "It is a breech loader I think." Here are percussion caps. These metal plugs seem to come out."

"Damned if they don't, Here see if they come out if you put this ramrod down the muzzle and push some."

The metal plugs fell out with a slight tap of the wooden rod. Pat and James each picked one up. Pat said, "There are more of these in the bag." He emptied it on the desk. There were four more of the objects. James picked them up and looked at them. "These are metal cartridges, look, the percussion caps go on the nipples on this end and the powder and ball go in the other. Hey, these two are already loaded." 

Pat looked through some other things that fell from the bag or pouch. There was a small leather bag of lead balls and a tin box containing percussion caps. He examined the bag more carefully and noticed a leather loop on the bottom. There was a partition through the center with a separate flap closing it. There were other flaps on the bag. He tried putting the bag strap around his neck, the bag hung on front an didn't feel right. He tried putting his left arm through too. That felt better. It put the bag more to the left. He looked at the way it fit. From the smooth wear marks on the bag he was sure this was the way it was worn.




The Hunter



He smiled at James and said, Let's load those two in the gun and see what happens." He placed the two loaded cartridges in the holes in the breech of the gun. He folded the barrel straight and twisted the grip to it's original position.

"Looks ready to me, let's step outside and see how it shoots. They walked out on the dock and James pointed out a target on the far bank about fifty feet away. It was a iron disk hanging by chains from a tree branch. Pat lifted the gun and lined up the sights on the target. He squeezed off a shot and the pistol cracked and a loud clang was heard from across the spring. He grinned at James. He offered the weapon to James who shook his head. "Fire again Lad, it appears to be very accurate for a pistol."

Pat fired again with the same results. When the target stopped swinging the could see the two bright new lead smears on it. They were within two inches of each other.

"Damn good shooting Boy! Damned good. Most men can't do that good with a rifle."

Pat tried to put the pistol in the bag still hanging over this shoulder and neck. It was almost impossible to get it in the bag. As he looked he noticed the flap on the end. He pulled the flap open with his left hand and pushed the gun in with his right hand. It went in slick as could be. He looked at James, he unbuckled his belt and put it through the loop on the bag and buckled it back up. He moved his right hand across his waist and under the flap and pulled out the pistol. The grin on his face reached from ear to ear. "That is how it works. Stays nice and safe out of the dust and rain but is right there when you need it."

"That is a nice outfit, what is under that little flap on the side?"

Pat looked and grinned wider. "Six more cartridges, twelve shots when fully loaded. Damn if it don't make me feel like a walking army."

"Hell, Pat, you are an army when you have that bag on. Would you sell it?"

"No, I wouldn't be able to put a price on it. It will be a handy thing to have, but someone took it off a dead man I would have to guess."

"You are right about that."

Pat went back to the office and loaded all twelve cartridges and cleaned and oiled the pistol. He told James he was going for a walk.

He trotted down the river trail then slowed to a walk and moved into the woods as he neared the Martin place. He heard a door slam and saw "Cinda come around a corner. He thought she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He let her go past then moved to follow her. He caught a glimpse of a movement behind her. He stopped and watched. It was one of her brothers. He was carrying a rifle. Pat eased further from the trail then ran silently through the woods. He cut back towards the trail and slowed to a walk. She was sitting on a fallen tree and he slipped up on her. "May I sit beside you?"

She started and looked up at him. He saw tears in her eyes.

"Yes, please sit down, I thought you weren't coming."

"I will never let you down. Your brother is watching us. He is a bit behind us."

"He worries when I go for a walk. He is very sweet."

"Would you like to walk a little?"

"I would love that." They rose and walked slowly along the path. Her little hand slipped into his. A shiver ran through him. He stopped and turned to face her, he took both her hands, "Lucinda Martin, may I ask your father for his permission to court you?"

"OH! Yes, I would like that very much. You made me very happy."

"I am not good at this sort of thing. I never had much to do with girls. I don't know the right things to say to a girl. I guess I have always been afraid of girls."

"Are you afraid of me?"

"Oh! No, I like being with you. I like it a lot. I think about you all the time. I miss being with you very much."

"Pat, you say all the right things. I enjoy being with you too! Have you ever kissed a girl?"

"Oh! No, never."

"Would you like to kiss me?"

"Er ah mmmm Yes, I would love to kiss you."

She reached up and pulled his face to meet her soft lips.

He moaned deep in his throat. She pulled back and looked up at him very seriously. His heart stopped. She slowly reached and pulled his face down again. Her lips touched his more firmly this time, then her lips parted a bit and her little tongue brushed his lips. He moaned and shivered. They pulled apart. She looked up at him, "I really liked that, how about you?"

"It was wonderful!"

"I am glad you liked it. I learned something. Did you?"

"I learned you are the best kisser in the world."

"Pat, you are silly, you are the first boy I have ever kissed. And I am the first girl you have kissed, so how would you know if I am the best?"

"Well I think you are."

"We better turn back now."

"So soon?"

"Yes, we better head back. Will you be here tomorrow? Maybe you could come during the day and talk to Daddy."

"I will do that. I will talk to your father about you.

I will be scared to death, but I will be there."

"Why would you be afraid of Daddy?"

"He might say no. That would kill me."

She looked wide eyed at him and saw the terror in his eyes. 

"You really mean that don't you?"

"Yes."

"Pat, He told me he liked you very much, and that he would look with favor on your courting me."

"He said that?"

"Yes he did."

"Wow, I feel better now. This is wonderful, but scary stuff. I am so afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing. I want this so much."

"What do you want?"

"You know, I want you. For my wife. Forever."

"Oh! Pat, I want it too! I really do." Her arms went around his neck and she pressed hard against him as they kissed. She felt his arousal press against her and knew what it was. She pulled back, breathless. She couldn't help looking down at him. Her eyes found his, she smiled, "Did I do that?"

"I am sorry, please forgive me, I can't help it." 

"Pat, dear boy, don't be sorry, I am proud that I affect you that way. I hope I can always do that to you."

"You do?"

"Yes, I do. I want you to want me."

"'Cinda, I love you."

"I love you too, sweet Pat, I love you too. I must hurry so we don't anger Daddy."

He watched her run down the trail. He followed until she reached her brother. They both looked back. She waved, her brother smiled and laughed and they ran for the house. When she was safely inside he turned and ran back to the post. 

He found Penny and James in the Office. Penny had a large pitcher of a drink made from the local sour oranges. Basically it was just the juice and water sweetened with sugar. It was still very tart and it was refreshing. He liked it a lot. James grinned at him. "Good news, a post rider arrived with your sight draft a while ago. It was for a lot more that I like to be responsible for here, so I sent the largest part to St. Augustine to the bank there. I also accepted your offer on the property. I have power of attorney so you can take possession when ever you want. Pat sat abruptly in a chair. "Penny, I need your advise, I don't know what to do. I want to marry Lucinda, I love her. She says she feels the same way about me. I told her I wanted to marry her and she said she wanted that too! I haven't even asked permission to court her. Can I just ask her father for her hand in marriage?"

"I believe that would not be looked at as a breech of etiquette in these woods. We take short cuts all the time.

Are you planning to live at the Wright place?"

"Yes, I need help there too. I need to get people to help me get it ready. I need an overseer or foreman, I need a few house maids and a cook I guess. Field hands to get it up an running again. I need wagons and horses or mules. I need everything."

"You already have most of that. There are twenty slaves that go with the property living out back of the post. There is a very intelligent and trustworthy foreman with them. He was on that place for fifteen years and helped build it. There are house servants and field hands. They are going to be happy to go home. Let me get old Tim and tell him. James rang a bell and a young black entered. "Please go get Tim right away. Tell him to hurry." The black took off running.

Tim proved to be a huge man. Ebony black with gray hair. James looked at Tim and smiled, "Good news for you today Tim, this young man just bought the old Wright place, this is my cousin, Patrick Murphy. Pat jumped to his feet and extended his hand. "I am glad to meet you Mister Tim. I hope we can be good friends. I need a lot of help. I need you to tell me how fast we can made the big house livable. That is the first order of business. I want to get married soon but I must have a home ready for my bride. What do we need, men, paint, horses wagons. We need to have your homes ready too.

My wife, or the girl I want to be my wife won't move in unless you and your people are settled too!"

Tim grinned at Pat, "you got one all picked out Mista Pat?"

"I sure do! You will love her."

Penny said, "Tim, you know his intended Bride."

"Ah does?"

"Yes, Miss Lucinda Martin."

Tim' smile lit the room. "Miss 'Cinda? Dat is grand, all our peoples love her. Congratulations Mista Pat. We gonna work lak hell to get tings ready fo' dat liddle lady. Yes we are! I gotta run tell everybody." Then he said "Wait, what about Mista Brad Thurston. He say he gonna marry Miss 'Cinda."

Pat looked at James and his wife. "Who is this Brad Thurston?"

"He is a big bully who tries to tell everybody what to do. 'Cinda is like the rest of us, she can't stand him."

"Yas, Suh, but I scared he try to harm somebody when he find out."

Pat's eyes were flinty, his lips in a straight line. "I will not be frightened by this man no matter who he is. It will be for Lucinda Martin to decide."

The next morning Pat borrowed a horse and was at the Martin house just an hour after dawn. He climbed from his horse and stood in his new suit. One of the Martin boys walked from the house and walked to Pat before he recognized him. "That you Pat? You are here early aint ya?"

"Not too early I hope, Billy. Is Miss Lucinda up yet and your father?"

"You want to see them both?"

"Your sister first would be best."

'Cinda burst out the door and ran to them. "Why are you here so early, look at you, all dressed up. You make a girl's heart flutter."

Pat looked at her and smiled, his eyes never leaving hers as he said, "Billy, I need a word in private with your sister, please." Billy grinned and walked away. 

"Miss Lucinda Martin, with your approval I intend to ask your father for your hand in marriage. Will you marry me?"

"Oh! I, I don't know, this is so sudden."

"MY apologies then, Mam, I misunderstood you last evening, I will not embarrass you further." He turned and put his foot in the stirrup. She screamed, "No. No don't leave me, you didn't misunderstand me, I do love you. I was expecting you to ask to court me. You just surprised me. Yes, my answer is yes. Go talk to Daddy. I'll see if he is ready to see you." As she ran in the door he heard her yell, "Mamma!"

After five agonizing minutes Billy came out and grinned at him. "Come on in Pat, Dad will see you now."

Pat found the older man at the table in the dinning room. "Sit down young man, I understand you want to talk to me."

"Sir, If you don't mind I would like to stand. I have come to ask for your daughter Lucinda's hand in marriage. I have purchased the Wright property and intend to make our home there."

"Mister Murphy I will consider your proposal, I must discuss this matter with my wife and daughter. I should have an answer in a few minutes. Please be seated and the girl will bring you coffee."

A black servant placed a cup and saucer in front of him and poured a cup of coffee for him. He sipped the coffee but didn't taste it.

A few minutes later Mr. Martin entered the room and Pat rose and sat back down when the older man did. Mr. Martin had no expression on his face. He looked at Pat, "Young man, my wife, my daughter and I have given very careful consideration to your proposal of marriage. Of interest to us was that she will be living close by in a nice house. That was in your favor. You appear to have adequate resources to provide for her. That was also in your favor.

Also in your favor was the fact that my daughter threatened me with dire consequences if I did not approve. The answer is yes. You may marry my daughter."

Pat's head dropped forward. Tears fell on his chest. He looked up and said, "Thank you , Sir. Thank you very much."

Mr. Martin said, "Ladies you my join us now. Our business is complete. He stood and extended his hand to Pat. "Welcome to our family, Son."

'Cinda ran to him and threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. She pulled back and stood beside him holding his hand. Mrs. Martin hugged and kissed him too.

"It is early , but would you like a small sip of our best whiskey in celebration of this fine day."

"No thank you Sir, I have never acquired a taste for alcoholic beverages."

Pat smiled down at his love. "I spoke with old Tim last night and told him to get what ever he needed to get our home ready for us from the post. He said that every one of the slaves would believe their prayers were answered when they heard you would be their new Mistress." Lucinda looked up at him, "All the slaves from there are ours?"

"Yes, Dear Girl, I think he said there were twenty three of them. They should be down tying to get the place suitable for you to live in now. When we find out you will be able to set a wedding date."

"Oh! Pat, let's go help them. I have to talk to Tim's wife Aunt Bessie, she ran the house for the Wrights. I am so happy, I love Aunt Bessie."

"Son you have done well. That is as fine a bunch of niggers as there is in the state. They should work hard for you."

"I hope so, sir. I have never owned slaves before. I have four freedmen coming down from Virginia to help us too. They were in my family for years and wanted to move here with me. They will be a big help. I must inform you that I do not believe in slavery. I will try and find a way to free all of the slaves we own if I can."

'Cinda pulled his head down and kissed him again. "You just keep making me happier and happier. No wonder I love you."

"You just gonna set them free?" asked Mr. Martin.

"No, Sir, I believe they have to earn freedom to appreciate it. I will talk to all of them and work out a plan to have them work for an hourly wage. They will receive a small part of it. Most will go towards the purchase of their freedom. I am not firm on that plan yet. I need to get advice from you Sir, and from Cousin James, and from Tim too."

"I like the way you think, Pat. I don't hold with slavery either."

"Daddy, can Pat and I talk you and some of the boys into taking us down to the Wright - No, to the Murphy Place?"

"We would be delighted. Yell for the boys, and your sisters, they need to meet your intended husband." A few minutes later the three brothers grinned at Pat and shook his hand. 'Cinda's two sisters giggled and were charmed when Pat kissed the back of their hands. The girls grabbed 'Cinda and pulled her into a corner where the three of them giggled and laughed and hugged and cried. Then the three of them walked hand in hand to Pat and looked up at him. The next oldest girl looked at Pat with tears running down her cheeks. "Can we come and see 'Cinda when we want to?"

Pat looked at her very seriously, he reached out and took her hand, "Dear little Lady, "Cinda and I will be starting a new family, but you will always be her sister, no matter what, any of you will always be welcome at our home at anytime. She will always love you. All of you."

They rode to the old Wright place and found a big change already. Dust and dirt flew from the big house and from the smaller slave houses. When everyone saw Pat and 'Cinda they all rushed to greet them. 'Cinda let Pat swing her down and ran to Aunt Bessie and hugged her. Tim came to Pat. "Mista Pat, Suh, I tink dat be female talk goin' on betwixt dem. We best stay out der way. Tings goin' pretty good. We mostly gonna be stayin' heah from now on."

"Will you be safe here with the Seminoles on the warpath?"

"Suh, we gots eight rifles and shot guns we hid while we gone. We need mo' powder, balls an' shot pretty soon."

"Tell me exactly what you need and I'll bring it as soon as I can."

"Suh, ma Bessie done wrote a list of tings we needs, she gib it to ya before you go."

"Fine, Tim. I'll get what you need as fast as I can."

"Well, Suh, we hid lots of stuff an we gotts ta dig some of it up and see what ya gots fust. Save ya lots of money can we find de china and linins an' tings. We gotts farm tools and 'quipments hid too! Take us two, tree days to see what still good. I gonna keep all the house staff working' on de house most of de day, den afta 'bout mid aftanoon all us work on our places, dat be fine wit you Suh?"

"Tim, you know what has to be done better than I do. You do it your way. My job is to see you have what you need to do your work."

"Suh, I not gonna try to do much wit' de farm cept get what we need growin' to feed ourselves but dat gonna be a while commin' in. We gonna need food pretty quick."

"I'll need a list on that too. I'll do some hunting this afternoon and see if I can get a deer and a hog. I saw plenty of sign just up the drive a bit." 

"Yes un, dey lots ob chickens around we left heah, hogs too!. Can we get some feed corn an' we put it out dey come back pretty fast. Need to buy a bunch too."

"I have fifty chickens and twenty hogs on the way now. Should be here soon, are the pens ready? We want to use what we can for brood stock until we can get more. I have ten milk cows and ten steers on the way too. Be a day or two before they get here."

"We hope we can gets a garden goin' pretty quick, gonna be 'bout 60 days 'fore we gets any greens and such from dat."

"Is there a farm nearby we can buy that stuff from?"

"Ah don' know who still farmin' here bouts. Ah send one de boys ta see. Got to be somebody out der gots 'nough to sell some."

"Mr. Martin said he may have a little surplus he can sell us. If we have to we can try bring some in by boat, is the landing still useable."

"Yes, Suh, looked at it dis moanin' fust ting, it good."

"Good, that is the way the cattle and hogs are coming in. I'll talk with you more in a bit, I want to see what Miss 'Cinda is up to." 

"Yes, Suh."

Pat hurried to the house and went in the front door. It was looking presentable. He listened carefully and heard voices from the back and he headed in that direction. They were in the dinning room. 'Cinda, her mother, and Aunt Bessie were looking at china spread across the big table.

"Cinda saw him and ran to take his hand and pull him to see The china. "Look at all this, isn't it beautiful." She held his arm tightly against her as she pointed out different things. He felt the warmth of her breast through his shirt sleeve. He walked with her around the table, delighting in her happiness. There was a large sideboard laden with silver and pewter flatware. He was pleased to see that Aunt Bessie was enjoying 'Cinda's excitement as much as he was. He whispered in 'Cinda's ear, "How is the upstairs coming along?"

"Oh! Come see." And she pulled him after her as fast as she could. She released his hand to pull her skirts up so she could run up the stairs. He was right behind her. She pulled him in the first door and threw her arms around his neck drawing him down until her lips met his. Her mouth was open as she kissed him this time and he tentatively traced her lips with his tongue. She moaned and pulled him hard against her. She pulled back and looked up at him. "I love you. I don't need this big house, I just need you. Kiss me again quick before they get here." They heard steps on the stairs. She said, "I don't know, we will see when every thing is in place. Oh! Momma, Pat wants to know if we need any more furniture before we move in. What do you think?"




The Hunter



"I think there is enough for now, perhaps later you might need more."

Pat asked, "How is the kitchen? Are the cooking utensils still there?" 

"Most of it is still here. There are a few things we might need from the Post."

Pat turned to 'Cinda, "Darling Lady, if there is any thing you need for the house at the Post, just Have Cousin James put it on my account, that goes for anything you see you might see you want for your self, like a new dress or two or three. What ever you want." She looked up at him, "I never had a store bought dress before. Oh! Anything I want? Perfume, shoes, frillies, anything?"

"Yes, anything you desire." He glanced at the other two women, one white and one black as they held each other's hands and grinned.

Aunt Bessie grinned at the other woman, "Miz Martin, dis gonna be so much fun taking care de young folks we gonna be very happy."

"I hope everyone will be happy." said 'Cinda's mother. "You have to watch out for my daughter when she does get angry, she can be very mean."

"No Mam, ah talk wit yo house servants all de time fo' years, dey all loves Miss 'Cinda, we know her well too, this child ain't got a mean bone in her body."

Pat grinned, "I am the one who has to worry about how mean she can be."

'Cinda stood before him with her hands on her hips, "You don't want to find out how mean I can be, big man. This is how I will punish you." She reached up and tugged his face down and kissed his lips. She moved her face and kissed his eyes and the tip of his nose. "There, that will teach you a lesson."

"I think I am in a whole bunch of trouble! Maybe I should think this wedding thing over. I think maybe we should get married tomorrow."

The two older women laughed. "No way we can be ready tomorrow." Said Miz Martin, "There has to be a suitable engagement period of at least a year."

"Momma, a YEAR, A WHOLE YEAR."

"Miz Martin giggled and said, "Well, maybe six months."

"MOMMA!"

"Aunt Bessie, when will you be ready for the two young lovers?"

"Tommorow."

Mr. Martin stepped in the door. "What is all the yelling about?"

"Dear Husband we are trying to set a wedding date, I suggested a year was a suitable engagement period, what do you think?"

"How long were we engaged Dearest wife?"

"A week."

"Sounds about right to me."

"Oh! Me too!" said 'Cinda.

"We be ready." said Aunt Bessie.

Pat's deep voice said, "Thank you Lord."

"You are welcome, Son." said Mr. Wright.

A week later Lucinda Lee Martin was married to Patrick Randolph Murphy by the local preacher at the Martin Plantation. There were almost eighty people in attendance.

Wine and liquor were in abundance. Several of the young men tried to get the groom drunk. He only drank a small glass of wine as a toast to their wedding and to the beautiful bride. Pat was aware of the tradition of playing pranks on the groom. He had laid plans of his own. When he had a chance he slipped away and lit a carefully arranged group of hay bales behind the Martin barn. He was at 'Cinda's side when he heard the first yell of fire. Everyone rushed to the front of the house. Pat picked up his Bride and ran out the back door and down the path to the landing. He placed her in the front of a dugout canoe and swiftly paddled up stream to the new Murphy Plantation. They walked hand in hand up the drive to the brightly lit house. All the staff awaited them. They were cheered roundly as Pat carried his bride across the threshold. He carried her right up the stairs to the master bedroom. He locked the door. He took her in his arms and kissed her deeply. He stepped back, "I love you Lucinda Murphy, with all my heart." 

She drew a small sharp breath as her heart soared and smiled, "I love you Patrick Murphy, with all my heart." She grinned and caressed his cheek with her small warm hand. He took her hand and pressed the tips of her fingers to his lips. She said, "I love you. You are my husband. It is your children I want to bare, your home I want to keep, your bed I want to lie in."

He gripped her fingers tightly. He murmured her name in a groan as he smothered her lips with warm, hard, and demanding kisses. Lucinda was aroused anew by the flood of sensations washing through her body. This is what she wanted, the heat, the need, the desperate desire. 

He pressed kisses on her lips, eyes, and cheeks, "I want just that too," came the muffled words against her skin. "I love you, my wife. I want you."

She felt the tremors that shook him, she knew it was time.

"I want you too, Pat." She drew back to look at him, taking his hand and placing it inside the bodice of her silk wedding dress, laying it against the bare skin of her breastbone, the heel of his hand resting on the top swell of her breast. "Do you feel my heart pounding? Do you feel the trembling inside me? It is for you."

He was very still, only his eyes moved. "Yes, Dearest, it is time." His hand slipped lower finding the roundness of her breast beneath the dress. As he touched her a murmur of pleasure escaped her lips. "Yes! It is time."

His lips brushed hers, then came back to invade her. As she tasted his hard tongue 'Cinda knew that this was what she had wanted, his hands on her, his mouth on her, his warm muscled body pressed tightly against her. It was what she had wanted since the first time she saw him.

He swept her into his arms and carried her to the full teester bed, the soft glow from a lamp on the bedside table illuminated the turned down bed linen, the massive rosewood armoire along one wall and the pale blue carpet on the floor. He lowered her feet to the soft carpet and continued to kiss her. She felt his fingers at the buttons of her dress, then it was pooling at her feet.

Pat drew back to look at her standing before him, proud, unashamed, and beautiful. The glow from the lamp behind her made the material of her chemise appear transparent. His mouth went dry. She was so small and delicate, with a narrow rib cage and a waist so small he could span it with his hands, slender hips that were still wide enough to cradle a man. He wondered how a body so fragile could hold so much strength, and how a pair of eyes could look at him with desire as deep as his own.

"You are beautiful." His voice was husky as his eyes strayed to her golden hair swept back in a smooth knot for the wedding. She reached up and removed the pins that held it in place. She reached up and pulled it down over one shoulder and combed her fingers through it. It was like spun gold. He reached and ran his hand down the length of it, his fingers brushing over the peak of her breast, making it more sensitive. He held her face between his hands tenderly.

His face descended towards hers and she closed her eyes, waiting for a hard demanding kiss. She was surprised, happily so, when his teeth caught her bottom lip, a light nibbling sensation arousing a whole new feeling of desire in her. A sigh slipped from her as he lightly brushed his mouth over her parted lips saying against them, "your lips are as sweet as wild honey."

He tasted her lips, his tongue running over them, then slipping in to savor their inner softness. She swayed against him, her hands clutching his waist as her world spun around her as she treasured this highly erotic kiss. She felt his hands fumble at first at the tiny buttons of her chemise, then work faster as he learned. The little garment fell on the floor with the rest of her clothes.

She stood naked before him. She wondered that she felt no awkwardness or self-consciousness standing before him. The soft hiss of his indrawn breath told her he was pleased with what he saw, the fire in his eyes confirmed it. 

She moved against him feeling the soft shirt against her skin as she curved her hands up behind his neck and pulled his head down wanting him to take his fill of her willing lips. When he kissed her his hands began to explore her body, her back, pulling her closer, they roamed over her waist, her ribs, her breasts in even greater stimulation of her desires. 

She was unable to resist the urge to explore him as he was exploring her. She pulled his shirt loose from his breeches and ran her hands up under it onto his hard flesh, reveling in the hard contraction of his stomach muscles. Suddenly he pushed her back and pulled the shirt over his head. He undid his belt and opened the flies of his trousers and stripped them off. As he stood before her she was aroused by the width of his shoulders and the breadth of his muscular chest. His waist and hips were trim, his legs were tapered and strong. "Pat, you are beautiful." she said.

She was fascinated by the innate power of his body, she spread her hands onto his shoulders, rubbing her palms over their hard coiled muscles. The feel of him made her want more as she pressed her mouth to his chest, running her lips and tongue over its lean ridges and the tiny nubs of his male nipples, savoring the warm, salty flavor of him and inhaling the intoxicating earthy scent of his skin.

She didn't protest when he scooped her up and placed her on the bed. He lowered himself beside her and their lips met in an intimate kiss, their hands caressed and pleasured each other. They didn't hurry, each wanted to please the other and this desire bonded them together in a passion much stronger and hotter than their strong lust. 

'Cinda felt the heat from Pat that seemed to envelope her from head to toe, the wet heat of his kisses that burned over her face, lips and throat and the swirling heat within her that swept through her body with a delightful ache. He lifted her higher with an ease she had come to expect, Then his lips brushed her breasts and she gasped at this new explosion of sensations. His hands had fondled her breasts and teased her nipples into erectness, but never his lips, his mouth, his tongue. When he sucked a nipple into his mouth, 'Cinda shuddered.

Pat felt her tremble with pleasure- pleasure he gave her as he tasted, tempted and teased. He had never felt such power to please another or felt so humble as he heard her breathe his name. She was small, delicate, and fragile but more than strong enough to hold him- to move him. For all the lust, all the passion, all the desire that coursed through him, he was overwhelmed by the need to protect and cherish her. She belonged to him, and he was determined to show her how beautiful it could be for them, no matter the ache that grew hotter and hotter inside him. He waited until her hips thrust against him in eager insistence, until her hands pressed and urged in desperate demand, until the sounds coming from her throat revealed the strength of her longing. Only then did he move up onto her, the caress of his hands subtly positioning her body to receive him.

She had worried that he would be too heavy for her but he wasn't. His greater height caused no problem either. They fit together perfectly. Then she could think of nothing but his strong hard body, the warmth and the smell of him and the taste of him were erotic to her and the kiss that swamped her, drawing her into some dark, secret place where there were only two of them.

Lucinda had heard the girls at school tell stories of the terrible pain a wife was expected to endure on her wedding night when she was impaled by her husband. She had been assured by her mother that the pain was slight when her maiden veil was torn by a man's entry and soon gone to be replaced by pleasure.

She could feel him inside her, the slow gentle, and oh so very satisfying stroke. Each time she felt the beginnings of discomfort, the pressure was withdrawn. Then it would begin all over again, invading a little deeper.

She didn't know what he was doing and didn't care, not when it felt so good and the ache inside became wilder and sweeter. Suddenly she felt a sharp pinch, followed by the wondrous sensation of him filling her. Her tiny gasp turned into a shuddering sigh. She arched her hips to take all of him deeper, she pulled at his hips as moans of sheer pleasure escaped from her clinched jaws. Then the vibrations

of her moans excited her more. Waves of feelings flooded through her body with far more intensity than before. She heard his breathing become more rapid and she knew she wanted in some way to be even closer to this wonderful man, her man. She wanted to be consumed by him, to be absorbed into his body, to be one with him. A blast of pure joy shocked her to the core with the strength of it's intensity.

She heard him groan and looked up at him, thinking he was in pain. His eyes were tightly closed, then fluttered and opened to look at her with utter devotion and love. His thrusts were growing faster and faster. She felt surges of ecstasy thunder through her. She screamed in total joy and pleasure. She clung to him as hard as she could trying to retain her sanity that was being overwhelmed by her pleasure. Then his strokes faltered and he stiffened and shook as a growl left his lips. Then she felt him freeze then slip out of her and flop beside her. "Noooo. Don't leave me! Hold me."

He drew her close to him and kissed her gently on the lips.

"'Cinda, Darling, I hope you loved that as much as I did. I didn't hurt you too much did I."

"Oh! My Dearest husband, it was so very wonderful, I loved it. It was only a twinge, no real pain, when can we do that again?"

"Very soon I think. If you want to."

"Oh, yes I want to, oh my, yes I do, I do."

"Are you sure, I have heard that some women don't find it pleasurable and only submit to it as a unpleasant duty."

"Are you serious? It was heaven for me. I never liked anything better in my life."

Suddenly a shot rang from out side. Followed by a dozen more. People were yelling and cheering.

Pat looked at his bride, "A shiveree, they found us. Slip into a gown quickly We must appear at the window before they come in looking for us." He pulled on his pants and went to the window and opened it wide. He looked out at the crowd. "What do you want, we were just going to get ready for bed after a late snack. We are tired and need our sleep, so please leave."

Someone from the crowd yelled, "You ain't bedded that beauty yet! You are crazy! Where is she?"

Pat stepped back and glanced at her, she was dressed in her wedding gown again and she walked to the window. She smiled at the people below. "Thank you so much for coming to wish us good cheer on our wedding night. We both appreciated it very much."

"We see ya let yer hair down gal. Are ya ready to give him a good ride?"

"I will give my husband what ever he desires, and be happy to do it."

Pat stepped to the window beside her, "Thank you friend, I'll hold her to that. I must apologize for not having some whiskey for you, but not using it my self I didn't think to get any. Forgive me please."

"Hey Pat we got plenty, we are going to serenade you till dawn."

"Great, we'll be listening. Good night!"

Pat stepped back from the window and felt bare arms around his waist. He turned slowly in her arms until he was facing her. She stood before him nude and pulled him back toward the bed and smiled up at him. "More." was all she said.

The next morning 'Cinda awoke to find her husband looking at her with a tender smile on his face. She threw back the covers and was surprised to find herself nude. She snatched the covers back over her. Her face was red. Pat smiled, "Sweetheart, it is too late to hide from me. I have seen and kissed or licked every inch of your beautiful body. I love to look at it. You are very beautiful. 

"Oh! I forgot." She reached for him and drew him to her. "I forgot how that felt, want to do it all over again?" 

"I sure do, and I am going to keep doing it over and over again until you remember how it feels."

"Remember what Darling? I don't recall a thing after we got here."

Pat pulled the covers down and kissed her lips, his hands caressing her breasts and tugging lightly at her nipples. She moaned lightly and gently moved his head down to suckle at her nipples. His hand moved down over her flat belly and cupped her mound covered with down like soft hair. Her legs spread wide and a finger slipped between her inner lips and entered her love tunnel. The finger slid in and out of her and he watched her face slowly dissolve into a smile of contentment. He moved his finger slowly in and out and joined it with another finger. She purred softly under her breath. He found her purr to be sexy and endearing. 

He kissed her eyes and her mouth, as he rolled up over her. "I love you little girl. You are my life." She grasped his member with her little hand and guided him into her. Her hips began to move with his thrusts, she was moving to meet him so they pounded against each other harder and harder. She was holding a hand over her mouth to muffle the joyous sounds from her mouth. He was moving faster and faster and she felt the intense blasts of pleasure she had longed for since last night. She shuddered and bit at her knuckle to try and hold off the inevitable final crescendo of joy and love for her man. He tensed and threw his head back and she felt the pulsing of him inside her and the slipperiness increase as his seed filled her womb. She screamed her happiness and rained kisses on his face. 

They looked at each other. He smiled, "Do you recall that at all?" 

"What?"

"Do you want to do it again?"

"Oh! Yes, yes. I do!"

"How can you want to do something you don't remember?"

"I always want to do what ever you want to do."

"Well dear girl, I am starving. Lets get some breakfast. Would that please my lovely wife?

"Yes it would Dear Husband. I love to say that, my husband."

"I love my dearest wife. I always will. You remember we leave on the steam launch for Palatka in about three hours on our Honeymoon don't you?"

"Oh! Dear god! I had forgotten. We are all packed aren't we, I forget everything when you make love to me."

"Just put on a dressing gown over a nightdress and I'll wear a robe and we can go down for breakfast. I'll shave and then let you have the dressing room after we eat."

"Fine, let us do it, my dear husband."

When they entered the dinning room one of the young servants ran to get Aunt Bessie. Aunt Bessie ran to Lucinda and pulled the girl to her huge breast. "Are you alright Miss 'Cinda, you feelin' fine?"

"Auntie Bessie, I have never felt so good in my whole life. My wedding night was absolutely wonderful, just delightful. I loved every second of it."

"Oh! That is wonderful, some gals don't like it. I don't know why, but dey don't. What can we fix fo' yo' breakfast? We gotts eggs, ham, grits, biscuits, and ham gravy. Dat all right?"

"That sounds fine Auntie, but please put my place right next to Mr. Pat when just the two of us are eating please."

"Yes, Miz Murphy, Yes Mam. She grinned at 'Cinda, "'Dat Miz Murphy' sho' sound fine don't it?"

"Oh, Auntie, it sounds wonderful to me. I love it. I think I'll just have a biscuit with gravy, and one egg over light."

"Yes Mam, What you like Mista Pat?"

"Auntie, I will have two eggs over light and ham and grits. Please. We should be back in a month. Anything you need you can get from the Post, you should be in pretty good shape though."

"Oh! Yes Suh, we be fine, don' worry 'bout nothin'. You just enjoy you honeymoon."

The trip down the Ocklawaha River was beautiful. It was like drifting trough a jungle tunnel. Then they rounded a turn and found the way blocked by a boat crossways to the river channel, blocking the way. The boat captain put the paddles in reverse and brought the boat to a stop just before it hit the blocking boat. The two boats touched lightly. A group of rough looking men swarmed onto the steamer and shots rang out. The captain and engineer were the first to drop. Pat grabbed for his pistol but was clubbed down before his hand touched it. 




The Hunter



This story is dedicated to femininity... every single luscious inch of her.

I don't know your name, and the lights strobing across the sea of bodies offer me only secret glimpses of your face. I haven't even heard your voice, and would probably struggle to make out your life story above the pounding bass. But it doesn't matter. I feel the vibes coming from you, and they tell me all I need to know. You are the hunter -- practised, proven and justifiably proud of your game. You are at your peak, but yet something is missing.

I draw back into the shadows of the balcony and light a cigarette. I could watch you all night -- your blonde hair blazing across the dance floor like a slow-moving comet, on course for the most attractive girl in the room. She is small and almost frail in appearance with raven-black hair and a dress that emphasises every angel-sculpted curve.

I smile. I like your taste, but I like your style even more.

The girl remains oblivious to your presence until you're standing right in front of her. She smiles and her face lights up at the unexpected attention. You are looking deep into her eyes, breathing sweet nothings into her ear and enjoying the response that you knew you'd get. Your arm slides casually around her shoulder. She leans in closer.

It's all been far too easy -- feeding time at the zoo.

You reach forward to kiss her. A gentle brush of the lips at first, and then the last remaining façade of domesticity collapses, and you are kissing her hungrily as her body becomes putty in your hands.

But this is where the picture-postcard seduction ends. Her face is flushed with desire, her entire body falling open to whatever route your hunger leads you on. And then midway through that kiss, your eyes open and become glassy, almost dead. You are bored of being the hunter.

I put out my cigarette and wander off to get a drink from the bar. By the time I've battled through the stampede and returned, you are sitting among your friends, a cigarette smouldering between your smooth strong fingers. Post-coital? Judging by your earlier expression I doubt it.

You finish your drink and gaze around the room. Nobody notices when you get up and leave the table. Your movements are too quiet and too smooth. But I notice from my vantage point. I notice everything, from the restlessness of your fingers to the slow, deep breathing, indicative of so much more.

I'm busy following the outline of your breasts when you look up. Our eyes meet, and neither of us looks away.

What passes between us in that fleeting second is an energy -- a primeval pulse that's existed longer than there've been words to describe it. And as suddenly as it appears, so it vanishes. 

You are disappearing through the leaves of artificial palms. My heart quickens. This is far from your natural habitat, but you are completely at home in it, moving slowly, smoothly and radiating sex as you make your way towards a distant passage.

I put down my drink and smile. Even hunters need to pee from time to time.

It hasn't occurred to you that you aren't alone in that darkened passageway. I can move just as quietly as you. The door slams shut behind you, and I wait. 

This is where my patience is tested to the limit. Solitary creature that you are, you've wandered to the remotest part of the club. There is nothing here to distract me from my dark and needful fantasies. The music is faint, but somehow the lyrics of the Chemical Brothers song cut through the walls, the bass and strike a note somewhere deep inside --

Sometimes I feel that I'm misunderstood. The river's running deep right through my blood.

Heat spreads over my body, from my toes to my finger tips. I am aching to touch you.

Your naked body's lying on the ground You always get me up when I'm down...

After what seems like an eternity the door opens and you emerge, surrounded by light. When you see me you pause. A flicker of recognition passes over your face, and your lips part. You are about to say something, but somehow the words won't come out.

"Did the pussy get your tongue?" I ask with a wry smile.

"Not yet," you reply.

I smile again. At close range I can enjoy every nuance of your expression. The quiet self-assurance is still there, but deep inside your Atlantic-blue eyes I see something else that borders on vulnerability. It melts my heart, and makes me want to fuck you just as much as when I saw you on the dance floor. But suddenly there's so much more to it than just that. I want to hold you, and I want to make love to you like you've never experienced before.

The air has become heavy with expectation. Neither of us has moved in the last minute. We are both waiting, but you have already been waiting far too long.

We're out of control, Out of control, Out of control...

I take a step forward, and you stand your ground. I move forward again until I feel your body up against mine, warmth radiating from you as your chest rises and falls. Your shallow breathing caresses my cheek, and I lean in closer still. My lips brush against yours, and suddenly we are kissing passionately, intensely, shattering any remaining façade of civilisation as we release the wildness that exists in both of us.

My hand slides up your back, and as I run my fingers over the back of your neck and through your hair your entire body trembles. You groan. My tongue takes instant advantage of the situation and disappears into your mouth. I can feel your heart pounding against mine and your need increasing as my leg moves between yours, forcing them apart.

I break from the kiss as my hands slide under your t-shirt. I want to watch your expression as I touch your skin for the first time. Your eyes are closed and you're breathing heavily as I unfasten your bra. When the kiss resumes, I am holding your breasts in my hands - stroking, squeezing, kneading, and running my thumbs over your nipples until you are craving so much more.

I lift your t-shirt and replace my hands with my lips, reeling as I feel your nipples swell and grow sensitive in my mouth. 

You are so lost in this sensation that you barely notice that I've already unfastened your pants. When my fingers slide underneath the elastic of your lace underwear, you jump slightly, and grab my wrist. I pause, waiting for your reaction, waiting for a sign. I lift my head slightly.

"Fuck me..." you whisper, and push my hand lower.

I don't need any further help. My fingers are spreading you open, sliding through wetness and then plunging deep inside you. You release a slow animal moan. It is the sound of total capitulation.

I slide your clothes down a few inches. In the back of my mind I wish we had a bed, or at least a counter... Maybe if we went into the bathroom, or took a cab back to mine? But that would be to miss the essence of the moment. You're looking for something different. I want to be your 'something different'.

You sigh as I pull my fingers out of you, but the disappointment is soon replaced by lust as you watch those fingers disappearing into my mouth. You taste like heaven.

I kiss you again, but this time my lips are sliding across your cheek. My teeth graze the sensitive skin on your neck, and you close your eyes as I sink them in to the flesh on your shoulder.

I step back further into the shadows, taking you with me, my arm around your waist as I turn your body around. Trapped as your body might be, it's nothing compared to the way you've ensnared my heart.

You are raw energy, waiting to be set free. 

I feel you reach around, fumbling with the button of my combats. I help you out. It's the last remaining barrier to discovering the effect you have on me. I want you. I want you to feel how wet you make me, and just how much I hunger for you.

When you feel my rubbing up against the bare skin of your ass I'm almost certain I hear a gasp. It soon turns into another groan as my fingers slip inside you and I begin fucking you slow, deep, hard, making you forget where you are and who you think you are.

You clit is already throbbing when I bring my other hand round. You respond to every touch, and the tension building inside you releases a flood of wetness from me.

You lean back into my arms and I spread my fingers inside you. You are so close, and get closer still as I curl my fingers upwards and stroke you to a long, earth-shattering orgasm.

By the time we're both aware of our surroundings, the music has stopped. We are in each others' arms, sweating, breathless and basking in the afterglow of what's just taken place. I don't want to let go, and neither do you. The distinction between hunter and hunted has long gone. It's hard to tell who's trembling the most, and as my head spins I find myself holding you tighter.

We escape the club just minutes before the bolts are slid across the door. As we step out into the rain, I lose myself in your kisses one more time. 

I look into your eyes. I see life. 



The Hunter



The hunter walked slowly down a trail that wound through the oak and hickory forest. He paused now and then, cradling his rifle, the barrel pointed down. In the distance could occasionally be heard the sound of rifle fire and shotguns. The autumn hunting season was at its peak.

The man was in his mid-thirties, with black hair and dark features, a two-day growth of beard on his face. As a young man he had been handsome enough to attract any girl around. But the years had hardened him; had given him a grim visage. Even strangers could now see at a glance that here was not a man to be trifled with.

He came to a wide, almost flat rock along the trail, some two feet in height. He sat down on the rock and leaned his rifle against it. From the breast pocket of his red and black checkered wool coat, the man drew out a pack of Chesterfields. Pushing his John Deere cap off his forehead, he lit a cigarette. He took a deep drag, enjoying his cigarette and the tranquil forest around him.

The rifle that was trained on the man was partly hidden in a wild azalea thicket about a hundred yards away. The weapon, however, was too heavy for the young boy who held it. He tried to sight through the Leupold 3x9 scope, but his heart was pounding, his whole body trembling. The image of the man's head in the viewfinder danced about wildly. 

A turmoil of thoughts raced through the boy's mind. Once chance, he said to himself, one chance! But it was hopeless. The Browning .27 caliber rifle was too heavy. He was too small and too scared. It was hopeless.

Do it, he thought frantically. The images in his mind began to take shape. Now he could see soft blonde curls; a gap-toothed smile. He began to hear a song in a little girl's voice: 

Jesus loves me this I know,  For th' Bible tells me so, Little ones to him belong,  They are weak but He is strong.

The song began to ease the boy's nerves. A cold fury welled up and spread through him. His arms became steady. The rifle now seemed to weigh almost nothing as he gazed at the man's face in the viewfinder. Centering the crosshairs on the man's forehead, he exhaled, then waited half a second. He pressed gently on the trigger.

Crack! The rifle's recoil slammed it into the boy's shoulder. I'll have a bruise there, he thought to himself. The loud report of the rifle echoed through the forest. Crack! Months and even years later, the boy would hear that sound with absolute clarity. It would follow him through life.

He looked down toward the man, at first with his naked eye and then through the viewfinder. The impact of the bullet had driven the man back against two hickory saplings that grew beside the rock.

