Interspecies sex is as old as the hills. Well almost, but certainly has been happening since man began to domesticate wild animals. Wolves teamed up with humanoid hunters, using the superior brain of the biped to ensure a supply of meat and a security of existence. A partnership made in heaven for both parties. The wolf/dog benefiting from the union with regular meals and little competition, the man using the nose and hearing of his counter-point as well as its stamina to chase down and hunt prey.
In such a close harmonious liaison, bonds will form, especially when far from the comfort of home and the warmth of the hearth or a mate's body. Comfort was often mutually sought between hunter and companion on cold nights under the canopy of stars on the great Steppes. Fur clothing often removed to be replaced with fur, still living and breathing in a union, more for warmth and social bonding, than sexual gratification.
Burr was no different from many other hunters. He was away on a hunt that may take no time, only keep him away from home for a day or two, or it could take a week and the passing of many miles into strange territory where navigation was then only possible by the celestial movements of stars, sun and moon. They had been away from home for three days, covering almost forty miles. Fortune had shone on Burr; he and his two dogs had latched onto the back of a herd of caribou, singling out an older bull, weakened by malnutrition and age. Two stone tipped arrows had lodged in its shoulder, causing a steady loss of blood, but even wounded, the animal had taken off, leaving a trail scent that Burr's partners had little difficulty in following. He would have preferred to persuade the bleeding animal to reverse its course and lessen the miles that he would need to travel back, loaded with the butchered carcass, but the caribou had a fixed compass heading, learned from his mother and the generations preceding his demise even in its panic and pain, the south west direction overtook any other compulsion. Like salmon finding a particular river, the caribou followed a path that took them to lower pastures and away from the worst of the impending winter. It was a trail blazed on its internal compass and completely irrevocable.
But now, it was night, stalking and avoidance ceased when the moon dipped below the horizon and deprived Burr of its wane light. A small fire offered some warmth in the bitter chill winds that whistled over the outcropping he had taken as a vantage point. The dogs and he had shared a ration of dried meat that hardly registered in their gut, but would be enough until the early morning light allowed Burr to once again approach the stragglers of the herd and their particular chosen victim. For now, he was curled up between the heavily furred bodies of the two dogs, his arm slung across the larger and more dominant of the two.
They slept, sated in reaffirmation of their bond, where Burr had slipped his cock into the anal passage of the smaller dog and suckled on the larger, grasping the base of him behind a bulbous knot so that his ejaculation was achieved. Secretions rubbed over each other in scent sharing served as a means of reinforcing the pack ethos. Burr's semen wiped over both of his subordinate, lower ranked team to once again establish his position in the hierarchy.
Burr had now fathered two children, both girls, both likely to live for the foreseeable future. He had taken on the woman, her two year-old son and her mother and father after her previous partner had fallen out of a tree, breaking his leg in several places. Although it may have seemed cruel, she had left him behind to his fate, taking the girls and her aged parents. Her mate would die. The leg would never be the same even if he could give it the necessary time to heal. The bone would never knit properly, but they would starve long before then. He was the sole provider. Her father was too old and arthritic at thirty-five to hunt much more than rabbits or fish and that with intermittent luck. Survival instincts impressed upon her and she sought a new mate with no more thought to her partner of so many years.
It has long been eschewed that love is a modern concept. In these early days of biped dominance, love had little place in the harshness of existence. Partnerships were formed on the basis of ability and aptitude to provide; both food and protection, as for the male, or children by the woman and therefore, the spread of a particular gene trait through offspring. Choices of partnership were decided subliminally, taking into account, physical attributes and intelligence. Sometimes, but rarely, feelings developed over a long period, usually when the offspring were ready to make their own way. For most though, starvation or childbirth accounted for their demise, adding to the high mortality rate and short life expectancy.
Sexual maturity in early man; was achieved by the age of eight or nine. Complete self dependency came by twelve or thirteen. The male may stay with the family unit, extending the range and adding to the protective force through a collective coalition.
There was less of an investment in the length of dependence compared to modern times. If a child had not been paired off by mid-teens, they were ejected from the enclave and ceased to exist as far as the family group were concerned. Indulgence was far too costly and placed an overwhelming burden on parents that often only had forty years as a life span. The selection process then, naturally followed physical size, speed and musculature. A proven ability to hunt, kill and provide as a distinct advantage. Rights of passage added to the mortality rate of the male and had a significant influence on the disparate numbers of the sexes. Women out numbered men by at least three or four to one.
A modern day idyll perhaps. Promiscuity was positively encouraged and the taking of many wives was usual rather than the taboo it is in this day and age. The toll however, was the downfall of too many men, bringing about an early grave.
Burr had the good fortune of being quick witted, tall and brawny. His reasoning and wood craft ensured he got to spread his genes far and wide, resulting in unknown bastard offspring in a wide circumference around his home ground. Apart from his obvious stature, perfectly obvious through his general lack of body hair, Burr had blue eyes, a rarity in Neolithic times. By comparison to his contemporaries, and through a union of a foreigner and his mother, he could be considered almost European in his difference. Much more fleet of foot, an improved hand-eye coordination an alertness to his surroundings and still only a teenager with many seasons of providence left in him. To the rather squat women of the Steppes region, he was a highly desirable catch.
The morning, still several hours away, would find them once again, hungry, eager for the coup de grace and following the wounded bull, harrying it until exhaustion eventually brought it down. The weakened animal hadn't travelled far, its trail and stink obvious to a practiced eye and nose. They found it in a clearing of a deciduous forest half a mile away from their overnight camp. He was fading fast; already his haunches had given way to weakness and were not supporting him at all now. Death would be soon as his strength gave out and he succumbed to the inevitable. Burr and his companions would not have to wait very long, but approaching the panting beast was not advisable. Although mortally wounded, he was more dangerous now than at any time previously. They paid him due respect.
Burr set about cutting some saplings with which to construct a travois. He would butcher the animal where it fell, into manageable hunks, offer the gods the still warm heart by burying it in the mother of all creation and covering it over to stop the wolves from digging it up, then pack the meat with dry grass, tie it to the travois and begin the long trek home.
He and the dogs shared the bloody liver, relishing the strength of taste and benefiting from the vitamins of the organ that had so recently been an essential part of the beast. Blood dripped and coated the three companions, masking their scent and delighting them into a ritualistic dance in celebration of the spirit and thanks to the gods. They fucked each other in exuberance, cavorting in shear pleasure and communal rapid unions that had nothing at all to do with sex.
Burr spent the next three days, dragging back the butchered carcass that would see his family through the harshest part of the winter. Their larder would need supplementing with whatever small game could be caught, but it was almost assured that they would be there next spring unless sickness struck as it so often did.
His triumphant return instigated a euphoric celebration. His woman met him while he was still at the bottom of the escarpment they had chosen as home, with an embrace that had his cock hard for her warmth. They kissed and hugged, but then shared the work of heaving the meat over the loose shale until they managed to get to the levelled area in front of the cave.
Her son was the first to emerge from the smoking darkness of the cave mouth followed by his partner's parents and then, by his daughters. The old man heavily relying on a crutch he had fashioned from a willow branch. His knees were virtually useless, bowed by the crippling disease of inflamed joints, every step a new excursion of pain.
.... There is more of this story ...