Chapter 7

Again, it was Enid who came toward the clearing first, still riding the piebald mare. She went into a canter and then had to pull hard on the reins as she saw that Frank was not alone ... that there was a body lying on the ground.

“What did you do?“ she yelled, jumping down from her horse and running to stand over the obviously dead man.

“I saw you with your pistol out!” she said excitedly. “So I knew there was trouble. Did you shoot him?” she asked, breathless. “I didn’t hear a shot!”

Frank wanted to snort. The dead man at his feet was beginning to bloat, and the wounds on his chest were prominent and thick with flies. Surely she would know he’d been dead a long time. He decided not to push that point though.

“I found him here,” said Frank. “Do you know him?”

“That’s Chaps!” she exclaimed. “He’s ... he was one of our men. What happened?” she cried. She had never seen a dead human being before, and she felt ill.

“He’s been shot. A while back, maybe a day. There’s another wound too, but I don’t know what caused that. There are all kinds of tracks all over the place, but I can’t figure out what they mean.” He frowned. “There’s a set of horse tracks going on up the mountain, too.” he added.

Together they examined the tracks he had found. He could tell that Tulip and the horse with the winter shoes had gone off to the north, rather than following the running horse that went uphill, and that didn’t make any sense to either of them. They didn’t have time to talk about more before Brad Rocklin rode up, rifle in hand. He was angry.

“Enid, I told you not to come back up here without me!” he said, looking down at the body of one of his men on the ground.

“This is exactly why I told you that, girl. Now, what happened here?”

Frank explained that everything was just as he’d found it, and that he was trying to figure out what happened. He pointed out the multiple wounds in Chaps’ body, and the tracks he’d found.

It was Brad who spotted a moccasin tracks and then things began to make sense.

Half an hour later Frank was headed north, again on a trail that was made by Tulip, Vixen and the Rocklin boy’s horse. He went against the advice of Brad, who used Chaps’ body as a clear reason why the boy should not go on alone. But it was Chaps’ body that made it impossible for Frank to do anything else. His mother had been there ... where this man was killed. Her tracks were mixed with those of unshod horses, going away from here. He had to find her.

He went as long as he could, but darkness forced him to stop.

Beside a small fire, wrapped in a poncho covered by his horse blanket, Frank Collins fell into an exhausted sleep.

Fifteen miles behind the sheep, Jonas, Peter and Buckshot camped for the night. Jonas was beside himself and wanted to go on in the dark, saying that a blind man could follow the trail of the flock. Buckshot insisted that they get some rest. The horses needed rest too, and that was what finally won Jonas over.

“I don’t know what to do,” Bobby said again.

Molly took a breath. “I’ll show you,” she said, her voice husky.

“You don’t have to do this,” Bobby said, his voice cracking.

Molly looked up at him, her face serene. “You found my little girl. I’d never have found her without you before ... I’d never have found her. This woman thinks I am your wife. That subterfuge must be maintained if we are to leave here tomorrow. She has gone to great lengths to prepare me to receive my ... husband. Once ... just this once ... let me show you how grateful I am for what you have done for us.”

Her hand went to grasp that of her naked daughter, who sat stunned next to her on the pile of furs. Molly felt her body’s moisture ooze out of her and begin to run down between her legs. She realized she was as aroused as she had ever been in her life.

Birthing Woman reached out, grasped Bobby’s iron hard phallus, and pulled him to his knees between Molly’s open thighs. The woman scooped up another two fingers full of the sweet smelling paste from the bowl and Molly gasped as those two fingers smeared the stuff on her golden pubes and then probed between her legs, staining the pink lips of her sex. Then the old woman grasped Bobby’s rigid penis one more time and pulled it to Molly’s entrance as he couldn’t help but fall to his hands to support his upper body. He looked down, his face only inches from Molly’s. Her lower lip was captured gently between her teeth.

Bobby felt heat surround the tip of what only his hand had touched before this. He had never felt anything remotely like it, and he froze.

The old woman cackled again, and her hand left his penis.

He didn’t see where she moved it, but felt it seconds later as it came down on his naked ass in a surprisingly painful slap.

His hips fell, and his rampant prod surged forward, skewering Molly to her cervix.

“Ohhhhhhhhhh,” moaned Molly as she was filled so quickly and unexpectedly ... and delightfully. Bobby was longer than Jonas, and thinner, so she wasn’t stretched at all.