The boy watched the figure for almost half a minute. Now slumped across the rock, the man shuddered once or twice as if he had caught a chill. Then he became as still as the rock itself. A pool of blood appeared beneath his head. Small rivulets began to flow aimlessly across the rough face of the rock, forming a bright red network over its patchwork gray and lichen-covered surface.

The boy strained to hear other hunters' voices or footsteps. But he heard only the gentle wind in a nearby white pine; only the peaceful solitude of the Appalachian forest. He glanced down to the ground, searching until he saw the bronze-colored spent shell of a .27 caliber rifle. Tucking the shell into his coat pocket, he hurried out of the thicket and up across a low ridge. The boy occasionally paused beside a tree trunk to see if the way ahead was clear.

Now he was breathing hard again. You'd kill a rattlesnake if you found one in the barn! he said to himself. You'd shoot a rabid dog if it came into the yard! Tears stung his eyes as he made his way through the forest. 

After a few minutes the boy reached a small creek, about ten feet across. Without hesitating he walked into the creek's freezing water and began to wade up the shallow stream. Soon he came to a stretch where the edge of the creek was lined with flat rocks. 

Supporting himself with one hand on a rock, the boy quickly removed the Wolverine work boots he was wearing, boots that were two sizes too large. Then, holding them in one hand, the rifle in the other, he stepped onto the rocks, one after another, until he was in the forest again.

The boy continued on until he could hear and see the Santeetlah River. Here it rushed past heavy gray boulders; there it murmured quietly where its water formed deep green pools.

At the edge of the forest, the boy pulled out a burlap sack that was half hidden beneath a rock. He removed his dirty wet socks; then, withdrew dry socks and a pair of rough work shoes from the sack. After he had put them on, the boy glanced up and down the river, and then walked to its edge.

He stuffed his wet socks down into the boots. Then he filled them with river stones. Lastly, he tied the boots at the top with their laces and placed them into the burlap sack. Once again glancing around furtively, he advanced from one gray rock to another until he was part way out in the river. 

The boy stood for a second, and then casually dropped the sack into the swirling water beneath him. Within seconds it was gone from sight; gone, he hoped, forever.

Now the boy retreated into the forest again, working his way upstream along a deer trail. Soon he reached another pool, wider and deeper than the first. Above it was a lively cascade that poured a never-ending stream of water into the pool.

Once more he gazed up and down the river for a moment; then, quickly moved across the rocks until he was at the edge of the pool. His heart pounding, he drew both arms back and flung the rifle as far as he could out toward the churning green waters. 

He watched it arc through the air, almost as if it were in slow motion. Then, with a loud splash, the rifle entered the water and disappeared from sight. The sound of the rifle hitting the water was another that the boy would remember for a lifetime. 

The boy stuck his hands in his pockets, glancing around once more. Taking a deep breath, he spoke silently to the river. I've swum and fished in you all my life. You've been like a friend to me. Now you must hold my secrets; I'm depending on you. The river murmured its reply: my depths harbor many secrets.

The boy quickly disappeared into the forest and began to walk. After about half a mile he came to a gravel road and a stone bridge over the Santeetlah. He crossed it, soon leaving the road and walking over another ridge along a well-worn trail, finally emerging into the yard behind a house. On his left was a small woodshed. On the right was the garden, and beyond that a barn. 

The tin roof of the wood frame house was rusted in places. The clapboard siding had been painted off-white and needed a fresh coat. A thin cloud of smoke could be seen rising above a brick chimney at one side of the house.

Near the woodshed was a stack of oak and hickory, sawn in lengths that would fit the kitchen stove and the iron stove in their living room. The boy picked up a piece of oak, about a foot in diameter, and placed it on a chopping block. He grasped a double-bitted axe that he had left next to the chopping block. He came down on the wood with all his might, shattering it into two parts. 

After a few moments a woman emerged from the kitchen onto the back porch. She lit a cigarette and, leaning against a post, watched the boy chopping wood. Eva McCarter was wearing a flower-print shift under an apron that she wore all day. 

In contrast to her son, who had the dark hair and square chin of his father, Eva was fair-skinned and freckled, her blonde hair in loose curls. Eva's father had once declared her the prettiest girl in Emory Cove, but that was a long time ago. Although she still had smooth skin and good features, there was now an air of resignation about her. The light in her blue eyes had faded. 

"Where you been?" she finally asked.

The boy looked up and gazed at his mother, feeling numb, entirely devoid of emotion. "Heard a dog barkin' over near the road. First thought it might be the Cogdill's coon hound that wandered off last week."

"Was it?"

"Don't think so. Followed it a while, but I decided it barked more like a feist than a hound. Never did see it."

His mother took a deep breath. "Your Daddy'll be home in a couple of hours. Better have enough wood for tonight. You know he'll fly off the handle if you ain't got th' wood box filled."

The boy and his mother regarded each other in silence for a few seconds. Both understood the meaning of what was said. Hard slaps awaited one, perhaps both of them, if the stock of wood fell short of his father's expectations.

"We'll have plenty," the boy said in an even voice. "He won't say anything."

*******

The two men stood looking at the body lying on the wide rock, whose surface was now covered with a maroon layer of dried blood.

"Reckon it was a stray bullet?" Deputy Paul Bryson asked. "Lots o' hunters out today." 

"Could be," Sheriff George Ramsey replied. "But if it was, Floyd McCarter was the unluckiest son of a bitch around. Look at that. Right above the eyes. Just about took the top of his head off."

"Never knew what hit him," murmured his deputy.

"Nope." After a moment the sheriff looked over to the man resting against a hickory tree trunk, and spoke again. "Now Lester, he was like this when you found him?"

"Yes sir," the burly young man replied. "Just layin' there peaceful like."

"You didn't mess with the body? Try to see if he was alive?"

"No sir. Anybody c'n see he was dead as a doornail."

"What's that you're carryin' there? Remington?"

"Yes sir. Just a little .22 rifle. You couldn't blow a man's head half off with this thing."

"I know it."

Sheriff Ramsey took off his hat and ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. He looked back to Deputy Earl Toineeta, the fourth member of the party. Toineeta had the typical dark skin and broad nose of a Cherokee Indian. He was full blood.

The man was clad in rough chino pants and a heavy denim jacket. A new fedora hat sat incongruously on his head.

"Earl," the sheriff spoke, "this ground's damp from that drizzle of rain we had last night. Can you make out anything from the tracks?"

Toineeta walked over to Lester, pulled up one leg, and examined the bottom of his boots. In a deep rumbling voice he said, "Well, the dead fella came down the trail, same as we did; stopped for a smoke at the rock."

Motioning to Lester, he went on. "This fella came the other way, stood near the rock and looked at the body, then walked on, in th' direction of the logging road where his car was."

"That's right," Lester interrupted. "Went straight down to Conley's store 'n called th' police from there."

Sheriff Ramsey drew his hand across his chin. "Earl, did anyone come near the body from off the trail?"

"Nope."

Ramsey glanced around the forest. Light from the dull overcast day shone on the scene through the bare limbs of oaks and hickories. The ground was carpeted with ochre-colored leaves that had fallen a month ago.

"I want you to do a circuit, Earl. Cover this whole bowl of forest where McCarter could be seen. See if you can find any footprints."

Toineeta began to walk slowly out into the forest, head down, as if he were deep in thought. 

After about ten minutes three more men, one bearing a stretcher and a body bag, came down the trail. One of them, the medical examiner for Nantahala County, gave orders to the second as he took photographs of the body and the surroundings. Just as they were loading the body of Floyd McCarter onto the stretcher, they heard a cry from Toineeta.

"Yo!" he said, waving to the sheriff. 

Sheriff Ramsey hurried up to Toineeta, who had leaned against a tree trunk and lit a cigarette. "What you got?"

Inhaling deeply from his Lucky Strike, the man replied. "Somebody stood or hunkered down just inside this azalea thicket here. Squirmed around a bit. Then walked back thatta way, same way as he come."

"Hm. Let's ...wait, any spent shells around?"

"Nope. There's a clean line of sight from where this fella was to where McCarter sat. But if the shot was fired from here, he must of picked up his shell."

"Well, let's see where he went."

The two men began to walk toward the ridge, Toineeta in the lead. Occasionally he stopped and backtracked, but always made progress. How the hell does he do it, Ramsey thought. It would be all I could do to track a wild boar through here.

Soon the men descended to the small creek. Toineeta pointed out a footprint plainly outlined in the soft ground near the creek. "If you need to make a plaster cast of the print, there's a good one."

"Okay."

Toineeta paused to study the footprint. After a moment he said, "This fella don't weigh much."

"Is that right."

"Uh huh. That's maybe a size ten boot, but the print ain't deep. He ain't a heavy man, probably 140 pounds tops."

"Well," the sheriff said, "that helps some, I guess."

After slowly examining the ground around them, Toineeta waded across the creek. Sheriff Ramsey lit a Pall Mall and smoked half of it as his deputy carefully studied the ground, in ever widening circles, on the other side of the creek.

Then he waded back across. After a moment of silence, the sheriff said, "Well?"

"Funny. He didn't come out on the other side. Must of waded up or down the creek for a ways before he came out. Gonna take awhile to pick up the trail again."

"Ah, damn," the sheriff swore quietly. This was no hunting accident, he thought. It was murder, pure and simple. He glanced at Toineeta, saying, "Okay, that's your job, Earl. Cover both sides o' th' creek until you pick up the trail. I don't care how long it takes."

"I'm gonna walk back to the cruiser and call in. It's.. let's see, two o'clock now. Th' McCarters don't live far from here. Reckon I might as well go give them the bad news. Keep on with your trackin'. Figure out where the son of a bitch went. I'll have Paul wait for you at the loggin' road. Okay?"

"Yep." Without another word, Toineeta began to work his way along the creek bank, his eyes again on the ground.

******* The McCarter house had a front porch that extended the width of the house. It offered a view of pastureland encircled by blue ridges. On clear winter days one could look west and see the Unicoi Mountains in neighboring Tennessee. 

A little girl sat in a wooden swing on the porch. She was playing with a Raggedy Ann doll and humming softly to herself.

Bonnie McCarter, like her mother, was fair-skinned, blessed with an abundance of soft blonde curls. The only distraction from her little-girl charm was a wide gap in her front teeth. She had great expressive blue eyes which only added to the air of delicacy and innocence about her. 

Now eleven years old, Bonnie was in the fourth grade. She had been held back a year in school when she was eight. She isn't retarded, the teachers explained; just a bit slow. She has difficulty reading and doing basic math. But she's such a sweet child.

Bonnie heard the sound and then watched as a 1948 Chevrolet, black and white, wound its way up their gravel driveway and pulled into the yard. On the car's white front door was inscribed Nantahala County Sheriff's Department. 

Bonnie watched as a tall man in his late 50s got out. Sheriff George Ramsey walked to the porch steps, saying, "Howdy, young'un. Your mama around?"

At that moment Eva came out the front door, and the sheriff removed his hat. "You're Miz Floyd McCarter?"

"Yes. Yes I am."

"Miz McCarter, I'm afraid I've got some bad news. The worst kind."

The boy had quit chopping wood when he saw the police cruiser drive up to the house. His heart now beating fast, he walked down to the side of the porch and looked up to see Bonnie and his mother embracing, sobbing quietly. 

The sight was like a dagger in his heart. I knew it would shock them, he thought. Knew there'd be tears. But how it hurts to see little Bonnie crying like that. At once tears came to his own eyes. He shed tears for his mother and sister and for them alone.

He glanced over to the sheriff, now aware that an inevitable part of the drama was being played out. He mounted the porch. His mother, seeing him, cried, "Oh lord, Jim Roy! Your father's dead! It was a huntin' accident!"

Mustering a stunned look, he crossed the porch and embraced his tearful mother. Soon Jim Roy was holding his little sister, tears streaming down both their cheeks. 

Sheriff Ramsey watched the piteous scene; one that he had witnessed dozens of times as sheriff. Odd, he thought. Is it my imagination, or did that boy start crying even before they told him the news? 

After a few moments, Jim Roy came part way down the steps and said, "How did it happen?" 

"We guess maybe it was a stray bullet from another hunter," Sheriff Ramsey replied. "A fella found him shot in the head, over on the other side of the Santeetlah, down Windy Gap trail." He made no mention of the tracks in the forest and the fact that he considered it a case of premeditated murder. Don't yet need to tell these poor folks that, he said to himself.

"What do we do now?" Jim Roy asked.

"Miz McCarter, does your husband drive a '42 DeSoto, black coupe?"

"Yes, he does."

"We saw it parked at the old logging road at the trailhead. I'll radio my deputies and have one of them bring it home. Can you drive it?"

"No, I can't."

"Got a telephone here?"

"Do you see a line!" For two years she had begged Floyd to pay for a telephone and lines to the house.

"Hm. Don't Earnest Wilson live down the road here from you? Raises Herefords?"

"Yes, they're our neighbors."

"I'll ask Earnest or his boy to come pick you up and drive you into Millsboro. We got the body there at the county morgue, and you'll need to identify it. Do you have a funeral home?"

Eva McCarter brushed away another tear. "Yes, we got burial insurance with Oakley's there in Millsboro. They buried Floyd's mother last year."

"Well, have Earnest drive you over to them and make arrangements." He paused, once again drawn to Jim Roy's eyes but seeing only grief there. "I'd better be goin' now. Just wait for Earnest to come pick you up. About supper time I reckon."

Eva took a deep breath. "Thank you, Sheriff. We'll manage somehow."

*******

That night Sheriff Ramsey sat at the Grapevine Café in Millsboro, having the blue plate special: meat loaf, mashed potatoes, and creamed corn. Earl Toineeta sat across from him sipping a cup of coffee.

"So tell me what you found," the sheriff said.

Toineeta lit a cigarette, then spoke in his deep voice. "Followed the creek, both sides, for th' better part of a mile. But no tracks on the other side."

"How can that be?"

"Dunno. Found one place where something had come out of the creek. Wasn't a bear or a deer. But there weren't no tracks like we seen." He took a sip of coffee, then went on. "Couldn't find any tracks leading in from the far side of that creek either."

"Hm. Well, I'll need you to go back and take another look tomorrow."

"Don't think so."

The sheriff looked up from his meal. "How come?"

Toineeta took another draw from his Lucky Strike. "I can track a man across a linoleum floor if he don't know I'm after him. But it's different when the fella knows."

"I think this fella knew his tracks would give him away. And he done some things to be sure them tracks wouldn't lead us to him. The smarter the man, the tougher he is to follow. Your best bet is to make a plaster cast of that footprint by the creek, and see if you can match it."

"Okay. You and Paul go out there and do that tomorrow mornin'."

"Reckon this fella killed the hunter?"

"Absolutely. Waited for him up there in that laurel, and shot the poor bastard down in cold blood. And that's murder. So let's find the son of a bitch who did it."




The Hunter



*******

The next evening, Jim Roy sat on the sofa in their living room. The house was now filled with grieving kinfolk and friends who had come to offer, in equal amounts, sympathy and endless platters of food. The kitchen table was groaning with casseroles, bowls of fried chicken, jello salad: a great banquet. Regardless of their sorrow, no one would go hungry.

Once again the boy's eyes were drawn to Bonnie, now sitting in her Aunt Carol's lap. The older woman gazed lovingly at the little girl, offering words of solace and comfort.

They're all like that, the boy thought. Something about Bonnie draws them. I'm the same way. You want to reassure and protect her any way you can. You'd do just about anything for a little girl like her.

His mind wandered back to that fateful day in September. Like the sharp crack of a hunting rifle, he could recall every detail of that terrible day. A day in which a man's death warrant had been drawn up.

It had been the first cool day in months; one that signals the end of summer. The air was crisp, the sky deep blue. Jim Roy had been doing his algebra homework on the front porch, and for no particular reason decided to go into the house.

Eva and Bonnie were on the back porch, canning the last tomatoes of the season. The little girl, wearing a thin blouse and cotton shorts, had come into the house and was going to her room to put on a sweater.

Floyd had been in the living room, listening to the radio and drinking Schlitz beer, relaxing after another day at the saw mill. Jim Roy entered the front door just as his father got up to get another beer, meeting Bonnie at the doorway from the living room to the kitchen.

Floyd stopped her, a hand on the little girl's shoulder. She looked up at him, a shy grin on her face. Then her eyes grew large as he placed his other hand on her chest and moved it around.

Bonnie looked at him in shock. She began to struggle as he roughly caressed her. "Daddy, don't! I don't like that!" the little girl cried.

Floyd McCarter chuckled. "You'll be ready to bleed pretty soon, little gal," he smiled. "Yep, ready to bleed."

"Please, Daddy! No!" the child whimpered. But her father only held and fondled her. Then he saw that Bonnie was looking toward the front door. His own eyes followed. Jim Roy stood there watching them, a sickened look on his face.

Floyd roughly pushed his daughter away, then turned to Jim Roy. "What you lookin' at, buster? Ain't you got nothin' better to do! Go see if your mama has enough wood for th' cook stove. Git your ass outta here 'fore I kick it out!"

Jim Roy turned and rushed from the house. Down the porch steps and down the driveway. He did not stop until he was halfway to the road. He sat down on the mossy ground under a great sugar maple tree and looked off toward the distant ridges.

His heart was pounding; tears filled his eyes. In his mind he began to speak to his father.

I've put up with you kicking and beating me. Gone to school with a black eye you gave me, Daddy. And watched you slap my mother around. I've run up into the woods just so I wouldn't have to listen to you yell at her. So I couldn't hear the 'whack' when your hand strikes her. And her pleading cries.

I've taken all that. And somehow learned to live with it. But little Bonnie? The most innocent, trusting child in the world? She just wants her daddy to love her! But that's not what you want, is it? You're going to use her. Daddy, she's eleven years old. Still a child, and your own daughter! What kind of man would do that!

Jim Roy thought he might explode from the anger and helplessness. 

But then, quite suddenly, an eerie calm swept over him. It was a cool, almost reptilian feeling. At long last came certitude. In a few seconds the decision was made, there under a maple tree on a gorgeous late summer day. Jim Roy felt something like relief.

The idea had first come to him almost a year ago. He had blushed in shame that such a hateful, despicable thought could enter his mind. For a year that idea, from time to time, had crept into his thoughts like an evil genie. 

He had resisted and rationalized. Half an hour ago he was certain that his conscience would never allow him to do something so unthinkable. But that was before he saw the look of terror on little Bonnie's face; felt the same hurt and fear she must have felt. 

At that moment the boy became, in some way, a man. An odd thought crossed his mind: the hardest part is now over.

Jim Roy calmly rose up and began to walk back home. Had someone stopped to talk to him, they would have noticed a quiet resolve about him. They would have seen that his brown eyes had grown dark; as dark as night.

He felt that same sense of purpose later when he reclined on his bed, looking at a recent issue of Field and Stream magazine. He turned to the back of the magazine where ads were listed, including ads for mail-order rifles. In the calm detached manner of a good hunter, the boy carefully read each ad.

*******

His Uncle Rafe McCarter, Floyd's older brother, came over and sat beside Jim Roy on the sofa. "How are you holdin' up, son?"

"I'm doin' okay."

The man had thinning dark hair; a moustache that was beginning to show gray. "It's an awful thing for a boy to lose his father. Now ole Floyd, maybe he wasn't the easiest fella to get along with, that McCarter temper and all. But I know he wuz a good provider, and wanted the best for y'all. Ain't that right?"

"Yes sir, that's right."

"Well, just remember all the good things about your daddy. Th' times you and him went huntin' 'n fishin'. He taught you how to shoot a rifle, didn't he?"

"Yes sir, he did."

"I'll bet you're a good shot. Can you hit what you aim at?"

"Yes, most of the time I can."

The conversation lagged. Jim Roy began to recall what followed that September afternoon. How the wheels were set in motion. 

Two days later he had ridden his bicycle to school, and afterwards peddled all the way into Citico County and the little village of Hayesville, which had just been awarded a post office. He opened a post office box there, paying cash that he had earned working the tobacco fields that summer.

The next day, summer's heat returned one last time. He spent part of the sweltering afternoon in study hall. That previous spring, students in his English class had been taught how to write a business letter. Now Jim Roy recalled what he had learned. On his school notebook paper he carefully composed a letter:

September 19, 1949

Dear Sir or Madam: I would like to order a Browning .27 caliber hunting rifle (Item #433) that was advertised by your company, H & M Products, in Field and Stream magazine. I have enclosed with this letter a mail order check for $74.95 plus $10 for shipping. Please send the ordered item to Box Holder P.O. Box 7 Hayesville, North Carolina

Thank you for your prompt attention to this order.

*******

On the day after Floyd McCarter was laid to rest in the Bethel Methodist Church cemetery, Sheriff Ramsey paid a visit to his family. He sat on the sofa in the McCarter living room as they eyed him with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

"Miz McCarter," the sheriff began, "could the little girl maybe go into her room for a while? She don't need to hear this."

Eva turned to her daughter. "Honey, why don't you go in your room and read those funny books cousin Stella brought you? Be a dear."

After the child had left, the sheriff turned to Eva and Jim Roy. "Now, they'll be a hearing on your husband's death, Miz McCarter. Most likely it'll be declared an accident. There was a lot o' dern fools out in the woods hunting that day, some of 'em liquored up, bangin' away at anything that moved. It's possible your husband was hit by a stray bullet."

"But I have to be able to tell the judge that it was not anything else. That it could not have been murder, premeditated or otherwise. Now, did your husband have any old enemies? People he's quarreled or got in a fight with? Did you ever hear anyone threaten to kill him?"

"No!" Eva replied. "I mean, Floyd had a temper, everbody knows that. He'd get into fights now and then. But I never heard of anyone wantin' to kill him."

Lowering his voice, the sheriff went on. "Miz McCarter, I been told that ever once in a while you'd come to church or go shopping with a black eye. Bruises on you."

The woman eyed him for a moment. "What are you sayin'?"

"And Jim Roy," the sheriff went on, "didn't you show up for school once or twice with a black eye?"

"Yes sir."

"Now wait a minute!" Eva cried angrily. "That's none of your business! And if you think one of us would want Floyd dead, you can just get out of my house right now! You got no right to talk to us that way!"

Color came to the sheriff's face. "You listen to me, both of you!" he growled. "I been sheriffin' here in Nantahala County for nearly thirty years. I know blood kin will gun each other down, because I've seen it. Plenty of times! And I ain't leavin' here 'til I get some answers! Floyd McCarter was a wife beater, wasn't he? And he beat up on this boy here too."

Tears welled up in Eva's eyes. "Yes," she said miserably, "he'd hit us once in a while, but we put up with it! We wouldn't do him no harm for it!"

Sheriff Ramsey had been eyeing Jim Roy during the conversation. Kid's not shown an ounce of emotion, he thought. Looks at me with snake eyes. "Son, were you here at home the morning your daddy was shot?"

"Yes sir. He told me to stay here 'n chop kindling and wood for th' stoves."

"Miz McCarter, was this boy home all morning? Can you vouch for him?"

For a fraction of a second Jim Roy's eyes met his mother's. After a brief hesitation she replied. "Yes. He was here the whole time. I heard him choppin' wood."

"Hm. Son, do you own a rifle?"

"Yes sir. It's in my bedroom."

"Let's have a look at it."

A moment later Jim Roy was taking down his Savage .22 caliber rifle that was mounted on the wall above the chest of drawers in his room. He handed it to the sheriff. Ramsey looked at the rifle, and smelled the end of the barrel.

"Ain't been fired in a while."

"No sir. Maybe a couple of weeks."

"Only gun you own?" The sheriff looked at the boy. One cool customer, he thought. Snake eyes.

"Yes sir." 

"Now, show me the bottom of your shoes."

Without hesitating Jim Roy raised up his foot so that the sheriff could see the soles of his Sears-Roebuck work shoes. The Wolverine boots that now lay in the bottom of the Santeetlah River had been bought a month ago in Hayesville. And worn only one time.

"You own any boots?"

"No, just my go to church shoes, and some galoshes."

A few moments later Sheriff Ramsey was back in the living room, again eyeing the boy and his mother. Drawing his hand across his chin, he said, "Son, how's about if you and me have a little talk, man to man, out in my car? Get your coat."

"He didn't do nothin'!" Eva wailed as Jim Roy put on his coat. "He's just a boy, only fourteen! He couldn't hurt a fly! You can tell that just by lookin' at him!"

"Yes Ma'm," the sheriff replied as Jim Roy put on his wool jacket. The man and the boy walked onto the porch and through sprinkling rain to the police car. As they got in, the rain began to intensify, drumming loudly on the car's roof.

Sheriff Ramsey, now in his own element, lit a Pall Mall and gazed through the windshield at the driving sheets of rain. "You know, son, when you've been a law man long as I have, you get a nose for crime. You get to where you can smell guilt on a man, just like he was a skunk."

The boy made no reply. 

"Now, I don't know how you done it. But I can smell guilt on you. I think you shot down your own father on account of the way he treated you and your mama. Did you?"

Jim Roy looked into Sheriff Ramsey's eyes, never wavering, as he said, "No sir. I did not." Once again he was hearing in his mind a little girl's voice. 

Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine!  Oh what a foretaste of glory divine!

With absolute clarity he remembered Bonnie in church a few weeks ago. Wearing her straw hat with blue ribbons trailing down, she had sung that hymn, the soft morning light on her. Bonnie has such a pretty voice, he thought.

Sheriff Ramsey now spoke in his most soothing, fatherly tone. "Son, I know it's rough on a boy, havin' to take punches from his old man, and seeing his own mother slapped around. Now, you tell me what happened out in them woods, right here and now. I'll do everthing I can to see you get a fair shake. I'll put in a word for you with the judge. I just want to do what's right. Will you tell me?"

The child's lilting voice now filled Jim Roy's mind. Somehow the image of Bonnie in church was as real as sitting in a police car with the rain pelting down.

Watching and waiting, looking above, Filled with His goodness, lost in His love.

For a while the law man and the young boy eyed each other in silence. The rainstorm now reached a crescendo, obliterating from sight everything beyond the car. Jim Roy turned to watch rainwater flooding down the windshield. Finally he spoke. 

"Sheriff ..."

"Yes?"

"Ever night when my little sister goes to bed, she won't turn off the light 'til me and Mama have kissed her goodnight. She tells me how much she loves us. Last night Bonnie told me she was glad she had a big brother to look after her, now that Daddy's gone. Don't you think it was sweet of her to say that?" 

Once again the eyes of the man and the boy locked together. A shudder ran through Sheriff Ramsey as the light of comprehension began to dawn in him. I never thought about the little girl! he said to himself. Never thought about her at all! 

He noticed that Jim Roy's eyes were much darker than he realized; almost black. Now, with cool defiance, his eyes spoke: if you think I killed my father, prove it. But until then, I'm going to be Bonnie's big brother, and take care of her. Just as I always have.

Is that it? Sheriff Ramsey thought. Was that your breaking point? Something that would drive even an innocent boy to do the unthinkable? 

He gazed into the boy's dark eyes, now grown cold. As he had often done on long sleepless nights, the sheriff reflected how life seldom presents choices in black and white. But rather in subtle shades of gray.

If he did it to protect that little girl, how do I serve justice here, the sheriff thought. Or has justice already been served? Right and wrong. Where is the line?

As quickly as it had begun, the rainstorm began to abate. Sheriff Ramsey took a deep breath. "Son, do you realize how your life just changed?"

"What do you mean?"

"Whatever your daddy was, he was the breadwinner. Now he's gone. And you're goin' t' have to step forward, help support your family. You'll need to get a part time job, afternoons and weekends. Full time job all summer. You willin' to do that?"

"Of course I am."

"You won't be able to do lots of things young fellas your age do. You've got to be a man now."

I am already a man, Jim Roy thought. I became a man on a perfect sunny day back in September.

Sheriff Ramsey stubbed out his cigarette and lit another, now angered by the moral dilemma facing him. Glaring at the boy, he said, "You McCarters been livin' in these hills since Andy Jackson was president. And you've all got hot tempers. When you have a grievance, you settle it your own way, no matter what the law says. Ain't that right?"

"I don't know." Jim Roy paused, then went on, ""Am I considered a suspect?"

"Son, you'll always be a suspect as far as I'm concerned. But a man is innocent until proven guilty. I can't point any suspicion toward you until I've got hard evidence. But I meant what said about helpin' your folks. You got a duty now. If you run off and leave them, I'll hunt you down and bring you back. Understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Now get out of my car. I'm sick of the sight of you."

Jim Roy quickly left the car and sprinted to the house without looking back. The sheriff watched him go, knowing that the investigation into the death of Floyd McCarter would be brief. With one final quiet "Dammit all," he started up the motor and drove down the driveway. 

*******

The storm passed quickly through Nantahala County and was gone by evening. When Jim Roy came into Bonnie's bedroom to say goodnight, a half moon was shining through the window. The room was moonlight and shadows and pale golden light from a small lamp on the little girl's nightstand.

The boy bent down and quickly kissed his sister on the forehead. In the dim light he could see a pensive look on Bonnie's face.

"What are you thinkin' about, sweet pea?" he asked.

"Just thinkin' about Daddy," she replied quietly. "How I'll never see him again. He won't never bring me Hershey's Kisses no more, or take my hand when we walk into church, or buy me a birthday present. I've got you, but I'll never have a daddy any more."

The little girl's words cut like a knife. Now washing over Jim Roy was unbearable guilt. Dear God what have I done, he thought. I took a gun and killed a man. How can I live with that every day?

Tears welled up and filled Jim Roy's eyes. Tears for his lost innocence. Tears for wanting to make their lives better. Tears for being able to look at his father through the scope of a rifle and then squeeze the trigger.

"You'll miss him too, won't you?" Bonnie asked.

"I'll never forget him."

Jim Roy felt smothered in black despair. Unable to be in the little girl's presence, he got up and hurried to the door. 

At the last possible second, Bonnie spoke. "Jim Roy, come back a minute." 

He returned and sat on the bed, wiping away searing tears of guilt. The little girl took his hand.

In a low voice, she said, "Daddy wasn't a good man, was he?"

"No, not always."

"He scared me, Jim Roy, the way he would grab me when Mama wasn't around. And lookin' at me, like a snake watchin' a mouse." She paused and took a deep breath. "I think Daddy was gonna hurt me. He was gonna hurt me real bad, wasn't he?"

"Yes, Bonnie, he was."

Her voice near breaking, she said, "Jim Roy, some part of me is glad that Daddy's gone. Glad that you 'n Mama don't have to take any more beatin's from him. Somehow I'm relieved that I don't have to be scared of him no more."

The boy sighed but said nothing.

"Am I bad for thinkin' that? For feelin' grateful that he's not here and can't hurt us?"

"Of course you aren't bad, sweet pea. Now, can I ask you to do something? It really means a lot to me."

"What?"

"Me 'n Mama are goin' to work hard so's we can stay a family. But in some ways, Bonnie, you're the most important one of us. You're the one who holds us together when you laugh and play and sing. When we see you happy, we know it's worth it. So I want you to be the sweet little girl you've always been. I want you to grow up happy 'n carefree, the way girls were meant to. Can you do that for me?"

Bonnie smiled. "Yes," she murmured. "Now I can do that." 

*******

Bethel Methodist Church sat on a high knoll overlooking the Santeetlah River. The church had recently built a flagstone pavilion on one side. When weather permitted, special events like wedding receptions were held there.

On a warm May afternoon in 1958, a young man, uncomfortable in his navy blue suit, stood watching the celebration on the pavilion. Jim Roy McCarter was considered handsome, his features marred only by a somber look that never left his face.

His eyes were riveted to two women enjoying the dancing. Mama's put on some weight, he thought to himself. But still good-looking. Can't say the same about the man holding her hand.

Will Hampton had been a widower, ten years older and two inches shorter than Eva. He was homely and balding. But Will was a gentle and decent man. He was a hard-working farmer, shy and soft-spoken. And his adoration of the widow Eva McCarter knew no bounds.




The Hunter



Jim Roy recalled the Christmas day two years ago when Will had proposed marriage to Eva. She had accepted at once. After he had left, Eva celebrated with her two children. "I thought he'd never get around to it," she had laughed. Once again light was shining in her blue eyes.

Now Jim Roy's eyes moved to the young bride dancing with her groom on the pavilion. She was lithe and graceful, attractive in a country girl way. She's Mrs. Bonnie Chastain now, the man thought. I guess prettier women have been married in this church, but I'll bet there's never been one more radiant than my little sister. 

After a moment, Jim Roy noticed that an elderly woman was motioning for him to come to her. He approached the lady, whose name, he remembered, was Mrs. McCall. She had been wheelchair-bound for most of her life, the result of a bout with polio.

"You know who I am, don't you?" she asked as Jim Roy drew near.

"Yes Ma'm. You're Ellen McCall, Carl Chastain's grandmother."

"That's right. Here, sit down and talk to me."

The young man sat beside her in a cane chair. For a moment nothing was said as both watched the couple on the dance floor. "Nice couple, aren't they?" the woman finally murmured.

Jim Roy managed a smile. "They sure are."

The old woman turned, gazing at him with hazel eyes whose pupils had faded around the edges. Her white hair shimmering in the breeze, she said, "I guess an old lady like me can speak her mind."

"When Carl first brought Bonnie home to meet us, we didn't know what to make of her. If you don't mind my sayin' so, most of the other girls he courted were prettier, and smarter too."

"But I swear, that Bonnie had more life to her than any three women. Always smiling and cheerful. She's got a knack for makin' folks feel good. You know what I like to call her?"

"What's that?"

"Our little ray of sunshine. Nobody can light up a room like Bonnie when she walks in. And that sweet voice of hers. They asked her to sing 'Amazing Grace' at my last birthday, you know. And my goodness, she was like an angel come down from high to sing for me. We just love her to pieces."

"It's nice of you to say that."

The old woman turned to Jim Roy, studying him carefully. "How come you're so different from her? You take after your late father, I reckon."

"In some ways I do. Not all."

"Your problem, son, is that you go around with such a long face. Like you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders. You need to brighten up, now your mother 'n sister are married off. You've got a good job, managing the hardware store. But the girls, they like a fella who can smile and make them laugh."

"I guess so."

"So try to be a little more cheerful, Jim Roy. Will you?"

"Yes, I'll try."

The old woman's smile faded. In a low voice she said, "I don't know that you will."

Now uncomfortable, Jim Roy said, "It was nice talking to you, Mrs. McCall." He got up and slowly walked to the back steps of the church. From there he looked out over the cemetery. His eyes were drawn to a marble tombstone near the back on the right side. 

He did not need to read the name chiseled there. He had stood before that grave dozens of times; watched as his mother and sister placed flowers there. That tombstone wandered through his dreams, sometimes accompanied by the sharp report of a hunting rifle.

Shaking his head, Jim Roy walked down a path to the river. He sat down on a wide gray rock at the edge. 

Well, river, he said to himself, here we are again. You've held my secrets. And Sheriff Ramsey even now looks at me in a certain way. But whatever his suspicions, he's kept them to himself.

The young man's face grew dark as he looked across the boulders and green water of the Santeetlah. Again came more thoughts. River, I have a question for you. Why is the cost of human happiness so high? Why must it sometimes be bought with blood and guilt and shame? I'd really like to know, because I've lain awake so many nights wishing I knew the answer.

From his pocket Jim Roy withdrew a small bronze-colored object: the spent shell of a .27 caliber rifle. He felt its smooth cool surface in the palm of his hand.

And another thing, river. Was it worth it? Was happiness for those two women up there at the church worth the price paid? The life of Floyd McCarter, and the shadow over mine? I'll never be free of this burden of guilt. What I did will haunt me for the rest of my life. Was I right to give up any chance of real happiness in exchange for theirs? Tell me, river.

The river's cold waters flowed around the boulders, seeming to murmur as they went, "Did you love them that much?" 

A sad smile came to the young man's face. "Yes," he said quietly. "I loved them that much."



The Hunter



Hank ran the old saying though his mind, "My worst day hunting is better than my best day at work." The version he originally heard involved fishing instead of hunting, but he guessed it was one of those things where you could substitute one activity for another. His worst day hunting, yeah, that phrase could describe any of the three days he spent over the holiday weekend. It might have been better than work, but not much.

It was a chilly weekend, but that actually was good, the cold often would get the deer moving. The rain normally helped too, but somehow, all the right conditions failed to produce any results. Well there was one result, Hank spent three days waking up at four in the morning and sitting in a deer blind for twelve or thirteen hours looking out at nothing.

If it hadn't been raining he might have been able to see a sunrise at least, or grab a peak at a sunset as he rode in the truck back to the cabin, but the sky remained a dismal grey for the entire trip. Even back at the cabin, he lost at poker, lost at backgammon and then they overcooked his steak.

Now if that was all there was, he could have simply doubled up on the Johnny Walker Red or Black Jack and salvaged at least something, but what jabbed him like a stick in his ribs was the luck some of the other guys had. Now mind you, these clowns wouldn't know how to stalk and kill a watermelon much less a deer, yet Hank had to watch as two of them hung and gutted two huge bucks.

"Yeah, there I was, barely had time to climb up into the blind, get my stuff out, my gun loaded and there it was, peeking out into the clearing. The feeder was set to dispense at about seven am and I guess the buck was just hungry. He walked out into the clearing, I took aim and got him, well wounded him..."

"Wounded him?" Hank complained, "Hell, you were in a blind and you only wounded it?"

"I chased him down and finished him."

Hank just shook his head and looked over at Pete, the other lucky hunter, "And you?"

"I got him with one shot," Pete replied indignantly. "At my blind the feeder went off about 9:30 that morning. I watched about a half a dozen does wander though, then one spike and finally my buck came in."

And there it was, these two clowns had their bucks and Hank had yet to see deer one on the trip. So the other guys spent the rest of the weekend shooting at cans and coyotes while Hank sat in his blind waiting to see a deer. At the end of the trip he simply loaded up and made the long drive home.

The sun was just setting as he pulled off the main road and headed for his subdivision when he glanced off into the trees. There up a small hill he saw it, a buck, must have been eight to ten pointer at least. A car was not far behind him otherwise he might have stopped to get a better look, instead he simply drove to his house. 

That night he tossed and turned all night long thinking about that deer. After spending three days hunting out in the wide open spaces, where even a couple of clowns like Pete and Dave could spray enough bullets to get a deer, Hank had to spot his buck not a mile from his own house. He got up early the next morning and took the long way into work so he could pass through the woods and perhaps get another glimpse of the deer.

There was no traffic that early in the morning, so he drove slowly, and sure enough, not far from where he spotted him the afternoon before, he saw it. Pulling his truck onto the shoulder, he peered through the glass at the distant creature. He looked up at the horns and counted, one, two... up to twelve points! 

Hank headed on into work and had to spend the day listening to recreations and exaggerations of the hunting trip as Pete and Dave both bragged of their success. All Hank could do was shrug his shoulders, talk about bad luck and think about that incredible buck wandering in the woods not a mile from his house.

He finished out the week at work, but because things were quite slow that time of year, he spent most of the day drawing doodles of the deer's rack and obsessing on that buck. Finally, by Friday afternoon he decided he had to do something. Once again, taking the long way home, he spotted the deer in a clearing not far from the road, but with the traffic around him, he couldn't stop.

In the short drive to get to his house he worked on a plan and as he pulled into the driveway he committed himself to it. He woke up early that next morning, loaded his gun, slipped it in the back of his truck and headed out. Fortunately the moon was out so he was able to see pretty well. Sure enough, not far from the entrance onto the highway he spotted the deer in the distance.

He pulled off the road and spotted a trail wide enough for his truck. Easing down the dirt road a ways, he stopped his truck, grabbed his gun and headed out into the woods. Now his hunter's instincts took over as he moved quietly and effortlessly through the woods. This was how you hunted, you didn't climb up in a blind and wait for the deer to come for food like those two slobs at the office.

No, hunting was something you worked at, studying the deer, learning the terrain they moved in, paying attention to the wind direction, the weather and the time of day. Hank considered himself an expert, but unfortunately he didn't have those clowns along so he could show them just what it took to be a true hunter.

Of course, not only did Hank have to stalk the deer using his hunting abilities, in this case he had to consider the law. He was really not supposed to hunt here so close to the housing area. The fence he crossed made him sure he was trespassing, but that was simply another obstacle to overcome. He figured it was so early, he could shoot the deer, get it back to his truck and then get back on the road without incident. Once on the road no one could tell where the deer came from.

He walked carefully now, sensing he was close. Yes, even in the dim moonlight he could see it. There in the distance stood the deer, apparently foraging for food. It hadn't moved far from where Hank first spotted it, a certain sign that he had expertly stalked the animal without disturbing it. He reached a spot where he could remain concealed and still had a clear shot.

Carefully lifting his gun from his shoulder, he brought it up, carefully found the deer in his scope, slowly zooming in until he had his shot lined up. He slipped the safety off, breathed in and then held his breath as he slowly pulled the trigger. There was a single loud crack and though the gun recoiled, Hank kept his eyes on the deer.

It seemed to fall oddly and when he zoomed in with his scope the animal seemed stiff, its legs still sticking straight out. "Had the bullet paralyzed the animal?" Hank wondered. He shot for the upper shoulder hoping to kill the deer instantly by hitting the heart, so how could the deer be paralyzed? Perhaps his scope was off, maybe knocked askew as he hiked through the trees.

Well anyway, the animal was down in one shot and Hank had to move quickly. He hooked his arm through the strap on his gun and carefully jogged up to the clearing where the deer stood. Still in hunter's mode, he moved silently and efficiently up to the animal.

Strangely, when he got up to the animal he noticed that instead of a bullet wound and blood, there was merely a large chunk broken from the shoulder. He bent down to look closer when suddenly several bright lights shined at him.

A voice cried out, "Drop your weapon please."

Hank stood up, let the gun slide from his shoulder and settle onto the knee high grass. He held his hands in the air.

"Your knife too."

Hank reached to his belt, unsnapped the strap and dropped his knife to the ground then lifted his hands again.

"Please step away from your weapons."

Hank took several steps back and then remained motionless as three bright lights began bounding up and down as they moved closer to him. The shadows behind the lights came into view as he faced two policemen and one game warden.

"Sir, you understand that hunting this close to the housing developments is not legal."

Hank nodded as one police officer grabbed one of his hands, pulled it behind his back and snapped on a handcuff.

"Is that necessary officer?" Hank asked.

"Sorry, it's procedure," the officer replied, taking Hank's other hand and slipping the cuff on it. He led Hank back down a path in the woods and began reciting, "You have the right..."

Although his ears were ringing from the gunshot, Hank heard and understood every word the man said. He had used his superior hunting skills to stalk and kill a decoy and now he knew it would take a lot of money and a good lawyer to get out of this jamb. Fortunately, though completely incompetent as hunters, Pete and Dave were pretty good lawyers. Hank just wondered whether he could face telling them the truth now. 

He looked out of the window and noticed the sunrise. The pink sky glowed beautifully as the police opened their car door and helped him climb inside.   



