Chapter 2

The following afternoon,19 year old Jens Jaedermeist sneaked out of the camp and made his solitary way near to the same makeshift enclave he had been in with the other two. When he’d scouted the shanty to check if anyone was inside before her walked right through and raped the woman, he noticed what might have been a small communal area across and along the dirt track. There were some chairs, three empty beer bottles on the earth and a garment of some sort strewn across one chair. Maybe there was a bit of social life – at least a beer.

Now there was. Similar music he’d heard the day before was being played inside on a tinny amplifier of some sort.

All chairs were occupied by men smoking and drinking, two more stood leaning against the structure, the same mangy brown dog lay below two pairs of feet. As Jens strolled towards the gathering, the dog lifted it’s head and snarled, getting up, but not attacking the Dane who had managed to kick it. He breathed a sigh of relief and asked in his most fluent French for a beer.

It got through as one of the swarthy men shouted inside and a light voice trilled an acknowledgement. All the men were sullen but not anti the pale flaxen haired beefy youth. He decided to check inside and picked his way through a bunch of smelly men into the shade to find a few more men and three women. Stunned to find the rape victim present, propped against the bar holding a bottle of beer ... but fully made and dressed up, chatting to two men. Thinking what a good ruse it had been yesterday to wear the pollution masks he studied her briefly. How different she looked he mused as he spotted a young girl holding up a bottle to him. He paid, thanked and accepted it, glugging it but his eyes swivelled from the server to the woman. The third woman was an ancient, toothless hag, with snowy white hair contrasting with her coal black skin, sat in a corner, complete with beer.

The young incredibly pretty, swarthy girl can only have been about 15 and ultra attractive in a Beyonce like way. Dense black curly hair hung to her shoulders. She had a small snub nose, bright wide apart dark sparkling eyes. She was slight, slender and short, but shapely in that young female way. The bar structure masked her legs. Her bright yellow and white frothy dress, revealed completely bare shoulders, the top edge of the dress carved a straight line across her growing bosom. Jens could see she had nicely formed breasts and the distinct points suggested she wore no brassiere. The way she was turned out belied the state of the village hovel, she seemed special. Equally the mature woman stood out amongst the despairing gear the other bar flies wore.

She was dressed in a plain dark green thin dress which clung to every inch of her substantial rippling frame. Like the girl, no bra and where the little one had points the woman sported stubby lumps which were the size of Jens’s thumb. He could make out a line of big knickers. Her legs were bare with flip flops on her feet and even her toe nails were decorated yellow. Her name was soon established as one of the men outside yelled in.

“Sabina, he is here!”

There was a general rumble of voices, scraping feet and furniture, all the men going inside carrying chairs and of course beers. Sabina ordered two beers, the girl served her, no money changed hands. It appeared to be an expected arrival and soon the reason was apparent in the doorway, blanking the light. An enormous, shaven headed, powerfully built white man loomed, having difficulty holding back an equally enormous, big headed black dog on a stout lead.

The new arrival was greeted like royalty and a man took the dog lead, dragging the animal reluctantly outside again. He sauntered in to the slightly larger hovel, speaking to several men and then made a bee line to Jens, a beaming smile on his large face.

“Don’t see many white faces round here, howdy ... I’m Solomon Abregard Lasvisush. Lets see ... er?...

British? Quite a few here.”

“No Danish actually. Hi!” replied Jens flexing his fist as if it had been in a vice after the shake. “On the relief team, sneaked out for a beer and hopefully a fuck but not much around.”

“Like your style buddy. Stick around, you never know,” Lasvisush grinned tapping his nose. “Now where is? ... there she is ... darling Miah, come here...”

The bar girl shot round and jumped into the mammoth bare beefy arms he spread, leaping into them with a squeal of delight, her legs wrapped round his waist, her arms hugging his neck and her mouth slavering his face with kisses. His hands held her minimal weight and her white panties were the brightest white Jens had seen for a while. There seemed to be genuine affection between them. Jens was full of admiration and lust, the teenage girl was the only attractive female even though Solomon had hinted other wise and the view the Dane had of her tight dusky bum was spectacular.

Miah scrambled back to earth and carried on with her work. Solomon chatted to the hag and sidled back to Jens’s side.

“She is gorgeous. Good friends obviously Solomon,” he said.

“Yeah, something else. Friends ... not really in that sense, but you know ... she’s special. By the way Sol please, my names is too much even for my folks who gave me it back in Idaho,” he chuckled, shaking his head and puffing more of the torpedo size cigar he’d entered with. “She shouldn’t be holed up here at her age ... but what can I do ... OK you OK? We can go?” His attention over the bar.

The girl flitted round to his side grabbed one of his mitts and they left, to get into his truck and sped off.

The big mutt came back in on the cable like lead, left to roam and immediately was pampered and petted by the woman in the green dress. She took the lead off it, the old crone joined in petting it having taken the lead. They too obviously knew each other well. The men closed in, muttering, licking their lips, grabbing bottles of beer placed on the bar by Miah before she joined Sol. Pieces of straw were handed out and all but Jens took one. At a call, they compared the straw length and a guy expressed his joy, pumping his hand up.

“Cara ... Cara ... Cara!” went the chant. The woman slunk into the centre of the circle doing a bit of a shimmy dance then slid her dress up to her hips. Slowly she drew down her black panties to the chant and with a final flourish twirled them round in the air then placed them on the guy’s head. The crowd of about eight men, a solitary woman and the crone, cheered as he removed them and savoured the smell and taste of the soggy gusset, with much gusto.

Meanwhile Cara sank to her knees her bare bum exposed and swiftly the dog mounted her, initially over her head and shoulder in it’s keenness, until budged to the right end by a man. To Jens it’s cock was already poker size and colour, waving out of it’s sheath a good eight raw red inches. Cara widened her legs a little and to a cheer the hound entered her slack cunt and commenced a fast paced, jack hammer like thrust.

Jens thought he must find out the breed of this extraordinary animal, looking to him like some sort of mastiff. It was long legged, solid and powerfully built at it’s haunches. He mused on the fact he had raped Cara the day before, so had Conor and Keith, Conor anally raping her, then a local mangy hound, the one outside, had mounted her and she’d taken it easily. No wonder, when he was part of the audience to the bestial performance in this hovel. OK they had surprised Cara and she’d been restrained, but maybe multi cocks were a norm in her life. Another cheer filled the space as the hound stopped shafting Cara and rested on her back, her dress preventing too much damage to her chocolate toned country tough skin. Jens was nudged by a local who grinned and gave a thumbs up sign as if to say, fucking good show eh? Jen thumbed back and high fived, for no particular personal reason other than to mix in and be accepted.

More beers were consumed, handed out by the old woman, who he guessed had something to with the management? whatever. She shuffled behind the panting, grinning mastiff, lifted it’s tail and clutched it’s testicles, nodding, grinning with no teeth getting more applause. Generally the excitement was getting subdued as chatting increased, men occasionally glancing at Cara and her canine shag partner. Jens glanced at his wrist watch, thinking he had loads of time and thinking back to when the tie had commenced. Another free beer and thirty minutes later Cara gave a little squeak, shuddered and the mastiff strolled away licking it’s still erect cock. A fountain of dog jism splurged from her gaping cunt and the men cheered. Not one of them went to help her stand or wipe and she slunk out of the lean to through a back entrance.