Instead there was just the delicious feel of his length and hardness caressing her insides. The tip prodded the mouth of her womb insistently, as if it yearned to go just a little further, to gain entry to her womb itself.

Bobby’s groan was just as loud and drawn out as, for the first time in his life, he felt the clasping heat of a woman’s sex all along his manhood.

“Mother!” squealed Sarah, whose eyes were so wide they bugged out. It had all happened so quickly and so smoothly that she hadn’t had time to process what was actually taking place. When the old woman had spread her mother’s thighs and drawn her knees up Sarah was so stunned that her mind froze. She stared at the pink lips that she had never seen, below the fluff of reddish blond hair. Those lips gaped open, and looked oily-wet. Her mother was acting so differently than she ever had before that she couldn’t wrap her mind around it. Then the old woman’s fingers had come into view to cover those pink lips with the brownish paste, and a finger had actually entered her mother’s body, pushing that paste inside her. And then that long hard penis had appeared and pushed into the mess of paste. The sound of the slap on the boy’s buttocks had come like a pistol shot, and Sarah had blinked and leaned backwards. When her eyes opened, every inch of that long hard flesh was suddenly buried inside her mother. It was then she had heard the sounds that sounded so familiar, yet so foreign to her ears, as the two people in front of her ... having actual sex ... groaned.

“Hush, baby,” moaned her mother’s throaty voice. “I’m thanking Bobby for saving you.”

Bobby, for his part, was just as stunned as Sarah was. The rush of feelings he had never felt before threatened to overwhelm him. Unknown to him, or Molly, for that matter, the paste that had been smeared on him had been used for millennia to drive men and women to distraction with lust ... to make mating last longer, and happen more frequently ... and to enhance the opportunities for mating to successfully create life in the womb. One feature of the stuff was that it made Bobby’s penis less sensitive than it would have been otherwise, so while his lust was inflamed, he did not suffer the premature ejaculation that would probably have otherwise taken place when his foggy mind came to grips with what was actually happening.

Molly’s experience was similar to the many times Jonas had entered her, but vastly different for several reasons. For one thing she hadn’t thought of Bobby as a potential sexual partner for more than perhaps an hour before he was fully buried inside her. Her first glimmer of lust for him was triggered by his casual acceptance of his role as her “husband”. His willingness to assume that role, and then to fight for what it was plain to see was not only her daughter, but her own future as well, had made her loins cramp, and the crotch of her jeans unexpectedly damp. His bare upper torso during the fight extended her errant mind further along a track she would never have thought to let it go. She was off kilter enough that, when her daughter was stripped in front of them, his reaction to Sarah’s nakedness had fed the fire in her own loins. Finally, the knowledge that he would see her naked, and then his reaction to that, had pushed her over the edge.

That the old woman insisted on seeing her bred, and then helped that process along, had been so delicious that it had almost taken the decision out of her hands. She had wanted the decision taken out of her hands. She had suddenly wanted this boy/man, with his long hard penis, and she wanted an excuse to have him. The combination of lust, gratitude, relieved fear and joy that her daughter was unharmed, had let her do something she would never have otherwise even contemplated. Her subconscious mind might also have been contemplating that, while Jonas could not get her with child any longer, the penis that was about to enter her was not so disabled. Under normal conditions, that thought would have horrified her. Her subconscious mind, however, was not horrified in the least.

Now she was so deliciously filled, and his thrusting body felt so good against hers, so much lighter than Jonas, writhing, where Jonas pounded, his penis reaching so much deeper than ever she’d felt before ... that unconscious desire bubbled to the surface. She suddenly felt the need to be bred ... to receive this boy’s precious offering ... to feel her belly swell again. She had loved being with child each time Jonas had made her pregnant, and she hadn’t realized how much she missed knowing that, as she strained under a man, she might be made pregnant in the process. With Jonas she enjoyed the feel of what her lover was doing to her. With Bobby there was the promise of so much more.

There was a low raspy murmur from the area of the fire pit. Molly rolled her head to see Birthing Woman singing softly, almost a chant, as she threw small pinches of some herb that smelled sweet and strong into the fire. It was obvious she was still involved in the mating ritual she had supervised thus far. Molly felt her heart lurch that this stranger, a woman from a completely different culture, could care so much about the fertility of another woman, from another culture.