The Hunter



He lie very still in the tall grass. How many hunts had he been on? How much time had he spent, lying in wait, patiently, ready to strike as the moment came clear. Enough. Enough to make him the leader of today's hunting party. Enough that tonight he would choose his spoils. Any woman in the village would be his, when they returned with this bounty, as was their custom. He'd never lacked for women, but tonight, he could choose rather than the other way around (as was their custom.) And he knew already which woman he would take, take back to his tepee, to his furs on the floor, take to her knees...this day was a long time coming. Perhaps ever since he began to learn how to hunt. As a boy he'd spent hours following small mammals, learning their habits, tracking their movements, finding the optimal moment to take their lives. Proudly he'd carry his prey home to his mother, who doted on her son as the champion he would become. Now he was old enough to join with the adult men, old enough to receive the award of choosing the woman of his choice. His mind began to wander to her curves, the gentle sway of her hips, the blush of her lips and he felt a stirring in his loins. Quickly he stopped his thoughts before they went any further, that was next, first he must bring down this beast.

He heard its footsteps drawing near, he could smell its stench. The moment was very close. Hunting was instinct to him, how he knew when to kill he could not say, but as if led by an invisible cue, he sprang into action, sending his dagger deep into the heart of the beast. It lie, dying, beneath him. Its large, black eyes looked deep into his own and as he brought a killing blow he prayed to the gods for its spirit. And he prayed to the gods for stamina. Tonight he would be a man.

He led the hunting party on their victorious march to the village. The beast held high above their heads. They were greeted by the women, children and the old men who could no longer partake in the hunting. The children sang the song of the hunt, the words and tune brought joy to his heart as he remembered singing it so many times before. The women, especially the young women, giggled excitedly and tried to catch his glance. Their people were no stranger to sex, sex was a part of everyone's lives as much as eating or sleeping, but the post-hunt sex of the hunt leader and his chosen mate is considered sacred.

The women went to work preparing the feast and, as women are so wont to do, making themselves attractive. It mattered not to him how pretty the women were tonight, he'd had his eye for a very long time on the woman he would choose tonight. She was the mate of another, but after the hunt, it mattered not. He was the hunter and she his spoils. If he were to impregnate her, it was custom for her to remain with him. He could only hope. The two had grown up as children together, but she was always out of his reach, preferring boys with bigger muscles and louder voices. He'd longed for her since the beginning of his longings for women, but as the custom dictated, women choose men and not the other way around, so he waited, patiently, as he did on the hunt, for his skill to bring her to him. Tonight she was his.

Darkness fell, there was feasting and fire and dancing and music. The children were sent to bed, only adults were allowed to view the hunter taking his spoils. He knew the moment was drawing near, there was a minor fear inside his head, as tradition had the hunter first engage with his spoils as part of the celebration. The tribe would watch and cheer as they consecrated the hunt and brought luck to future hunts. He saw her in the crowd, she was probably unaware she would be his choice, a silent girl she was, not the most shapely, nor the most attractive, but when she was around he could think of nothing but her. And tonight, she was his.

The tribe stood in a circle around the fire and the hunter was called forth. They crowned him with the skull of the beast and bid him choose his mate. He walked into the crowd, the women eagerly watched, hoping they would receive the honor of being chosen tonight. He found her, not that he could have missed her if he'd tried, and placed his hand on her shoulder. She blushed. He lifted her off her feet and carried her to the center of the circle, as is their custom. The tribe hooted and hollered, chants of virility and fertility, for it was thought to be a good omen if a child were to come of this pairing. He began to remove her furs, as is their custom, and soon she was naked in front of her tribe. He then removed his own furs, except for the skull crown, and the two stood in the fire light, admiring each other's bodies. 

As his eyes moved slowly from her face downwards, he became aware of his arousal, as did the crowd, who hollered louder and started chanting for him to take her, take her now. He knew this was just the beginning of the evening, as once he had performed for the crowd, she was to return with him to his tepee and this, this was what he truly wanted. She, as custom bade her, dropped down to her hands and knees and he knelt behind her. The tribe was watching, he felt their eyes, but it mattered not, all that mattered was his beauty, finally his, in front of him. He pressed himself deep inside her and the crowd went wild. Holding her hips he pounded her again and again, every time it seemed the tribe would cheer a little louder, until he felt he could take it no more. As he came into her depths, he held her hips tightly, praying to the gods that he would become a father.

With the show over, the hunter grabbed his lady and the crowd parted as they walked towards his tepee. Once inside, he set her gently on his furs. She murmured approval at their softness. She was ready to go again, as he could have only hoped, but he wasn't quite. She was well versed at the oral arts and used her talents to have him standing at full attention quickly. She asked what he wanted, was there anything she could provide him that he had always wanted? Hoping to hold his aura of hunter he did not want to admit that anything with her was what he'd always wanted. Instead he indicated he wanted to try her dark hole, a sex act he had witnessed but not yet found a willing partner for. She was more than happy to oblige as he was the hunter and she his spoils.

She placed herself on her hands and knees again, presenting her small anus. He placed the head of his penis at her tight opening and slowly, ever so slowly, began pressing himself inside. She was relaxed, and he slid in without much work, gasping as he made it past the entrance. The noises she made were a mixture of pleasure and happy pain as he enjoyed the tightness of her round bottom. It seemed like something she liked, especially as his breathing became ragged, she enthusiastically pressed back onto him, squeezing just a little as he unloaded his juices into her ass.

Twice now he had come, and this beauty beneath him and not come at all. It was her turn. He whispered that she should lie on his furs and she obeyed. He wanted to smell her, all his life he'd waited to smell her, and now was his chance. He put his face into her fur patch and inhaled deeply, he felt himself stirring (so soon? again?) but he knew it was her turn. A good hunter satisfies his lady. He spread her legs and admired her lady parts for a moment before diving in, face first. He knew how to please a lady and soon her legs were shaking and his mouth filled with her sweet juices. By this point, his arousal was too much to deny, so he climbed on top and took her again, this time looking into her eyes as he penetrated her again and again, deeper and deeper. Suddenly he felt her vagina tightening around his hardness and she screamed as her body was rocked with her orgasm. He came too, feeling his strength and honor pouring into her. He knew this union would create his son.

As the months past, the hunter watched with pride as his chosen mate became swollen with his child. The whole tribe rejoiced in the luck this child would bring them. It was a good year and all their hunts would be fruitful.



The Hunter & His Prey



He was watching her. His blood was heating up as she took off her robe. Jason knew his time was near, rubbing his hands together he waited for Maria to lay down. Taking her by force would be such a thrill. He was getting hard just looking at her through her bedroom window. A watcher by nature, the thrill in the unknown, his victims so far never having known he was there. Just thinking of several other women he had raped made him throb now with a need to feel her skin touching his. Jason was in his mid to late twenties, soft wavy blonde hair and blue eyes. He knew he had the body of a god, but his mind was seriously off balanced. During the daytime hours he worked in construction, heavy equipment and laboring had earned him that toned body. However when the sun went down, he turned into a hunter. Tonight Jason’s newest victim was a rather fun loving woman. Maria had no idea he was stalking her, there were no signs, he was absolutely positive she was in her bedroom unaware. 

He watched her as she slid onto her bed. Jason knew if he didn’t slip inside her house soon he would explode and he meant literally spill his seed inside his brand new Calvin Klein shorts. He continued to watch, enthralled as Maria turned her body facing the window. She raised her leg and bent it at the knee, she trailed her hand slowly down her breast softly tweaking her already taut nipple. Jason couldn’t hear the moan she let out but for him the game had just begun. No other victim had done this before. This added to his already overworked mind. A woman who pleasured herself was held above all others. That meant to him she was comfortable with her body. Distracted now he could not hope to enter her home for sometime. He chose to stand outside her window and pretend it was his own hands putting that silky smile on her lips.

Jason’s cock gave a powerful jerk when he saw her place her fingers on the hair below her navel. He slowly wrapped his hand around his now hard cock as Maria opened her legs wider and drew her fingers down into her already moist pussy. His breathing became labored as he jerked his cock faster. Suddenly he shot a huge load of cum when he saw her bring her fingers to her mouth and lick them. Premature ejaculation had always been a serious problem for him. Using his shirt tail he cleaned himself off. Leaving the scene would be hard for him to do, but he knew that getting an erection again was just not going to happen. As he turned to leave he looked at her bedroom window again, this time it seemed she was staring right at him. How could that be, it was so dark out here he would hardly be able to see his way to the car.

As Jason got to his car he was pretty confident that her looking out the window was only reflex. He drove himself home, he was in a state of unrest. Not exactly pleased to find himself wet in some spots on his jeans from having squirted his cum all over himself. He would have to come up with a good story, having his wife find dried or even wet cum on his jeans would only cause her to question some of his late night prowling. 

Hoping he was late enough that Sue (his wife) would already be asleep, Jason rushed in his home and shucked off his pants, throwing them and the rest of his clothes in the laundry room washer. Pulling on some clean sweats and adding some extra clothes to the washer, Jason stepped into the kitchen. Sue was there to ask him why he was washing clothes so late at night. He calmly explained to her that he had been out walking and one of the neighbors dog had jumped all over him covering his pants with mud. Trying to please his wife he told her he had thrown extra clothes in with the wash to save her some work.

Smiling at Jason, Sue took him by the hand leading him to their bedroom. Passionately kissing him on the lips with an expectant look in her wide violet eyes, Sue asked him if she could repay him by sucking his cock. Sadly he told her no, he had been out walking trying to rid himself of a major headache. Fortunately Sue had always been aware of Jason’s sexual problems, however much she tried to help him, she felt he need to seek counseling to find out the underlying problem. Maybe if he caught her touching herself several times in a row he would realize how serious their lack of sex was affecting his wife.

Jason was always telling Sue how beautiful she was. Sue had long auburn hair, hazel eyes, she was a very shapely 145 pounds. Working out from time to time left her body toned and firm, her 36D breasts weren’t sagging, and she had been shaving her pubic hair since before Jason had married her. Fortunately for Sue, she had been keeping rather strict tabs on her wayward husband. She knew about his peeping tom activities and she was aware he had raped a few of his victims, soon she planned to reveal this to him in hopes of blackmailing him into seeking counseling. Otherwise she would take the information to the police and leave him for good.

Between Sue, Jason, and Maria; Sue was the one who knew what was going on. She knew that Maria was Jason’s new victim. Sue also knew that is where Jason had been last night. She planned first to confront Maria, hoping the woman would go along with her plans to blackmail Jason. 

Maria on the other hand was more aware of the situation than husband and wife thought. She had witnessed his car following her on several occasions. Maria was classically beautiful. During the working hours her long lustrous blond hair was usually in a bun or ponytail. She did not work out often, even though there was a gym in the building she had her office in. Unbeknownst to husband and wife, Maria had been a sex therapist for several years now. She was a shapely woman, not a petite woman at 165 pounds, her 38 DD breasts usually got her all the attention she needed. She kept her pussy hair natural, trimming it only on special occasions. Maria was strictly heterosexual, however thoughts of being with another women often filtered into her mind. She was beginning to realize that if the right women propositioned her she would more than likely take the offer.

Maria was a strong willed person, there was a .38 special sitting in her drawer in her nightstand. She had known last night that Jason was outside her bedroom window. She also had a feeling that Jason was the man stalking and raping women. In her line of work she knew teasing him into jacking off outside her window would more than likely cause him to leave without harming her. 

While thinking all this, Maria wandered down to the café next to her office building. Sitting at the counter plotting her next move over a cup of coffee, Maria heard a woman order coffee from the waitress. Looking over Maria had to admire this lovely looking woman sitting next to her, the lady’s long auburn hair fell about her face in waves. Soon the two women began talking to each other. Maria learned that the woman’s name was Sue and she was somewhat unhappily married. The two women talked for several minutes, in that time Sue was giving Maria some sexual vibes. Touching Maria on the thigh or brushing against her while they were chatting. Maria soon realized that this was turning her on in a most exciting way.

Maria took a chance and offered to have Sue to her home for dinner that evening. Since Jason was out most nights working late and then prowling around town Sue agreed to the dinner. They said their goodbyes after exchanging phone numbers and house addresses.

After work that night Maria went home and sank into her spacious tub, luxuriating in the hot water and bubbles. She wanted to look and smell her best for Sue, who knew maybe something would happen between them. The more she thought about being with Sue the more excited she became. Her nipples were fully erect now and just slightly peeking over the waterline. Maria couldn’t resist brushing the palm of her hand over her nipple and squeezing her breast. Chastising herself for wanting to masturbate, Maria promised herself she would do just that if nothing happened between her and Sue.

In another house, sitting in her own bathtub; Sue was thinking along the same lines. However she couldn’t resist and while soaking away she slid her hand down her belly finding her pussy lips, spreading them and rubbing her clit as she thought about Maria. Sue had never been with another woman, but she knew that tonight she was going to approach Maria about having sex with her. Not long after making herself cum in the bathtub, Sue dried off and dressed for her dinner. Left a note on the table for Jason that she would be out most of the night and drove off.

Sue arrived at Maria’s home wearing her most comfortable jeans and a sweater without her bra. She was so excited her nipples were hard as rocks and they tended to stick out pertly when they were that hard. Maria opened her door also wearing comfortable jeans and a loose fitting t-shirt, however Sue could see that Maria was not wearing a bra and she looked rather excited also. Maria had fixed a wonderful dinner of sautéed steaks with mushrooms and onions, baked potatoes and a salad. They drank at least two glasses each of red wine while eating and they talked the whole time, getting to know each other better. They moved their talk to the living room sofa. Sue shyly asking Maria had she ever thought about having sex with another woman before? Maria said yes she had thought about it a lot lately. Maria wanted to know if she could kiss Sue, she said yes, she always wanted to know what it felt like. So leaning toward each other Maria and Sue explored each others mouths with their tongues. Both were moaning softly when the kiss broke some minutes later. After drinking a couple of more glasses of wine and more kissing the two women decided moving to the bedroom might afford them better access to each other.

Back at home after work Jason found the note from his wife. He decided this would be a perfect time to take his shower and go watching again. Grabbing a quick bite to eat and showering and changing he headed out the door. Driving to Maria’s house he was thinking of last night when Sue had wanted to fuck him. He was starting to think it was time to go to a therapist for his problem. He loved his wife, she was beautiful and so understanding. On the other hand though he could tell how frustrated she was getting when sex was few and far between or didn’t happen at all. He arrived at Maria’s home rather quickly, and always going on foot around the back of the house he did not see Sue’s car parked in the drive. He situated himself inches from the window somewhat concealed by a low hedge.

There was just enough light from the moon to cast shadows in the room, darkness fell early in their town. Soon Jason saw two figures enter the bedroom, he frowned realizing tonight he would only get to watch. Maria lit a fire in the fireplace in her bedroom, Jason thought that was a nice touch, and it also shed more light on the couple. The other person in the room had their back to the window but by the looks of the long hair Jason was shocked to find Maria was with another woman. His day was brightening so far, but this woman was looking familiar to him, where had he seen her before. About that time Sue turned to Maria, offering a full view to Jason. Jason recognized his wife standing in the bedroom, what was he going to do now. It looked to him as if the women were rather cozy with each other, should he stay and watch his wife fuck another woman or slink away and stay at home tonight.

Drawn to the scene before him, his choice already made; Jason watched as the two women laid down next to one another. His gaze was glued to the two women kissing, the bulge in his jeans was getting prominent now. He couldn’t believe he was witnessing his wife with the women he had intended to rape. While kissing they had gradually shed their clothes. Sue was sucking on Maria’s nipples with relish, and from the look on Maria’s face she was enjoying it immensely. In the back of her mind Maria hoped that her stalker was watching her being pleasured by a women. 

While in Sue’s mind she was wondering if Jason was outside the window getting hard and being envious that his wife was with his intended victim. That brought a huge smile to her face and pushed her to let her tongue roam further down Maria’s stomach, getting closer and closer to her pussy.

Breathing in the scent coming from Maria’s pussy, Sue dropped her head and listened to Maria moan softly as she took her clit in her mouth and sucked on it. Sue urged her gently to spread her legs wider, and with her fingers started sliding one inside Maria’s wet warm pussy. Maria’s breathing was coming faster, she was moaning so loud now that Sue realized it wouldn’t be long before she could taste her cum. Wanting to prolong the inevitable, Sue withdrew from Maria’s pussy to passionately kiss her on the mouth, letting her taste some of her own juices. Now Maria’s was pleading with her to make her cum, Sue went down on her again, this time relentlessly sliding her fingers in and out of Maria’s pussy and sucking hard on her clit. Sue could feel her own juice trickling a little down her thigh. She was so turned on and ready to cum. Which she nearly did when with a shudder and a load cry of pleasure Maria started to cum, her hips rocking against Sue’s mouth. 

Soon after cumming in Sue’s mouth Maria seemingly looked right out her bedroom window and smiled. Jason, sitting in the shadows, wasn’t even aware that the smile was meant for him. While Sue was giving Maria pleasure he had once again been stroking his cock and shooting his cum all over his hand, that had even happened before Maria had cried out with her release.

He was shocked however minutes later to discover that he was getting hard again when Maria reciprocated and went down on his lovely wife. He then watched her do things to his wife that even he hadn’t done. This time he tried to keep his hands off his cock long enough to watch how much his wife was enjoying having a woman lick and suck her pussy. Just when he would have started jerking his cock, Maria moved to the opposite side of Sue, giving Jason an unobstructed view of exactly what sue was enjoying so much. He watched as a surprised look passed over Sue’s face when Maria generously lathered her finger with juice from Sue’s pussy and slowly started manipulating it around her puckered ass hole. Still while sucking on Sue’s clit, Maria worked her finger inside the hole and was sliding it in and out faster. Sue was really moaning now, even pushing herself against the finger that was inside her ass. Sue came so hard she had to push Maria away from her. Convulsions of pleasure rocked through her for several seconds. Briefly glancing at the window she saw Jason’s wide gaze looking at her and she smiled.

There will be several chapters to this story, however with it being so many pages I would love it if everyone who reads this first chapter looks forward to what happens next.



The Hunter and the Cult of Larzaius Ch. 01



Chapter 1 The First Bait

Stacey was a sceptic at first, when she was told that she was chosen to fight demons; she thought that these strange monks were insane. But she learned quickly that demons indeed existed, and that they were merciless. Over the years she had earned a sterling reputation as a hunter, starting with the demon Chaos. She had saved the world countless times, now. 

Now she had caught the attention of Larzaius the Corruptor. Larzaius wasn't the most powerful of the demons, but what he lacked in power he made up for in cunning. He wasn't a fool enough to believe that he could take the Hunter in a fair fight, but he didn't have to. She wasn't like most Hunters as she refused to live in solitude. Instead, she had some nice, attractive friends; the perfect bait. It was a simple matter to stage a diversion; to send the Hunter away so he could arrange visits to her friends.

He sent some agents to her apartment where her best friend and roommate, Belinda, was watching TV. This was going to be easy, there was no hint of mysticism or training from Belinda; she was just an average, mortal woman. Small, with dark hair and a delicate looking body; she also had a cute-looking, little ass and nice breasts. Unfortunately for her, Lord Larzaius said that they were not allowed to ravage her; but he didn't say that they couldn't make her do things to entertain them. They grinned as they approached the room. Belinda put on some soft music and began to make a strawberry banana smoothie, completely unaware of the menace inside. Three of them barged into her room wearing ski masks making it look like a robbery; they saw her wearing nothing a top and matching bra and panties. 

They covered all points of her escape, and surrounded her. "Now do you want to get hurt? If not, you are going to do everything we tell you, understood?"

"Who are you? What do you want? Y-you can't make me do things!" Belinda blurted out, terrified. "Leave right now or I'll call the police!" She was visibly trembling, her small frame looking so frail and delicate. They laughed as they pulled the phone plug out of the wall; one turned and smashed a statue with a round-house kick.

"Next time it's your knee cap; now take off your panties." Paralyzed by fear, the shaking Belinda hooked her thumbs around the sides of her panties and began pulling them down slowly; feeling very vulnerable. So worried about the one who smashed the statue; she didn't notice another of the men pulling out a charm and coming up behind her. The men grinned beneath their masks; they knew the charm would compel her to obey the orders of the one who holds it. She sensed someone behind her and turned; making eye contact with the charm. Its visual presence was strangely hypnotic to her; and suddenly she didn't seem to feel the same embarrassment.


 "Now Belinda, you want to be a good girl and show us your pussy, don't you?" Her will was weak; unlike her friend Anastasia, she'd never had been in this sort of situation before. She almost robotically sat herself on the kitchen table, slowly spreading her legs as wide as they could go for the three men. "Very good Belinda, now take off the panties and throw them away."

She put her legs together and pulled them straight off, throwing them across the room into the trash can. Due to her hypnosis, she missed and they fall on the floor next to it. "Very good, Belinda. Now, we want you to reach under your top and start playing with your nipples. Think about all the nasty times you thought about touching them, tell us who did you want to watch you?" She moved her hand inside her top, exposing her beautiful, flat, tan stomach and began moving her hand in a circular motion under the top. 

"My boyfriend...the neighbors...Anastasia...everyone." She murmured. 


"Are you secretly an exhibitionist, or just a slut?" He asked her.

"I'm...a slut..."

"What made you realize that you were a slut?" The men were really enjoying her self-debasement and humiliation; realizing that she was not lying, but saying what she believed was the truth. The charm was having a heavy effect on her; she barely even knew where she was anymore. 

"I want to be fucked," She paused. "All the time."

"When's the last time you had sex, where and with who?"

"My boyfriend, last night at his place." Her top was getting all messed up from the rubbing. 

"What's the kinkiest thing you've ever done?"

"I sucked off one of my college professors one night"

"Why? Where?"

"It was at a party. We got really drunk and got carried away. He pulled it out and I just couldn't resist getting on my knees for him." The men can't believe how weak she was, her legs spread wide on the table, touching her breasts underneath her top, those luscious lips dropping all sorts of dangerous secrets.

"Did people watch?"

"No, he's married."

"Do you have any sex toys, Belinda?"

"No sir..." She said. 

The men could see she was getting really aroused. "Do you drink, Belinda?"

"Yes."

"What do you prefer to drink?"

"Tequila."

"Do you have a bottle?"

"Yes." She moaned.


"Get it, and then come back here." He ordered. 

She walked over and got it, then stood before them. "Good. Now Belinda, give it to me and then get on all fours, and stick that lovely little ass out. Tell me Belinda, if that Professor ordered you to suck his cock in a full classroom; would you have wanted to?" She handed over the bottle and got down on all fours, her lovely back arched delicately. "So, would you?"

She thought about it. "I would have, but I'd never actually do it."

"What is your darkest sexual fantasy?" 

She blushed, but barely made any effort to hide her answer. "I want to be fucked and choked to death." 

The men chuckled and started adjusting themselves. "Oh, we have better plans for you. Now, have you ever been fucked up the ass before?"

"Yes."

"Do you like it?"

"I try to pretend like I don't, but I do."

"Good, because I want you to shove this bottle up your ass." 

Belinda looked at the bottle with fogged over eyes. "It looks too big, sir."

"Then pour some on your ass and lubricate it." She took the tequila and poured the bottle out onto herself, the golden liquid coated her skin and rolled everywhere while her face was expressionless. "Now stick the bottle in your asshole and follow us, hold it there while you walk."

She slid it in slowly, wincing in pain as she pushed it in. Even in her hypnotized state, a series of whimpers and moans escaped her pouty lips. "Now come with us, it doesn't matter how many people see what a slut you are anymore." She struggled to stand with the giant bottle inside her. Tears of pain filled her eyes. "Follow us, the car's waiting."

"Where are you taking me?" She asked hypnotically; walking with the bottle inside her, wincing in pain occasionally. 

They grinned as she walked with them despite the painful obstruction in her. They opened the door and take her outside to the car. "Someplace where a slut like you will get non-stop gratification. Now, get in the trunk." 

She climbed obediently into the uncomfortable trunk; a blank look on her face. "Now keep pumping your ass with the bottle. Feel free to think it's the Professor demonstrating in front of your classmates, but only touch your breasts if you get aroused; you don't stop until we open the trunk again." 

Before they're even finished telling her, she's already started fondling her breasts; the humiliating image of the Professor using her as an example, flashing in her mind. "Yes sir." She replied, as they closed the trunk and drove off.



The Hunter and the Cult of Larzaius Ch. 02



Chapter 2 Playing with Pogo

Eva was dressed in a cute, little dark blue dress with tiny white stars all over it; and a pair of knee high socks. She was off work; it was evening now, which meant it was time to relax. She always had her camera around her neck, though; in case of the next big scoop. She didn't realize that she was going to get one of the biggest stories of her career, nor that she would be the main source of information.

Pogo was one of Larzaius most loyal imps; he looked like a squat, balding man but he was stronger and faster then he looked. He was ordered to capture Eva, but not to harm or impregnate her. He followed her until she was about to pass the alley; it was easy to stalk her as she walked along, music pumping through her earbuds. Pogo grabbed her from behind and slammed her into a wall. "Pogo don't want to hurt you, but Pogo will if you not play nice!" 

Eva gasped. "Who are you? What is this? Let go of me!" 

Her thin wrists felt so delicate that he knew he could break them with just the flick of his wrists. Pogo slapped her, showing more strength then he possibly could have had. "Now you do as Pogo says and Pogo hurt you more." 

Eva wasn't as weak as Belinda; she pushed forward and then pulled back and managed to wriggle her tiny frame free. She took advantage of Pogo's confusion, breaking into a terrified run down the dark alley. Pogo leapt after her, higher than humanly possible and backhanded her as he landed. "Pogo wants to play!" He reached under her dress as she struggled to get up. "You play too." He said playfully as he grabbed her hand, dragging it between her legs. "Pogo want you to rub your pussy." 

Eva couldn't believe her situation; forced to rub herself by some monster in a dark alley. "You keep rubbing." Pogo told her as he removed his hand and smelled his fingers; he pushed Eva to her knees. She was paralysed with fear and found that she couldn't obey. Pogo slapped her twice very hard. "You play with pussy and you suck Pogo, or Pogo get really mad". She looked at him. "Do it." Eva tried to resist trying to break free as Pogo tried to stuff his cock in her mouth. No matter how hard she tried to break his grip. She started to realize there was no way she was going to break his grip, so instead she decided to go after his most vulnerable spot. She started rubbing herself, even moaning a bit. Then she looked him and licked her lips erotically. Pogo put his thick, pink cock by her lips.

"Yum." She said, as she licked the head playfully. It smelled and tasted repulsive, but Eva had to keep up appearances; so she licked him again, then moaned and opened her mouth. Pogo eagerly put the head of his throbbing cock between her lips. Just as Pogo took a deep breath, preparing to enjoy her lips, she bit down hard. He screamed in more shock than pain, as it was quite thick. Eva got up and bolted.

"You not go far! Pogo's friends will get you!" Pogo raised his arms and two creatures leapt from his sleeves; one looked like a six legged blob and the second was more like a centipede with a phallus for a head. Eva ran down the alley in front of her in a blind panic, looking behind her to see Pogo was no longer there. Instead he was now in front of her; she opened her mouth to scream, only she couldn't as the blob creature had jumped on her face and was going in her mouth. The creature formed into a ring of rubbery flesh, holding her jaw open. Hard as she tried, she couldn't bite through or pull it out. Pogo grabbed her wrists and held her with one hand; she was in so much pain that she had forgotten about the other creature, until it crawled underneath her dress.

She couldn't close her mouth and the other creature started crawling up her dress and into her panties; like a weird type of vibrator, it pushed into her. It started trembling, performing a series of pleasurable vibrations that brought her to her knees; she felt herself getting wet in a manner of minutes. She was forced to rub herself as Pogo tried to get her to suck his cock; the vibrations were almost too hard for her to resist. "Now suck Pogo." He demanded. She tried to pull away from him but he had a grip on her hair. Unable to close her mouth, she found herself at Pogo's mercy as he thrust his repulsive cock in her mouth. The demon in her pussy was causing her it to leak like a faucet; her love juices ran down her thighs. Eva moaned, as Pogo continued force feeding her his cock. 

She wanted to vomit but didn't risk it, as she couldn't see Pogo keeping her from choking; in fact, she was sure that Pogo was planning on killing her with his huge erection. His thrusts stretched her jaw and tested her gag reflex, as the demon relentlessly fucked her throat. But whereas Pogo was hurting her, the demon inside her was driving her to new heights of pleasure. The phallus demon continued its seductive tingling as Pogo choked her with his inhuman cock. She could feel it swelling up in her mouth and she also could feel herself becoming overly aroused by the demon humming in her pussy. She found it hard to breathe as he rammed into her; he grunted, and then shot a salty load into her mouth. He pulled out, but the centipede stayed in, and she moaned as the demon started to drown in her juices. 

"You will like Pogo now." He assured her, as he gently squeezed her nipple. Eva's head started to spin; she couldn't believe that this creature came in her mouth. She could feel its salty juices on her tongue; which, for reasons she couldn't explain, she was trying to swallow. Her head filled with a strange sense of euphoria; like she drank too much, and it was made even more intense by the demon in her pussy. It started to drive itself even deeper inside her; she moaned, hardly able to contain her orgasm. This time, when Pogo put his smelly cock by her lips, she hungrily stuck her tongue out and tried to pull it in. She didn't know why, she just knew she needed it in her mouth. Not lustfully but more like a drug; she wasn't aware, but Pogo's cock was laced with a powerfully addictive narcotic. Eva would never like the taste but she would still crave it; even now as she sucked the fowl smelling penis, she did it with determination to taste his cum. The centipede was already bringing her to the brink; she screamed as her juices flowed over the demons' body. The vibrations from her scream caused Pogo to shoot a second load into her mouth. The intensity of everything going on was too much, and Eva passed out from exhaustion. As she lay on the ground in the alley, the demon slid out of her and Larzaius' minions arrived to take the bait away.

The demon smiled his sinister smile; knowing that The Hunter was coming to the rescue, or so she thought. He had planned this carefully; she had been a small thorn in his side that had to be removed. But killing her would be to merciful, no, she had to suffer. He was going to destroy her sense of decency and morality; turning her into a lustful whore, worse than her friends. For she would hate herself, she would crave lust but wouldn't actually enjoy it. He looked at the collection of daggers that he had laced in a vat full of a special type of potion. Much like Hamlet, all it would take was one cut and she would have it coursing in her veins. It wouldn't work right away, of course, what fun would that be? Instead, it would start to work when she smelled the mists in the room. Each of the guards would have one, so she should get cut at least a couple of times, and if they failed; well, her friends would probably help out after he was done with them. All the preparations were made and The Grandmaster of the arena was waiting to take her off his hands once the trap was sprung. He was awakened from his thoughts as the bell let him know that the bait had arrived.

When the girls got out of the car, Larzaius was happy to see The Hunter had such attractive young friends. Pogo roughly pulled one out of the van that he had driven, and the other was taken out of the trunk of a Bentley.

"Excellent, bring them here." Pogo carried Eva roughly to his Lord, and Belinda was drawn out in a strange daze. "Hello ladies," He said. Feared filled their eyes as they saw their first real demon, in the flesh. "I am Larzaius, but you can call me Master." 

They screamed in terror as the demon came closer. "Oh you scream from fear now, but soon you will be screaming from pure pleasure. Soon, your friend The Hunter will join you."



The Hunter and the Cult of Larzaius Ch. 03



Chapter 3 The Trap is Sprung

Stacey pulled up to the warehouse, driving slowly with her lights turned off. She looked around, but there didn't seem to be any guards outside. If Lord Larzaius' cult was here, they sure were playing it inconspicuous. She got out of her car, unaware that Larzaius had ordered his cult to hold back; he wanted to keep his enemy off her guard, but they were watching. She drew her sword and walked with it two-handed, held outward; her back was arched perfectly as she took cautious steps towards the warehouse doors.

She heard muffled steps and saw two men that Lord Larzaius had sent to ambush her; obviously he didn't want it to be too easy. They attacked with blades drawn, much like Laertes did in Hamlet. She moved swiftly and quickly, a powerful twist of her tiny, agile body decapitated the man to her left. The man at the right lunged at her, trying to impale her with his blade. She pirouetted gracefully to the side; she knocked the blade out of his hand and forced the tip of her blade at his throat, freezing him in place "Who is your master?"

"Lord Larzaius, he said to deal with you before you could stop the sacrifice."

"There will be no sacrifices tonight! Who do they have?" She demanded.

"Your friends, stupid fool; you should have made better efforts to protect them." The henchman said, his voice filled with arrogance and conviction. Shock washed across her face, her eyes fixed on him with rage. "But he won't sacrifice them right away, first he'll have his fun."

"Who do they have?" She pushed the blade in, just barely cutting his skin; he was the only thing in the world to her right now and she was pulsing with anger.

"Your roommate and photographer friend." He reached for a dagger under his robes.

She looked down for a moment, knowing he must be telling the truth. He lunged at her with the dagger; she dodged just in time, but not without losing her balance and stumbling slightly. His attack resulted in a huge slice torn out of the left side of her top, exposing more of her tight, purple bra. Blood trickled down his blade and she realized she'd been cut. The man smiled and shifted his balance for his next attack. Fuelled by the stinging but superficial pain, she lunged forward with her sword with an uncanny amount of force. She impaled him, slashing up the front of his torso, tearing his body in half. The body fell to the ground; his last thought being that he had accomplished his mission, the poison was in her system now.

She ran toward the door, kicking it open wide, strutting forward with purpose. The whole warehouse had been altered to look like a medieval dungeon. Her attention was drawn to a large stone table; her roommate was in the centre, sucking the cock of one of the clans' men. "Yes Professor, I understand." She murmured with lust, as another fucked her up the ass.

"Belinda, no!" She heard a noise and looked to the right; it was Eva on her knees, her clothes had been torn to shreds. She was squatting, stroking the cock of one of Larzaius' demons.

"Please Master Pogo, I need your cum. I 'll do anything; I'll be your whore, just give me your cum" The demon stepped closer and she began sucking him off, hungrily

"N-not you too, Eva." A howling cackle split the air and Stacey could see the source of her friends' sexual humiliation. He was sitting on a throne, farthest from her in the room; he was a red, spindly demon with a long tail. His tongue forked, and he had a huge phallus.

"Welcome, Hunter." He crooned.

"Larzaius! You've gone too far!" She cried angrily.

"Oh, not yet I haven't." He snapped his fingers and suddenly a mist filled the room; it was a mystic chemical designed to react to the drug in her bloodstream.

Stacey suddenly felt light headed. "Uhnn....what is this?" She struggled to concentrate but found it difficult.

"Now, you little whore. I want to watch you strip to your bra and panties."

The sword dropped from her hands, she held her forehead for a moment, stumbling about. Suddenly finding balance, her hands started working against her brain. She fought them, hesitating; her mental fortitude stronger than most. Still, her will wavered; hands drifting closer to her buttons. She slowly felt realised that her resistance was futile; as she saw in horror that Belinda and Eva approached her. Each was now wearing a nine inch strap-on and each were carrying a large vibrator.

"Go on, strip to your undies for your friends." She fought back tears as she undid her top and skirt, letting them fall to the ground; her matching frilly purple underwear clinging tightly to her ample curves.

"Now show us your tits, slut." Belinda ordered, spanking her shapely ass.

A breathy gasp escaped her pouty lips, at the impact of her friend's palm against her cheek. She turned on the vibrator, sliding it between the Hunters' legs. Stacey pulled her bra down by the straps on both sides. "Can't...control...Please don't!"

Eva approached her, ripping off her panties with one quick swipe. She stood there, naked and helpless in the center of the room; shivering in the cold. Belinda cupped the Hunter's breasts in her hands and started fondling them. "Uhnn...please...stop!" Eva was spanking her ass from behind. Belinda's hands could barely work their way around her breasts; they bounced in her grip with each spanking.

"This is all your fault." Eva said. "Now you can be a whore, like us." She smacked her ass harder.

"Eva if I had known...UHN!" The Hunter pleaded.

The two women paid it no heed. "Now now, Hunter, you might as well admit it; you are a dirty slut."

"No! My will is...Aah!...strong!...UHNN! You can't make-...NO! UHN!" She tried desperately to get through to them, fighting the waves of pleasure she was feeling.

"Admit it"

"I'm...I'm not...UHN!"

"Yes you are."

"I'm..."

"Now say it and climb on Belinda's cock."

"No cock, until you say it." Eva continued, mercilessly.

It came out of her mouth, in a defeated whisper. "I'm a slut..."

"Say it so we can hear you!"

"I'm a slut."

"Beg Belinda to fuck you" She looked to see her friend, lying down and stroking the fake cock.

"Belinda...uhn...No, I can't!"

"Beg me bitch, you know you want it." Stacey started looking at the size of the strap on, trying to resist the erotic curiousity she was starting to feel.

"I can't...it's too big..." She hedged, trying to buy some time.

"Obey and beg her." The Hunter shook her head stubbornly; refusing to give in to whatever magic Larzaius had conjured. Eva responded by kissing her on the lips. Her lips tasted like cherries; but unknown to Stacey, they also were coated with a powerful aphrodisiac. The heat in her body increased tenfold as she slowly opened her mouth, allowing Eva's tongue to envelop her own. When Eva pulled away, Stacy felt incredibly aroused and wishing for more. She leaned close, whispering. "Now beg, Hunter."

"Mmm, Belinda...fuck me..." As she begged, she couldn't help but touch herself; feeling her pussy slowly getting damp. She couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth.

"Say 'fuck me like a dirty little slut.'" As she gave the command, Belinda laid down close to her.

"Fuck me...like a dirty slut." Eva helped her down; then went over her and started kissing Stacy again. Eva's kisses felt so right and so wrong to her; so much so that she hardly noticed the giant strap on starting to penetrate her. Belinda thrust upwards, ramming into her.

"Uhh...Mmmnh...Belinda...Uhn! UHN! Ooh. OH." As she pushed into her, the Hunter's tits started bouncing; she felt the heat of lust enveloping her. She kept pushing as Eva kissed her; she then put the vibrator between their lips."MmmmmmmPpphhh!" She noticed everyone in the cult was watching her; once such a powerful fearful figure, now getting fucked by her two best friends and trying hard to look like she didn't like it.

"You're just a dirty little whore aren't you?"

"Mmphh." Stacey responded, the vibrator filling up her mouth.



The Hunter & The Hunted



Author's note: I write these stories for my wife and myself. We actually do act out these stories and we do have a friend who photographs and videos the whole time for us. 

I hope you enjoy the stories as much as we enjoy acting them out, but if not please don't leave nasty comments.





Joe and Al were hunting. They were in Al's four-wheel drive and they were just cruising the back roads around their small rural community in outback Australia looking for prey.

You see they both had a fantasy about kidnapping and raping a young woman. They talked about this often but both knew that nothing would ever come of it....it was just a fantasy that they liked to talk about. 

They often cruised about in Al's car pretending to look for a victim, after all there was nothing else to do out here in the boonies, but they never came across anyone suitable and even if they did they both knew nothing would happen...neither of them had the guts or the innate desire to hurt another human being. 

But it didn't hurt to fantasize, did it?

It was nearly time to go back home, when up ahead Joe spotted a hitchhiker standing beside the road with her thumb out.

"Wow, there's a likely prospect" said Al looking across at Joe with a big shit eating grin on his face, "Why don't we fuck her?" He asked, knowing that Joe would agree but that is as far as it would go. 

"She sure looks fuckable," said Joe, his big shit-eating grin out grinning even Al's big shit eating grin, "Let's stop and pick her up."

Al slowed down as they neared the woman. 

"Awww shit" said Al, "She's not the pretty young thing we've always talked about doing, but I suppose we could give her a try. She looks like she hasn't had a fuck for quite a while and she'll probably be happy to have us look after her." He said knowing that nothing other than giving the lady a lift, would happen.

She's still pretty good lookin', said Joe, "And we've gotta start somewhere." 

Al pulled the vehicle to a stop beside the hitchhiker.

"Hi guys thanks for stopping" She said as she reached to passenger side window, "My car broke down over on the side road and I've got no mobile reception out here, I've been walking along here for ages and you're the first people I've seen. " She said with a grateful smile, "Could you give me a lift over to a friends house? I was trying to surprise here for Christmas and she's got no idea I'm coming but now I'll just be a pain 'cos I'll have to get her to bring me back to fix my car." 

"Sure" said Al "Joe will hop in the back and you can sit here and direct me where you want to go." 

Joe looked quizzically at Al as he opened the door and got out to get into the back seat.

"Thanks guys I really appreciate this, by the way my name is Leanne." She said as she placed her handbag beside her feet.

"I'm Al and this here is Joe", said Al indicating Joe with a wave of his thumb.

"Hi" said Joe.

Al pulled out from the side of the road and was quickly up to speed.

"Where you from Leanne" he asked politely making conversation. 

"Melbourne" she replied, "I'm just up here to surprise my girlfriend and I suppose I took a wrong turn somewhearrr", 

Her words were cut off abruptly and a somewhat surprised Al looked across and saw that Joe had thrown a rope over the top of the seat and around the woman's' neck. He pulled the rope tight and the woman was pinned to the back of the seat and was being strangled. Her fingers were desperately trying to loosen the rope around her neck and her eyes were beginning to bulge as they pleaded with Al to help. 

"What the fuck do you think you're doing," cried Al, as the woman's face was turning red from lack of air.

"What do you think I'm doing", shouted Joe exuberantly, " I'm doing what we said we were going to do, kidnap a fucking woman."

"Shit, shit, shit," cried Al as the car swerved all over the road, "that was just a fucking fantasy, just a joke, somethin' to bullshit about."

"Not any more buddy," grunted Joe as he struggled to hold the rope tight, "This time it's for real.

"Don't kill her Joe. Loosen the rope a bit and let her breathe for god's sake, shouted a panicked Al, "Let her breathe you fuckin' dickhead."

"Oh yeah," said Joe, " I forgot, we've got to fuck her first. "Sorry little lady," he said as he loosened off the rope just enough that the woman could breathe.

Leanne gasped and gagged as the rope was loosened and as she gulped down huge breaths the red began to drain from her face. Joe kept the rope tight enough that she could not move without discomfort and she held her head up and looked straight ahead.

"Wwwhat are you guys doing," she stammered, "Please, please don't hurt me, please." She pleaded, as Al pulled the car over to the side of the deserted road.

"Jesus Joe what are we going to do now." Shouted Al.

"I had to do it Al, I knew you were all talk and we wouldn't end up doing anything so I had to do it and now you do too."

"Ok, ok, just let me think." Said Al. 

"Please don't hurt me," pleaded Leanne

"Shut up," shouted Joe giving the rope a tug. Leanne got the message and shut up.

"Ok this is what's going to happen. If we put you out on the side of the road do you promises not to tell anyone?" said Al looking at Leanne.

"No" shouted Joe, "No Al, we've got what we always wanted now we are going to do what we always said we'd do." And he tightened the rope again so that the woman couldn't breathe. 

"No please," Leanne gasped.

"Alright, alright, Joe, don't strangle her, at least not yet." Said Al now warming to the occasion, "We'd better make the best of a bad situation so ease off a bit." 

Al thought for a short while and then seemed to come to some kind of conclusion. "Ok, Ok, here's what we're gunna do." Said Al, "Now Leanne you look like a reasonably intelligent woman so I'm sure you'll agree with what I'm about to say. You know what's gunna happen, right?' 

Leanne nodded her head, or nodded as much as the tight rope would allow.

"Now there can be two outcomes here," said Al, " There can be a poor outcome for you and that means letting Joe do what he wants with you and I doubt you'll survive that little trial, or there can be a good outcome. If you do as I say and you please me and that means pleasing both of us, then maybe you can come out of this alive. Believe me Leanne, I don't want to kill you but Joe......well you can guess the rest. "Now will you cooperate?"

Leanne nodded her head, or nodded as much as the tight rope would allow.

"Ok then now that we understand each other you'd better start showing us how sincere you are by getting your tits out, Joe loves tits and that'll keep him quiet and give him something to play with while I drive us to a nice secluded spot. Ok Leanne?"

Again Leanne nodded her head, or nodded as much as the tight rope would allow and she began to unbutton her blouse.

"Wow she's got tats," shouted a clearly delighted Joe, "She's got tit tats," he said with that big shiteating grin back on his face, "I love tit tats."

Al put the car in gear and pulled away from the side of the road as Joe leaned forward with his free hand and began to play with Leanne's magnificent tits.

Al looked across, "What a contrast he thought." As he saw Joe roughly holding the rope restraining Leanne's neck and at the same time gently massaging her left breast.

"That's good Leanne, just keep cooperating and it'll all be ok."

"I will cooperate but could you please get this rope off my neck, I promise I'll do whatever you say but please don't hurt me." 

"Let her go Joe," ordered Al.

"But Al she'll get away." Whined Joe.

"No mate she can't get away, I've locked all the doors, remember the lock button, so she can't get out. And besides I trust her, I think she'll cooperate. Just think, you'll have two hands free then so you can play with both her tits and you just love tits don't ya?"

Joe realized what Al was saying and loosened off the rope. He reached around and grabbed Leanne's other tit and a satisfied grin settled across his face.

"Ohh that feels good Joe," said Leanne as Joe gently rolled her nipples between his thumb and index finger. But Al was pretty sure she was just trying to buy time and keep Joe happy.

After driving for some distance, Al turned on to a small track that lead to a deserted camping area. "Here we are, a nice quiet out of the way place where we can make all the noise we want and no one will ever hear."

Leanne looked out of the window. "So this is where it's going to happen." A very nice place actually. Picturesque, quiet and there are picnic tables and everything for a nice day out, but she knew this was not going to be a nice day out and she shivered as she felt the touch of death was close by. 

"Ok this is what we're going to do. Leanne, you and I are going to have sex, you can enjoy it or you can make it really hard and I'll probably enjoy it more but you definitely won't. Joe is going to take photos of us fucking and you will smile at the camera all the time, that way when we let you go you won't be able to say we raped you 'cos it'll look just like we were having fun 'cos you've got a big smile on your face. After I've finished with you, and that will take a while, it's Joe's turn. If you continue to cooperate then he will be gentle, as you've seen when he was massaging you tits that he can be gentle, but I wouldn't want to be in your shoes if you upset him. Same routine, I'll be taking pictures of you two fucking and you'll smile at the camera blah, blah, blah. Now do I make myself clear? If you cooperate you won't die but if you don't.......who knows."

"I've already told you that I'll do anything you say. I have a feeling that you guys aren't too bad and that this could just be something that I'll enjoy too," said Leanne as she began to slip out of her clothes.

Joe and Al just looked at each other and grinned their big shiteating grins.

"All right, let's start with you sucking my cock." Said Al as he unzipped his pants.

Obediently Leanne, who by now was only wearing a small lingerie undershirt pulled down to her waist, a pair of red netting panties which framed her dark pubic bush, visible through the panties, perfectly and her knee high black leather boots (which both of the boys liked the look of), knelt down and took Al's cock in her small, elegant hands. 

"Mmm, I can't wait to taste this beautiful hard cock of yours," she purred as she licked up and down the entire length of Al's rock hard penis. Leanne pulled Al's pants down further and cupped his balls in her hand whilst she continued to lick his member. She then leant further and gently took each of Al's balls into her mouth and sucked each in turn.

Al moaned with pleasure, 'Looks like we've got a goodun Joey boy. This one really knows her stuff. Get the camera and start taking pictures will ya," he said and Joe tore his eyes away from the incredible pornographic scene unfolding before his eyes long enough to get the camera.

Leanne looked up at Joe and he snapped off pic after pic as she smiled and then slowly, teasingly slipped her mouth over the end of Al's throbbing cock. 

"Mmm I knew you'd taste this good," she said as she came up for air, before once again sucking the whole length of Al's cock into her eager mouth. "This might not be too bad," she thought, "I'm beginning to enjoy this more than I imagined," and she looked up so that Joe could get a good picture of her with her mouth full of cock.

"Man this is the best cock sucking I've ever had," moaned Al.

"My husband always said I could have been the world record holder for the best cock sucker, but then you're always good at the things you enjoy," murmured Leanne.

"Husband?? You didn't tell us you had a husband," cried Al and Joe at the same time.

"Don't worry boys," said Leanne who by now was really enjoying the attention and she realized there was a shift in the power base and that she was now in control, "He died last year. Now I think it's time for you to fuck me Al. Don't forget the pictures Joe," she said as she slipped off her red see through underpants.

Joe snapped off a couple of pics as Leanne smiled and posed for the camera, then she laid back and spread her legs wide. "Look I'm taking your picture as you take mine," she laughed, "Now get that hard cock inside me Al."

Al was confused, "What the?? And who's doing the ordering about here?, what is she doing??," were some of the confused thoughts passing through his mind, but then his other head took over and he quickly stepped out of his pants and just as quickly entered her. This was only the first position they fucked in. Leanne decided she wanted to be fucked in her favorite position, doggy, and Al readily obliged. As he mounted her he was amazed and very turned on by the wonderful hourglass shape of her back.

"She's got a tat at the base of her back," he thought, and she did in fact have a Maori symbol across the coccyx section of her spine. Joe took plenty of pictures of that too. Leanne smiled up at him and he took her picture as Al rammed his cock into her from behind.

After a short time Leanne suggested they switch to another position and she got on top in The Cowboy position and Joe was mesmerized by the bounce of her tits and the way she rode up and down on Al's cock. He watched in awe as Al's cock, slick with her juices, slipped in and out of her swollen, juicy cunt. He snapped off pic after pic and Leanne smiled and even posed for some of the pictures, "Just like a real porn star," thought Joe, "This sheila's really getting into this. I can't wait 'till it's my turn."

Al fucked Leanne in another 4 positions and she came and came again. Joe was right, she really was getting into this, in fact she was enjoying the impromptu, unexpected, unrealness of the situation completely. But she had one more trick up her sleeve. 

"I want you to cum in my mouth," she moaned and Al being always ready to oblige and just about ready to explode anyway, stopped fucking and rose to his feet. Leanne shuffled over and once again knelt in front of his hard and by now gleaming and juicy cock.

"Cum on Al," she crooned, "Squirt you're jism all over me." And she sucked Al's cock deep into the back of her mouth. 

That was all it took, Al moaned loudly and shot a huge load into her mouth and onto her face. Joe took snap after snap as the huge gobs of warm cum hit Leanne in the face and more pictures as it dribbled down onto her magnificent tits. Leanne turned and smiled at Joe and he nervously took some great pictures of her cum covered face. 

"It's your turn now Joe," she said as Al collapsed in an exhausted heap on the ground, "Why don't you take off your clothes while I clean up and I've got something very special for you. I'll just get it out of my handbag and I'll be right back to really fuck you." 

Joe was only too eager for his turn and quickly began to undress, all the while keeping a close eye on the woman just in case she was tricking them, but she seemed genuine as she stood near the car wiping the cum from her body with tissues from her handbag. Al was still exhausted and was still lying on the ground trying to recover from the best fuck he had ever had. Leanne turned and smiled at Joe and made no attempt to cover herself and didn't seem all that self-conscious, which Joe, in his normal frame of mind, would have found suspicious, but of course he wasn't thinking with his head at the moment so it didn't strike him as anything but a sexy, seductive smile.

"You ready for me Joe?" called Leanne, "I've got something that will blow your mind in my bag here. Are you sure you're ready for your mind to be blown, Joe. Well are you?"

"Just get over here and suck my cock just like you did to Al," cried Joe.

"Ok here I come," said Leanne as she reached into her handbag.

Al was still laying and daydreaming and wondering if he would be able to get hard again, 'cos he really wanted to fuck this crazy woman again, when he saw a sudden change come over Joe's face. "That's strange," he thought to himself, "Joe looks like he's scared or something." He turned to look in the direction Joe was looking and then he was scared too.

Leanne was standing a few meters away and in her hand she held what looked like a small cannon but was in fact a Smith & Wesson 44 caliber handgun. 

"I told you it was a surprise didn't I? I told you it would blow your mind but I forgot to add that it would blow your mind right out the back of your head. Yeah I forgot that bit didn't I Joe?"

Joe and Al just stared. "Well aren't you boys going to say something," grinned Leanne, "You seemed to be full of good ideas and had plenty to say before."

"Ppplease Leanne put down the gun. We didn't mean anything. We wouldn't have hurt you. Ppplease,' begged Al. Joe just looked stunned. He couldn't believe the sudden turn of events and he hadn't even fucked her yet.

"I told you my husband was dead didn't I boys? But to my surprise you didn't ask how he died. He was the first one I killed. He treated me like shit too and I paid him back in kind. He just disappeared one night, told everyone he just ran off with another woman and they all believed me 'cos how could they imagine that a tiny little thing like me was able to get rid of someone as big and mean as him, but I did. 

There's been 5 other scumbags since then and they've all disappeared too. Try and fuck me after they pick me up hitchhiking do they.... Well I showed the bastards.

Don't look so shocked Al. You were one of the nicer ones, but not nice enough I'm afraid. 

Now, gently slide the camera over here Joey boy," she said, and Joe did as she asked. 

"Please Leanne." Begged Al again and Joe jumped in shock as there was a huge explosion and a new hole opened up in the middle of Al's forehead. He jumped again as she shot Al in the chest and he slumped to the ground in a twitching bleeding heap.

"That should just about stop all the winging and whining. Aww come on Joe don't look so shocked, or is that disappointment? You really didn't think I was going to let an animal like you fuck me did you? After what you were going to do to me?" 

"And by the way, thanks for taking the photos, they'll make great souvenirs for me to remember this special day by," she said.

Joe lunged for the gun. He didn't even make it halfway and he was dead before he even knew it.

"Too bad Joe, I was looking forward to taking my time with you too." Said Leanne to the now dead Joe.

As she dragged the still warm bodies into the undergrowth at the side of the picnic area Leanne thought to herself that Al was right, this is a very quiet deserted place. It could be quite some time before these scumbags are found and by then she will have dumped their car in the river and she'll be long gone.

****

Leanne watched as Al's car sank slowly into the murky depths of the river. She turned and began to trudge up the small dusty dirt track leading to her dumping spot. It was only a short walk to the highway and with any luck she'll be picked up by another memorable guy. Maybe number 8.



The Hunter and The Hunted Ch. 01



Our story starts back in the spring of 2014. This story comes from the perspective of the "Hunted" Bonnie and the "Hunter" me.

Let me describe Bonnie, she looks to be in her 30's, 5'-6" beautiful soft skin, nice D cup firm tits, wavy light brown hair and green eyes. Bonnie confessed to me the only cock she ever had was no larger than 6 inches.

Now for me: My name is Richard, but my friends have always called me Dick. I am 6'-2", 225 lbs., brown short hair, brown eyes and have a healthy size cock, 11 inches and thick.

During my travels I visit several adult sites, looking for potential partners, or playmates that are interested in the same taboo subjects I enjoy.

My handle of 'Traveling Rapist,' certainly weeds out those who are not interested in forced sex. One particular night I was on the road, bored and wandering around on the net, visiting one of my sites and I got an instant message request, with a simple hello from a woman I will call Bonnie.(name changed to protect the innocent as they say)

I immediately went to that special place a hunter goes. My mind became focused on landing my prey. To me all women are beautiful, and all women are nothing but play toys to be used.

She spoke about being intrigued by the idea of being controlled against her will. She liked gentle control as she put it, and although gentle is not usually my style, I maintained the dialog.

I told her a little about my life, being divorced, retiring early and my love of travel in the United States. As it turned out she was Canadian and I had to laugh to myself, thinking, "No wonder she thought she would enjoy Gentle Control since my idea of Canadian men are so polite."

Before our conversation ended I told her I had a story I wanted to email her. Explaining it was a true story about how I got started being what I call The Traveling Rapist. 

I told her it would give her a better idea of just who I am. I really thought once she read it, I would probably never hear from her again, but I wanted this polite Canadian to be forewarned who she was dealing with....

A few days later I received the following email from her:

- Hello Dick,

Your stories are really hot. When I read the "Traveling Rapist", I was scared, and it added to how turned on I was while reading your story.

I couldn't stop thinking about the "Traveling Rapist" for about one-day. My mind went into another realm – it was weird, but I love it when a story does that to me. 

I can't explain it properly in words, it is a place my mind goes to and I have to wait until I come back to "normal". I've finally come back to feeling normal again. But your story took me on a wild ride. Thank you. Bonnie -

When I read her words I knew she needed more that "Gentle Control," and I started forming my plan in my mind. This would be more difficult since this was out of the country and in unfamiliar territory, but careful planning and it can be done.

We continued conversing over the next several weeks, while I made my plans. I needed Intel from her and she willingly gave it up, thinking she was safe north of the border for some reason.

She suggested I post my story on Liberotica, saying that she thought it would be very popular. I did eventually get around to posting that story as well as a few others, but I am getting off subject here.

I found out that she was married, the area she lived in, and what type of work she did. Of course she described herself completely, she sent a few pictures, and although she didn't send a face picture I wouldn't really need it.

In all of our conversations I became more and more convinced that she really needed to be taken hard, forced to do unthinkable things she never imagined until she met me.

She wrote me scenarios that she wanted me to write about; All centering around a big man being disrespected and forcing the woman to do wicked things. Most centered on the woman putting herself in a situation where she shouldn't have been in.

In one particular conversation, she called me her Big Dicked Texan coming through the villages and towns in Canada and the women hiding, because he takes what he wants and the RCMP can do nothing to stop him.

At one point she was trying to tease me by sending a picture of her tit covered in milk. I assumed wrong that she was lactating, (one of my favorite taboo subjects) and I thought to myself that she was going to pay for that.

Spring turned into Summer and my plan was taking shape. I placed the plan in action by stopping by a box store to purchase a few items I would need for my trip. This particular store always gives an option to have the receipt emailed. I plugged her email address in, I wanted her to know I was coming.

I sent her a picture of my purchases. Just to let her know I could get to her even when she thought she knew what I looked like. I also wanted her to know I was completely for real.

Now I needed to change my appearance to maintain the element of surprise. I dyed my hair black, purchased some non-prescription ocean blue contact lenses and allowed my beard to grow. I would then wear my glasses. (Glasses make me look so unimposing)

Bonnie, The Hunted:

Sometimes, I make bad choices. I knew I should have never responded back to his email. That man I met online; the man who would change me forever. 

How could this have happened to me? The night I emailed him, my intentions had been innocent enough. I don't understand how things can change so quickly, as one minute everything is going fine, and then just 60-seconds later and my world changes forever. 

You desperately wish that you could turn back time, but you know that is an impossible wish.

My life is good and I am looking forward to the coming weekend, but it changes when I receive an unexpected email. I look down at my cell phone and see there is a new email message. 

"That is strange," I think to myself. I see a message from an American hardware store, but I do not live in America. The message mentions something about a recent purchase. 

I am so startled, and I immediately begin talking to my co-worker about the strange and unexpected email. The email mentions a contact number with an area code I do not recognize. I say to my co-worker, Debra, "Where is area code 214?"

Debra responds to me, "That is an area code for Dallas."

Immediately, I think about that man I met online. His fantasy story I had read mentioned a woman who pissed herself she was so scared of him. 

I am about to piss myself as I think, "Dallas?" His profile mentions that this man lives in Dallas. Shit! Maybe if I only piss myself, that will be a best case scenario. Shitting myself seems to be a very real possibility as I sit there thinking about this strange email. 

There is an attachment, but do I dare open the scanned attachment in this strange email? I tell myself that I am overreacting, and I proceed to open the attachment to the email. 

My mouth falls open as I gasp and my heart skips a beat as I see the attachment is a receipt. A shovel, rope, duct tape, and tie down straps have been purchased. Shit!

My cell phone suddenly alerts me to another new email. My hands are shaking so bad that I can barely open this email. As I open the new email and its attachment, my life takes a frightening turn. 

I see a man posing in this picture as he squats in a parking lot beside some items. He is Caucasian with neat brown hair, and he appears to be about 225lbs. I look closely and I see him posing with the shovel, rope, duct tape, and tie down straps. 

His message reads, "Hello, Bitch. I am coming to see you. Looking forward to seeing you in about five days."I sit in my chair totally stunned at the sudden turn of events.

Dick, The Hunter:

I made reservations at one of the RV parks in Jasper National Park for a week. I also made a reservation for one of the Cottage Tents for a couple days. These were located in a remote part of the park. Something I needed to enjoy my new slut in privacy.

After emailing a number of times and given my many connections with super computer geeks I was certain they could trace her IP address and I would know exactly where she worked and where she lived. 

When you know computer geeks and you know beautiful women that will do anything for you, I can get things done. All I have to do is put the two together and as expected they were successful.

I set out for Jasper in the Motor Home on Friday the 25th of July, knowing it was going to take nearly four days of hard traveling to get there. I pulled in to the RV park around noon on Monday, and got the coach set up. 

The park was beautiful and secluded, yet not secluded enough for what I had planned for Bonnie. I checked out the Cottage Tent I had reserved for the following Friday through Sunday. It was at the end of a wooded trail, more than a thousand feet off the parking area. It was perfect!

I spent the week leading up to Friday, doing surveillance. I found her place of work and noticed she had a pattern. She got to work promptly at 7:55, parking her car in the same spot every day. She walked to a local diner every day at 12:05 and returned at 12:55 and she left work no later that 5:15, and was usually the last to leave.

On Friday morning I checked in and took possession of the Cottage Tent. I busied myself preparing for my captive. I attached the tie down straps from the rafters to the floor, making arm and ankle loops in each of the straps, building a makes shift St. Andrews Cross. 

Attaching ropes to the four corners of the bed. Then attaching short lengths of ropes to each leg of the coffee table. Installing my sex swing. Laying out all my toys: wrist cuffs, ankle cuffs, ball gag, blindfold, crop, flogger, lube, vibrating eggs, and rabbit vibrator.

Finding a perfect spot behind the Tent out of sight from anyone coming up the path. Digging a shallow pit in the ground with the approximate dimensions of 6' long, 3' wide and 6" deep, lining it with a tarp. Driving stakes in each corner and attaching ropes to the stakes.

Looking at my watch and knowing I needed to get going. I drove back to the RV, showered, shaved and dressed. During my surveillance I noticed most men in that area wore business formal attire. I dressed appropriately seeking to blend in.

Heading out in my Jeep with plenty of time to get to her parking lot. Parking just far away enough to not be noticed, yet close enough to see everything. I walked over, made sure I was not seen and let the air out of a tire on her car. 

I placed handcuffs on the back seat of my Jeep, along with a length of rope, and a blanket. I tore off a length of duck tape, stuck it to my pants under my coat, then I waited...

The parking lot empties slowly, and as usual Bonnie was the last one to leave. I thought since I was two days late she would let down her guard, but you did seem especially nervous. 

Scanning the parking lot as you head to your car. You see me from a distance, but didn't give me a second look. As you approach your car and I can see the look of disgust when you notice the flat tire. 

You are on the phone calling for help when I approach. You try to wave me off, but I ignore you. As you hang up the phone I start my small talk. Masking my thick Southern Texan speak, and using the best Canadian accent I could muster. You were at ease immediately.

You advised me that help was on the way and thanked me. As you turned your back to open the car door, I grasped you around the throat, pulling your face to mine, almost lifting you off your feet. Dropping the Canadian accent and whispering hoarsely, "I am your help bitch, and if you cooperate you won't get hurt." 

Slapping the duck tape over your mouth. Growling at you, "Bitch you struggle and I can assure you when help comes it will be too late." 

Wiping your cell phone of any prints and tossing it in your front seat, slamming your door. "Let's go my slut, we have things to do."

I ran my hand up your back to the base of your neck, grasping a hand full of hair, I yanked hard and headed to the Jeep. I could see the tears welling up in your eyes, your breathing was quick yet shallow. You were shaking all over, and moaning. I knew you were having a panic attack.

I tried as best I could to calm you, "You will be fine as long as you relax and cooperate, but it is all up to you slut." Pulling you close, my hand still firmly in your hair. To any onlookers we looked like two lovers.

I opened the back door of the Jeep, pushed you hard against the opening, slid my hands down grabbing your wrists pulling them behind your back and slapping my handcuffs on. 

Placing my hand on your head and pushing you in the Jeep face down on the back seat. Tying your ankles with rope, and throwing the blanket over you. 

I could tell you were having trouble breathing so I removed the tape. "Remain still, calm and be quiet so I don't have to hurt you bitch."

On the way over you kept pleading, "Dick, is this Dick?, tell me dammit!" Gasping for breath, "Let me go, I don't want to play this game any more! This is not what I want, pleaseeee," You begged. I didn't say a word.

I arrived at the campsite parking lot, and parked as close to our trail as I could and waited until no one was around. I quickly got out, untied your ankles, grabbed you by the wrists and pulled you to your feet. 

Grasped you by your hair, slapping your face, "You scream and that little slap will pale in comparison slut."

I pulled you down the trail toward our campsite. Your eyes as big as saucers, whimpering, crying, trying to breathe, begging, "Please let me go Dick, pleaseee. They will be looking for me if I don't make it home on time." Tears rolling down your cheeks as we get to the Cottage Tent. 

Dragging you around back to the pit, standing at the edge. "Let me tell you what is going to happen slut. If you displease me in any way, you get tied down in the pit. For how long depends on the severity of your violation." 

Looking at you trembling at the thought of the pit. "You try to run, or scream for help and you will be spending the night in the pit bitch." 

Looking at the pit, you realize this is no game, and that your life could really be in danger, from this horrible Texan, and you uncontrollably start pissing yourself. 

Pushing you through the door of the cottage, you fall to your knees crying, "What have I done, what have I gotten myself into?"

Letting you remain on your knees, I remove my jacket, then tie and roll up my sleeves. "Bonnie, you are going to get just what you always dreamed of slut. 

"You are in the presence of a Dominant man that takes what he wants, and as I told you before, I want you!"

Pulling you to your feet, pushing you against the St. Andrews Cross. Placing wrist cuffs on before removing the handcuffs. Attaching each wrist to the loops in the cross, your arms outstretched. I see you trembling uncontrollably.

Smiling as I move my hands over your body, exploring every curve. "You dress so conservatively Bonnie, and yet I know the true slut that is lurking under those business clothes." Cupping both tits in my strong hands, rolling my thumbs over your nipples.

Reaching behind your head, pulling your face to mine, kissing you hard and deep, my tongue trying to explore your mouth but having no success. "This to will change my slut, before I am through with you, you will be begging for my kiss."

Unbuttoning your blouse, revealing your big firm tits encased in the white push up bra, your skin so soft and so pale, as I caress the softness of your cleavage. "Damn Bonnie, you should never cover these up, you are depriving all those pervs of fantasies slut."

Hooking my thumbs in the waistband of your slacks, pulling them down, you struggle to keep your legs wide enough to not allow me to take them off. Grabbing the crop and striking the outside of your thigh repeatedly until you cooperate and your pants fall around your ankles. Lifting your feet and pulling them off, tossing them aside.

Standing back admiring my captured slave, my new fucktoy and I am satisfied and excited by finally seeing your body displayed before me. 

Pulling the knife from my pocket, sliding it between your breasts, cutting the bra in half. It springs away from your big tits, freeing them and they are so firm they barely moved.

Slipping the knife under your panties and slicing them off, wading them up and tossing them on your pants. "Fuck baby, you are fucking gorgeous. I made a good choice this time. I am going to enjoy breaking you my bitch."

Attaching the ankle cuffs and securing them to the Cross, you are now standing spread eagle, as I slowly caress your soft skin, admiring each curve. 

Cupping your full tits, squeezing them, placing one nipple in my mouth, gently biting, pulling your nipple with my teeth.

You wince in pain and groan, trying to twist away from my attack on your tits. Unfortunately you cause more pain by pulling your nipple from my clenched teeth. Your wince is now a painful scream. 

One hand sliding to your mound, pressing my palm into your clit, sliding my fingers over your wet labia. "Your body is betraying you Bonnie, you are a bad girl." 

Pressing my finger into your tight wet pussy, and sucking your other nipple in my mouth. Latching on and suckling as if I were nursing, moaning.

You growl at me, "Stop this now, please stop Dick, I am sorry I led you on, this is all my fault. Please let me go now."

I press a second finger in your cunt, pinching your nipples as they harden to my touch, finger fucking you with my big fingers, kissing on your neck, your ears and slowly to your mouth. "Stop please stop, I can't, please I can't."

Pulling my fingers out of your pussy, smearing the vibrating eggs with lube and your juice. Sliding one egg down to your anus, slowly pressing it against your sphincter, feeling you resist I push harder and finally it slips inside your hot ass. Easily slipping the other egg in your wet pussy, and turning the remote on low.

I see you jump as you feel your holes being stimulated. I turn it up a little more and head out the door. Smiling as I can almost see your mind whirling, wondering where I went and what do I have in store for you. 

Leaving you hanging on the St. Andrews Cross, your cunt and asshole vibrating, excruciating pleasure that you act like you do not want.

Gathering firewood to take the chill out of the air. The temperature is only going down in the 50's but still cool for someone that is going to be kept bound and naked.

I walk back in with an armload of firewood and as soon as I opened the door I swear I heard you moaning. "Having fun are we Bonnie?"

Glaring at me, "No dammit, I have never been so humiliated in my life! You made me piss myself and I will never get over that."

I walk to you, the remote in one hand, my flogger in the other noticing your nipples standing at attention, your labium open and puffy, moisture coating your inner thighs. 

"Slut, pissing yourself is just a small humiliation compared to what you will do for me in the future."

Bringing the flogger down across your nipple softly, watching you try to move away to no avail. Twirling the flogger in circles, striking your tits on every down stroke. As I increase the tempo and pressure I turn the vibrating eggs up.

An involuntary low moan escapes your lips "Mmmmmm, ohhhhh."

Then reversing the direction and striking the underside of your tits on the upstroke. Your tits becoming a bright shade of pink. "So fucking beautiful baby, I love how these big tits wear my marks."

You are moaning more loudly now as I move the flogging to your gaping pussy. Between the flogger and the eggs, you are dancing on your tiptoes, and moaning. 

I lean in close to your face and growl, "Don't you fucking cum yet slut! You cum when I tell you to bitch."




The Hunter and The Hunted Ch. 01



You groan as I turn the eggs down and slow the flogging on your clit and cunt lips. You calm down a bit, maintaining some control of your emotions. "Feels good doesn't it bitch. How does it feel to not be in control of the most basic personal emotion?"

Your breathing so heavy, you can't answer, as I ramp up the intensity on your cunt, the flogger coming down harder, the egg vibrating faster in your pussy and asshole. 

I move the flogging to your inner thighs, over your calves, and slowly up the back of your thighs. Increasing the intensity on your soft beautiful ass. "I wonder how many men in your office dream about spanking this ass slut. You strut around knowing this ass drives them crazy.

"If they could only see you now, Miss Bonnie, so prim and proper." I resume flogging your swollen cunt, the leather straps of the flogger whipping the folds of your pussy lips and then over your swollen clit. 

I see you grind your hips into thin air as if to get it deeper, twisting in your restraints violently. Knowing you are close to cumming. "You need to cum slut? Tell Master my bitch."

You moan loudly, "Please. please let me cum. I need to cum Dick, I need it so bad."

Turning the eggs off and dropping the flogger. "No slut, you haven't earned the right to cum for me yet."

I hear you groan and see you grind your hips trying to make yourself cum, but without my stimulation you are helpless. You are totally under my control and you know that I am the only one that can make you have an orgasm. 

"You cum without permission slut and you will spend the night in the pit. Do you understand!"

You look at me with disdain, refusing to answer. I slap your face, "Answer me cunt!"

You wince in pain, "Yes, I understand dammit."

"Good girl." I am sure you are thinking about that conversation we had about sub-space and me telling you that in person I will get you there and you were wondering if what you felt was it. If it was it certainly was not that big a deal.

I remove your bindings and lead you to the coffee table, pushing you to your knees and laying you across the table. 

Tossing your blouse on the floor, then attaching your ankles and wrists. I can see the relief in your face to get off your feet.

Picking up my crop as I move around in front of you. I watch you watching me, your head contorted up trying to see what I had in store for you next. 

I sit in the chair removing my boots, and socks. Admiring my captive beautiful naked slut, my shirt comes off and I see a smile escape your lips. 

I slide my pants down and off, my hard cock obvious in my shorts. I hook my thumbs in the waistband and slowly pull them down, my cock being pulled down with them and once my dick clears the waistband it violently flops back and slaps my stomach. 

I hear an audible gasp from you as you see my massive cock standing straight out in front of me. 

I kneel in front of you, one hand in your wavy hair, lifting your face up so my cock is so close you can touch it with your tongue. I slap my cock on your face. "Open your mouth and suck me bitch."

Bringing the crop down on that soft ass, you flinch and open your mouth wide. I shove a couple inches of my cock in your mouth. "Such a fine ass Bonnie, I bet you tease the shit out of every man in your office you slut."

Rocking on my knees, forcing my fat cock in your mouth, slowly fucking your face at first. My cock wet with your spit, grinding more in pushing against your throat, feeling you gag a little.

Pulling back to allow you air, then pushing harder, deeper, forcing my thick long cock down your throat. 

Turning the vibrating eggs back on, watching you grind your hips back and moan loudly, "Mmmmmmmm."

"Ohh fuck yes slut, suck my cock, suck me like the cocksucker you are bitch." 

You are gagging and spitting up around my dick, I pull out, and you spew your bile and spit and I shove my cock back deeper and harder. 

Settling in to a long hard rythym, your throat becoming accustomed to the length and width of my fuckstick. "Such a good cocksucker Bonnie, so fucking good my bitch." 

Seeing you rotating your hips trying to fuck those eggs in your asshole and cunt, I turn them up, and hear you moan in time with the vibrations inside you.

Pulling my cock out and rubbing my balls on your face, feeling your tongue wash over my nuts, sucking one then the other in your mouth, as I stroke my throbbing cock. "So close bitch, so fucking close, lick my big fucking nuts Bonnie." 

Feeling my balls aching for release, stroking my cock harder, feeling your mouth sucking my ball sack. Pulling back. "Open your mouth slut, I am going to give you a reward my whore."

No sooner that you opened your mouth, the cum shot from my dick, volley after volley of cum landing in your mouth, some shooting on your face, across your back. "Oh My God, oh Godddd yessssss fuckkkkk baby, yessssss."

Hearing me cum so hard, you are panting like a bitch dog in heat. "Pleaseeee I need to cummmm please, God I need it, please Master let your slut cum."

Turning the eggs off again, wiping the remnants of my cum on your face, you groan and growl, "Fuckkkkk I need to cum dammit." Before she could complain more I shoved my cock in her mouth. "Shut the fuck up and clean Master's cock slut."

Watching you lick and suck whatever cum you can get, moaning as you swallow my hot sperm, licking your lips of my cum lovingly. 

I lightly slap the crop on the sides of your tits pressed out from your weight on the table. Flicking the crop over and over, your skin becoming redder and redder with each stroke.

I untie your bindings. "Roll over on your back my fucktoy." At this point you are willing to do just about anything to be allowed to cum, so you quickly change positions. I secure your wrists and ankles again to the legs of the table.

Standing over you, working the crop slowly up the inside of your legs, starting at the ankles and moving to your open thighs, lightly at first then as you get use to the pain, harder and harder. 

I see you moving your hips in rythym to my strokes and see your pussy leaking sweet nectar. Being careful not to strike your clit yet. 

You are moaning every time I strike you, "Oh fuck, oh shit, oh, oh, oh God."

I drop the crop and straddle the table, your eyes fixated on my hanging cock and big balls swinging as I bend and take one tender nipple in my mouth, suckling, licking and rolling my tongue over and over the hard nub. One hand on your throat, the other mauling your other tit.

You are loudly moaning, "Oh please Dick suck my tits, so good, oh so fucking good."

Moving my mouth down your body, licking and gently biting your skin, nipping and licking your tummy, your belly button and slowly moving in the direction of your pussy. Kneeling between your open thighs, I pull the eggs from your fuckholes and drop them on the floor.

Licking the insides of your thighs, careful not to touch your gaping cunt yet. Pulling your labia open with my fingers, gently blowing on your open hole. 

You are gasping for breath, rolling your head side to side, "Oh God eat me, please eat my pussy baby, I need it, I need your mouth on me Master."

I flicked my tongue over your hard clit as I held your pussy wide open, looking down that fuckhole, seeing your sweet juice dripping down the crack of your ass. Sliding my tongue from your asshole to your clit, sucking nosily, drinking your sweet nectar. 

Feeling you grinding your hips into my mouth, "Ohhhh FUCKKKKK YESSSSSS, Ohhhh Godddddd, so fucking good Dick, Ohh fuck yessss."

Pulling your labia in my mouth sucking and licking, then pushing my tongue deep in your sweet fuckhole, as you hump my face harder, knowing you were ready to cum. I removed the bindings from your ankles.

Pushing your thighs back to your tits, and straddling you, my cock throbbing near the entrance of your cunt. "Tell me bitch, do you want Master's big fucking cock in that dripping wet cunt?"

Your eyes are closed your mouth open panting as you barely can speak, "Oh fuck yes, fuck your slut Master, give me that dick I have dreamed about for weeks. FUCK ME PLEASE!."

Pushing the fat head of my cock between your lips hearing you gasp as I push several inches in and stop, holding it there until I feel you respond by pushing against me. 

Then pushing more in that wet pussy stretching you filling you with almost half of my long cock.

Looking in your eyes, as they glaze over and you are moaning aloud, "Ohhhhh damn, so fucking bigggg, so tight, oh so full, God more please."

Pushing slowly making sure it was more pleasure than pain, pulling and slowly filling you back up, ever so slowly grinding my full 11 inches deep in that tight pussy. Holding steady deep in you. 

Your breath coming in short quick breaths. "OHHHH GODDDDDD so good, sooo fucking goodddddddd baby. Fuck me slow baby, I want it so fucking bad."

Slowly pulling back until the head of my cock pops out and then slowly pushing all the way in, my balls resting on your ass, then again slowly driving back deep, long slow deep strokes. "Oh Bonnie soo fucking tight baby, so fucking tight and so good, God you are the best baby."

Feeling you grind your hips into me as I bury my long cock, picking up the pace a little, harder and a little faster. You are panting, trying to breathe and speak. "Oh fuck me baby, fuck your nasty fucking cum slut."

I had never heard bonnie talk like a whore and it was driving me mad, as I started driving harder, grunting as I slammed deep and hard. "Oh fuck yes Bonnie, tell your Master what you want my slut."

Wrapping your legs around me, pulling me into you, slamming my thick cock deep and hard, feeling your cunt contract around my dick. "Oh shit yes fuck this whore, fuck your bitch, make me yours Dick, own me, own this cunt."

I immediately felt my balls ache needing to cum, as you humped me like a whore in heat, Grinding your cunt into my cock. My balls now slapping against your ass as I drove with no mercy deep in that cunt I owned. 

"Oh Master pleasseeeeeee can your slut cum? Pleaseeeeee I want you to cum in me, breed me Master pleaseeee."

I was breathing so heavy, "Cum with me my whore, cum with me now!!"

Slamming my cock in my slut, my load filling her cunt, hearing her, start cumming, convulsing, rolling back and forth, jamming her cunt into me. "Ohhhhhh fuckkkkkkkkkkkkk cumming Masterrrr"

I was finished shooting my load and she was still cumming just as hard, over and over one continuous cum, lasting minutes. 

Over and over she was bucking into me grinding her wet sloppy cunt over my cock."Ohhhh can't stoppppp cummmingggggg, Ohh My GODDDDD YESSSSSS." 

I held her tight and allowed her to completely drain herself, twitching, jumping and, bucking into me. 

Finally she gained some composure. "Never, OH GOD never cum so hard before, My head was spinning, I couldn't see, just riding this wave after wave of pleasure. Did you drug me somehow?"

Laughing as I lay on top of her. "My dear slut, that is what we call sub-space."

I rise from her spent body, untying her, picking her up in my arms and laying her on the bed. Binding her wrists and ankles to the four corners of the bed. "Rest my slut while I get dinner. I have more plans for you later."

You protested, "You don't have to tie me up, I won't try to escape."

Laughing, "I am not worried about you leaving slut, this is just a reminder of who controls you my bitch."

I dressed and looked back at you and you were sound asleep. I covered you in a blanket, before heading out. 

End Part 1. 



The Hunter Ch. 01



Kari ran through the forest as fast as she could. "I have to keep moving that's all I have to do is just keep moving." Looking up through the branches Kari saw that the sun was going down, she wasn't going to be able to make it home, better to just find shelter for the night and hope nothing bad happened to her. In the fading light she was just able to make out a group of trees whose branches formed a perfect camping spot. Leaning her head against a mossy tree stump Kari bunkered down for the night.

Listening to the sounds of the forest Kari started remembering all the old stories she had heard about this place, girls getting lost in the forest and taken by the hunter god Odane. The god of the hunt took pleasure in hunting lost young girls through the forest abducting them for his own uses. "They're just stories though." Kari said aloud "I mean if the hunter god really was on the hunt we would hear his horn." Moments later a deep rumble note washed over the forest, echoing off of every rock and shaking her to her very core.

Frightened, Kari hugged her knees to her chest, muttering under her breath "it's just a story." to herself over and over. The note came again this time closer; and again, and again, each time moving closer to Kari and her little clearing. Suddenly, all sound stopped. The woods were silent. Kari listened to the woods hearing nothing. Shaking her head "it was all just my imagination." *snap* Sitting bolt upright Kari watched as an enormous figure pushed its way through the branches towards her!

Screaming Kari ran from the clearing not even caring which direction. Running this way and that. Kari tripped on a root and sprawled on the ground. Picking herself up she looked around, seeing nothing in the darkness. "You're very fast." came rumbling from behind her. "It's been a while since I actually had a challenging hunt." Frozen by fear all Kari could do was listen. The voice moved steadily closer. The presence of him heavy in the silent woods. "Tell you what. I'll give you one more chance. If you can get away from me this time I will spare your life and grant you your freedom."

To scared to respond Kari lay frozen on the ground. She could not believe what was happening to her. "RUN!" yelled the voice. Kari sprinted past trees, over rocks, under low branches, she ran through faster than she had ever run before. She ran for what seemed like hours but her surroundings only grew darker and the woods more dense. Finally she could not run anymore. Lying on the ground Kari hoped that she had gotten away. "Not bad. to bad it wasn't good enough." The deep voice seemed to shake her bones. 

Hearing his voice again Kari sprang to her feet. Running again she heard his laugh all around her. He seemed to be everywhere in the wood at once. She saw a large tree blocking the path in front of her. No time to go around she vaulted over it. She landed on the other side and felt the the ground beneath her erupt. She screamed as the net pulled her into the tree. Her arms pinned across her chest Kari struggled to free herself. "Please let me go! I don't want to die!"

"Oh I'm not going to kill you. I'm only going to claim my prize." came his amused response from below her. His tone made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as the net was lowered from the tree.

"What do you mean claim your prize?"

"Oh I think you know exactly what I mean. You've heard the stories by now you've figured out I am Odane. You also have heard what I do. I've caught you and now I'm going to bind you to me for eternity."

Kari panicked, struggling futilely in the net. The god laughed as he opened the net. Pinning her to the ground he tied her hands behind her back as she struggled to free herself. He ripped her clothes from her body and slung her over his shoulder. He stood and carried her through the woods. Kari struggled for a few minutes before giving up and passing out.

She woke naked in a strange room. It was dimly lit with small candles and ivy grew over the walls. She tried to sit up but found that she was unable to move. Roots wrapped over her arms and ankles and one was curved over her neck completely immobilizing her. "Hey! What's going on!?" She struggled against her bonds testing their strength. The roots held fast not moving an inch. She tossed her head side to side in her frustration.

Laughing Odane called to her from a chair in the corner. "You really are a remarkable young human. There is no hope of escape but still you fight. I like that." Kari stopped struggling and listened intently to his voice as he walked closer. "It's not often that I find a human I am actually attracted to. However..." Kari felt him slide his hand over her body his skin hot against hers. "I am going to take you Kari. You will give me a son."

In her compromised position Kari could only stare at the ceiling as she was toyed with. Crying silent tears she hoped it would be over quickly. Unfortunately she was a good catch. She was a dancer, a good one to. She had 36D breasts and beautiful blue eyes framed by her short wavy brown hair. Bound to the floor her large breasts attracted his attention.

She felt the god's teeth clamp around her right nipple as his left hand rolled the other nipple between deft fingers. Kari gasped as he played with her nipples. They had always been sensitive and she had loved to let her boyfriend play with them, sometimes bringing her to orgasm without touching anything else. Unable to lift her head and see what was happening Kari had nothing to distract her mind from the sensation.

He bit hard, pulling her nipple back. Kari moaned loudly before realizing what she was doing. She started to fight back again. She thrashed around on the table pulling her nipple from between his teeth. She gasped for breath as the root around her throat tightened harshly. Unable to breath she stopped struggling. He whispered next to her ear in a tone that was impossible to misinterpret. He was mad. "This will go much easier on you if you don't struggle. You might even enjoy it."

The bond on her neck loosened and she gasped for air. "No let's try this again." Kari felt his hand between her legs and was about to protest when he slid two fingers inside of her. She moaned as he penetrated her. He pushed his fingers further inside of her and slid his thumb towards the top of her slit. He rubbed her clit with his thumb, playing with the hardened nub.

Kari could feel the heat between her thighs. She knew that she should fight but it felt so good. His fingers slid out and back in penetrating deeper this time. He flicked her clit with his other hand and Kari whimpered in painful pleasure. His fingers slid out and back in again picking up speed. He fingered her hot folds stoking the fire between her thighs. Kari thrust her hips up to meet his fingers hoping to heighten her pleasure.

Her heart began to race as that familiar heat rose inside her. She arched her back off the ground giving him better access to her sopping cunt. Just as she was about to crest the wave of her oncoming orgasm he pulled his fingers from her pussy. Thrusting her hips into the air Kari moaned at the sudden loss. "I'm almost there. Just a little more. Make me cum! Please! Please take me do whatever just make me cum!"

He sounded amused as he adjusted aiming his cock at her pussy. "I told you it would be enjoyable." He placed both hands on her hips and slid forward. The head of his dick pushed inside of her spreading her open for the first time. Coming to an obstacle her thrust hard breaking through. She gasped in pain but it was quickly replaced with pleasure as he slid back out. Pushing back in Odane began to fuck her grinding his pelvis against her clit when he hit bottom.

Kari was in heaven as for the first time her pussy was stretched. She moaned with each of his thrusts. She was unable to fight the pleasure any longer. It didn't take long for the pleasure to become a roaring fire once more. Kari's orgasm washed over her as Odane thrust deep into her newly deflowered pussy.