Knowing she would feel differently the next morning, Molly gave herself freely to the boy she would have spit on forty-eight hours earlier, and thrust up against him in anticipation of feeling his seed flowing deep into her womb.

She was surprised by an orgasm that overcame her so quickly, and was so strong that she froze under the rutting young man, her whole body going rigid and stiff. Her teeth clamped together and she hissed her breath out in a long vocal release that magically unfroze her body and let it relax. Then to her amazement and joy, she felt another one coming almost immediately. She welcomed it with a violent thrust of her hips, taking him into her as deeply as possible, her nails leaving beads of blood in long scrapes across his back.

Sarah saw her mother go rigid, and heard the groan of release and recognized it immediately as the same thing she had felt while riding the horse, when she was unable to get away from the rubbing of her sex. She felt hot all over as she realized that she had felt the same thing her mother was feeling. Her stomach growled and she jumped as she realized it wasn’t her stomach, but something else, as a flood of wet suffused her own sexual center. She looked down and spread her legs to see drops of clear liquid dripping out of her body.

Tentatively she reached two fingers between her legs and placed them on that dripping orifice. She realized almost immediately that she could reproduce the feel of that horse rubbing against her. In less than two minutes she had her own orgasm. She almost fell over backwards from the feeling of it and sound dimmed in her ears.

The only thing she could hear was the sound of an old woman’s voice, rising to a verbal crescendo that matched what the other women in the teepee were feeling physically. Then, Birthing Woman’s singing stopped, and was replaced by joyous, cackling laughter.

Brad felt bad about having to go on to the high meadows with the sheep, while the Collins boy went off to find the Indians, or his mother, or his sister, or Bobby ... or perhaps all of them together. He looked thoughtfully at Enid, who had sat her horse, watching the boy ride off into the trees until he could be seen no more. That night, when they had reached the line shack that would house one or more of the Rocklin family for the summer, he settled into the bed with his wife, who snuggled up to him and astonished him by telling him that Enid was much too interested in that Collins boy. Then they talked about how worried they were about Bobby, and where he could be. Amanda insisted that he was fine ... that she could feel it in her bones.

Brad wanted to play, but Amanda slapped at his wandering hands.

“Beth and Enid are right over there!” she whispered in his ear, tickling it with her tongue just to tease him. She loved it when he was full of lust for her.

She woke him later in the night, when it was dark and quiet, and the girls were asleep. She mounted him and sat up, sinking down on his stiff manhood, trying to be quiet. She didn’t pay any attention to the moonlight that came through the windows, or that, while the girls were in the shadows, she and her husband were not. She wasn’t as quiet as she thought she was either, as she reached her pinnacle and felt him spurt up into her.

She had no idea she had just given her first lesson in sex to her younger daughter, who was not only awake, but was up on one elbow watching wide eyed through the whole process.

Molly was beside herself. She was experiencing her fifth orgasm, and knew that, as long as Bobby continued thrusting into her, she could have another. Then he stiffened and groaned. She felt him swell, and thrust her tired hips up once again to receive what she’d been craving for almost half an hour.

It came in strong, wet bursts that seemed to fill her whole body as he spurted for the first time into a woman.

“Ohhhhh yeeessssss,” she moaned, loving each and every jolt of his hot fluid.

He collapsed on top of her and she started to protest as he rolled to one side. Then she saw the old woman’s hands pushing at him, making him roll off, and saw her toothless grin as she thrust a rolled up hide under Molly’s thighs. Instinctively Molly lifted her buttocks off the furry bed and the roll of leather ended up under her buttocks, tilting her pelvis down so that none of the precious seed she had received could escape.

The old woman’s eyes bore into Molly’s, and her toothless mouth split in another grin, punctuated by a wink.

Tentatively, Molly smiled herself, and then rolled her head to look at her daughter. Bobby, limp, his eyes closed, had rolled half onto Sarah’s lap, his head resting between her own open thighs.

Sarah was staring at his peaceful face.

It was dark. There was the smell of smoke.

Molly’s open eyes could see nothing until she turned her head toward the fire pit, which contained only glowing embers. Her mind leapt to replay what she had done ... how long ago? The roll of leather was still under her buttocks, and was uncomfortable. She lifted her buttocks and felt the ache in her loins from overuse of the muscles there as she removed the bundle. She was covered with a fur, and felt skin next to hers. She turned her head and smelled what she now recognized was ... Bobby.