He gave three more quick thrusts before releasing his seed. His cock throbbed as it pumped into her pussy. She felt his hot seed splash inside her. His now flaccid cock slid out of her. "Sleep well Kari. Tomorrow is going to be one hell of a day." She heard the door to the room close as sleep took her in its embrace.



The Hunter Ch. 02



This is a continuation of the story The Hunter. It takes place in north central Florida, near the Orange Springs Trading Post in the mid 1830s near the end of the Second Seminole Indian War.

*

Patrick Murphy rolled over and looked at his beautiful young wife in the pale light of the moon. She slept beside him, her golden hair spread across her pillow. God! She was beautiful. She looked so soft and sweet. He knew that under that serene beauty lay a really strong willed person. Oh! They had never had a cross word between them in the year of their marriage.

She was in no way a nag or any thing other than a loving wife. However she had no problem telling him how she felt about any subject. She never did this in front of any other person if it was about anything of importance. She waited until they were alone together. Then she would hold both his hands and look directly in his eyes and tell him exactly what she thought.

He always listened very carefully to what she had to say. Her grasp of the problems around the plantation was amazing. Her reasoning about most things was clear and often included things he had failed to consider. 

After hearing her out it was his habit to ask questions of her and talk over the differences, if any, between his idea and the way she thought the problem should be solved. The discussion was always calm and not at all antagonistic. They always reached an agreement on the best way to proceed. 

When the problem was resolved she always let go of his hands and moved her hands around his neck to pull his head down for a kiss. This kiss was always warm and loving and often led to a quiet romp in their big bed. 

He saw her eyes flutter and then open. A smile grew on her face as she saw him watching her. "Good morning, my darling Patrick." She reached for him and they moved together, their hands feeling each other's bodies. Her little hand went unerringly for his erection. She knew it would be there. It always was.

He pulled down the bodice of her nightgown, baring a lovely breast topped with a long dark pink nipple. The tip of his tongue flipped it back and forth. His lips closed around it and suckled at it. Her eyes drifted closed as she basked in the feeling of love and adoration she felt from this man. She felt him lift the skirt of her gown upward to bare her lower body to his attentions. His hand caressed her flat little belly then moved down to rub through the fine yellow hair on her mound. 

She murmured, "Please, Dear, Please kiss me there for a while, then I want you inside me."

"Yes, Sweet girl, that is exactly how I love to start my day."

" And finish it too!"

He had always been told that ladies didn't talk about sexual matters. "Cinda had evidently never heard that rumor. She didn't hesitate to sweetly tell him exactly how she wanted him to make love to her. She would move his lips or hands where she wanted them to touch her. She asked if she was doing things the way he liked it best.

She jerked involuntarily as she felt his fingers part her nether lips and wiggle their way inside her. He was moving down between her wide spread legs. The fingers continued to move inside her as she felt his lips enclose the hood covering her clitoris. His tongue pushed the hood back and his lips grasped the little nub. He rubbed the underside of his tongue across it. She shivered at the sensations that caused. Then he was still. She wanted that feeling again and she held his head in place with her hands and wiggled her pelvis against his tongue. The unbridled passion of their first lovemaking was gone but the enthusiasm was still there as was the all-encompassing joy they each received from their coupling.

They were still learning new ways to please each other. Pat was always surprised at the willingness, actual eagerness, of this prim and quite proper young lady to try new things in the bedroom. She was receptive to any new idea he might have. She even had a few ideas of her own they had tried and enjoyed. Having kept his distance from girls and women for most of his life he had no idea of how frank and descriptive the conversations were between females. 'Cinda was an excellent listener. She listened to the slave women talk about sex and if she heard something interesting she would try it.

She absolutely loved Pat's cock. She worshiped and adored it. She loved to kiss it and take it in her mouth. She had heard about how the black women would swallow their lover's cocks taking all of it down their throats. She had tried it with Pat and he had loved it. 

She loved it when he used his mouth to pleasure her. His lips and tongue were simply wondrous. She had never even imagined that the love acts could be so pleasurable.

She was addicted to their lovemaking; they did it every day at least once and often several times. It had slacked off from the four or five times a day they had wanted when they were first married.

She wanted to let him keep loving her pussy with his mouth but she knew there were things they had planned for the day. She reached down and pulled him up over her. She guided him into her. She had had several orgasms already and experienced another one as he began to move inside of her. She knew that if she worked her inner muscles she could give him such intense pleasure he would climax sooner. 

She rotated her hips to give him different angles for his shaft to slip in and out. Soon he was panting and sweating and moaning. He said he was getting close to cumming, and then she felt the wonderful sensation of his sperm spurting inside her. She loved the feeling when her vagina became very slippery with his semen for the last few strokes before his cock became soft. She held him tightly to her. She was filled with love for him.

She lifted his head and gently kissed his lips. "Pat, I love you so much, I want to lie here and cuddle and snuggle with you all day long but you did promise to take me hunting today. I have never been hunting with you."

He looked out the window, "We have an hour or so left until first light. Hurry and get dressed. Are you going to wear those pants today? That will be exciting for me. It will be cold today, wrap up."

"Yes I am, I am going to put my hair up under my hat and try to look like a boy. I don't think I can move through the woods like an Indian in my big skirts."

"You are right about that my love. We won't be doing too much sneaking through the woods but I think it will work better with you in pants. I will be the only one to see you anyway."

"How does this look?"

"Damn, girl! You make a real cute boy. I have never thought about buggering a boy before but I would love to screw you my lad."

"No way, mister." She said in her deepest voice, and then giggled.

"Why don't you slip a robe over your boy outfit and we will go get breakfast before we leave?"

After breakfast they walked out on the back porch with Pat carrying their two rifles. He checked the saddles and gear on the horses. He checked the rifles again and slipped them in their holsters. He put his pistol bag around his neck and ran his belt through the loop in the bag. He dismissed the groom and when the groom was gone he helped 'Cinda out of her robe and into a long man's riding coat.

He put one on himself against the cold dampness of the morning. He helped his wife onto her horse and mounted up himself. He gathered up the lead for the packhorse and they walked the horses out the long drive. They kicked the horses into a trot for a while then slowed to a walk for a while. Pat wanted to try their luck in a field that was only a couple miles down the 'Old Mail Road'. It had been planted in turnips earlier in the fall but had been harvested. The deer had been feeding there every morning for the last few days. He watched for sign in the sandy road. There were fields on both sides of the road in this area. The field on the east side of the road belonged to the Murphy Place, their home. The fields on the other side were fallow and had not been used in several years. The Indians also harvested part of his crop with their permission. They didn't take much and they had allowed for it when they planted.

Pat saw the tracks he had been looking for and pointed them out to 'Cinda. He pulled his mount next to hers and leaned over and whispered, "Look a large buck crossed this morning after a herd of does. I think I know where the will lying up. 

They turned around and rode slowly back along the road until they passed the end of the windrow of trees between fields

He took 'Cinda's rifle and pulled the hammer back to half cocked position. The percussion cap was firmly in place. Her Lady's Model Hawken rifle was deadly in her hands. Pat was amazed by how accurate she was with the new rifle he bought for her. She could break four out of four 4-inch wooden discs at 100 yards. The discs were cut from a 4-inch diameter log.

She could reload very fast too. Only her beauty surpassed her physical abilities and her intelligence as far as he was concerned. He was raised to believe that females were not very intelligent and were weak simpering idiots. He realized that his wife was none of the above and was perfectly capable of doing anything he could do where great strength was not involved. He was not really sure she wasn't a lot stronger than she let on.

When they were past the windrow between fields he turned off the road and rode parallel to the row of trees then he motioned for her to dismount. He moved the animals into the woods and tethered the horses. He took her hand and led her quietly along the edge of field. He paused and pulled her to him; he whispered, "I'm going to scout the field. Wait here." He disappeared into the woods. Moments later he was back. He placed his lips against her ear, "The big buck is over in the field.

He took her hand again and put it on his arm. He pointed down and mouthed the words, 'walk softly'. He led her slowly into the woods. She tried to step where he stepped. He moved slowly and deliberately for perhaps fifty yards. He stopped and only his head slowly moved, then it stopped. He turned and grinned at her. He mouthed 'I love you.' He moved a few more feet. He reached back and slowly pulled her up along side of him. 

They stood very still. Pat's hand gripped her hand and she glanced at his eyes to see where he was looking. She looked where he was looking and saw a doe standing on the edge of the field on the other side looking around. It took one short step and looked around again. Another doe appeared as if by magic next to the first one. The first doe moved slowly into the field, still watching everything carefully. A yearling buck ran out across the field. One of the does followed him.

Several more does eased out of the woods and moved out into the field. They started feeding on the bright green turnip leaves. There were soon about twenty or more does and a few small yearling bucks feeding within easy rifle shot of the two hunters.

Pat squeezed her hand again and she saw a buck standing at the edge of the woods, He watched the does feeding and slowly eased out into the open field. 

"Cinda had her rifle resting on her arm. She slowly eased the butt of the Hawken rifle to her shoulder. Pat slowly placed his head so his lips were at her ear. "Not yet. Wait a little." He moved her slowly so she was able to use a sapling tree as a rest for her rifle.

The buck was magnificent, with a huge rack of antlers. The buck would quickly raise his head and look around while he chewed. Then the massive head would drop and he would eat more leaves. He was slowly working his way nearer and nearer to the center of the field. "Cinda trembled. She felt Pat's large warm hand gently grasp her shoulder. She smiled without taking her eyes off the buck. Pat whispered softly, "When he turns a little more to either side try a heart shot."

The buck suddenly turned his head and looked back to the place he had exited the brush. Another buck walked out. The first buck turned to watch. "Cinda's rifle slammed back against her shoulder as it fired. Pat's rifle cracked a second after hers and a doe dropped. 'Cinda tried to move but Pat held her still as they watched the big buck run across the field with it's white tail held high. Then the front legs sort of folded up and he went down. Pat kissed his wife's cheek and softly said, "Good shot girl. He is dead. Reload."

"Let's go see."

"No, reload first." They each pulled their powder horn around and placed the spout in the muzzle then pressed the lever on the spout, dropping a measured charge of powder down the barrel, and then replaced the horn. A lard soaked patch was removed from the little patch box on the stock of the rifle and placed on the muzzle. A lead ball was retrieved for their possibles bags and placed on top of the patch, pressing it down hard to start it down the barrel. The ramrod was slipped from it's place beneath the barrel and was used to force the ball, now surrounded by the patch, down the barrel of the rifle until it was firmly pressed against the powder resting in the bottom of the barrel. After replacing the ramrod they got little tin cap boxes from their bags. The hammer was pulled back to the half-cocked position. Then a small brass cap was picked from the box and fitted over the nipple under the hammer. The hammer was eased down over the cap.

"Honey, we will just cuddle here for a while and be sure no one else heard the shot and came to see what was going on. He's not going anywhere. "Kiss me."

"Is that all you ever think about?"

"Yes, when ever you are near me or I think about you. Which is most of the time, so I guess that IS all I think about."

"Oh! Pat, I think about you and your kisses all the time too. I think about the other things we love to do too. Then I have to force myself to think about things I hate to do or I don't get anything done because I'm dreaming about you. I love you so."

"Ummmmm! Sweetie you make me warm when you talk like that. Let's go get the horses and get these deer loaded up and take them home." They walked to the buck and Pat showed Lucenda the bullet hole just behind the place the front leg joined the body. "Nice shot girl, no one could do better." He led he over to the doe and they found the bullet hole in the same spot on the doe. "Oh!" 'Cinda said, "Your shot was good too."

"I guess, but that is what I am supposed to do. It is much better when you do it because no one but me knows you are as good a shot as I am. I am damned proud of my darling wife."

"Cinda helped Pat load the Buck on the pack horse. Then they moved to the doe and Pat lifted it by himself and put it on the animal. He lashed the carcasses down well and they started home. Pat spurred his horse up along 'Cinda's horse and told her to tie the reigns together and hang them over the saddle. Then he plucked her off her horse and held her cuddled in front of him as they rode. He pulled the blanket from behind his saddle and wrapped her in it. She was warm and cozy as they moved down the road. She smiled up at him and grinned. "You know you are cuddled up with a young man don't you? You'll have everyone talking." 

"I'll put you back on your horse if you want. You are not going to fool anyone anyway."

"No Darling, I am very cozy right here. I got a letter from my friend who lives in Maryland a few days ago; she wanted to know how we stood the heat in Florida. That was the morning we had ice in the washbasin."

"We just have to suffer with this heat as best we can my sweet wife. The heat must be the reason you can see your breath." 

"Honey it's warmer than it was when we started out this morning. I thought my teeth chattering would scare the deer away until we snuggled together."

Pat kissed her little nose; it was the only thing he could find that wasn't wrapped in the blanket. "Well there is the house, I see smoke from all the chimneys so it ought to be toasty warm. You run up and change and I'll see the deer are tended to. I want the Nigra's to save the antlers to hang in the den." 

"Cinda's maid rushed out with a heavy robe to put around her mistress. She bundled her up and they hurried in the house. Several hands took the horses and led them off. Pat took their equipment in the house.

The first thing he did was to pull the loads in both rifles and clean the barrels of the weapons with boiling water, he oiled them and set them aside to reload later. He liked to be sure the barrels were completely dry inside. A drop of water could cause a misfire.

The boiling water dried quickly but on a really cold day it paid to be sure. He liked to run an oily cloth patch down the barrel while it was hot from the water. It seemed to do better than just relying on the lard in the bullet patch to oil the barrel.

"Suh, de missus wants you should see her in de bed now." grinned 'Cinda's maid. 

"Thank you Polly."

He smiled as he ran up the stairs.



The Hunter Ch. 03



Pat walked carefully through the wooded area. All his senses were fully alert. The ground was covered with dry leaves twigs and dead foliage. It was impossible to walk silently. Each footstep resulted in the crackle of dry material. It appeared to Pat that the area had not had a fire in several years.

Fires on an almost yearly basis ravaged most areas in this part of Florida. Mostly lightning started the fires. The fires were really a blessing in some ways. They kept the undergrowth cleared from under the trees and lush new growth emerged very soon.

In the winter the lack of rain had North Florida as dry as the tender in his fire-starting pouch. He had seen the new Lucifer striking matches back in Virginia but they hadn't reached this remote part of Florida. 

He increased his pace a little to make up for the time he spent standing still listening. He thought some large animal was moving parallel with his path through the forest. He was watching for the road that ran from Orange Springs to Eureka. When he hit that he would be able to pick up his speed. He could not run as he usually would because of the heavy pack he was carrying. He wished he could run; he wanted desperately to get home to his beautiful wife.

The pack on his back contained a number of things they needed badly at his plantation. The cartons of percussion caps were worth their weight in gold. With out them all their firearms, with the exception of several old flintlock fowling pieces, were useless. They were down to only enough for three shots per weapon. They had plenty of powder and lead for balls but they couldn't be used without the caps. He had not been able to resist buying two new dresses and a very scandalous French nightgown for his wife. She hadn't been to a post since she had the baby.

Pat had seen the clothes for his wife in the Elkton Trading Post in St. Augustine. The recent flare up of fighting between the Indians and the Army kept Lucinda at home. They had even had to stop going to see her family only about four miles away ever since several men had been ambushed and killed along the road between the plantations.

Pat slowed and stopped under a large oak tree. He rested the pack against the tree trunk and listened. He heard something. It came from the west. It sounded like the jingle of harnesses and the creak of leather saddles. He angled more towards the place he thought the road was closest. He saw the horsemen and slowed and watched from the bushes. When he could see they were white men in uniforms he stepped out in the road. 

They pulled up and stopped a few yards from him. He could see they were not Army troops; they wore a tan canvas uniform he was not familiar with. He held up his hand and the leader rode up to him.

"Good afternoon, Can you tell me the way to the Murphy place?" asked the leader.

"Yes I can. I am headed there myself and I would show you the way but I can't stay up with your horses carrying this pack. It's nor far. About another mile and you will see some cleared fields and then a half mile more and you will see a road going to the left, That is the Murphy place."

"Great, do you know the Murphys? Every body seems to know the wife. By the way, I am Sean Murphy, a Cousin. Pat stepped towards him and held his hand out and grinned, "Hello Cousin, I am Pat Murphy."

The horseman leapt from his horse, "Glad to meet you Pat. I have heard nothing but good thing about you and your bride. My Mother and Father ran the Orange Springs Trading Post until a few months ago when Indians killed them." 

"Now I know who you are, your parents talked about you all the time, I think they said you are a Marine. I can't tell you how sorry I am, I loved both of them. Why anyone would kill them is beyond me." 

Sean turned and called to a huge man back along the road. "Orlando, bring an extra mount and a pack horse up here. The big man trotted up leading two horses. Sean introduced him as an old friend who was also a Marine Officer. Pat lashed his pack on top of a lightly loaded horse and swung aboard another horse. 

As the rode Pat told Sean that he was coming home from St. Augustine. He had just gotten off a steam launch in Eureka a few hours a go. The boat captain had refused to stop at the Murphy Landing because of the Indians. Sean grinned; you must have just missed us. We came by launch to Orange Springs and just rode down here. Did you stop at the Elkton' Post?"

"Sure did, I always go there."

"Thank you, my wife owns the Post."

"Really, does she own the bank and all the other Elkton places there?"

"Pat, she sure does. A man once told me that if a place was in St. Augustine and Molly Elkton didn't own it; it wasn't worth having."

Pat smiled back, "Here is the road to our place. Can you stay and visit a while. My wife was raised right up the road a couple of miles."

"Really, what was her name?"

"Lucinda Martin."

Sean looked at Orlando, they both grinned. Sean said, "We both remember Lucinda Martin and all the Martins. She was a very cute little girl the last time I saw her. My wife was very fond of her and taught her how to do needlepoint. I think she was five or six when we left to go to College in Virginia."

Pat pointed, "There is the house." A bell clanged and men ran from various places and into a small building and emerged carrying rifles and disappeared into the brush. Pat kicked his horse in the ribs and yelled, "Cinda, I'm home!"

A woman ran off the porch and towards him. He leaned from the horse and scooped her up in his arms and across in front of him. He was still kissing her when the rest of the party rode up. Sean and Orlando rode over beside them. Pat's wife still had her arms tightly around Pat's neck.

"Honey, look up, do you remember these men?" 'Cinda looked at both of them she was slowly shaking her head when her face lit up in a huge smile, "Sean Murphy and Orlando. I can't believe it. She looked around, "Where is Molly, did you find her yet?"

"'Cinda, we sure did, the first thing I did was marry her."

"What? You married Molly! She always said she was going to marry you. That is so wonderful I am going to cry, I just can't help it. Oh! Sean, I am so sorry about your Mother and Father. I still cry about them every single day. I loved them so."

"Thanks, we miss them too. Is that a baby I hear?"

Pat grinned, "It sure is, unless I am mistaken that is James Murphy, saying he is hungry." 'Cinda slipped off the horse and ran towards the house.

"And yes, he is named after your father."

Sean said, "Pat, I can't tell you how much that means to me. I am very proud and I know Dad is too!"

Later that evening "Cinda and Pat talked with Sean and Orlando for hours. Sean and Orlando wanted them to come to see them at Molly's Plantation in the east. They both said that if Molly found out they hadn't invited them they would both be sleeping on the porch for a week or more. They all agreed that Molly's steam launch would pick them up at the Murphy Landing in two weeks and take them to the landing on Deep Creek, inland about two miles up the creek they would be met at the landing there by a coach and armed outriders. The coach would take them to Molly's home. The Murphy family should plan on staying at least two weeks.

Sean and Orlando informed them that they were currently on a scouting trip checking Indian Villages as possible targets for future raids by Sean's Detachment. 

Pat was fascinated by the weapons Sean and his men were carrying. Each man carried a Colt revolver firing six shots without reloading. They each also carried two loaded cylinders for the revolver that could be changed in seconds. Pat showed them his two shot repeater. Sean was very interested in the cartridge system that he thought could be incorporated into the Colt weapon for even more firepower. The revolver cylinder could be reloaded quickly with cartridges and no extra cylinders would be needed. Pat asked where he could get a Colt revolver. Sean said he would work on it. He thought he might be able to arrange a trade for his cartridge pistol.

Sean showed Pat a Colt Revolving Rifle. Pat said he liked his old Hawken just fine. He said he could mark the V every time at a hundred yards. Sean said they would demonstrate the weapons when they came to the Elkton Plantation to visit. 

Sean turned to Pat, "Damn, I remember "Cinda as a pretty little girl, now she is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. You are a lucky man."

"I know that, she is the perfect wife for me, she is my best friend, she is smarter than I am. Please never tell her I said that. She is very good at every thing she tries. She can even shoot better than I can.

"Sean laughed and said, "I believe that, I taught her how to shoot. She was very good right from the start, right Orlando."

"I remember her when we had that child's rifle. It was a thirty six caliber and we used a third of a powder charge. She would shoot at a steel circle hanging on the other side of the creek. She would ring it time after time as long as we would reload it for her. Our Molly was a damned good shot too. Sean and I learned not to bet against her."

Two weeks later Pat and 'Cinda sat in the front of Molly's steam launch as it chugged along down the Ocklawaha River. The boat had a white Captain and engineer and a crew of six blacks. They had loaded some wood at the Murphy Landing, mostly Blackjack Oak mixed with a little Pine and a few lighter knots thrown in. The lighter wood was pine that had been covered with sand for many, many years and all the moisture had been sucked from the wood leaving only the wood fibers and the sap or resin. It was very heavy for it's size and burned extremely hot leaving little ash. The engineers loved it for getting steam up in a hurry. Too much lighter in the fire could melt the boiler tubes and ruin the engine so they had to be careful.

Two of the black crew stood on the bow of the boat and two on the stern. They had long stout poles. They used the poles to push the boat around the turns in the twisty river. The stern paddle wheel that propelled the launch had a large rudder behind it but it was not very effective in turning the boat sharply. The poles saved the day.

The river was very beautiful. In places the huge cypress trees grew together over the water. It was like going through a leafy tunnel. Different kinds of wild birds screeched their anger at being disturbed. Many fish could be seen through the gin clear water. 

Alligators were almost everywhere. Some of the gators were huge beasts fifteen to twenty feet long. Once a huge flock of pretty Carolina Parakeets flew past them screaming at the disturbance. When they reached the St. Johns River the water was wider and not as swift. The poles were seldom needed. 

The river widened more after they passed the bustling town of Palatka. The docks there were crammed with ocean going sailing ships, a few steamers and barges also plied the waters. About five miles north of Palatka the launch turned into a narrow creek. Two miles up the creek they arrived at a large dock with a ramp loading area.

Orlando greeted them and helped "Cinda and her maid, Polly, into the coach. Pat elected to ride horseback with Orlando. The coach was comfortable and well appointed. It was the first time Polly had ever been in a coach and she was frightened at first but soon enjoyed it. She and Miz 'Cinda giggled over how nice it was compared to the farm wagons they were used to riding. The road was not too rough and they made good time. In less than an hour the coach turned up a long drive between two rows of large oak trees. By sticking their heads out the windows they could see the large Plantation house ahead of them. When they got close the girls were in awe of the size of the main house. "Cinda said, "Polly, I bet that house has twenty rooms in it."

"Yessum, Miz 'Cinda it sho nuf a big un." The coach stopped in front of the steps leading to the house. A group waited for them to be helped from the coach. A very beautiful blond woman dashed forward and grabbed 'Cinda by the shoulders. "Lucinda Martin, look at you, you are gorgeous. Just lovely as can be. Do you remember me?"

"Of course I remember you Molly, how could I ever forget you. You haven't changed much." They hugged each other and kissed many times. Molly held 'Cinda at arms length. "You are so lovely and all grown up. Where are your baby and your husband? Polly stepped forward and "Cinda took the baby and handed it to Molly. Molly looked up with tear filled eyes, "Another handsome red headed Murphy. And this other bigger red headed handsome Murphy must be Pat, your husband." Molly handed the baby back to Polly. She motioned to a tall lovely black woman. "Climmy, take this girl and the baby to Miz 'Cinda and her husband's suite please, Dear. Help get them settled in and then bring them to the main parlor." 

'Cinda and Polly accompanied by Pat were shown to a large suite of rooms. Climmy asked if Miz 'Cinda needed a bath. If she did a tub would be brought in a few minutes. "No, Climmy, thank you, I would like to wash my hands and face after the trip." 

"Yessum, Theys uh basin and water in de dressin' room. De commode and chamber pot are der too. I wait out side in de hall to shows ya to da parlor."

'Cinda and pat were surprised at the number of people in the large room waiting to meet them. Sean did the honors and introduced them to his son by Molly, Sean Patrick Murphy Junior. He introduced Orlando Sanchez and his wife Priscilla, a strikingly beautiful black haired beauty, who he said was an Indian Princess from Virginia. 

Everyone was talking happily when Polly entered with the squalling baby. "Cinda rushed to take it and sat in a chair. Polly held a small light blanket while "Cinda opened her bodice and popped a breast in the babies mouth. Polly placed the blanket over the baby. 'Cinda looked up and carried on the conversation where she had left off. Pricilla and Molly had to have peeks at little Jimmy as he nursed. They thought he was adorable. 

Pat, Orlando, and Sean talked with Sean's son who used the name Pat too. He was a nice boy about twelve or thirteen years old. The men discussed the progress of the war with the Seminole Indians. They were interrupted by one of the house servants who talked with Sean. Sean turned to Pat, "Do you speak Mikasuki or Muskogean?"

"I have a smattering of both, I am fairly fluent in Cherokean and Catawban."

"One of our Indian Scouts is just reporting in, I thought you might like to listen in."

"I would like that, I may be able to understand a little."

A tall thin lightly built Indian dressed in partly Indian garb and partly in white man's clothes. He talked rapidly to Sean. Pat understood quite a bit of what was being said. The scout said there were a group of chiefs, including Osceola, meeting in the Big Swamp area. There were several references to a Red Hawk or Eagle. Evidently the Seminoles were very much afraid of the Red Hawk. Both Sean and Orlando questioned the scout. Pat could tell they both spoke like natives. The scout was obviously in awe of both of them but very much deferred to Sean. Sean gave him a lot of praise for his work and instructed him as to where he should go to be fed and shown a place to rest or sleep. The Indian smiled and said he thanked Red Hawk and Big Bear.

Pat was very impressed with the two Marine Officers. They talked some more about the war. Sean said this time of year was the best for fighting because of the dryer weather. Many of the roads and trails were impassable to wagons and some even to horses when it was really wet. Supplying food for men and animals under those conditions was all but impossible. To make things worse during the rainy season any dry area was likely to be covered by venomous snakes.

Climmy announced that dinner was being served. The dinning room was quite large and the long table was not nearly full. Climmy ran the whole thing and directed the dinner. After a lovely meal the adults retired to a smaller family room. The men were offered Brandy. Pat declined saying he had never acquired the taste for alcoholic beverages. He was offered a concoction of fruit juices that the ladies liked. He tried it and enjoyed it very much.

Molly asked Sean if the scout had anything interesting to report. Sean told her of the meeting between the chiefs at the Big Swamp, and about the fear the Seminoles had of the Red Hawk.

Pat mentioned that his Negroes had told him that a Red Hawk was destroying Indian villages but that he didn't know what they meant. The message going around the bands of Seminoles was that if you heard the cry of the hawk at night; you must run away from your village as fast as you could.

Molly laughed and Pat saw that Sean, Orlando and Pricilla were all smiling. Molly said, "Pat, Dear, they are talking about my sweet husband, he IS the Red Hawk. His Indian name is Red Hawk. Priscilla is famous too. She is the heroine of Orange Springs!"

"Holly Cow, is she the girl that stood up to Osceola at the Post?"

"Yes."

"I can't believe she could do that, she is tiny. Wow!"

Osceola had surprised 'Cilla in the post store. He told her she was beautiful and that he was going to take her for his wife. She told him she was already married to Orlando and he said he would take her anyway. She smiled sweetly at him then moved closer to him. Her little hand shot out and grabbed him by the genitalia and clamped down hard. He screamed and raised he arm to hit her when he felt a sharp pain in his penis, he saw she held a sharp knife. She told him his options; he could get his penis cut off, or run away, he chose to run away. The story was over all of Florida like lightning and even spread all over the country.

Orlando laughed, "She is small but she is like a small rattlesnake, they bite hard too."

'Cilla jumped to her feet, "I am small. But don't call me a snake, you big ox, or you will find out how hard I can bite."

Pat had to smile at the little girl with the flashing eyes; he would hate to be the target of her anger. Then he noticed the loving little smile of adoration she gave her huge husband.

Polly brought Jimmy in for another feeding. 'Cinda smiled at the girl, "Have you a place to sleep tonight?"

"Yessum, Climmy gonna let me stay in the servant's quarters heah in dis big house wit her. It nice der."

"That's good Polly, I won't need you again until morning."

"No Ma'am, Ah he'ps ya get undress an' reddy fo' bed. Den Ah rest some."

"Polly, Jimmy is sleeping almost all night now. Maybe we can both get some rest."

"Yessum, he so cute, I loves him ta pieces. Ah sit up all night and rock him if ya wants."

"No, Dear, you go get some rest, the Mista and I can get me undressed and get Jimmy to bed."

"Yessum, jus' pull de bell an' Ah comes."

The next morning Pat accompanied Sean and they rode to the field several hundred yards behind the plantation house. They watched as Orlando galloped up with two groups of horsemen leading several mules behind each group. Orlando shouted a command and the two squads halted. Orlando gave a hand signal and all the men dismounted and ran for the pack mules. Each squad unloaded a small mortar, which was carried by two men to a place where Orlando had dropped a small wooden stake. Other men opened a box carried on a mule and ran forward carrying a powder charge and a shell for the mortar. 

Pat watched as Sean looked at each squad, then raised his arm and dropped it. The two little cannon roared and the target was destroyed by hundreds of lead balls raining down from the shells that exploded about fifty feet above. The squads packed the mortars back on the horses or mules and they rode off. They went to the other side of the field and turned and galloped back. They pulled up to stop in a different spot and were back in action quickly, more lead balls crashed into the target. Pat couldn't believe how devastating the little cannon were. Orlando laughed, "Pat, you should see it when we fire all eight mortars in a five second ripple for five shots for each mortar. There is a shell exploding on the target every five seconds for nearly a minute and a half. It is truly awesome when forty shells hit one after the other.




The Hunter Ch. 03



Sean told Pat that they had another type of cannon too. They had two Mountain Howitzers that fired the same shells used by the mortars but at much longer ranges. There was not enough room to shoot them in this field. Pack mules also carried the howitzers. Sean said that they could raid Seminole villages almost anywhere in central Florida. The plan was to destroy the villages without killing the occupants. They hoped to destroy the food and other supplies the Indians had in each village. The object was to force the Indians to obey the treaties that the Indians had signed agreeing to be removed to reservations west of the Mississippi River. Sean saw this as the only way to prevent the almost total annihilation of the tribe. 

Pat thought the idea of moving the whole tribe was wrong. He mentioned this to the two Marine officers. They totally agreed with him, and said they were bad treaties. In the Seminole culture no one person could speak for another. Therefore the Seminole people felt a treaty bound only the signatories to honor the treaty. One of the provisions of the treaties was that no slaves could be taken west of the Mississippi River. Many of the Seminoles had married runaway slaves. Therefore many braves were in the position of being asked to surrender their wives and children to be sold by the white men into slavery if the original owner could not be found. Sean, Orlando and Pat rode back to the plantation house. Pat was in awe of the size and scope of Molly's plantation. There were many fields under cultivation and very industrious Negroes working everywhere. The workers seemed to be happy and cheerful. Pat asked how many slaves Molly had. Sean smiled and said, "None, we don't hold with slavery ourselves but don't try to force our beliefs on anyone else. All the Nigers you see here are Freedmen and women. There are seventy-five workers here but we have over a hundred and twenty living on the place counting wives and children. I have a plantation in Virginia too and all my Nigers have been freed."

Pat asked, "How come you call them Nigers instead of niggers?"

"It's the same thing, Most of them originally came from Niger in Africa. The slaves them selves corrupted Niger into nigger. It is often used by them to mean a slave or a slave's descendant."

"Another thing, what are all these hogsheads on the wagons carrying and where are they going?" 

"They carry sugar cane juice to Molly's distillery in St. Augustine to be made into rum."

"I've seen the big Elkton Distillery over there."

"That is Molly's, I am her second husband. She was a widow for many years before we were married last year. I didn't know I had fathered a son by her before I joined the Marines, it's a long story."

"She is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen."

"I agree with you there. "Cinda is her equal I believe."

"They look a lot alike, they could almost be sisters."

"That's true. Say, do you want to try one of our Colt's revolvers?"

"I sure do. Orlando showed me all about his last night. It is an amazing piece of engineering. I can't wait to try one." 

Sean grinned, "Let's ride over there where we have targets set up." Sean led Pat to a well-trodden area behind a fence. 

Sean dismounted and Pat followed suit. "Look over here, see the five little squares sticking up above the log?"

"Yes", Sean, "I see what you are talking about."

"Here is the game we play, try to hit the little square iron targets. When you hit one it will spin for one minute. The object is to get all five spinning at one time."

"You have to hit all five in one minute."

"Right!"

Sean handed Pat his Colt pistol.

Pat took careful aim and fired. Boom, Wang Wizzz. The first target spun rapidly, Boom, Wang, Wizz, Boom, Wang, Wizz, Boom, Wang, Wizzz, Boom, Wang, Wizzz.

"Hey! Pat! That is great shooting. You have all the targets spinning like crazy. Here is another cylinder, fully loaded. When the targets all stop try it again."

Five more shots rang out with the same results. Pat looked at Sean, "This is so much better than any other gun I have ever seen, and I am speechless."

"Pat, you are one of the best shots I have ever seen. To pick up a weapon for the first time and not miss a shot is really outstanding marksmanship."

That night "Cinda and Pat lay cuddling in each others arms when they both heard something. "What was that?" asked Pat.

"It sounded like a woman in a moment of great pleasure." Said "Cinda. "Kiss me my husband. I want to feel like she did." 

Pat pulled down the bodice of her gown and kissed around her full and taught breasts. A trickle of milk ran from her nipple, he could not resist sucking at it. His mouth filled with her milk. She pulled his head closer to her breast. "Oh! Sweetheart, that feels so good. Do that some more. I have more than enough for Jimmy. Suck on the other one too. You know I love that. Oh! Honey you are as hard as an ax handle. I want him inside me."

He moved aside and lifted her gown up around her waist. He crawled up over her and between her open legs. She was wet and ready for him. His cock slipped deep inside her. She was still stretched from childbirth but not as much as before, she was almost back to normal. He loved the way she felt but longed for the tight pussy she had before the baby. She was really feeling the love of his body and had to cover her mouth with her hands. He was thrusting deep inside now. She loved it, it was so damned good. She loved him with all her heart and knew he was the perfect husband and lover for her.

She heard his breath get louder and knew he was close to filling her with his seed. She prayed they were making another baby. That was her reason for being, to bear him strong healthy sons and daughters. Her orgasm hit her harder than she was expecting. She tried to muffle her joyous scream but she was not too successful, she didn't care, she felt so good it didn't matter. He relaxed and moved off of her. She got up and hurried to the washbasin and soaked a cloth and cleaned herself. She rinsed the cloth and cleaned and dried Pat. She put a towel in the wet spot and cuddled up to him and was content.

The next morning Sean winked at Pat and asked if they had slept well. Pat grinned and said that they had a very comfortable night.

Sean said that he and Orlando were going on a raid against a Seminole Indian village about twenty miles away that night and asked if Pat would like to accompany them. He said he would like that. "Cinda looked upset about it. Sean told her that it was very safe; he said they had only suffered one casualty and that was an accident in camp and not on a raid. 'Cinda looked at her husband and nodded her approval. He knew her concerns and she knew he would feel himself less of a man if he didn't go. She knew her man and he had to go. His pride would not let him refuse the invitation. She knew the kind of man he was when she had married him. He was fearless, honest, brave and true. That was part of why she loved him so much.

Sean and Orlando outfitted Pat with a uniform; one of Sean's, a hat, a Colt revolver and two loaded extra cylinders. 

They would leave after dark. Each man would carry food for the trip in his small daypack worn on his belt. They would be traveling light, no shelters, only a rubberized ground cloth and a blanket rolled together behind the saddle.

There was a nice family meal at the main house and in the camp out back the men going on the raid were served a hardy early meal. The food Sean's men received was ten ties better than the Army troops received. Some of the regular Army food dated from the war of 1812, almost twenty years old and naturally inedible. The army troops averaged only about forty percent of their men able to perform their duties. Sixty percent were sick or wounded.

The horses and pack animals of the Army were in worse condition than the men in the field. The lack of grain for feed put the horses and mules in bad shape, most of the local grasses didn't provide much nourishment and wagons to carry feed could not keep up with a detachment of troops moving over three or four miles a day.

At dusk Sean moved the detachment consisting of twenty men and four mortars with one howitzer down the road at a walk. Everyone was silent. Any jingle or rattle of harnesses or tack was silenced by wrapping the offending item with strips of cloth carried for that purpose. Soon the column of men and animals moved almost silently along the sandy road.

Pat was surprised at how quietly the 23 horses with riders and the 12 pack mules moved along the road in the dark. Periodically native scouts would appear out of the darkness and consult with Sean. He whispered to Pat that every thing was looking good.

About midnight they stopped and dismounted. All the pack animals were checked and the loads adjusted. They stood or walked around some to ease their butts. Most of the men chewed on some of the smoked sausage they carried in their little packs. A sip or two of water from the canteens tasted good too. They were a little ahead of schedule so they rested for almost an hour.

They mounted up and moved out listening for noise from the gear. Pat had a clinking from his horses bridle. Sean moved up by Pat's horse's head and tied a rag around the ring on the bit that was at fault. 

Just before dawn three scouts met them. Everything was quiet in the village and it was fully occupied including about forty braves. The normal size of that village was only about forty people all together so most of the braves were a warpary.

The mortars were set up on spots chosen by the chief scout. There were aiming stakes for each position and the scouts had carefully measured the distance to the village. The howitzer was set up to cover the trail or road they were on. The village was on both sides of the road at an intersection of several trails.

At first light Sean checked that everyone was ready. He raised his pistol and looked around and got a thumbs up from each cannon team leader. He fired the Colt and screamed the cry of a hawk at the top of his lungs. The village came to life. They could hear people screaming and children crying. It was light enough to see people running from the village. Some started towards them then saw the detachment and turned and ran the other way.

Sean was watching through his small telescope and saw the braves trying to organize some resistance but the effort failed and the braves fled with everyone else. Sean waited until he felt sure every one in the village was clear. He raised his right arm and checked again with his men. He dropped his arm and one mortar roared. Sean counted softly, one potato, two potato, three potato and as he finished five potato he dropped his arm and the second mortar fired, he counted again. By the time all four mortars had fired the first was reloaded and fired again. When each little cannon had fired three times Sean screamed, "Load 'em back up." The mortars were quickly loaded back on the mules. The howitzer stayed in place. The mortars and their crews started back up the trail with Orlando in charge.

Sean and Pat waited and watched with the howitzer and it's crew to see if any pursuit was organized. None was apparent so a mule was moved between the trail legs of the carriage and they headed after the main force. Sean and Pat waited a few minutes more then galloped after the cannons. As they caught up with the howitzer a scout ran up to Sean and told him he had seen a signal from another scout that a war party was approaching from the east down a small trail, the Indians were about a mile out. Sean quickly situated the howitzer just off the smaller trail behind some brush. Two more rounds of ammunition were extracted from the ammo box on a mule and placed near the little cannon. Sean and Pat moved a little ways back down the main trail. When the Braves were about 100 yards from the intersection of the trails Sean and Pat rode slowly into the intersection. They stopped and looked as the Indians trotted toward them. They kicked their mounts into a gallop until they were out of sight then they stopped and moved slowly back toward the junction of the trails. They heard the cannon roar and hurried back to the corner with their pistols in their hands. As they turned the corner the cannon roared again. They looked down the narrow trail and saw a pile of bodies in the trail. They walked their horses toward the mess in the road. One brave, his black skin painted with red and white chevrons on his face and chest, struggled from under other bodies and stood in the trail looking at his dead comrades. Pat raised his pistol and looked at Sean. Sean shook his head. "Let him go, let him spread the word about what happens if you chase the Red Hawk."

They helped get the Howitzer disassembled and back aboard two mules. It could move faster broken down into pieces on mules than it could be pulled down soft sandy roads and trails.

The trip back to the Elkton Plantation was uneventful. Scouts caught up with them about half way home. The scouts reported that the destruction of the village was total. Nothing useful was left. Every one of the dozen huts was leveled. Some were burning and those that weren't were set afire by the scouts.

*

Note: The characters, Sean and Molly Murphy and their son Pat, Pricilla and Orlando and others are from the Novel "The Cry of the Red Hawk." by the same author. It is a novel about the 2nd Seminole Indian War in the 1830s.



The Hunter House Tour



NOTE: In honor of my 50th submission on this site, I present the first few chapters of a non-erotic mystery novel. Based on feedback alone I will determine whether or not to finish it. Thank you for reading it and for your input. Love, Traci.

Chapter 1

Thirty miles. Half way. The sweltering, mid-morning July sun already was having an effect on the lone cyclist as he coasted down the country road. It had been an hour since the last of the blue-gray haze had burned off above the surrounding fields. Now he knew, with two hours of rolling roads in front of him, that he would have to stop soon for a rest.

But how far ahead was she. He hated her more with every passing mile. He struggled up a small hill and, at the top, peered ahead. Nothing but rolling road, corn fields, pastures and woods. She wouldn’t stop. He knew she wouldn’t. She’d ride until she passed out if it meant staying ahead of him.

Only the sound of an occasional mourning dove, a barking dog in the distance, and his heavy breathing broke the silence. Hot, humid air filled his lungs with every breath. He was drinking water constantly. And he needed a rest.

If he stopped now, he’d have to think of an excuse to use when she let him catch up to her. A flat tire? Attack dogs? Old age?

At forty one, Eric James was to the point where recreational cycling in organized, one-day tours was just that--recreation. He could do it, he usually enjoyed it and, well, it gave him a chance to spend some time with Sherrie Carlyle.

Five years younger than Eric, Sherrie rode with the fervor of a twenty year-old, intent on pushing herself to her physical limit on every ride and expecting no less from him.

But, less was what she was getting on this July morning. He was about two miles behind her, she guessed. Eight minutes; maybe ten. She knew the route they were traveling only got hillier as they headed south and the thought of a short rest sounded pretty good.

Ahead of her was a short, but steep, hill that was bordered by woods on both sides. The shade would be cool and the hill would afford her the chance to watch for him as he approached. She got up out of the bike seat and pedaled hard up the incline. As she reached the top of the hill, she saw a break in the trees on the left. Two faint tracks identified the opening as a path barely wide enough for a car to use.

She pulled off the road and the sharp clicks of her cycling shoes unhooking from the pedals echoed through the woods as she climbed off the bike. Resting the bike against the closest tree, she reached for a water bottle and looked back down the hill, then into the distance. From her vantage point, the road reminded her of a large scale version of the kiddie roller coaster she used to ride at the county fair.

She would be kind to him this early into the ride, she thought to herself. She would save the really brutal criticism until they were safely in his car driving back to Columbus.

With no one in sight, she decided to sit on a grassy bank at the side of the road and wait. Her water was only cool, at best, but it felt good as she drank it and poured a small amount over her face. It dripped down her neck and inside her cycling jersey. She fought the urge to use more of the water as a mini-shower, knowing that a small village was less than five miles ahead and fresh water would be available there.

In a few minutes, Eric could be seen cresting a hill a half-mile back from the one she now rested upon. Despite herself, she felt a sense of relief that he was alright. Worse yet, there was that unexplained contentment that she got from just being around him. She had struggled with her emotions for the past fifteen years over their failed relationship and ever-growing friendship. She refused to believe that she could ever succumb to his endless proposals. One dreadful marriage ending in divorce was enough for Sherrie Carlyle, she told herself.

All Eric James saw ahead was another small hill and then what looked like a much steeper one. Sweat poured down his face into his eyes and around his mustache. He was riding close to the edge of the road, taking advantage of what little shade was offered by the occasional clumps of trees. He decided if he couldn’t see her from the top of that big hill he’d stop and pay the consequences later. His physical need for rest was outdueling his mental desire to not give her reason for gloating. As he glided down preparing for the big climb, a reflection in the woods ahead caught his eye. It looked like a bike, he thought. Then he saw her multi-colored jersey against the green background. Damn. She would sit and watch him struggle up the hill. If he had any nerve he would continue down the other side of the hill and.... No, he’d stop.

He felt like a thousand eyes were watching him as he neared the summit. He pulled into the small lane, half stumbled off his bike and put it up against a tree opposite hers.

“That look is good on you,” he said between breaths, making sure she saw his eyes staring at her small nipples through her wet jersey.

“Pervert,” she replied. “You don’t deserve it after the way you’ve been riding today.”

“Well, there was this bear that jumped out of the woods at me and....”

“Here, have some water. You’re hallucinating again.”

“How far to that next town,” he said, pulling out his map and sitting next to her.

“A couple of miles. That’s another half hour for you.”

“Go to hell.”

“If we don’t finish this ride by 12:30 or 1, we’re going to think we are in hell.”

“Yeah, that rain last night is making it feel like a sauna out here this morning.”

“Have you seen any of the other riders?” she asked.

“Not since about the twenty mile mark. There’s probably only about a hundred people doing this tour, and we got started late, remember.”

“Don’t look at me. I told you to be there at 7. I was ready.”

“I couldn’t get her off of me,” he said disgustedly. “She wanted more. Then the shower....”

“In your dreams,” she said, cutting him off. “C’mon. Let’s get going. I’m starved.”

She pushed herself up and suppressed a laugh when she heard him grunt behind her. She glanced instinctively down the path as she crossed it. “Yeah, like a car is going to come speeding down on me from out of the woods,” she thought to herself. The quietness of the woods around them was a sound in itself. Every step they took sounded like they were in an empty school hallway.

As she returned her glance from down the path to her bike, something caught her attention. Something out of place amid the grass and dirt and trees.

“Hey, Eric, hold on,” she said, not taking her eyes off the dark brown object.

“What?” he asked.

She was walking along the side of the path away from the main road, heading towards a clump of thick grass. She felt like she was being drawn by an unseen force.

“If you have to go, I’m not waiting,” he yelled.

He saw her stop.

“Oh..my..God!” was all he heard.

Eric ran the twenty yards it took to get to her. She had walked around to the opposite side of a gap in the heavy underbrush. They both stared down at the body, then at each other, then at the body.

“I don’t believe it,” Eric muttered. “I just don’t believe it.”

He reached down and put his fingers on either side of the man’s neck. The head rolled over onto its side with his touch, causing Sherrie to let out a small gasp and take a half jump-step backwards. She quickly put her hands to her mouth and whispered, “Sorry.”

They were looking down on a man in his 50’s, well tanned and solidly built. He wore a light-weight short-sleeve dress shirt, tan slacks and dark brown loafers. The man lay on his back at a ninety degree angle to the path, six or seven feet into the grass with his head near the woods. Brownish-red, dried blood stained his hands. More blood could be seen on the ground on both sides of the body from the man’s neck to his knees.

“Well, don’t touch anything,” Eric said in a shaky voice. “I don’t think he got here by accident.”

“Eric, we have to call the cops.”

“Yeah. It’s not going to do him any good, but I wouldn’t want to be seen leaving here, either.” Eric got up and looked around them. The lane continued for a short distance, then turned into the woods and out of view. If there were houses nearby, they were not visible.

“If you want to stay here, I’ll ride ahead and send somebody back for you,” Sherrie suggested. Her voice had lost the firm, deep tones he was accustomed to.

“OK. That might be best. I also don’t want to walk up to the nearest house without knowing who this guy is. I’m in favor of turning it over to the cops as soon as possible. You go ahead. I’ll watch for a sheriff’s car on the road, but I think you’ll have better luck in...what is it...Clearview. Isn’t that the name of that little place ahead?”

“Yeah, that sounds right,” she said. “I don’t remember it being large enough to have its own policeman, but I can call the sheriff’s office from there.”

“OK.” He looked at her intently “You alright?”

“Sure. I’ll be OK. I won’t be long,” she said as firmly as her dry throat would allow.

Eric followed her back to her bike and watched as she dropped out of sight down the far side of the hill. In the opposite direction, two more riders could be seen rolling up and down the road. He hoped his stopping along the side of the road didn’t result in the place becoming a gathering spot for other tired riders, as was known to happen on hot days. He thought about moving across the road to the other side, but decided he was being overly cautious. It was only a dead man’s body, he told himself, and he doubted that anyone else stumbling upon it now would suspect him of any foul play.

He watched the pair of riders come up the hill and, to his great relief, pass with a quick “Mornin’” and disappear. He glanced behind him down the path, not knowing what he expected to see that was any different than the last time he looked.

Sherrie Carlyle could see the first few houses that constituted Clearview less than ten minutes after leaving Eric. She knew they had passed through it on other rides, but they must have come in from another direction, as nothing yet stirred her memory. The woods on either side were thinning out and, after crossing over a small stream, she passed the first house that was not associated with a farm. She passed a small, wooden sign atop a shaky metal stake. “Welcome to Clearview. Incorporated 1868. Population 643.”

Her attention was drawn back to the road by a dog barking at her ominously. She reached for her dog repellent spray before seeing that the animal was tied in a nearby yard. A large, dirty man was working in a garden near the house.

“That’s enough, Jake,” the man yelled while watching the young woman pass by.

Ahead and to her right she noticed a beautiful, three story brick home with a sign hanging in the front yard. “The Hunter House” was painted in big white letters on the top, just above “Bed and Breakfast” in smaller letters. A separate, small “Vacancy” sign swung on metal hooks from the bottom of the bigger sign.

“This will do,” she said to herself.

She propped her bike up against the sign, took off her helmet, hung it over one of the handlebars, and put her cycling gloves inside the helmet. She ran her fingers through her short brown hair, attempting unsuccessfully to restore it to its normal appearance. A few shakes of her head as she walked up the half dozen steps leading to the porch helped a little.

A “Please Come In” sign was nailed next to the storm door. The door opened with a distinctive squeak, which was quickly followed by the ringing of bells from above the door. Sherrie was instantly engulfed in the beauty, comfort and age of the room she had entered. To her left was a staircase leading to the second floor and, to the left of the steps, the entrance to a large dining room. The room she was in had once served as the living room of the old mansion and was dominated by several over-stuffed, high-backed chairs and sprawling couches. The wall facing her on the right contained a magnificent stone fireplace and brick hearth. The hardwood floor was uncovered except for a thin area rug in front of the fireplace.

Opposite the fireplace and along the wall under the staircase was the check-in desk. Sherrie guessed that it once served as the bar in a now defunct drinking establishment. She thought for a moment that she had somehow been transported back in time to the turn of the century.

She was jolted back into reality by the appearance of an elderly, white-haired lady, who entered through swinging doors separating the main room from another room Sherrie could not see.

“Well, hello. What can I do for you?” the woman asked pleasantly, wiping her hands on a plaid apron.

Sherrie hadn’t thought much about what she was going to say, and after a brief mental de-briefing, replied, “I would like to know if I could use your phone. A friend and I are on a bike tour and there’s been...,” she hesitated, “an accident up the road. I would like to notify the sheriff, if I can.”

“Oh, dear. Of course you can,” the woman said, sounding to Sherrie like a grandmother reassuring her grandchild. “Here, and the phone book is right here, too.”

“Thanks.”

She opened to the front of the small phone book and quickly found the emergency numbers. Fire, police, sheriff. Sherrie dialed the number and waited, glancing at the old woman and smiling.

“Sheriff’s office. Jill speaking. Can I help you?”

“Yes,” Sherrie said, her voice cracking slightly. “Is the sheriff in?”

“Not at the moment, ma’am,” the young girl answered. “But, we can reach him if it’s an emergency.”

“I believe it is. Would it be alright to leave a number where he could reach me, if you promise it won’t be too long?”

“Sure. What is it?”

“Have him call The Hunter House in Clearview and ask for Sherrie. Wait, I’ll give you the number.”

“The Hunter House? That’s OK, we have it,” the girl said. “And ask for Sherrie?”

“That’s correct.”

“May I ask what type of emergency this is,” the girl asked politely.

Sherrie hesitated. “Uh, medical. But, I’ll explain it all to the sheriff if you can have him call.”

“OK, it shouldn’t be long.”

“Thank you,” Sherrie said, and hung up.

“Do you need the squad?” the old woman asked.

Sherrie could see the excitement building in the woman’s face and wasn’t sure how to satisfy her without having to go over the entire story. She only knew that as soon as the sheriff called, there would be no hiding it from her any longer.

“No, that’s OK. Can I sit down for a minute?”

“Of course, dear,” the woman said, scurrying from behind the desk to escort Sherrie to one of the large chairs. “How about something cold to drink. Ice tea?”

“That would be great,” Sherrie said, knowing it would buy her a few seconds of peace, at least.

When the woman had gone back through the swinging doors, Sherrie looked around the room again, this time focusing on the enormous paintings hung on each wall. Straight out of a Smithsonian exhibit on American History, she decided.

Much too quickly, the proprietor came back with a thick green glass full of iced tea. “My name’s Dorothy Hunter. I’m the owner here,” she said, handing over the glass.

“Sherrie Carlyle. Nice meeting you,” replied Sherrie with a smile.

The woman appeared to Sherrie to be in her early sixties. Her pure white hair was cut short and seemed to curl naturally. The woman sat down on a couch across from Sherrie.

“Where did you say this accident was?” the woman said after a short silence.

“Maybe three miles back up the road, to the north.”

“Was it someone you know,” the woman persisted.

“No. Not really.” Sherrie was feeling more uncomfortable with every passing second. It must have been obvious, because Mrs. Hunter looked down at her hands and then into the empty fireplace.

Mercifully, the phone rang. Both women flinched before Mrs. Hunter got up and walked quickly to the desk.

“Hunter House,” she answered. “Yes, she is. One second, please.”

“It’s for you Ms. Carlyle,” Mrs. Hunter said, trying to suppress her obvious excitement.

Sherrie was already up and crossing the floor.

“Thank you,” she said, taking the phone. “Hello....Yes it is....Oh, hello Sheriff Jackson. Thank you for calling so quickly. Let me explain why I called. My friend and I were stopped along the side of the road about three or four miles north of Clearview on, well, whatever road that is that goes straight north out of Clearview....Yeah, that sounds right....Anyway, we stopped at the top of this hill to rest. We’re on a bike tour and, well, while we were stopped there, we, uh...,” Sherrie glanced at Mrs. Hunter, “we, uh...found a man’s body.”

“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Hunter gasped loudly.


Chapter 2

Sherrie Carlyle told the sheriff she would start heading back to the site where Eric James waited, and meet the sheriff and a deputy there.

Sherrie looked at Mrs. Hunter, whose face now displayed shock, excitement and disbelief all in one strange fixed stare. Sherrie shrugged.

“I’m sorry this had to happen, but I appreciate being able to use your phone.”

“A man’s body? Who was it?” the woman asked without thinking. Before her visitor could think of a kind way of answering, the woman blurted, “Well, of course, you wouldn’t know who it was, would you?”

“Afraid not.”

“Three or four miles. That would be up by old man...,” Mrs. Hunter’s voice trailed off as if she had fallen asleep, but her eyes were wide and intent. “Oh, who knows.”

“Well, I have to get back. I really do appreciate everything you’ve done,” Sherrie said, heading towards the front door.

“Oh, my, that’s OK. You’re welcome at The Hunter House anytime. Come back when you can stay,” said Mrs. Hunter, closely following her.

“I will.”

Eric James watched about a dozen riders go past in the half hour since Sherrie had left. He alternated glances between the left and right. On the right he prayed for riders who would proceed down the hill without stopping and on the left he watched intently for a lone cyclist coming back up the hill. The intense heat of the day was now building and what little air had been with them in the early morning was replaced with a stifling calm.

He watched cows graze in a large uncut field in the distance. Their lethargic movements seemed appropriate for the time and place.

A car came quickly up over the hill on his left and sped past. Then, appearing just as quickly as she had disappeared, Sherrie could be seen riding slowly towards him.

She took several deep breaths as she got off her bike.

“No sheriff yet, I take it,” she finally said.

“Nope. Is he on the way?”

“Yeah. I called him from this great B&B in Clearview. You should have seen the old lady that runs the place. What a dear. I just made her day, I think,” Sherrie said as they both sat down.

“What did you tell them?”

“Well, I told the sheriff that we had found a man’s body and left it at that...besides the general location.”

Eric nodded. “How long did he say it would take?”

“He didn’t. We just agreed to meet here.”

“I suppose he’ll want to take us into Sherman for statements. Maybe we can get lucky and do it here.”

Sherrie shrugged. She tilted her head and looked sideways at her riding partner. “Did you plant that guy there so you wouldn’t have to finish this ride?”

He put on his best “if looks could kill” face and then quickly turned back away from her. She knew he couldn’t resist her innocent, green-eyed sideways glance. It was one of many weapons she often used on him when she sensed he was getting up-tight about something. She could sense it now.

Before he had a chance to reply, they both saw the sheriff’s car coming over the rolling hills from the direction of Sherman. They stood simultaneously without saying a word. As the car reached the crest of the hill, the uniformed driver switched on the emergency lights on top of the car and pulled off the road across from where they stood. He spoke into the police radio for a brief moment, then got out.




The Hunter House Tour



He crossed the road and, after a prolonged glance at Sherrie, extended a hand towards Eric and said, “Deputy Smith.”

Smith was a short, 32 year old man who had been a deputy for three years. He got his job, according to most county residents who cared about such things, because of his assistance during the sheriff’s stunning election victory over a long-time incumbent.

“Hello,” Eric answered and shook the officer’s hand. “I’m Eric James and this is Sherrie Carlyle.”

“You called from Clearview?” Smith asked Sherrie.

“That’s right. Is the sheriff coming?”

“Oh, yes. He’s about five minutes behind me. Where’s the body?” the deputy asked abruptly.

“Down the path--maybe thirty yards,” Eric replied.

“We’ll wait for Sheriff Jackson,” the deputy said. “He was right about it being on Bill Steadman’s land. The old man’s house is down on the other side of this hill behind the trees. Everything on this side of the road for about a half mile in each direction is his. We’ve been up here often enough responding to his complaints that people were prowling around. Usually ends up being nothing at all or young kids messing around. How old did you say the guy was you found?”

Eric and Sherrie looked at each other. Eric spoke first. “Maybe 50, 55. Definitely not a kid.”

The sound of an approaching car made their heads turn in unison. They saw the flashing emergency lights crest the hill before they saw the body of the black and white sheriff’s car. Sheriff Jackson pulled in behind the deputy’s car, put on his hat, and emerged into the heat.

As he approached, Eric was taken aback by the relative youth of the officer. He guessed the man to be in his late thirties or early forties. Not at all the overweight, aging sheriff that he usually saw portrayed on TV and in the movies.

“Good morning,” Sheriff Jackson said with a polite tip of the hat to Sherrie.

She smiled and, this time, she was the first to speak. “Are you Sheriff Jackson?”

“Yes. You must be Sherrie Carlyle.”

“Yeah. And this is Eric James. I hope we were correct in calling you about this,” she said apologetically.

“Yes. This is our jurisdiction. Is he back there?” the sheriff asked, pointing down the path.

“That’s correct,” Deputy Smith said immediately. “Thirty yards. We haven’t been back there, yet, though.”

“OK. I think what I’d like to do is take one of you back there to show me the body,” the sheriff said, nodding to both James and Carlyle. “I don’t want to disrupt the scene any more than it already has been. After that, we’ll seal off the area, call the coroner--I assume you’re certain that he’s dead--and then take your statements. That’s just normal procedure, you understand.”

Eric and Sherrie nodded without comment.

“I’ll go,” Eric volunteered.

He and the sheriff started down the path, the sheriff looking down and on either side as they walked. Eric, himself six feet tall but weighing only 170 pounds, felt small next to the man he judged to be three inches taller and fifty pounds heavier. With his sheriff’s hat on, the officer was an impressive figure. Very electable, Eric thought.

As they approached the body, the sheriff touched Eric’s arm and said, “Stay over here in the grass, off the soft ground. We may be able to get some tracks. Damn rain last night washed them away, probably.”

The sheriff reached the body and stood over it.

“Well, I’ll be. It is John Sanders,” Sheriff Jackson said almost to himself. “Damn.”

He put his hands on his hips and looked into the woods, then down the path to where it disappeared.

“Damn,” he muttered again.

Sherrie Carlyle and Deputy Smith watched the two men walk back in silence. The sheriff said, “Smitty, call Dr. Weaver. Have them bring a squad. No rush. Tape off this area two hundred yards on either side of the path, all the way back through to the end of these woods,” pointing away from the main road.

“Yes, sir,” the deputy said turning towards his car.

The sheriff, James and Carlyle silently surveyed the site--Eric and Sherrie because they didn’t know what to do next and the sheriff for no apparent reason. The awkward pause was broken by the sheriff’s audible sigh and he asked, “How long can you two stay here?”

“All day, I guess,” Eric answered for them. “We have to get back to my car up at the fairgrounds in Sherman at some point.”

“Where you from?”

“Columbus,” Sherrie said. Eric nodded.

“You two married?”

Carlyle and James smiled and nearly in unison said, “No.”

Deputy Smith rejoined the others carrying a black notebook. “They’re coming,” he told them. “We’re lucky we were able to reach Weaver before he hit the golf course.”

“Yeah. This will screw up his Saturday for sure,” the sheriff said. “Let’s get a quick statement from these folks so we can let them go as soon as possible after Doc gets here.”

“OK,” the deputy said, letting out a deep breath. “Let’s sit over here in the shade,” pointing to the same spot Sherrie and Eric had staked out earlier.

The deputy, Carlyle and James headed for the grassy bank, while the sheriff took a few steps down the path, hands in his pockets.

“OK, who wants to start,” Deputy Smith asked as soon as they were seated.

Eric recounted the story up to the discovery of the body and Sherrie added her version of the visit to The Hunter House.

“Ah, yes, good ol’ Dorothy Hunter,” the deputy interjected at that point. “It’ll be all over Clearview now, and half of Sherman. I bet the phone hasn’t been back on the hook since you left,” he said looking at Sherrie.

She was finishing her recollections of the call to the sheriff’s office when a car pulled onto the berm across from the two officers’ vehicles. A white haired man with a striking, walrus-like mustache got out carrying a dark leather bag. Coroner Weaver was met by the sheriff and they held a short conversation.

“Well, let’s go see what the coroner needs,” the young deputy said, getting up to his feet slowly.

After formal introductions, the party of five proceeded back down the path, once again urged by the sheriff to keep in the grass near the edge of the woods.

Upon reaching the body, the coroner opened his bag and took out a small camera. He took a half dozen shots of the body and immediate surrounding area before placing the camera back in the opened bag. He pulled out a pair of white plastic gloves and slowly inserted a hand in each one, meticulously pulling the glove tight over each finger.

“Did anyone touch the body?” the coroner asked.

“Yes, I checked for a pulse on his neck,” Eric answered.

“Nothing?” the coroner asked him without looking up.

“Nope.”

The coroner kneeled down next to the body. He looked up at James and Carlyle and said softly, “I’m going to inspect the body for a minute. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

The two cyclists shook their heads and didn’t move.

The coroner put one hand under the dead man’s left arm and his other hand under the man’s left leg. He gently lifted the body and peered underneath. As if on cue, his four witnesses each lowered their heads at various angles to see for themselves. The ground was a dark reddish-brown, in sharp contrast to the green grass and weeds around the body. The back of the man’s shirt and pants were solid with the same dark hue. Several small slits could be seen in the man’s shirt.

“Don, do you mind holding him up for a second so I can get a shot,” the coroner asked Sheriff Jackson.

The sheriff did as instructed and the picture was taken. From behind the group, an approaching vehicle could be heard coming to a stop. The squad parked behind the coroner’s car and two uniformed medics got out. They opened the back of the squad and pulled out a wheeled stretcher.

“No,” the sheriff shouted to them quickly. “Bring a bag. I don’t want any wheel tracks over here.”

The medics nodded and soon joined the others with a large green body bag. Quick greetings were exchanged and, after determining that the coroner had all he needed for the moment, the body was unceremoniously inserted into the bag. Each medic grabbed an elastic handle at opposite ends of the bag and, without further comment, carried it back to the squad and were gone in the direction of Sherman.

Sherrie Carlyle was fascinated by the cold suddenness of it all. She stood looking down at the darkened indentation in the overgrown brush in front of her. She was conscious of alternating feelings of grief, excitement, and, above all, curiosity. Her eyes caught those of Eric and they communicated without speaking.

Eric looked back down at the ground, then at the coroner closing his bag. It was all so unreal.

The sheriff broke the silence with a question directed at both James and Carlyle. “Can you two be in my office on Monday to sign statements and answer any other questions we have by then?”

Eric and Sherrie looked at each other. Sherrie shrugged. “Sure.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Eric added.

“Good. Anytime will be fine,” Sheriff Jackson said, as the group started walking towards the parked bikes and cars.

“What happens now?” Sherrie asked.

“Well, I’ll be meeting with my deputies to start the investigation here. We’ll need to talk to Steadman. This is his land. Sanders lived right over there,” the sheriff said, pointing back over his shoulder to the left of the path. “Dr. Weaver will do the autopsy this afternoon, I assume,” he said, looking at the coroner, who nodded.

After a pause, the sheriff looked at the cyclists and asked, “Do you guys need a ride anywhere?”

“No, we’re alright,” Eric said.

“Does Smitty have both of your addresses and phone numbers?”

“Yeah,” Eric answered.

“Then I’ll probably see you Monday.”

“OK,” James and Carlyle answered in unison.

Sheriff Jackson, Deputy Smith and Coroner Weaver offered their thanks and walked together to the coroner’s car.

Eric and Sherrie waited at their bikes for a moment before Sherrie said softly, “Well, not your normal rest stop, was it?”

“What time is it?” James asked, ignoring her attempt at humor.

She punched a couple buttons on the cycling computer mounted on her handlebars and said, “11:45.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Eat.”

“Where?”

“Let’s head for Clearview, I guess. I didn’t make it all the way into town, so I’m not sure what’s there,” she said.

“Can’t be much,” he said dryly.

“Even if it’s just a corner store, we can buy something there.”

“OK. And something cold to drink. I’m dyin’ of.... Sorry.”

Sherrie giggled as they finished putting on their helmets and gloves and pulled out towards the road. They could hear the sheriff tell his deputy, “Get Danny, Carl and Joe. Meet me back at the office at...two o’clock.”

James and Carlyle waved as they passed the officers and headed down the hill towards Clearview. No words were spoken between the two, as was often the case when they rode together. They rode for five or six minutes in silence before Eric pulled up beside Sherrie.

“I’ve got a wild idea and, uh, I know you won’t want to do this, but that’s OK,” Eric half stammered.

“What are you talking about?” Sherrie asked with a puzzled look on her face.

“Well, I’d really like to know what the sheriff and, especially, the coroner find out in the next couple of days,” Eric said between breaths as they climbed a small hill. “I’d like to stay down here and kind of hang around them for a while.”

Sherrie didn’t answer.

“Didn’t you get a strange feeling about what was going on back there?”

“You better believe it. Seemed mighty neat and clean. But, that was a first for me. So how do I know?”

“Listen. If you just want to come down Monday, that’s fine, but I might look for a place around here to stay in the meantime. A small vacation wouldn’t hurt, either.”

“How much work you got?”

“Susan can take care of it. I’ll be less than an hour away if something happens,” he said assuredly. “Besides, it’s my company, I can leave it whenever I want to.”

“Sometimes I think Susan is the company and you just pay the bills.”

“No, she does that, too.”

They rode for a few more minutes until the edge of Clearview could be seen.

“How long you gonna stay here?” Sherrie asked him.

“Oh, just a few days I guess. I just want to find out more about what happened. Don’t you?”

“Yeah, I do,” she answered quietly. After a lengthy pause, she said, “If I said I knew the owner of a great place to stay, would you be interested?”

“Only if you join me,” he said, looking across at her with a small smile.

“Separate rooms!” she demanded.


Chapter 3

“Right here,” Sherrie said as they approached The Hunter House’s front yard. “You’re gonna love this place.”They pulled into the driveway and rested their bikes up against the side of the red brick house. They walked along a stone sidewalk leading to the front steps and then up to the porch. Sherrie entered the house first and waited for Eric to follow.

Her eyes were dancing. “What do you think?”

“Not bad, so far,” he answered, still taking it all in.

Almost before the sound of the door bells had stopped, Mrs. Hunter could be heard at the top of the steps, “Coming.”

Sherrie Carlyle gently stuck her elbow into Eric James’ ribs and winked at him.

“Well, I’ll be,” the old woman said with a beaming smile.

“Hi, Mrs. Hunter,” Sherrie greeted her.

“I didn’t expect to see you again so soon. Come in and sit down.”

They followed her to the area in front of the fireplace--an area Sherrie now took as one of the woman’s favorites. Mrs. Hunter took one of the big chairs and the two guests shared a couch. Eric awkwardly caught himself when he sank further into the seat than he had expected.

“Mrs. Hunter, this is my friend Eric James.”

The two exchanged smiles.

“We’re thinking of staying here for a few days. Is that possible?” Sherrie asked.

“Of course it is, dear. Nobody else has come in this weekend, so you have your choice of rooms.”

“We’ll need two,” Sherrie quickly added. “How much is that?”

“Two rooms? Well, it’s normally $75 per night, per room, and you get a full breakfast every morning. But, listen. This isn’t any of my business, but are you having to stay here because of the Sanders thing?” the woman asked, lowering her voice.

“Kind of,” Eric said, who exchanged questioning glances with Sherrie.

“OK,” Mrs. Hunter said energetically. “Then how about $100 per night for both rooms and breakfast each morning, as long as you let me know the night before when you expect to get up.”

Sherrie looked at Eric, nodded, then told the owner, “It’s a deal.”

“Lovely, lovely. You can have the two front rooms upstairs. They have the best views. I’ll go get the sheets ready,” the woman said, bounding for the stairway.

“‘The Sanders thing’,” Eric repeated softly.

“Yeah, I know. She probably knew before we left the scene. My money’s on the sheriff’s dispatcher.”

“Could be. You know what else I think?” Eric continued without allowing her to answer. “When the sheriff and I were walking back to view the body, he said something about the rain last night washing away tracks. He didn’t know at that point how long the body had been there. I don’t know. That whole scene just spooked the hell out of me.”

“I think you’re reverting back to your investigator days,” Sherrie smiled at him, referring to his days at the state Bureau of Workers’ Compensation. “But, I didn’t think murders were your specialty.”

“Well....”

“It was a murder, wasn’t it?” she asked sincerely.

“I don’t think too many people stab themselves in the back until they die. And I don’t think we’ll have too much trouble getting some background on this guy from the old lady here.”

Sherrie giggled. “If she doesn’t have the answer, I bet she knows who does.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the ringing of the front door bells. They turned to see a young woman wearing a tee-shirt tucked into cut-off blue jean shorts enter the house. She took a couple of steps before noticing the pair of visitors.

“Oh, hi. I was looking for Mrs. Hunter,” the woman said.

“She’s upstairs, I believe,” said Sherrie

“Is that you, Lisa?” they heard Mrs. Hunter shout down the steps.

“Yes. Do you need any help?” the young woman shouted back.

“No. I’ll be right down.”

Lisa McAdams smiled at Eric and Sherrie as they introduced each other. Sherrie knew from past experience that this was a woman Eric would be talking about when they were alone. Cute though not beautiful; nice figure though not a goddess; tanned; and no wedding ring.

They were joined by Mrs. Hunter. “Have you all met?” she asked the group in general. “Lisa comes over every Saturday and we go to the grocery store together. I really enjoy the time we get together. She’s my adopted daughter, I tell people.” The old woman laughed.

“Well, your rooms are ready,” she continued, looking at her two guests. “One is the first door on the right at the top of the steps and the other is the first door on the left. The bath is in the center of the hallway on the opposite side. You can’t miss it. There are plenty of towels. If you need more blankets or sheets let me know, but in this heat I wouldn’t know why.”

She stopped to catch her breath and Sherrie took the opportunity to thank her. “I guess we’ll be riding back up to Sherman to get Eric’s car,” Sherrie said looking at Eric for confirmation. “Then we’ll grab some clothes at home and be back later this afternoon or early evening. Is that OK?”

“Of course it is, dear,” Mrs. Hunter said soothingly. “You’ve had a long day already, haven’t you? That will be fine.”

Eric and Sherrie excused themselves. As they headed for the front door, Sherrie saw Eric glance back at the two women.

“Hell. We’ll never leave this place now,” she said in a mock disgusted voice.

“Yeah, I could really get to like that Mrs. Hunter,” Eric said, winking at her.


Chapter 4

Coroner Richard Weaver’s office was in a small two-story brick and stone building built in the late 1800’s. It overlooked the town square in Sherman and, from the outside, could have been mistaken for private offices except for the County Coroner sign hanging beside the front door with Dr. Weaver’s name and the county seal on it. 

Inside, the reception area retained the old flavor of the building. But, beyond that, nearly all connections with the past were replaced with modern medical conveniences. At the end of the long middle hallway on the first floor was a large room resembling a hospital operating room. In this room on a hot July Saturday afternoon was the coroner and two assistants, a man and a woman, huddled over a body bag lying on a silver table in front of them.

The male assistant helped Doctor Weaver extract John Sanders’ body from the bag, while the second assistant pulled away the empty bag. She then grabbed a yellow legal pad and moved to the opposite side of the table from the doctor.

The procedure began in earnest with a stripping of the body. As each item of clothing was removed, it was labeled and put on a second long table near the dead man’s head. Within minutes, the coroner was viewing the nude body.

“No visible scars or bruises,” the white-haired official said without looking up. The female assistant wrote feverishly on her legal pad. The coroner ran his gloved hands over the dead man’s temples, down both sides of his throat, along the ribs and arms, and finally the legs and ankles.

“No indication of fractures,” he said curtly. “Let’s get him over.”

The body was lifted and turned in one swift, smooth motion by the coroner and his male assistant. The back of the man’s body was caked with dark, dried blood from under the shoulder blades to the back of the knee. As the coroner washed the body, he was supplied with clean, damp cloths from a large sink. When Sanders’ back was cleaned, the assistants heard the coroner let out an audible “Humph.”




The Hunter House Tour



He took out a silver pen from the pocket of his lab coat and began counting small, narrow cuts on the dead man’s back. “Eight lacerations,” he announced and the assistant scribbled. He pulled out a drawer from under the table and withdrew a measuring tape. He placed the beginning of the tape at the top of the man’s spine and held it in place with his finger. Extending the tape, he said, “Beginning eleven and a half inches from the base of the neck. All wounds within a six square inch space below that point.”

The coroner used a small knife to prod lightly at each wound. “Entry points range from one half to three fourths of an inch in height and are shallow,” he went on. After a few more minutes examining the outside of the body, the coroner finished the autopsy by taking a sample of the stomach contents and looking at other internal organs.

Richard Weaver straightened up and stepped back from the first murder victim he had examined in nearly two years. He turned, took off his gloves, and washed his hands. Looking back at the body, he stroked his overgrown mustache a half dozen times without comment.

“Mike, take the pictures. I think that’s all we need, Linda. Thanks for coming in on such short notice.”

He accepted the legal pad from the female assistant and walked down the hall to his office. He sat down and stared out the window at the near-empty town square.

Lisa McAdams listened intently as Mrs. Hunter recounted the events of the morning. They were driving down a narrow back road rolling through patches of thick woods, followed by fields and pastures.

“So, I called Jill at the sheriff’s office and asked her what she knew about it all,” Mrs. Hunter continued.

“What did she say?”

“Well, the deputy had called in to say it was that Sanders guy that lived up next to old man Steadman.”

“John Sanders?” Lisa asked with a sound of surprise.

“Why, yes. Do you know him?”

“I’ve heard a little bit about him from people I know.”

“Always feuding with Steadman, people told me,” the old woman said.

“You think this Steadman could have killed him?”

“Could have,” Mrs. Hunter said nonchalantly. “Could have been suicide, I suppose. Could have been the wife. Somebody told me she was jealous of the guy’s first wife.” She stopped again for a moment. “You’d never expect this around Clearview, though.”

They drove in silence through a small village dominated by a grain mill next to the railroad tracks and four or five Amish buggies carrying their black-clad passengers.

“You gonna be at the same school next year?” the old woman asked, peering out her window.

“Yes. I’ll have the third grade, though. That was the only opening they had. I haven’t taught that grade in three years. I guess since I didn’t arrive until April I’m lucky to get that.”

“You’ll do fine, I’m sure. How about a new apartment?”

“You know, I’m getting use to the one I’m in. I might stay. I sure enjoyed staying with you at first, though. If I hadn’t have needed the extra space, I might have stayed forever.”

Mrs. Hunter laughed. “You’re always welcome in The Hunter House.”

Sheriff Jackson put his black notebook on the long wooden table in front of him and looked around the conference room. The four deputies attending the meeting were a strange mix of gentlemen, ranging from a young man barely out of the police academy to a portly, bearded man twenty years older than Sheriff Jackson.

Jackson and Deputy Smith spent the next half hour reviewing the day’s events for the sake of the other deputies.

“What about the scene?” Deputy Joe Snyder, the eldest of the deputies, asked. “Anything usable there?”

“No weapon. No apparent sign of a struggle. Stabbed in the back, it looked like,” the sheriff said in a monotone.

“Any tracks?”

“Oh, some, but we can’t go by much that was there because those two witnesses had walked back to the body. Now, Smitty has already been to see Mrs. Sanders. I want Danny and Joe to go see old man Steadman this afternoon. Smitty, Carl and I will be at the scene. I want to know exactly what Steadman has to say as soon as you’re done. Got it?”

Danny Croft and Joe Snyder nodded.

“Oh, by the way, as usual all media people are directed to me,” the sheriff added, and the meeting ended almost as abruptly as it had started.

Once outside the sheriff’s brick office building, young Danny Croft and Joe Snyder stopped on the sidewalk as the other three officers headed for a cruiser.

“I expected more from him after the first murder here in a couple years,” Croft said.

Joe Snyder scratched his beard and said, “It’s early yet, and there’s no coroner’s report. But, I do think he’s leaning heavily towards Steadman as his man. We better not leave any stone unturned when we talk to him.”

The ride back to Eric James’ car at the county fairgrounds in Sherman was far less eventful than the ride to Clearview. Not many words were spoken between the two cyclists, even after they had passed the scene of the crime. A female deputy was standing guard at the end of the small lane and two people could be seen scouring the woods on either side of the path. They rode on in relative silence, both trying in their own minds to interpret what had happened to them earlier in the day.

They drove to Columbus, stopping only to drive through a McDonalds for lunch. Eric dropped off Sherrie at her northside condo and she agreed to meet him back at his house. She showered, packed lightly and began to anticipate with pleasure the small vacation she was going to take. She drove around the outerbelt to Eric’s eastside house and pulled into the driveway.

She beeped once and within seconds the garage door opened for her. Eric came out, took her bag to his car and commented on its light weight.

“Not staying long?” he asked her.

“Do you have any doubt that there’s a washer and dryer in that old house that we can use?”

“I was going to send you to the laundromat,” he replied innocently.

“While you and Ms. Cut-off Jeans get to know each other better? Not in a million years.”

“My, aren’t we getting possessive in our old age,” Eric said as he lowered the trunk and began attaching the bikes to the rack.

“Don’t push me, old man.”

“Why don’t you just marry me and I promise never to look at another cute butt in my life,” he said pleadingly.

“Get in the God-damned car,” she said, slamming the passenger door.

Just outside of Sherman, as Sherrie was scanning the car stereo for a clear station, they heard: “...Grant County’s first apparent murder in twenty three months. Our Chrissy Pruitt was on the scene earlier this afternoon and caught up with Sheriff Jackson.”

“Sheriff, what can you tell us so far?” Chrissy asked.

“Not much, yet, I’m afraid. The body has been taken to the coroner’s office for an autopsy and we are just beginning this afternoon to talk to some of the people in the area who might have seen something.”

“Do you have any suspects, yet?”

The sheriff let out a slight laugh. “No, no. We’ll talk to Mrs. Sanders in the near future to see if there might have been somebody that she knew who would want to do this. To my knowledge, Mr. Sanders had no police record, but we’ll check that, too.”

“Has a murder weapon been found?”

“Nope. Not yet.”

“Well, that’s all we know so far about the tragic events that took place sometime before dawn this morning outside of Clearview. This is Chrissy Pruitt for Z-93 news.”

“When’s Jackson up for re-election? I bet they hang somebody for this, even if it has to be old-lady Hunter,” Eric said dryly.

“Eric! That’s not funny.”

They drove through Sherman and into Clearview listening to Foreigner and Boston.

They parked in the rear of The Hunter House and Sherrie rang the back doorbell as Eric unloaded the car. Mrs. Hunter opened the door to a small kitchen and they were instantly overwhelmed by the smell of deep fried chicken.

“Oh, that smells marvelous,” Sherrie gushed.

“You haven’t eaten supper, I hope?” the owner asked.

“Not yet,” Sherrie answered for both of them.

“Good. Can you join me and Lisa for dinner at 6:30?”

“Sure, but only if you’re having chicken,” James replied.

Mrs. Hunter giggled and showed them through the swinging doors into the now-familiar living room. “First two rooms, remember.”

“Thank you,” Sherrie said as she and Eric walked up the wooden steps. “Isn’t that nice. Lisa’s going to join us.”

They turned left at the top of the stairway and walked into the first room. A large four-poster bed covered with a multi-colored quilt dominated the room. Eric laid Sherrie’s suitcase on the bed. She had walked ahead to the window opposite the door and looked out over the tree-lined street. A dresser across from the bed was flanked by two large chairs. A second dresser was next to the window at the foot of the bed.

“This is beautiful,” Sherrie said softly. “Perfect. Now, get out of here. I’m gonna change.”

He raised his eyebrows and obeyed. He found his room to be just as pristine as Sherrie’s. He threw his bag on the bed and looked out his window. It was all rather nice, he thought.


Chapter 5

Seeing that the door to Sherrie’s room was closed, Eric James walked down the steps admiring the detail in the magnificent handrail that protected the open side of the stairway. He chose one of the larger chairs and sat alone in the quiet room. He picked up a magazine from the antique coffee table and leafed through it with no particular interest. A variety of sounds behind him in the kitchen was the only indication that anyone else was in the house.

He put the magazine down and was leaning back with his eyes closed when he was aroused by the bells signaling a visitor. Lisa McAdams was carrying a paper grocery back in one arm. She smiled, said “Hi” and proceeded through the swinging doors to the kitchen. Eric could hear the two women talk as they walked from the kitchen to the dining room and back. A couple minutes later, Lisa emerged from the dining room and sat on a couch across from James, pulling her legs under her.

He guessed she was in her late twenties. Her deep tan and streaked brown hair was more befitting a teenager. Mrs. Hunter would know her age, he thought to himself.

“I hear you’re going to join us for dinner,” Lisa had said.

“Uh, yeah. Sherrie and I are going to stay here for a few days,” he said, pointing with his eyes up the stairs.

“Dorothy said you’re from Columbus.”

“Yes. She probably told you about our adventure this morning?”

“Yeah, on the way to the grocery store. I only know as much as she does,” Lisa said, glancing around the room and lowering her voice, “but sometimes that can be quite a bit.”

They laughed together.

“What do you do?” Eric asked her.

“I teach at Oak Street Elementary. I got a job there in the spring.”

“So you haven’t been here long?”

“No...,” she had started when Eric’s attention was distracted by the appearance of Sherrie on the stairs. She was wearing shorts and a tank top.

She smiled at James, blinking her green eyes, and sat in a chair next to him.

“Hi. It’s Lisa, right?” she said politely.

“Yes. I was just telling Eric how nice it is to have somebody staying here. You don’t know how much Dorothy enjoys running this place.”

“The rooms are great,” Sherrie smiled. “I’m glad I brought my alarm, or I’d still be in that bed.”

“I think I heard Dorothy say she put you in that room with the poster bed. That’s the room I stayed in before I got my apartment. She probably knows women like that room.”

Sherrie smiled at her. She looked over at Eric and asked, “How’s your room?”

“A lot like yours.”

Mrs. Hunter poked her head out from the kitchen and announced that they could join her in the dining room. The little procession entered a room as long as, but more narrow than, the living room. A fireplace showed signs of much use in colder weather. Above the cloth-covered table was an exquisite chandelier that, to Eric’s untrained eye, had to be one hundred years old.

The table was set neatly with two candles helping to separate serving dishes heaped with chicken, potatoes, vegetables, salad and fruit.

“Oh, Mrs. Hunter, this is beautiful,” Sherrie said.

“Just sit down, everyone. Nothing special.”

Eric and Sherrie sat on one side of the table, with Lisa McAdams on the opposite side and Mrs. Hunter on the end closest to the kitchen entrance.

“Mr. James, if you will please start, we’ll see if everything is satisfactory,” Mrs. Hunter said eagerly.

The food was passed around with few additional words spoken. However, it was not long after the last of the vegetables had made the rounds that Mrs. Hunter asked, “Have you heard anything from the sheriff, Mr. James.”

“Not since we last saw him,” Eric replied. “And, really, it’s OK to call me Eric.”

“Good, and please call me Dorothy, both of you. I already have Lisa trained.”

“What do you know about this guy Sanders?” Sherrie asked their hostess.

“From what I’ve been told, he was a successful businessman from the Columbus area. I heard he moved down here a couple years ago to get away from it all. It’s generally pretty quiet here, you know. His wife sells jewelry. She makes it herself. It’s nothing nobody here would wear. It’s high class, if you know what I mean. Well, anyway, Sanders lived next to old Bill Steadman and he and Steadman fought from day one. Poor Steadman thinks everybody is after his land and Sanders and that uppity wife of his, I suspect they have some money. That’s what I’ve heard, anyway. And people said Sanders was thinking of buying some more land around his place up there.”

“You don’t think Sanders was employed anywhere, then?” James asked.

“Didn’t seem to be. Maybe Mary Teal was helping him out,” the old woman said softly, winking at Lisa.

“Oh, Dorothy. Stop it. Mary’s just a friend of his. Or was.” Lisa looked across at James and Carlyle. “Mary’s a teacher at our school and some people think they were more than friends.”

James asked, “Did Sanders have any children?”

“I believe there was a son from his first marriage,” Mrs. Hunter said. “I’m not sure. I think someone in the euchre club told me that. Something they heard from Sanders’ wife--the current one. She didn’t get along with the first wife or was jealous or something.”

They ate in relative silence for a few minutes, before Mrs. Hunter said, “Tell me more about you two.”

Eric and Sherrie finished swallowing, looked at each other, and Eric went first.

“Well, I own a small company outside of Columbus. I consult with businesses on how to install local area networks, computer systems, and stuff like that. I used to be with the Ohio Department of Workers’ Compensation tracking down cheaters until I got into computers. Let’s see, I’m divorced and ride my bike a lot. That’s what brought us down here today. We do day trips in organized tours all over the state. Today we were riding from Sherman down through here and back up to Sherman. You know the rest.”

“How about you, Sherrie?” Mrs. Hunter asked.

“I’m a school psychologist. So, like Lisa, I have some time off in the summer. I’m divorced. No kids, except a few hundred at school. Needless to say, after what happened today, this may be the last time I go riding with him,” she said, pointing her thumb at Eric.

“How did you meet,” Lisa asked her.

“Riding. I had a flat one day and he offered to fix it. I told him to get lost, but the next week he saw me on another ride and said hi. I figured anyone who remembered me after the way I blew him off at first must be OK. We rode together a little bit that day and, well, we just started meeting each other on rides. That was about fifteen years ago, now.” She smiled.

“And you’re still not married?” Mrs. Hunter smiled back at her.

“You’ve got to be joking,” Sherrie said. “Marry him? Get real.”

Eric smiled and shrugged. He was used to it.

Small talk filled the rest of the meal until Mrs. Hunter announced that she had dessert waiting for them. Protests from the three guests went unheeded and their hostess disappeared into the kitchen only to reappear seconds later with a bulging pie.

“Apple,” she said. “My favorite.”

She cut four pieces and passed the plates around the table. Compliments accompanied the first bites from all the guests and, once again, eating took precedence over conversation.

Danny Croft and Joe Snyder drove their cruiser down the long driveway to Bill Steadman’s house. It was a small ranch home nearly hidden by thick woods. This part of Grant County was known for newly built homes starting at a quarter million dollars on five acre lots and original homesteads that had been in the same family for five generations--like the Steadman place.

Croft and Snyder had driven down this driveway before. Except for the very coldest parts of winter, hardly a week went by without the sheriff getting a call from Bill Steadman complaining of trespassers, hunters, ‘youngens’, or surveyors on his property. Therefore, the two Dobermans howling in the kennel behind the house caused no immediate alarm in the officers.

They parked beside the house and knocked sharply on the front door, knowing from experience that either Bill Steadman was nearly deaf or simply chose not to hear certain knocks on his door. Sixty-three year old Steadman opened the door slowly.

“It’s just us, Bill. Put the bat down,” Joe Snyder said.

The deputies could hear the baseball bat being returned to its spot in the corner behind the wooden door. Steadman opened the door wider and said, “What you boys want?”

“Bill, can we come in for a moment? We need to talk to you about John Sanders.”

“Did you catch him this time?”

“Bill, we really need to come in and talk to you.”

The small, old man turned towards the living room and waved his hand for the deputies to enter. There was a couch and one chair in the room, along with small tables cluttered with dishes and beer bottles. Danny Croft decided to stand just inside the door. He did not expect and did not receive an invitation from Steadman to get a chair. So, he stood.

“What about Sanders?” the old man asked in a hoarse voice ravaged over the years by chain smoking.

“When was the last time you saw John Sanders?” Snyder asked him abruptly.

Steadman looked back at the deputy blankly. He looked out the front window for a minute and finally answered. “Probably Wednesday night. He was walking along the Clearview/Sherman Road and I was coming back from Charlie’s bar. Would have run him over if I’d been drunk enough.”

Danny Croft pulled out a pocket notebook and scribbled notes.

“Did you see him last night or early this morning at all?”

“Hell, no. But I wasn’t lookin’ either. I don’t even remember hearing the dogs at all last night. What’s this all about?”

“Bill, John Sanders was found dead this morning on the path coming off Clearview/Sherman Road down to your place.”

“Dead? From what?”

“Don’t know, yet. Looked like a knife.”

“You’re not shittin’ me, are you? Who would want to kill that no good bastard?”

Danny Croft couldn’t suppress his laugh and did the best he could to cover it with a cough. Snyder ignored his partner and continued his questioning.

“Can you tell us where you were last evening until this morning?”

“Charlie’s until closing time and then right here. You can ask Duke and Rambo back there. They saw me,” the old man said, his smile revealing a mouth half full of teeth.

“That won’t be necessary,” Snyder smiled back. The oppressive heat in the non-air conditioned house, combined with Steadman’s answers, was causing large beads of sweat to roll into his bushy eyebrows.

“Bill, did you hear or see anybody or anything suspicious around here or up by the road last night or this morning?”

“Nope. Been pretty quiet.”

Joe Snyder was about ready to give it up and face the consequences with the sheriff. “You weren’t alone at Charlie’s, I assume?”




The Hunter House Tour



“Nope. You can ask any of the regulars. I was there ‘til they kicked us out.”

Snyder got up. “Thanks. We’ll be back in touch.”

He preceded his partner out the front door and walked to the cruiser. As they were turning the car around, Snyder said, “Jerk. He calls us constantly wanting our help and then he pulls that on us. Moron.”

The car pulled out of the long drive onto the blacktop road and headed for the crime scene, the sound of barking dogs fading in the background.

Sheriff Jackson and Deputy Smith stood just inside the bright yellow tape marking off the crime scene, looking down the path towards the spot where John Sanders’ body was found that morning. The heat was overwhelming. Late-afternoon clouds were forming overhead, but cooling rain did not seem imminent. The sheriff wiped his brow.

“Not a shred of solid evidence,” he muttered. “Can’t even tell for sure if he fell right there or was placed there.” He paused for a second. “And you say his wife took it fairly well?”

“Yeah. I still say she was shocked to hear it, but never really lost control. She insists he told her he was thinking about going to Columbus. I know every marriage is different, but if I didn’t come home and didn’t tell Jean where I was, I’d be dead.”

“Yeah, that’s strange, but both of them were a little eccentric, from what I’ve heard. Depending on what Croft and Snyder find out at Steadman’s, we’ll need to talk to her again tomorrow.”

“What are you thinking about the body? I mean, anything strike you as odd there?” the deputy asked.

“Well, do you typically fall forward or backward when you are stabbed in the back? Do you struggle? Weaver needs to tell us how long it would take someone to die from those wounds. Also, how long was he dead? I think right now I’m leaning towards his body being brought here. Something about the way the body was; where it was. More like he was dragged out of a car and laid there. You know, grab him under the armpits and pull him out a few feet into the grass. But no good footprints. Damn.”

The men were distracted by the sound of a deputy behind them trying to get a pick-up truck full of high school kids to keep moving.

“Let’s plan on holding regular 8:00 a.m. meetings with the same group we had today until further notice,” the sheriff said. “This may come down to a lot of leg work talking to people. We’ve got to try to build a suspect list that extends beyond Steadman and, maybe, the wife. Somebody knows this guy better than us and we need to find them and talk to them. For now, I’m too hungry to wait for Croft and Snyder. I’ll call you later tonight if I get anything solid.”

“OK. If those two show up, I’ll have them contact you. See ya’ later.”

The sheriff lifted the tape over his head and walked to his cruiser. He started the car and turned the air conditioner on high. When cool air began flowing from the vents, he turned them up into his face. He leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. A few seconds later, he drove home.


Chapter 6

Eric, Sherrie and Dorothy Hunter sat on the front porch of The Hunter House. Eric was drinking a Coke while Sherrie and Mrs. Hunter were separated by a tray table holding a pitcher of iced tea. It was not late enough in the evening to worry about mosquitoes, but the old woman warned them that their time on the porch was limited to sunset. Beyond that time, she said, even repellent didn’t seem to help. She was convinced modern science had somehow created super mosquitoes; something along the lines of killer bees.

Cars passed infrequently. The drivers of about one in three cars that passed honked their horns or waved at the white haired woman. Each time, Mrs. Hunter would wave back and say “Hi”, which, of course, only Eric and Sherrie could hear. In nearly every case, she could tell them who the occupants were.

“Oh, here comes Sam,” Mrs. Hunter said looking down the street towards the center of Clearview.

Sam Conrad, the guests soon found out, was the mailman. It ended up that Sam Conrad was THE mailman in Clearview. He and Henry Reichert ran the small post office attached to Younger’s General Store on Oak Street. Clearview had a Main Street, but apparently the real “action” was on Oak Street.

This knowledge having been gained while Conrad walked a block and a half, the residents of the porch watched Conrad climb the porch steps. He gave the old woman a hug and said “Hi” to Eric and Sherrie.

Mrs. Hunter made the introductions and the middle-aged postman sat next to her. Preliminary conversation about the weather was soon followed by the topic of the day in Clearview.

“Well, what do you think about that Sanders murder?” he asked her.

“I bet you didn’t even know that we had celebrities with us tonight, did you?”

Conrad looked at Eric and Sherrie with a puzzled look and said frankly, “No.”

“These are the two young people who found Sanders this morning. They’re staying in town a few days until the police have everything they need.”

“You’re kiddin’me? Hell. That must have been a shock.”

Sherrie said, “Yeah, you don’t expect that to happen to you on a bike tour.”

“Oh, you’re bikers?”

“Cyclists,” Sherrie answered, knowing from experience that he probably took her reference to bikes as meaning motorcycles. “The kind you pedal.”

“Oh,” Conrad said laughing. “Sorry. I didn’t think you looked like no biker babe.”

Sherrie took that as a compliment.

“So, what do you hear?” Mrs. Hunter asked the mailman.

“Not much, yet. I bet they’ll be talking about it tomorrow at church and Monday I’ll get an earful on my rounds. I don’t mean to be disrespectful or nothing, but maybe now those damn envelopes will stop coming for him.”

Eric looked up from his Coke and was the first to ask the obvious, “What envelopes?”

“Well, Sanders had a box down at the office. A small one. He hardly ever got anything addressed to it, but about once a month he would get a big ol’ brown envelope that was always too big to put in there. So we would leave him a note to pick it up from us. He would come down once a week or so to look in the box, so sometimes we would be holding this envelope for him for a week. And it concerned us a bit because it never had a return address on it. Of course, we always thought that was stupid. But, he always came and got it. Never told us who it was from.”

“Did it contain an object of some type, or what?” Eric asked him.

“No. It was soft. Always felt like there were several small soft things in it. Well, needless to say me and Henry assumed it was full of money. Who knows?”

“Where was it postmarked from?” Sherrie asked.

“Always Columbus.”

“Did they use stamps or a postage meter?” she asked.

He thought for a second. “Stamps.”

“How was it addressed?” Eric asked. “Hand written or typed?”

“Oh, we always thought it was from a woman because it was really nice writin’,” Conrad said with some excitement. “No wonder his wife killed him. Some woman was sending him money.” The mailman laughed.

James and Carlyle weren’t laughing. Sherrie could see in his eyes that Eric wanted to keep this conversation going as long as he could before Conrad caught on to what was happening to him.

“You think she could have done it?” Eric asked innocently.

“Oh, you were just kidding, weren’t you Sam?” Mrs. Hunter interjected.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Who the hell knows who did it. Since he was on Steadman’s land and they were always goin’ at it, why not him?”

“What do you know about Mrs. Sanders?” Eric asked Sam.

“Only met her once or twice. Not bad lookin’. I know she’s not from here originally. I really don’t know much about how they got along, or anything like that.”

“Hmph.” Eric acknowledged the mailman’s answer, but he was looking down the street as though with other thoughts on his mind.

Sam and Mrs. Hunter exchanged family updates for a few minutes before Sam said he had to get home. “You chose a good place to stay,” he told Eric and Sherrie. “They don’t come no better than Dorothy Hunter.”

As he walked away, Dorothy said, “Sam’s always looking out for me. He lost his mother last year--she was 89--and I think I kind of took her place. I don’t look 89 do I?”

Eric and Sherrie laughed and assured her otherwise.

A red convertible sports car passed them with several energetic honks of the horn. Eric caught a glimpse of two women in the front seat.

“Oh, there goes Lisa,” Mrs. Hunter said, waving. “She goes into Columbus on most Friday and Saturday nights to go dancing...and man hunting. Must be nice to be young.”

“Nice car,” Sherrie said.

“You ought to see us trying to get groceries in it. It helps keep the bill down because you can’t buy much.”

Street lights flickered on up and down the tree-lined road. Mrs. Hunter said that was her clue to get inside before the bugs attacked.

“What time do you think you’ll be getting up tomorrow?” she asked her guests.

Eric and Sherrie exchanged shrugs and Eric said, “About nine.” Sherrie nodded.

“OK. I’ll have breakfast then. Call if you need anything,” Mrs. Hunter said as she slowly got out of her chair. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Eric and Sherrie said in unison. “Oh, and Mrs. Hunter, you have some very interesting friends,” Eric added.

The old woman smiled as she entered the house and closed the storm door behind her, leaving the two visitors alone in silence. Birds and crickets made the only noise. A car passed. Half a block down, one of the street lights flickered on and off erratically. There was a dead calmness about the evening.

“What are you thinking?” Sherrie finally said.

“About bodies, and mailmen...and dancing.”

“Go. Have fun. I’m sure there’s a doctor somewhere around here for when you try to get up tomorrow.”

“Yeah, Dr. Weaver. I need to see him Monday.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“Oh, Sherrie, for Christ sakes. She’s only a really cute, young school teacher...young single school teacher...that drives a red convertible sports car. What’s she got that you don’t have?” Eric could not supress his smile.

Sherrie made a face but would not look at him. A second later, she smiled. “She doesn’t have you wrapped around her little finger.”

“Nope. Only one person can say that,” Eric said, sensing an opportunity to end this without getting harmed any further.

“Good. Now tell me what we are going to do tomorrow.”

“Get up, meet in the shower....”

“Eric!”

“Eat breakfast and maybe see if the sheriff is in. In the afternoon, I might call Sanders’ wife to see if it’s OK to go talk to her. I’d be interested in knowing how upset she is about this whole thing. I wonder if the cops have talked to her, yet?”

“She’s got to be next in line after Steadman. Wasn’t it odd that they wanted to talk to him before they talked to her?” Sherrie asked.

“Don’t know. They know more of the history than we do. But we have an advantage over them in that we might hear stuff they never would. Like good ol’ Sam Conrad. I bet the cops don’t know about those envelopes, yet.”

“Is this a race between you and the cops?”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll tell them stuff we hear if I think it will help. But, yeah, I’ll bet you we find the killer before them.”

Sherrie looked at him. “Bet me what?”

“A new pair of cycling gloves.”

“Cheap bastard.”

“OK. New gloves and a jersey.”

She smiled. “You’re too easy.”

Forty-five minutes later they went inside, tired of fighting off mosquitoes. They walked upstairs and, at the top of the steps, Sherrie said, “Want to come in.”

“Sure.”

Eric took a seat beside the big window, facing the portable TV Sherrie had brought from her condo bedroom. She threw him a Coke from a small cooler, took one herself, and laid on her stomach on the bed to watch TV. Halfway through the second show, he noticed she was asleep. He turned off the TV and was almost to the door when she said, “Goodnight, Eric.”

“Goodnight, Sherrie. If a bad storm comes up, can I crawl in next to you?”

“Goodnight, Eric.”

In his room, Eric laid down on his bed, put his hands behind his head and shut his eyes. He thought about the next two days and what information they might provide. He thought about Sherrie. Sherrie. What a long fifteen years it had been. It was like magic when they first noticed each other back then. A year of flirting and phone calls and secret meetings.

Then the fateful night in the motel. The embraces in bed, hands everywhere--and the horrific sex. They were both so anxious to please the other that it had been a disaster. She dressed in tears and ran out of the room. No words had been spoken.

Somehow--neither one knew how--their love remained strong for each other despite a mutual agreement that marriage to each other was not in their immediate or, in fact, long-term future. With the sexual tension behind them, their relationship settled into a routine somewhere between friendship and marriage.

Within two years, Sherrie was divorced, followed the next year by Eric. He certainly would have married her had she given the first indication of wanting him. She never did. Both became comfortable in their single lives, relying heavily on each other for support. Their love for each other grew to a level few married people could attain. A day didn’t go by that he didn’t think of her and rarely did more than three days go by that they didn’t talk on the phone or see each other.

So, here they were fifteen years later still in love, still not having sex with each other, and still happy. Amazing, he thought to himself.

He got undressed and went back to bed...alone.


Chapter 7

Sunday morning in Clearview gave every sign that the day was going to be another hot one. A slight haze, not nearly as thick as the previous day’s, still hung in the air when Eric James looked out his bedroom window at 8:05 a.m. Through the trees he could see some thin, high clouds. Nothing that looked like rain.

He grabbed a pair of shorts, a tee shirt, underwear and socks from his dresser. He slipped on the shorts, found the bag containing his razor, shampoo and other necessities, and quietly opened the bedroom door. He listened for a second for any noise coming from the bathroom across the hall, then walked over and put his ear on the bathroom door. Semi-assured it was vacant, he tried the handle and peered inside the dark room.

He locked the door behind him and was soon inside the shower. The bathroom retained a lot of the feel of the turn-of-the-century house, but had beautiful modern “antique” fixtures. As he dried off, he sensed that he was beginning to feel secure in the simplicity of the old house. No hair dryer hanging on the bathroom wall. No TV in the bedroom. Come to think of it, no telephone in the bedroom. He could live here, he thought.

Eric dressed and walked across the hall to his bedroom. He heard Sherrie’s door open and looked past the stairs to her room.

“About time,” she said as she crossed into the bathroom. She wore a mid-thigh length tee shirt that neatly showed off her thin figure. After the bathroom door closed, he heard the lock being pushed in with considerable force. In his mind he could see her smiling behind the door.

When he made his way down the stairs, he found a tray on the large table in front of the fireplace holding a carafe of coffee, two cups, sugar, cream and two spoons. Mrs. Hunter instantly appeared from the kitchen, looking as though she had been up for hours.

“There’s coffee if you like, or if you prefer tea or juice, I have that, too,” she said.

“No, this will be fine,” Eric said. “Thank you.”

He sat in a chair and, as he poured the coffee, noticed a copy of the Sherman newspaper on another table across the room. The bold headline, “Clearview Area Resident Found Slain”, shouted across the room at him. He felt a slight chill as he walked across the room and saw a large color photo of the familiar crime scene. Yellow police tape was in the foreground and Sheriff Jackson, Deputy Smith and other people were in the background nearer the position where the body was found.

He had nearly finished the first page story and two related articles when Sherrie came down the stairs. Her hair was still damp and he could smell her favorite herbal body lotion as she reached for the coffee.

“Good morning,” she said with a smile. “Did you sleep, OK?”

“Better than normal in a strange bed. How about you?”

“Pretty good. I see we made the paper.”

“Well, ‘Clearview area resident John Sanders’ did, at least. We are now ‘two passing cyclists.’”

“What are they saying?” Sherrie asked.

“Let’s see. Mrs. Sanders is distraught, unavailable for comment. Sheriff Jackson makes it sound like there will be a second Warren Commission formed to solve it. No autopsy results, yet. And neighbors didn’t hear a thing.”

“Good morning, Sherrie,” Mrs. Hunter called from the dining room entrance near the front door. “Can I get you anything.”

“Not right now, thanks.”

“Give me about five minutes and you can eat. OK?”

“Great,” Eric said.

When Dorothy Hunter was gone, Sherrie said, “Isn’t this great. I’m going to hate to leave.”

Eric smiled at her over his coffee cup. His mind was back on the newspaper articles. They hadn’t revealed anything new and Jackson’s comments struck him as cautious, albeit a little pompous. Eric was beginning to appreciate the politician in the young man, but still wondered about his ability as a sheriff. He wondered about Smith. Awfully young. A little unprofessional. And Eric didn’t like the way Smith had looked at Sherrie.

“OK, kids,” Mrs. Hunter announced from the kitchen, nearly causing Eric to spill his coffee as he was brought back to the present.

The dining room table was set for two. A stack of pancakes, bacon, sausages, slices of melon and juice nearly filled the end of the table with the place settings. Mrs. Hunter brought out coffee as the two guests sat next to each other.

“Wow. You’ll fatten me up if I stay here too long,” Eric told her.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Mrs. Hunter said, scurrying back into the kitchen. She returned with a bowl of cut strawberries and whipped cream. “Try these on the pancakes. The whipped cream is low fat.”

Sheriff Donald Jackson was the last member of the small group to arrive for the morning briefing. He carried a cup of convenience store coffee and, like the others with the singular exception of Joe Snyder, wore shorts. His muscular legs were well tanned from summer days on the local golf courses.

“Anybody heard from Doc Weaver?” the sheriff asked.

“Nope,” Smith said, with the others shaking their heads unanimously.

“I guess we might have to wait until Monday for his autopsy report,” Jackson said. “I’m anxious to see what he estimates as the time of death.”

“Anything new on the crime scene stuff?” Deputy Carl Higgins asked.

“Not much,” the sheriff shrugged. “A bad, partial set of two footprints that probably belong to Sherrie Carlyle. I’ve got the pictures in my office. We might have some tire tracks that go into the lane, then they stop. But, if it was somebody just turning around...well.” He trailed off and let the deputies draw their own conclusions.

“What’s on the schedule for today?” Smith asked.

“I want to call Judy Sanders and set a time to go up there and talk to her again today…get a better list of possible suspects from her. And find out what she was doing Friday night.”

He opened the notebook that sat on the table in front of him. “Now, lets go over what else we have so far.” Deputies Snyder and Croft were asked to summarize their talk with Bill Steadman. When they were done, the sheriff said, “Get up to Charlies’ when it opens this afternoon and start to find out who was there Friday night with Steadman. Talk to every one of them as soon as you can. I want you two to concentrate on Steadman’s actions that night. Time is important here, guys. I mean, when he got there…when he left…did he leave and come back…everything.”




The Hunter House Tour



Snyder and Croft nodded as they wrote their notes.

“Smitty, you and I are going up to the Sanders place. Carl, talk to any of the neighbors around the scene that we didn’t get yesterday. Did they see anything. See if any of them know what Sanders’ schedule was. Did he come and go at regular intervals, that kind of thing.”

The meeting wound down with small talk and when the topics became far removed from the investigation, members of the group dismissed themselves one by one.

Eric and Sherrie sat drinking coffee in the dining room. 

“Well, if I can get up out of this seat I might go for a short ride,” Eric said. “Care to join me?”

“Where to?”

“I think I’m going to head up towards the Sanders place and see if I can catch Mrs. Sanders. I’ll use the excuse that I just wanted to extend my condolences. But, I can’t stop thinking about what that mailman told us. I wonder if she even knew about that stuff?”

“You’re assuming she’s not too distraught over this whole thing,” Sherrie said.

“Well, if she is we’ll leave her alone…for now. You coming?”

“Sure, I enjoy watching you make an ass out of yourself.”

They changed and met at the back of The Hunter House. They filled their water bottles in the kitchen, each of them grabbing an apple from the morning’s fruit bowl. Within minutes they were heading north out of Clearview on another beautiful summer morning.

When the last of the village’s old homes was behind them, they again found themselves in the rolling farmland. A church bell rang faintly in the distance, followed by the general silence of the countryside. Cows grazing behind wire fences raised their heads indifferently as the two riders went past. The cyclists could feel heat radiating from the chest high fields of corn even this early in the day.

They topped the hill that once held the body of John Sanders. A patrol car containing a lone officer sat the side of the road blocking the entrance to the sealed off dirt path. They waved as they passed and rolled down the other side of the hill, the wind whistling through their helmets as they gained speed.

Sherrie pulled up beside Eric. “OK, genius. Any idea where you’re going now?”

“The first road that goes to the right has to be ours…I think,” he said.

The road appeared when they crested the next small hill about a quarter of a mile later. They turned onto the tar and chip surfaced road, past a small section of woods and over an almost dried up stream. To their right were acres of open pastures. The small stream wound its way like a snake between the gentle rolls of the land. On the left were thick woods—the thickest they had seen in this area.

They rode almost half a mile before they saw a large ranch style home on top of one of the many swells on the right side of the road. The bright green grass surrounding the house stuck out noticeably among the brown fields. As they approached the house, Eric and Sherry saw a lone figure in the driveway.

Judy Sanders didn’t sleep much Saturday night. The image of John’s face on that table at the morgue when they had asked her to positively identify him wouldn’t leave her mind. The sheriff’s questioning had sickened her. Now, John’s things were everywhere. She lay in bed at three in the morning thinking she should have accepted her sister’s invitation to stay with her in Cincinnati.

She woke up a few minutes past eight when Kelly, a beagle now without his master, made it known he wanted out. Judy Sanders had tried to fall back asleep, but it was useless. Too many things on her mind. The funeral. The investigation. The face.

By nine o’clock she had showered, put on an old pair of shorts and one of her favorite shirts and was sitting at the kitchen table trying to eat. She found herself staring out the window, across the vast open fields. Her mind was racing, but on too many things to concentrate on any one thing.

She got up, dumped out a half cup of cold coffee and refilled the cup. She moved to the family room and switched on the TV. Channels flashed by as she searched aimlessly for something to occupy her mind. After settling on an old movie, she laid on her side on the couch. Her eyes moved up to the fireplace mantel containing pictures of her and John, John and Kelly, John…

She closed her eyes to keep from crying. Judy Sanders didn’t know why she didn’t want to cry, but she didn’t. Who was she trying to impress, she thought. She had cried in front of the sheriff. People would probably tell her it was better to let it out.

What people? She didn’t have anyone left. Forty-five years old without a friend she could call close. Certainly not in this god-forsaken bit of country. She thought when she agreed to let John buy the land and build the house that it would be good for him; that it would allow him to get away from the pressure of his job in Columbus. It worked wonders for him, she thought, and had nearly driven her crazy. The people were boring, low-class, and didn’t know the first thing about fashion jewelry, let alone have the money to buy any.

Now this. She put her head in a pillow and cried herself to sleep.

She awoke to the sound of Kelly barking. When he didn’t stop after a couple minutes, Judy went through the kitchen to the door leading to the garage and, in her bare feet, out to the side of the garage where he was tied.

She knelt down. “What’s the matter, Kelly? Your chain caught again?”

The dog came to her panting, then just as quickly moved away from her the ten feet his chain would allow towards the road. Kelly barked again and Judy followed his line of sight to the road. Two bikes slowly rolled up the hill to the end of the driveway. She could see the cyclists talk to each other for an instant, then stop. The man had stopped his bike completely and had one foot on the ground. The female rolled past him slowly and, looking back at the man, turned into the driveway. The two cyclists coasted down the driveway, with Kelly getting more excited by the minute.

“It’s OK, Kelly,” she said, petting his side.

Eric and Sherrie stopped a few feet in front of the woman and her dog and got off their bikes.

“Excuse me,” Eric said hesitantly, “but, is this the Sanders residence?”

“Yes,” Judy answered.

Eric and Sherrie took off their helmets. Eric used the back of his gloved hand to wipe the perspiration from his forehead.

“My name is Eric James and this is Sherrie Carlyle. Are you Mrs. Sanders?”

“Yes,” Judy said again. “Judy Sanders.”

“Well,” Eric hesitated. “We wanted to express our regrets over the death of your husband.”

“You’re the two who found him, aren’t you?” Judy asked.

Eric and Sherrie nodded without speaking, their eyes dropping to the ground and back to Judy.

She smiled. “Thanks for coming over. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Is there anything we can get you or do for you?” Sherrie asked.

Judy looked down at Kelly. “You know what,” Judy said, looking back up at Eric and Sherrie. “You can come in and talk for a while, can’t you? I would like that more than anything right now.”

“Sure,” Eric said, hoping he didn’t sound too eager.

Judy led them through the garage and into the house, apologizing as they went for what she considered messes in the garage and kitchen. The aroma of coffee filled the large kitchen and eating area.

“How about something to drink. Coffee or something cold?” Judy asked.

“Coffee for me,” Eric said. “Same here,” Sherrie added.

Eric and Sherrie sat at the rectangular table at the far end of the kitchen. It was separated from the family room by a low wall and ornate wooden railings that extended to the ceiling. Both visitors found themselves looking out the large bay window into the expanses that was the Sanders’ back yard.

Judy Sanders opened a cabinet to pull down two cups. She was an attractive, short woman, with long reddish-brown hair. Not a natural color, Sherrie thought. Her shirt was untucked and nearly covered her shorts.

“Are you from around here?” Judy asked, putting the cups, cream, sugar and silverware on the table.

“Columbus,” Sherrie said. “Both of us.”

“Did you ride all the way down here this morning?”

“No, we’re staying in Clearview at The Hunter House.”

“Oh. That’s nice. Has Mrs. Hunter talked your ears off, yet?”

Eric laughed. “As long as she keeps cooking, we can put up with it.”

Judy poured each of them coffee and sat down at the table. “I doubt if she has a very high regard for me. I really don’t try to associate with those people much. They’re nosy and don’t present much of a market for my jewelry. I make jewelry, but sell most of it in Columbus.”

“Mrs. Hunter said it is nice jewelry,” Sherrie said smiling. “Not that she would buy it, but that it was nice.”

“Well, I told John that if we were going to move down here to the middle of nowhere I wanted to be able to continue making and selling my stuff. He converted one of the bedrooms into a workroom for me.”

“I’d like to see some of your work before we leave,” Sherrie said.

“I’d love to show you.”

“What did your husband do to keep busy, if I may ask,” Eric said.

“Oh, he took a lot of walks around the countryside. Mainly, he was interested in buying some more land down here, so he would walk or drive around and look for the best deals. He would drive up to Sherman and talk to real estate agents or go to the courthouse and look at land records. It was his way of trying to secure our future, I guess.”

“Do you have children?” Sherrie asked.

“No,” Judy sighed. “John had a son from his first marriage. Chris. He’s in the Navy.”

“Did your husband and his son get along?” Eric asked.

Judy hesitated. “Well, John never really tried to stay in touch with him much. Tina, his first wife, would send John letters from Chris about once a month, but I don’t think John ever read any of them. I think he stacked them up in his closet, as if he was going to get to them someday. But....”

Eric nodded at Sherrie while Judy looked out the window.

Eric said, “What can you tell me about this Bill Steadman.”

Judy snapped her head around sharply and looked at Eric. “Word travels fast down here, doesn’t it. My husband got a lot of pleasure out of making Steadman miserable. I used to think Bill Steadman was a harmless old fart. The longer we were here, though, the more I began to believe that maybe old Steadman wasn’t so stupid after all. People who knew him better would tell me he was looking for land, just like John. The difference was Steadman didn’t have the same means my husband had.”

“Was your husband looking to buy any of Steadman’s land?” Eric asked.

“I don’t think so,” Judy said with some doubt in her voice. “Not that I know of.”

“Were there ever any threats between them?” Sherrie asked while filling all three coffee cups.

“Oh, no,” Judy said. A small smile crossed her face. “I used to think they were like two little kids sometimes.”

Kelly could be heard whimpering in the garage, and Judy excused herself to get the dog. She returned seconds later and followed the animal towards the table. When the two guests had both petted Kelly to his satisfaction, he sat at Judy Sanders’ feet.

Judy broke the momentary silence. “What do you two make of our sheriff?”

Eric and Sherrie looked at each other and shrugged.

“He seems awfully young,” Eric finally said. “But I thought he knew what he was doing around...well, the crime scene.”

“Do you think he can solve this?” Judy asked.

“Oh, it’s way too early to say that,” Eric said with emphasis. “I mean, we’ve only talked to him once.”

“I know. But you don’t realize how frustrating it is not knowing what happened,” Judy said, holding back tears. “I’m not a vindictive person, but I have to know what happened to...to finalize it, I guess.”

“Well, if it helps any, one of the reasons I decided to stick around a few days was to try to figure some things out myself,” Eric said. “I’m not a professional, but if you want the help and are willing to confide in me, I think we might get somewhere.”

Judy’s face brightened for the first time since Eric and Sherrie had arrived. “You’re on. Just tell me what you need.”

“How about if we look at those letters from your step-son first,” Eric suggested.


Chapter 8

Judy Sanders walked into the kitchen carrying a large box filled with brown manila envelopes. She laid the box on the table in front of Eric and Sherrie and sat down, Kelly at her heels.

Eric peered down into the box and guessed there were fifteen or twenty envelopes, all with the same neat, feminine handwriting on them. He turned the top one over. Then the next. And the next. None of them were opened.

“Do you mind?” Eric asked, looking up at Judy.

“Not at all. But I can’t imagine what help they could possibly be.”

Eric looked at the postmarks on the top three envelopes and decided they were, in fact, simply piled one on top of the other as they were received. He took a knife from the table and cut open the top envelope.

Inside were four white envelopes. As Eric pulled out the four letters, Sherrie leaned closer with anticipation. Judy Sanders looked on with an apparent lack of interest.

The envelopes were addressed to Tina Sanders in a north side Columbus suburb.

“She kept your husband’s name?” Sherrie asked Judy.

“That’s what I’ve heard. She always was...different,” Judy said with particular emphasis on the last word.

Eric spread the letters on the table and noted the regularity of the postmarks. One letter a week. Every week. He began to open one of the letters, but Sherrie put her hand over Eric’s to stop him.

“Judy, can we take these with us back to The Hunter House?” Sherrie said softly.

“Of course. But why? There can’t be anything in them of interest to you.”

“Probably not,” Eric interjected. “But it couldn’t hurt. If you put them all in a bag of some sort, I can strap them on my bike rack.”

Judy got up to get the bag and Sherrie signaled with a nod of her head that she and Eric should leave. Eric acknowledged the sign and pulled the remainder of the envelopes out of the box.

Judy returned with a large plastic trash bag and Eric shoved the envelopes in.

Sherrie got up from the table. “Listen, Judy, we should be getting back. This was very nice of you,” she said. “We’re sorry about your husband. If there’s anything we can do in the next couple days, call us.”

“I’ll look at these for a few days and see if there’s anything there,” Eric said. “We’ll bring them back as soon as we can.”

“OK,” Judy said. “Thanks for coming up. Anything you can do would be appreciated. I’m leaving it up to the sheriff at this point, I guess.” She didn’t sound particularly hopeful.

Eric and Sherrie each patted Kelly as Judy let them out through the garage. Eric attached the bundle of envelopes to his bike rack and the two cyclists waved back at Judy Sanders as they rode up the driveway.



The Hunter Vol. 01



Thellius crouches atop a large hill the sun warming his black scales, he stretches his massive wings after the longest flight he has ever had in his lifetime. As he relaxes in his comfortable position he smells the air and sneezes as he takes in his first breath of pollution. He scratches at his long serpentine snout trying to ease the burning sensation that irritates his large nostrils. But the sensation is pushed into the back of his mind as he also detects the scent of prey. He focuses his vision onto the direction the sent is coming from. Suddenly he realises he is at outskirts of a massive city that seems to be teeming with prey. The foul air had kept it hidden in a dense fog in the air but now it is standing before him with no gates and no guards. He eventually adapts to the awful air that hangs around the area and the burning has faded away, Thellius has never seen such large buildings before in his entire life, but he carefully watches from afar not daring to enter yet. 

He contemplates a brief wingover of the city but the thought is repelled to the back of his mind. Suddenly a massive bird of steel lands in the bowels of this new city but that is only one of the fascinating marvels of the city. As he watches all this new prey with his keen vision he notices the incredible volume of creatures that dwell here. He has not seen this many species of prey in one area and so close to each other. Thellius does know one thing that this haven of steel and rock is what they all call home they don't even need to leave the limits of the city for food. It might just be the greatest thing Thellius has ever encountered in his minuscule lifespan but his father has told him many tales of how advanced they are. And he also told Thellius how weak they have become since his elders from centuries past used to hunt them and that they now rely on weapons rather than tooth and nail. But this was far more intimidating than his father had prepared him for; there were thousands of them walking the roads so many that they had to literally walk shoulder to shoulder. he flexed his claws ripping gaping holes in the earth and his tail lashing from side to side with its knife like talon at the tip slicing through the air as his mind played with the anticipation of so many kills and feasts ahead of him. 

As he continues to overlook the area he is awed that so many things that are lit up unnaturally by strange globes and rods he wondered if the city would ever be touched by darkness when night fell. This alone presented a grand challenge to Thellius his clan hunts best at night and if he is robbed of the cover of darkness things will get very challenging indeed. Thellius decided he should familiarise himself with the city first before he begins hunting them. But unfortunately for his prey Thellius is capable of transforming his body to look like whatever he wants at any time but his level of skill is only limited to the basics. He can barely make himself the size of his prey yet hit elders can make them selves thrice the size of what they truly are. His prey may have technology but Thellius species has been able to use more arcane abilities ever since he was a hatchling he could transform. But he must patiently focus his mind and body more before he will be able to unlock far greater powers. 

As Thellius decided on the shape he would assume he would rather choose a form that would be his standard from when wandering the city. He decided to pick something along the lines of a child to make himself less noticeable. Using the kids that he could see with his vision he used them as a template for his form. He imagined himself to be rather short with glasses and wearing a uniform to fit in with their youth. He gave himself short pointy ears and small snout with tiny nose at the end his tail was short and a little bushy and his fur was long and straight. He made sure his build was diminutive trying to be as weak looking as possible. Once he had the image in his head he could feel his body bending and melting into this new form. Satisfied with his new look he ventured off into the city to see what more he could find that his vision did not discover. As he explored the city he was shocked to see all the strange things that they had and so much useless trinkets and accessories that they carried on them. He can now clearly see how lazy they have become they have tools that do almost all the work for them. There were so many things that he saw he could not take notice to them all in one day every sense was overwhelmed in moments. 

The most fascinating object had to be what they used to get around the city with. They were large objects that moved around with wheels at the base and they moved incredibly fast they came in as many shapes and sizes that his prey dose. But the best part is when the driver losses control and crashes. The clamour of sounds with the tinkling noises glass and harsh scraping metal that scatters along the road followed by the screams of the creatures that witness an accident sounded like music to Thellius that he found all quite enjoyable to watch and hear. 

After a spending few days of examining the city Thellius played with idea of attempting to understand their language to little avail. After giving up on that he took the time to see what other clans have laid claim to this city. He was shocked to notice that this place was totally devoid of his own species he even searched the sewers to find some of his own kind. And after a journey that took him high and low even though his kind may be camouflaged like Thellius is they still leave a distinct smell that only his kind could pick up on. But he came across absolutely nothing this also meant that he had this grand city to him self. He has absolutely no competition for claim to any area Thellius has every inch of this city to himself. But it was like a double edged sword as well because this also meant that there would be absolutely no females of his clan or even species either. He would have no way to calm his sexual hormones that raged inside him as he was starting to enter adulthood. Thellius was tormented by this thought that he would be unable to keep his ache for sex under control until he reached full adulthood and that takes many years that were now starting to seem like eternity. 

And if he dares to come back to his clans territory at any time before he has reached adulthood he will be considered an outcast from his clan. Deemed incapable of supporting a clutch of his own and denying him a mate and a solid position amongst his clan for the rest of his long life. As he was contemplating this dreadful fact he was suddenly struck with realization that this city was stocked with hundreds of thousands of females. Even though they may not be of his clan even not of his species he could have his way them and sate his lust. The thought of him made him cringe but it was better solution than being an outcast from his clan. Thellius thought of celibacy but he knew if he tried to just fight back the sexual hunger just looking at the way some of them dress he would be raping them soon anyway. There was no rule in his clan against raping his prey before he kills them and Thellius was very glad there wasn't he was relived but now thellius thinks he know why there is no rule against it.

The night he started is started his first hunt in this city he noted how pathetic his prey actually was compared to his species. His kind absolutely dominated them physically in every way and his prey could not even see in the dark. They didn't even have scales or armour to protect their flesh from his fangs and talons. Instead they were covered in soft fur some did have less than others but it always varied amongst each species. Thellius liked the feeling of this fur as he mauled them though it was always soft and smooth. He only attacked males this night trying to avoid even eyeing up a single female for a meal. But trying to avoid it made a different type of hunger rise inside him as pondered the idea again. He started to fantasize what it would be like to fuck a female with such soft fur rubbing against his body but in lust rather than death. He was quickly snapped out of his fantasy feeling the ache of his crotch against his false forms uniform which he found quite funny looking compared to his true self. The temptation had finally won him over and Thellius decided at last to hunt a female now since the night was waning to day. He wanted the hunt to be easy considering the situation he needed her to be alive and that would mean she would be capable of screaming. This meant she could draw more attention to his presence than he needed. He wanted to avoid drawing any city wide attention to himself especially since he just stared to hunt them.

He figured the best place to attack a female would be in a park it was wide open and there much fewer lights to protect them. He also wanted to understand their body more too find their more sensitive areas and not just areas that yielded a quick kill. He also needed to understand what their limits where. Because there would be no way Thellius could maintain this false form while having his way with them. So he knew he would be pushing them to their breaking points. But thellius was only concerned about keeping them alive long enough just so he could reach climax while they where still breathing. 

Once he decided on everything he needed as he entered the park in his alternate form he immediately noticed a couple fooling around with each other on a bench. Thellius was elated at having such luck to find a target this quick. He paused and watched taking the time to take a good look at the female. She was very slender and poorly muscled. Thellius figured that she probably never lifted anything heavier then that tiny pink bag she carries next to her. She had a long and narrow snout with small stubby antlers poking out from the top of her head and below them she had long flexible ears. Her fur was brown and very short, her breasts were small and perky but she was not very impressive in any way. She wore a lot of clothing revealing only he hands and hooves she wore a blouse with a long skirt. Thellius decided she was barely even edible he doubted that he could even keep her alive long enough to have sex with her. He contemplated moving on to another target but the night was passing by faster than he anticipated. And the chances of another opportunity being around in this park would be most unlikely. Just as he decided that she was the target they started walking off into the bushes giggling and whispering to each other. Thellius grinned to himself thinking about how quickly her mate was about to change. 

He slowly walked up to their location the area was completely dark and they could be barely seen but Thellius's dark vision immediately kicked in making them look as if they were in broad daylight. Even though he was not even trying to be quiet still he was unnoticed by the both of them. As they fondled each other while rolling in the grass. But then they started their strange mating ritual making Thellius pause to observe and from what he could make out of it they were fighting with their tongues for some strange reason. 

After Thellius lost interest in there ritual he started to advance on them as he did this his bushy tail transformed into his massive tail tipped with the lethal blade. The male could be standing ten paces away from Thellius right now and he would be just in reach. But Thellius wanted be up close and perfect with his aim so he walked within arms reach. With a grin Thellius drove his tail forward with all his strength right into his temple the strike drove his tail right through but was so swift that he didn't even move. And now Thellius had this twitching male body with nothing but the flesh of his head holding him from falling onto his partner while his liquefied brains oozed down Thellius's tail. The female was totally oblivious to the demise that had just befallen her mate. And Thellius had already tossed his corpse well into the distance with a flick of his tail. 

As she was still lying in the grass looking like she was anticipating something from her former partner. Thellius slowly and carefully guided his tail up her blouse with his blade effortlessly slicing through it and yet she giggled thinking it was all apart of a game. With his tail he pushed back the now free clothing to reveal to him yet another undergarment guarding his target letting out the pathetic growl that his alternative from could muster he sliced that off as well and comically she growled back at him. Thellius now kneeled between her legs as he transformed into his full form even though her legs were spread far apart his hips were dangerously close to her thighs. He didn't want to surprise her yet he bent over her placing his hands underneath her arms and he brought the tip of his snout close to hers. 

He could smell a sweet scent but sadly it was fake and artificial. Then finally she grew anxious and reached out to find her mate and her joyous expression turned to confusion as her hands caressed scales around his face. As she made her discovery Thellius slides out his tongue and slowly licks the left side of her face soaking it in his saliva his tongue is also very rough its main purpose is for raking flesh off of bone; not giving loving attention. And very quickly her expression turned into revulsion. She was about to say something when Thellius drove his tongue into her mouth down her throat make her words no more than muffled sounds. She immediately started kicking and punching at Thellius but her struggle was barley even noticeable to Thellius. He didn't mind this tongue wrestling thing clearly he was the winner he thought to himself with a smile. Her throat was very soft and it felt nice rubbing against his tongue so he drives it in deeper until he is struck with a sour taste of bile that makes him retract it from her mouth in disgust. She immediately gasps for air and starts coughing terribly when he removes his tongue but Thellius dose not care about her air supply so he constricts her neck with his tail keeping the blade of his tail poised to strike her head if she becomes an annoyance. 

Thellius then moves his tongue onto her body starting from the collar bone tracing to her left breast slowly licking it and making circle patterns. He continues to lick her breast until the fur that covers it is completely soaked in his saliva and then he switches to the other breast repeating this pattern. She winces very time with every lick that contacts her sensitive areas.

Thellius starts to focus on specific areas of her breasts that cause the greatest reaction. He licks around the nipples and occasionally giving them a quick flick with the tip of his tongue. But it appears too Thellius that this prey has lost its zest for life and was just accepting the assault on her body. Thellius quickly moves his hands from under her arms and grabs her by the thighs mercilessly sinking his claws deep into her flesh and muscle only a faint whimper can escape from her constricted throat from the reaction to the pain. Thellius stands up pulling her into the air; her skirt falls away from her crotch revealing and yet another garment covering her pussy. Growling he pushes it roughly aside with his tongue and places his whole tongue between her ass cheeks and drags his whole tongue up to the tip of her cunt where a small nub stands out. As his tongue travels along her body her back arches and her body tenses up she lets out a moan. He reverses this same motion with the soft underside of the tongue trying to provoke a stronger reaction and he succeeds. The more intense reaction causes juices that Thellius has never tasted before to flow from her pussy making Thellius take another pass at her tender folds. After the third lick Thellius releases his hold on her neck letting life rush back into her weak body while his tongue starts to explore past the folds of skin.

He finds the hard tiny nub again a gently teases it with his tongue and the results are immediate she lets out a loud moan and her legs pull against his talons despite the fact it hurts her. Thellius is thoroughly enjoying the taste of this females pussy but all the pheromones that are assaulting his nostrils has got him aroused to him to a point where the he is starting to get vicious. Thellius hungers to taste more of her so he moves his tongue to the source. The tip arches and aims and plunges into her pussy. His tongue drives deep inside her vagina with no warning and a wail of pain follows. The female reaches toward Thellius with her arms but they are both quickly restrained by his tail. The taste of blood suddenly blends in with he juices. Thellius has pushed his tongue in too hard but it only increases his lust for more. But her cry reverts back to moaning as his tongue explores her insides twisting and pushing hard against her vaginal walls. Her body arches sharply and strains against Thellius arms and tail while she lets out a loud moan. Her pussy quickly squeezes his tongue like a vice causing a burst of her juices to drench Thellius's snout. Thellius was at his peak of excitement he pushes her up against a nearby tree with his tail wraps around her waist to hold her in position. The female looks back at him with a defeated look on her face and she slowly pulls down her skirt signifying her surrender. 

As she pulls off the skirt it slowly reveals her tender pussy again to his hungry eyes. He directs his hard dick to her pussy placing its head against her wet hole and she just lowers her head in anticipation. He pushes forward with his hips cramming his head into her pussy. Thellius winces at how tight she is to him she cries out in agony as he stretches her to her limits. His very first thrust pushes all the way to the sheath of his cock and juices gush out of her body as the space it once took up is suddenly occupied buy Thellius's cock. 

He pauses for a few seconds to take all the sensations in he can feel the muscles insider twitching and pushing against his dick and her cries have died down to weak whimpers now he pulls out. He pulls out until he can see the ring of the head emerge from her pussy once more he pushes back inside her causing her body to lurch forward against his tail and renewing her cries. As Thellius slams his scaled pelvis against her tiny ass he ponders how deep he is inside her trying to prolong his quickly waning endurance. But no thoughts help him maintain his inexperienced stamina. After only a few moments of Thellius fucking her she can barely let out a moan and the only thing that is keeping her up is his tail. Her juices have soaked both of their legs and Thellius cant make himself hold out any longer as he is about to reach climax. Thellius pace swiftly increases as the sensations around his cock intensifies he feel file he is about to explode and for a moment he ponder is she will. And with the last thrust his cock swells suddenly increasing in size. But all she can do in response to this sudden change is groan as it grows inside her stretching her pussy lips even further. While grits his fangs together while trying not to let out a roar. He les lose a torrent of cum inside her body it slowly swells with cum until it gushes from her tormented pussy. With a satisfied sigh he pulls out of her ravaged body and finishes her off with vicious bite to the back of the neck ending her pain in an instant. After tossing her aside he takes off into the night now hungry from his first experience with a female that used to only be food. ~Braxes 



The Hunter



I pulled my knife from its home. Grabbing a handful of Elaine's long black hair with my free hand, I pressed the blade lightly against her throat, just so she could feel the sharp edge. She let out a muffled scream and tried to shrink deeper into the bed away from the blade.

I gave her head a hard shake and hissed into her ear. "Quiet down, bitch, or I'll fucking slice your fucking throat open right now." I normally don't like to swear, but the victims seem to respond better when I do.

Elaine quieted down somewhat and I continued. "I'm going to peel this tape off your mouth and ask you a few questions, but don't fucking scream or I'll fucking slice your throat so fast and so deep your fucking head will come right off. Understand?" I gave her head another shake. Elaine nodded quickly.

Sheathing the knife, I peeled the duct tape away from her mouth, leaving it attached to her left cheek. The thumb of my nitrile glove stuck to the tape and I carefully peeled it away. I moved across from her on the edge of the other bed, picked up the viewcam and started recording.

"OK, you're Elaine?" I asked, my voice now calm and low.

"Uh huh," she quietly sobbed.

"Elaine, that's a pretty name. What's your roommate's name?"

"Michelle."

"Michelle? Do you call her Michelle or Shelly or something else?"

"No, just Michelle."

"M-I-C-H-E-L-L-E?" I spelled out.

"Uh huh."

"How long have you been rooming together?"

"I just moved in this year."

"You have a boyfriend?"

"Yeah. I mean I used to." Another sob. "We broke up last month."

"How about Michelle?"

"No."

"How'd you meet?"

"We had a class together at the end of last year."

"Are you the softball player or is she?"

"She is."

"What year are you in? Junior, senior?"

"Junior"

"What's your major?"

"Psychology."

"Psychology, that's great. That was one of my favorite subjects in college." I wasn't really interested in most of that stuff. I just wanted to keep her distracted and calm her down. There would be enough time for terror later. "OK, now listen, Elaine. I know you're scared, but this is going to be over before you know it, OK? You just stay calm and do what I say and you'll get through this just fine, OK? You understand?" 

"Yeah. Please don't hurt me," she started sobbing.

"Hey, hey, hey," I said, interrupting her. "Like I said, you just do what I say and you'll be OK. Michelle will be OK. You'll both be OK. OK? But the second you look like you're going to fuck with me, you're dead, understand? You do exactly what I tell you, when I tell you, OK? Otherwise, I'm going to have to hurt you again. You know, operant conditioning, positive punishment, B.F. Skinner? You probably remember that from Psych 101. 

"Now, I've got a few things to do and then we'll just wait for Michelle to come home."

I stopped recording and put the viewcam down. I picked up one of the panties from the nightstand, loosely wadded it up and knelt down next to the head of her bed.

"Open your mouth," I quietly commanded. 

"No," she said, frightened, and began wailing. I quickly pulled back my fist and punched her somewhat hard in the middle of her soft belly. Her breath came out in a whoosh and she drew her knees up. As her mouth gaped open to catch a breath, I stuffed the panties roughly into it with one hand, at the same time grabbing her hair and pulling her head back with the other. She gagged and choked as I force the panties in with my thumb. Elaine tried to twist her face away but I had a tight grip on her hair with one hand and her jaw with the other.

I stretched the duct tape back over her mouth and then shook her head a few times. Elaine screamed hysterically through her gag and I slapped her hard against the cheek with my free hand, a surge of adrenalin making me powerfully violent. My cock throbbed against my jockstrap, but it wasn't time for it to be released just yet. 

I brought my face down to hers, close enough for her to feel my hot breath. "You fucking bitch," I spit out. "I said when I tell you to do something, you fucking do it. You don't fucking piss me off, you understand?" 

Elaine was crying, coughing and wailing through her gag, but she nodded. Her tears formed an expanding circle of dampness on the bedspread and mucous started dribbling out of her nose.

"Now, you'd better quiet down while we're waiting for Michelle or I'm going to fucking beat some sense into you. Understand?" Another short nod.

I released Elaine's hair then opened up her backpack to pull out a pen and a notebook. I neatly tore out a blank piece of paper and turned to a page of handwritten notes. After waiting for my hands to calm down from the adrenalin rush, I carefully tried to mimic Elaine's handwriting, which wasn't easy because it was so damn messy. Don't they teach handwriting in school anymore? I wrote, "Michelle, please wake me when you get home."

I exited the bedroom, pulling the door behind me, leaving it cracked slightly open. Elaine was crying quietly, but she looked like she was slowly regaining her composure. I took the note to the living room, leaving it on the floor lying halfway on the carpet and halfway on the foyer linoleum.

I returned to the bathroom and sat on the cool toilet seat lid. Now it was time to wait. I was used to waiting. I'd waited over two hours for a deer to come close enough for me to take with a bow, so ten or fifteen minutes in a dark bathroom was a piece of cake.

Eventually I heard a key slide into the front door lock and an audible click as the deadbolt turned back. I silently drew my knife and got to my feet. I positioned myself just to the side of the bathroom doorway, between the toilet and the wall, where my second victim wouldn't see me as she walked past. I heard the front door open and footsteps entering the foyer. Sounded like just one person. The door closed and locked, and I heard the note being picked up off the floor. I could picture Michelle reading the note and looking down the hallway towards the closed bedroom door.

"Elaine? I'm home." My body tensed as I heard Michelle coming down the hallway towards the bedroom. Just as she passed, I sprang towards her, blocking her hard against the opposite wall like a fullback clearing out a linebacker. 

"Shit!" I heard her exclaim. Her head knocked against the wall, stunning her momentarily and I covered her mouth with a gloved hand. Her backpack fell heavily to the carpet. 

Pinning her up against the wall with my mostly naked body, I held the knife up to her eyes. "Don't make a sound, bitch," I hissed, "or you're fucking dead. Understand?" Her blue eyes stared into mine. Her eyes were wide and beginning to water and she breathed hard through her nose. After a couple of seconds, she gave a slight nod against my hand.

"OK," I began, "we're going to go into the bathroom and I want you to lie face down on the floor. Understand?" Another nod. I slowly lowered my hand away from her mouth and then grabbed the front of her shirt. Watching Michelle's face, I moved backwards into the bathroom, pulling her in with me, knife at the side her throat. Once we were in the bathroom, I pulled her downwards and she dropped to her knees. When I released her shirt, her hands touched the floor and she eased herself face down on the cool tile. I sheathed the knife, pulled the strip of duct tape off the edge of the counter and sealed Michelle's mouth shut.

Reaching back into the tub behind me, I whispered, "Give me your hands."

She held both hands up and I tightly strapped cuffs around her wrists and clipped them together.

"OK, we're going to get up and head for the bedroom, understand?"

She nodded back fairly calmly considering the circumstances. It looked like I had both ends of the spectrum here. Most girls, like Elaine, get pretty emotional, sometimes to the point of being hysterical. A very few, like Michelle, stay calm and just ride the whole scene out. Que sera, sera, so to speak. I usually don't have as much trouble with these, but it's a bigger turn-on when they're crying.

Before we left the bathroom, I reached into the tub again for the last pair of cuffs. I grabbed Michelle underneath one arm and helped her to her feet. I turned her around and nudged her ahead of me, guiding her to the bedroom. She pushed the bedroom door open and I heard a muffled exclamation when she spied Elaine bound on the far bed. Elaine heard us enter the room, heard Michelle and started crying again. I wasn't not too concerned. The duct tape, along with the panties in her mouth, would prevent her from making a lot of sound and, like I said, a little bit of noise turns me on.

I softly pushed Michelle towards the near bed and she laid down on her back. I motioned for her to scoot up so her body was fully on the bed, her head resting on a pillow hidden beneath the bedspread. After securing her legs together with the last pair of cuffs, I sat next to her, picking up the remaining pair of panties from the nightstand. I peeled back the tape from Michelle's mouth and said, "Open wide." 

Michelle was much more cooperative than her roommate. She looked calmly into my eyes as I stuffed the panties into her mouth, and I rewarded her by being a little gentler than I was with Elaine. I resealed Michelle's mouth and step back to evaluate my latest prey.

As I mentioned earlier, Michelle was a bit plainer looking than Elaine. Where Elaine was small and petite, Michelle was taller, maybe 5'9", and not especially well endowed, almost flat in fact. Her body shape was fuller with broad shoulders, wider waist and hips, and heavier thighs. But she wasn't what I'd call fat. More like firm and athletic. Her deep-set eyes, strong nose and the way the corners of her thin lips turn down gave her sort of a hawkish appearance. Her shoulder-length dirty-blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail and a small red blemish on her forehead looked like it was threatening to turn into a zit. She wore a burnt orange tank top, beige cargo shorts and a pair of Teva sandals. Sterling silver rings adorned the middle fingers of both hands.

I moved the videocam over to the dresser, pointing it at Elaine. The Sharp viewcam has a nice feature where the camera body, with its LCD screen, can be rotated around 180 degrees so you can see what's recording even when you're in front of the camera itself. The picture in the LCD screen automatically rights itself. Technology, boy, I tell ya. I hit the record button -- it was show time.

I returned to the nightstand, peeling off the gloves. For the immediate future, I didn't plan on touching anything from which they'll be able to get prints.

I moved to Elaine's bed and turned her onto her back, trapping her bound arms beneath her. She began whimpering as I sat on the bed next to her. She was sweating, the air in the room a little warm and stifling. I caressed her chin with my index finger, shaking slightly in anticipation. "Are you ready to start, hon?" 

Not waiting for an answer, I let my hand wander slowly down her neck, fingers gliding lightly over her tanned smooth skin, down to her chest, over the smooth knit fabric of her camisole. I cupped a breast, squeezing slightly, seeking the nipple beneath the fabric with my thumb. I think I felt the hint of a nub but her bra kept me from distinguishing any detail. Elaine squirmed around, trying to avoid my touch, yet, at the same time, not wanting to piss me off.

Elaine's whimpering increased as I climbed onto the bed. I straddled her hips, my knees on either side of her torso, the rough material of her jeans against my bare thighs. I unsheathed my knife and began cutting her camisole open, beginning at the bottom and slicing upwards to the top, lifting the knife and the fabric so I wouldn't nick her skin. Her whimpering grew into a low wail as she felt the knife pulling at her top. My cock pulsated against the confines of the jockstrap as the knife slowly revealed her body. The top parted to either side and, after a final tug, only a plain white bra hid her breasts from me.

I slid my knife underneath the bit of material holding the cups together and then sliced upwards with a sharp yank. The cups snapped away from each other, partially exposing Elaine's breasts. I sheathed the knife home and then reached over with both hands to brush the cups aside. Her breasts were firm round mounds topped by small, richly dark brown nipples. I brushed them gently with my fingers, taking pleasure in the way those small bumps felt, and Elaine squirmed beneath me as I began squeezing and kneading her breasts.

I bent my head down closer to them. The shallow valley between her breasts shone with a light coat of sweat, which I first kissed, then licked. I moved to her nipples, alternating between them, sucking them into my mouth and relishing the texture against my tongue, biting gently to feel their firmness. Elaine turned her head upward and away.

Sliding my bare ass down Elaine's legs until I was sitting on her knees, I undid her jeans and pulled the zipper down, partially revealing a pair of light blue cotton panties. I got up off the bed and undid the clip that held her ankles together, pausing to caress her feet, and kiss her soles and insteps.

I grabbed the bottom hem of her jeans and pulled them off, lifting her legs and her butt off the bed. The jeans dragged her panties off her hips, but they remained bunched up around her thighs. I tossed the jeans into the corner over by the closet door -- she'd definitely want to wash the pee out -- then stood beside the bed next to her.

Shiny black pubic hairs, more wavy than curly, tickled my nose as I buried my face into Elaine's partially exposed crotch. I inhaled deeply, picking out the faint scent of her sex mingled in with the tangy odor of urine, much like a connoisseur singling out a delicate fragrance from the complex bouquet of a fine wine. As you can tell, I'm really turned on by smells. All sorts of smells and especially, of course, the smells of sex.

I finished removing her panties and tossed them into the corner to join her jeans. I ran my hands over her legs, feeling their smoothness along with a slight hint of stubble on her lower legs. Her calves were large and well rounded, something I've found typical with many Japanese girls.

"Open up your legs," I quietly commanded. Elaine spread her feet apart, but not nearly enough. I reached over and grabbed a nipple between my thumb and finger. Pinching hard and twisting at the same time, I calmly said, "I said, open up your legs." Elaine let out a muffled yell and her body writhed in pain, her legs thrashing. I released her nipple as she kicked her legs apart, one foot striking the wall while the calf of her other leg hung off the side of the bed. "Good girl," I said, softly stroking and rubbing out her pinched breast.

I climbed onto the bed again, kneeling between her lower legs. Bending down for a closer look of her crotch, I admired the smooth outer lips to her vagina that formed a cleft beneath a thin thatch of jet black pubic hair. I pulled apart the outer lips to gaze at the brownish-gray wrinkled inner lips, which hid the pink membranes of her hooded clit and framed the opening to her vagina. Sticking out my tongue, I ran the tip up and down her slit, then flattened it against her to expose my taste buds to those wonderful subtle flavors. 

Her vagina was predictably dry -- women don't get wet when they're being raped. No matter, the condoms I brought were lubricated so I wouldn't have that irritating friction that came with a dry fuck. And, of course, they were ribbed for her pleasure.

As I straightened up from between Elaine's crotch, I glanced over at Michelle. She was still lying on the bed, but looking over with rapt attention. Very unusual. During all my previous hunts, everyone else would turn their face away or close their eyes or stare at the ceiling. Most of them cried. I don't know if it was out of sympathy for their roommate or because of the fear they felt of being next. 

I got up off the bed and stood in front of the nightstand. Time to bring out my hunting buddy. I pulled off my jockstrap, a thin string of pre-cum clinging to it like the clear strand of a spider web being drawn from the tip of my cock. I dropped the jockstrap onto the nightstand and picked up a foil wrapped condom. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Michelle watching with interest as I enveloped my cock in its rubber suit. The wrapper went into the Ziploc bag that I'd set up for trash.

As I was prepping myself, I thought about how I was going to take Elaine. Missionary? Sideways? Standing up? Doggie style? A old girlfriend once told me that guys liked doing it doggy style because of the feeling of domination they have over their partners. I told her I liked it because it just plain felt better. Easier to pump as fast as you want, easier to get deep penetration. Plus my arms don't get as tired 'cause I don't have to support my body weight on them. I think she was just pissed since she never got any pleasure from being on all fours, and was trying to make me feel guilty about it.

Elaine looked pretty flexible, so I decided to first fuck her missionary style with her feet on my shoulders, one of my favorite positions. Climbing back onto the bed between her knees, I lifted her legs up and brought her feet together until her calves rested on my chest, her heels almost reaching my shoulders. I hugged her legs against my body with my left arm then scooted forwards, taking the base of my cock in my right hand and searching for her slit. I rubbed the tip of my cock up and down, using the lubricant from the condom to moisten her as best as I could. Elaine's wailing quickly increased in volume, turning me on even more.

As I leaned over Elaine's body, placing my hands on either side of her shoulders, I forced her lower body to flex, rotating her hips upwards to position her pussy directly under my cock. I bent my elbows, resting my weight on my lower arms, locking her legs between our bodies. The tip of my cock rested against the opening of her vagina and I lowered my head down to her turned-away face. I entwined the fingers of my left hand into her long hair and grasped her jaw with my right, holding her head sideways, firmly in place against the bed. As I slowly pressed my cock into her, my tongue began probing her ear. Elaine screamed shrilly through the panties in her mouth and tried to squirm away but I had her firmly pinned beneath me. 

My cock slowly slid in and I enjoyed the sensation of Elaine's tight vagina as it stretched around my cock. I eased in until the tip hit her cervix, and I gave a final firm push to stuff myself deep inside her. I laid quietly for a few seconds, relishing the sensation of my cock pulsating inside of her vagina, my balls lying against her ass, and my weight crushing her body beneath me and impaling her with my cock. The feeling of complete domination that I had over her charged my body like a live wire ready to spark. 

I moved my cock in and out using hard, deliberate strokes. My tongue continued exploring her ear as my balls slapped her ass, sending me close to the edge. I stopped a couple of times, not wanting to come too soon, but always restarting with a vengeance. As I hammered on Elaine's exposed pussy, thumping her body into the mattress, I bit down firmly on the soft flesh of her earlobe. Not too hard -- I'm no Mike Tyson -- but hard enough that it made her scream again. She tried twisting her body away, but I was too heavy and too strong for her. Her earring tapped against the insides of my teeth in time with my forceful fucking. 

After a while, I eased up on the pounding and released her ear. It wasn't her pussy I was ultimately after, but her ass. I sat up on my haunches, letting her legs fall to either side of me, my cock slipping out of her raw pussy. I was breathing hard, trying to catch my breath, my sweat making the space beneath my hood uncomfortably humid. Elaine continued crying, her body rocking slightly from side-to-side as if she was still subconsciously trying to throw my body off. I stole another glance over at Michelle and she was still watching me. Or maybe watching us.




The Hunter



I scooted down towards the foot of the bed a little, grabbed Elaine's smooth legs and twisted her body over, rolling her onto her stomach. I shuffled back towards her, kneeling between her open thighs. I leaned over and wrap my arms around her waist, and pulled her up onto her knees. Her head and shoulders were still on the bed, face turned towards the wall, and her hands were bound behind her. Remnants of her camisole and bra clung to her sweaty back. Her small round ass was ready to be taken, her virgin asshole ready to be stretched. 

I swung my left leg to the wall side of her body so I could wrap my left arm around under her waist, holding her up. I reached down between her legs with my right hand, rubbing some of the moisture up to her asshole with the flat of my fingers. Her wrinkled bud contracted as a fingernail lightly scratched the dark brown puckered skin. As I pressed the tip of my middle finger into her ass, she let out another wail. She tried to force her hips down, squirming away from my probing finger, but I held her up firmly.

I pushed my finger in and out, twisting it around, spreading the lubricant, gradually sinking deeper and deeper against her clenching asshole. The musty smell of her ass grew stronger and my cock ached to fill that tight passage. I pulled my finger out and reposition myself behind her ass. My left hand grabbed her bound wrists firmly while my right guided the tip of my cock against the tightly puckered opening. As I pressed in, Elaine gave a muffled yell and tried to squirm away, but I yanked sharply on her arms, pulling her back towards me. 

As my cock pushed into Elaine's ass, forcing its way against the tight resistance of her asshole, she twisted her body even harder. I released my grasp on my cock and used my right hand to grab her hip, still holding her bound wrists with my left. Once the head of my cock passed the tight ring of her sphincter, it was no more Mister Nice Guy; it was time to let the dogs out. I stroked in and out, pounding hard with long powerful strokes, feeling her asshole clenching tightly around my cock, my balls slapping against her pussy. 

Elaine cried hysterically as I pulled on her arms, straining her shoulders backwards while I drove her face into the bed with each thrust. After a few moments, I released her wrists and grabbed her hips with both hands. I jack hammered with quick strokes, driving my cock as deeply as I could. I could feel her asshole becoming hot and raw as I mercilessly pounded her. A thin coating of mucous, flecked with bits of blood, clung to my rubber-clad cock.

I felt the cum building in my balls and I had to stop. I collapsed on top of Elaine, spreading her knees apart with mine and pressing her down flat. Her arms were trapped between us, my full weight crushing her small body into the mattress. My engorged cock was still deeply embedded within her ass, feeling as if it would burst from all of the blood pumping into it. My hooded face was pressed up against the side of hers and I could smell a light strawberry fragrance in her sweaty hair. The blindfold had slid down from her eyes to cover her nose. She was still sobbing through the panties in her mouth, her eyes swollen closed from crying.

It was time for the finale. I swung my legs outside hers and adducted her legs together with my feet, tightening the sensation on my cock. I wrapped my arms around her, sliding my hands between her body and the bed, one hand searching for a breast. I began sawing my cock in and out of her ass again. Moans turned into shrieks as I pinched and pulled at a tender nipple. Her eyes squeezed tightly in pain as I pounded my lower body against her. My sweaty balls slapped against her ass and I felt myself starting to come. I turned my head slightly, smelling the fear in her sweat, and bit through several strands of her thick hair into the side of her neck. 

Now my prey really started thrashing. Her fingers scratched at my abdomen as she tried to buck me off but I was too heavy for her, and her desperate bucking sent me over the edge. "Uhhhhh!" I grunted against her neck, and I felt my cum spasming out of me, filling the condom. Five, six, maybe seven times my cock squirted before my sperm was exhausted. A few more final deep thrusts and I collapsed onto the tiny body once more, releasing her neck from my jaws, breathing hard, totally spent. I rested for a while, catching my breath while my victim sobbed beneath me. 

The low wail of a siren grew close. I wasn't too worried. During my stake-outs I had noticed firetrucks passing by the building on occasion. There was a fire station about a mile to the south, just before Wilshire Blvd. Sure enough, I heard a fire engine rumble by and continue on its way, the vibrations briefly making the windows buzz.

Michelle was lying across from us, still quietly watching. What am I going to do with her, if anything? Usually, if both of my prey were decent looking, I'd start with one and finish with the other. On occasion, if the roommate wasn't attractive, I would just take the primary prey. Michelle doesn't fit the mold of someone I'd normally turn down. Elaine, however, was so perfect -- petite, cute *and* Asian -- that I had to make her the star of this hunt. I decided to take a closer look at Michelle, anyway.

I climbed off of Elaine, pulling my slowly deflating cock out from her tortured cavity, and stood between the beds. I gingerly slid off the fecal smelling condom and carefully placed it into the Ziploc that I'd been using as a trash bag. After cleaning myself up with some Kleenex from the nightstand, I pulled on my jockstrap and walked over to the videocam. There was still plenty of recording time left on the cassette. I pointed the lens over to Michelle, careful not to touch the dresser, adjusted the framing in the LCD screen and then walked over and sat on the bed next to her.

Michelle was laying flat on her back, her bound wrists resting on her abdomen. The small bumps of her nipples poked up slightly under the material of her tank top. I locked into her stare as my hand swept over her broad chest. My fingers brushed over her nipples and she closed her eyes, her body shaking with what looked like a slight chill.

Wild thoughts ran through my mind as I caressed Michelle's chest, playing with her stiff nipples through the orange cloth. Was she actually turned on by what she'd witnessed? I undid her shorts and slid the zipper down. My hand snaked down inside the front, down into her underwear, curly pubic hairs brushing against my palm on its journey downward. Her damp panties felt cool on the back of my hand while her pussy felt warm; my middle finger glided over her wet slit. She subtly tried to shift her thighs apart against the binding of her ankle cuffs.

I bent my head down to her face and whispered low into her ear. "You liked what you saw, didn't you? I can tell by how wet you are."

Michelle stole a glance at Elaine, whose face was still turned towards the opposite wall. My middle finger found Michelle's swollen clit and slowly stroked the shaft. She closed her eyes again and another shiver rippled through her, her strong thighs squeezing together around my fingers for a moment. After a few seconds, she looked back at me.

"Do you want me to do the same thing to you?" I whispered.

She shook her head no. Definitely not.

I took a few seconds to think. "Do you want me to do something different with you?"

Again, she shook her head no.

"You want to see me do something else to Elaine?"

A slight shrug of her shoulders.

More thinking and a flash of inspiration hit me. "Do *you* want to do something with Elaine?" I whispered.

Her clear blue eyes looked back at me, not knowing how to react. My hand was still down her shorts, middle finger idly caressing her clit.

"Are you gay?" I asked.

Another shrug of her shoulders and then a shake of her head.

"Bi?"

Another shrug.

"Are you and Elaine lovers? Ever have sex with her?"

She shook her head vigorously a couple of times and glanced at Elaine, and this time I thought I saw an expression of wistfulness on her face.

The wheels wee turning in my brain. "But I'll bet you've wanted to. She's really cute, isn't she? Is that why you're rooming with her? Maybe you've even once thought about seducing her."

She looked back at me and I could read her face as clearly, as if I had just verbalized her thoughts. Who was it that said the eyes are the mirrors of the soul?

I whispered, "Tell you what. If you want, I'll let you do whatever you want to your roommate."

Michelle stared back at me, listening closely. "We'll stay quiet so she doesn't know," I conspiringly continued, "or I can make it sound like I'm forcing you to do whatever it is you end up doing to her."

Again, she silently stared at me, taking in my proposal. I was sure she was wondering whether or not to trust me, whether or not I was pulling her leg, but if I had her pegged right, I knew how she'd respond. The yearnings of the flesh can be stronger than the logic of the mind, and if she ever had a desire to have her way with her roommate, well, a better opportunity might never come again. 

Slowly she nodded her head.

"OK, hang on. Let's get one thing straight." I paused, removing my hand from her shorts. Pulling out my knife and holding it in front of her face, I whispered, "I'll free your hands, but you'd better not try to get away, understand? The second you try to fuck with me, you're dead. OK?"

A brief pause, and Michelle nodded again.

"OK. I want to get you naked first. Let's make this look good, at least."

I sat up and cut away her tank top, first slicing through the straps on her shoulders. I motioned for Michelle to raise her arms over her head, then parted the front of her shirt with a midsagittal cut, slicing from inferior to superior. The tank top fell away, revealing small, pale, convex mounds topped by dark pink nipples. 

Sheathing the knife, I got up to slip off her sandals and unclip the cuffs holding her legs together. When I reached down for her shorts, she helped me by raising her hips and I pulled them off together with her panties. The familiar smell of her aroma began to fill the room. That's one thing women of European ancestry have over Asians -- the stronger, heavier smell of their sex that seems to fill every crevice of your nasal cavities. I tossed her shorts on the floor but held on to her damp panties, putting them in the Ziploc bag with the first pair. It would be a nice accompaniment to my jack-off sessions.

I helped Michelle up to a sitting position. I slowly peeled the tape from her mouth and pulled out the damp gag, setting both to the side. As I unclipped the cuffs holding her wrists together, I whispered into her ear, "Don't be too timid with her or she'll know it's not me." She gave a nod.

Elaine was lying quietly, her crying having subsided, but when I sat down next to her, she tried squirming away. I grabbed her shoulder, bending down to her face. She pried her eyes opened to look at me, small slits beneath puffy lids. "OK, hon, time for round two," I said as I reached over to slide the blindfold back into place.

I rolled her onto her back and she wailed again through her gag. She thrashed and kicked her legs wildly, turning her head from side to side as if trying to say "no more" to this nightmare. I knew I'd have to restrain her a little tighter if Michelle was going to be able to work her. 

Reaching beneath Elaine's back for her cuffed wrists, I rolled her slightly towards the wall and unclipped them. Maintaining a strong grip on her left wrist with one hand, I reached down and grabbed her left ankle with the other. I pulled her ankle back towards her left wrist and then clipped the two together. I rolled Elaine onto her back again and she flailed at me with her right arm, a couple of her punches connecting weakly. I grabbed her arm and right leg and then clipped her right ankle to her right wrist.

I stood up to admire my handiwork. Elaine was lying helplessly on her back, each ankle pulled back and connected to a wrist. Her feet and knees were apart, unable to protect her tender pussy. Her long hair was sweaty and matted, with a few wild strands clinging to the side of her face. Her chest heaved with her labored breathing, raising and lowering her pliant breasts. I turned to Michelle, cocked my head towards Elaine and bowed slightly from the waist, waving my hand as if to say, "She's all yours."

For a few seconds, Michelle stared at Elaine, mesmerized by the offering lying before her like a sacrifice to some ancient god. Then she slowly rose from her bed and knelt down next to her captive roommate. She reached out a shaky hand and tentatively cupped a soft round breast. She alternated twirling the nipple between her thumb and finger and brushing it with her thumb, like a kid fascinated by a new toy. Then she bent down and gave the nipple a small lick. 

I could see Michelle growing emboldened by her roommate's helplessness. She swirled her tongue around Elaine's dark brown areola and then she sucked the nipple into her mouth, savoring the taste and texture.

I turned to grab the videocam off of the dresser. Kneeling at the foot of the bed, I focused the camera in between Elaine's knees and captured Michelle suckling on the breast of what seemed to have become *our* prey. Michelle planted little kisses on Elaine's breast, traversing her way across her chest while climbing onto the bed. Kneeling next to her roommate, Michelle worked the other breast the same way, licking and sucking at the nipple. I saw her bite down gently a few times, eliciting fearful whimpering from Elaine.

Michelle grew a little more confident, a little bolder, kneading the Asian girl's supple breast with her strong fingers. While she continued to work on the breast with her right hand, she slid her left down Elaine's abdomen, caressing and lightly scratching the tight tan skin with her fingertips. Her hand traveled lower until it reached the ridge of Elaine's pubic bone and the beginning of her black silky bush. She ran her fingers through the coarse hairs, then down to Elaine's pussy. 

I zoomed in on Michelle's middle finger as it parted the top of Elaine's dark vaginal lips, gliding and dipping along the lubricated canal of her slit, exploring the pink wrinkled skin inside, like a snake seeking the burrow of a mouse. Her silver-ringed finger found the opening to Elaine's vagina and began to probe its depths. The strong digit slid in and out several times, gradually working its way deeper, lubricating itself along its length, and then her ring finger joined in alongside. 

Suddenly she shoved both fingers in hard, holding them deeply inside Elaine's vagina, and I saw Michelle bite down on Elaine's breast. Elaine yowled against her gag and tried to twist her body away, arching her back off the bed, but Michelle pressed down on her roommate's chest with her right forearm. My cock came to life again beneath my jockstrap, pulsating against its confinement.

I set the videocam down on the dresser, widening the zoom so I'd be able to catch all of the action. Walking to the nightstand, I pulled the dildo from its hiding place. Michelle was still biting on Elaine's nipple and ramming her fingers into Elaine's vagina as I moved behind her. I patted the inside of Michelle's thigh and she parted her knees to give me easier access. Reaching between Michelle's legs, I found her swollen clit, her slit wet with a viscous mucous. As I stroked Michelle's clit with the fingers of one hand, I took the dildo with the other and slid it slowly into her vagina. Michelle ground the dildo around as she moved her butt back towards me. 

I slid the slick rubbery dildo in and out of her vagina in synchrony with the stroking of her clit. Michelle, in turn, started working Elaine even harder and I was hoping she didn't bite Elaine's nipple off. The Asian girl's screams became high-pitched and hoarse behind her gag as she continued to struggle. Suddenly, I felt Michelle squeezing her thighs around my fingers and she started grinding her clit against my pressing hand. A tremendous shudder coursed its way through her body and she released her bite on Elaine's breast, saliva dripping from her mouth onto the abused tit as she closed her eyes and concentrated on her orgasm. I kept the pressure on her crotch, but slowed my hands as her shaking subsided. The pungent smell of her pussy filled my nose, and I was ready to get off myself.

Tossing the dildo onto the empty bed behind me, I pulled Michelle off of Elaine and silently but urgently guided her to a kneeling position in front of me. I pulled down the top of my jockstrap, enough to free my throbbing cock. Michelle saw what I needed and she began to hungrily suck at it, sliding her mouth back and forth along the shaft as she looked into my eyes, her hands resting on the front of my thighs. I lightly held the back of her ponytailed head and started pumping my cock in and out, feeling the tip of my cock hitting the back of her mouth, resisting the urge to make her gag. The earlier sight of Michelle abusing Elaine's body had gotten me extremely turned on and I came quickly, my knees nearly buckling from being totally spent. Michelle swallowed what little cum I managed to expel and my balls ached from my second orgasm in less than half an hour.

What a feeling. I'd never stuck my dick into a victim's mouth, always afraid that they'd be able to recover a semen sample or that I'd get my cock bitten off by someone who thought they'd have nothing to lose. So having Michelle suck me off was definitely an added bonus.

Michelle watched as I pulled my jockstrap back up to cover my rapidly shrinking dick. I helped her to her feet and motioned for her to lie back down on her bed. Time to start cleaning up. I walked over to the videocam, turning it off; this was one movie I'd be playing for a long time. Returning to the nightstand, I pulled my gloves back on and put the dildo back in its hiding place.

I retrieved my toolbox from the bathtub and pulled out a couple of plastic restraints, the kind that police use in crowd control situations when they don't have enough metal handcuffs. Except these were Monadnock Double Cuffs, which have two individual plastic loops, one for each wrist, rather than just a single one to hold both wrists together. They're more comfortable, simple to put on and there will be enough play between the wrists that I would have an easier time taking off my nice ballistic nylon cuffs while my captives were still restrained.

I sat on the bed next to Elaine. She had a pretty bad bite mark around her right nipple -- it was going to be sore for a long time. "OK, hon, it's all over." I unclipped her right wrist from her right ankle and her leg straightened out, lowering to the bed. 

As I cinched a plastic loop around her right wrist, I told Elaine in a voice loud enough for Michelle to hear, "Now, I'm just putting these on you so I have a chance to get going without you calling the police right away. I'm going to leave a pair of scissors or a knife and one of you can cut the other one free. OK?" I unclipped her left wrist from her ankle and secured it to the other loop of the cuff.

I unstrapped the ballistic nylon restraints from Elaine's wrists and ankles and went over to Michelle's bed to repeat the procedure. Michelle watched my face as I cuff her and, after I finished, I looked at her with a gleam in my eye and a grin on my mouth. I leaned over, intending to give her a quick peck on the lips before I got up to resume packing. As my mouth touched hers, however, she darted her tongue out along my lips. I took a few moments to enjoy a tongue dance with her, and then pulled away, thinking of the time.

I packed away the Ziploc baggies, with their treasures and trash, along with the video camera. After stowing the cuffs, I announced to both girls, "I'm just going to the bathroom to put on my clothes. Just lie still for a little bit longer and I'll be out in no time."




The Hunter



I went to the bathroom, leaving the doors open so I could hear them and they could hear me. I pulled off my hunting mask and paused to take a leak -- sex really fills up my bladder for some reason. After pulling on the clothes I'd stashed in the bathtub, I turned on the bathroom light so I could adjust the wig and cap in the mirror. Along with the colored contacts, I was sure my own mother wouldn't recognize me.

I was so intent on checking my appearance in the mirror that the soft "Hey" from the bathroom doorway startled me. I turned my head quickly and saw Michelle's face smiling at me, amused by the way she'd made me jump.

"Hey, yourself," I whispered back, regaining my composure. "Whatcha doing?"

"Um, I just wanted to tell you how cool that was. Like, that was so awesome. It was the hardest I've ever come." As Michelle entered the bathroom, I turned towards her, wrapping my arms around her waist, and pulled her against me, mildly aware of her bound hands pressing against my crotch.

"Yeah, well, that was great for me, too. By far the best," I said, looking into her eyes.

"Yeah? Do you do this a lot?"

"Well, this wasn't the first time. Let's just leave it at that."

"Really?" Paused. "Do you think we can do this again?"

My mind bagan processing this latest bombshell. "You mean, just the two of us or with someone else?"

"With someone else. Just like today." I saw an excited sparkle of eager anticipation in her eyes, like a kid who'd just taken her first ride on the latest high speed rollercoaster and couldn't wait to jump back on.

I tried to do a quick assessment. "I'll have to think about it." Though the thought was tempting, there were a lot more variables to consider with having another person involved. The risks would increase exponentially with another hunter, especially a rookie. She looked pretty smart, though -- I guess you'd have to be, going to UCLA -- so maybe she'd catch on. I'd have to do some detailed analysis to see if or how it could work before I could promise her anything. 

"What's your e-mail address?" I asked.

She gave me one with a ucla.edu domain, which I commited to memory.

"I probably won't be writing to you for at least a month," I told her. "I've got to think about how we might make this work. But, in the meantime, take care of Elaine, OK? We put her through a lot. There's probably some sort of rape crisis center at the UCLA hospital."

"OK." She tilted her head to kiss me again and I hugged her tight for a few moments, one arm around her back, the other gloved hand dropping down to squeeze one of her butt cheeks. Perhaps realizing the suitable position of her hands, Michelle began rubbing me through my coveralls.

I pulled away from our kiss, and she looked at me, noticing the patch on my uniform. "You're a plumber?" she asked, arching her eyebrows in disbelief.

I smiled. "Well, if you get me a plunger, I could probably unclog a toilet. Other than that, no, it's just a disguise."

I turned off the bathroom light and we returned to the bedroom. Michelle laid back down and I sat beside her on the edge of the bed. I picked up the still damp panties from the nightstand and Michelle opened her mouth to allow me to gag her. After loosely securing the duct tape, I went rummaging through the desks. I found a pair of scissors and took it out to the living room, where I deposited it on the dining table.

Returning to the bedroom, I sat down next to Elaine and removed the blindfold. Her red, swollen eyes looked away from me, smeared eye liner blooming across tear stained cheeks. "OK, I'm all done. I put a pair of scissors out on the dining table. One of you can go get them after you hear me leave and you'll be able to cut each other free."

I packed the blindfold into my toolbox and snapped the lid shut. One last look around to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything and then I picked up the toolbox and headed for the bedroom door. I exited without looking back, making my way down the hallway. I stopped at the front door and peeked out the peephole. No one in sight, so I make my escape out of the apartment and down a nearby stairwell. As I passed a pair of students on their way up, I brought my hand up to my face, coughing into it as if clearing a stubborn clump of phlegm from my throat. 

The van was parked out front. I tossed the toolbox in the back next to a small suitcase that held my regular casual clothes and jumped in the driver's seat. After a brief stop to change clothes and license plates, I headed back to the rental place.

****************

At 9 PM, I was cruising with the top down on the 405 towards San Diego, the cool night air clearing and refreshing my mind. I was puffing on a Cuban Montecristo #2 after a meal of fish tacos and a tall Sam Adams over at Islands on Pico Blvd. A fitting end to a successful hunt and I was already thinking about the next one. The more I mulled it over, the more I liked the challenge of having Michelle partner up with me. And I'd heard UC Irvine has a lot of Asians.