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From: zifferman@aol.com (Zifferman)
Subject: Huckleberry Finn
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Here is a parody of the old classic that I've been working on.  This is the
first chapter, first draft, and I welcome comments.  I think it needs a little
work on the phraisology to give it a more authentic feel, and that will come.


         Huck's New Life 

 You might have heard of me if you read The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark
Twain. My name is Huckleberry Finn. I have always lived in this same little
town of St. Petersburg, Missouri. My father is the town drunk and isn't around
much.  My mom died when I was young.  So I've spent most of my life fishing on
the banks of the Mississippi, sleeping in doorways, and having great adventures
with my friend Tom Sawyer.

   At the time this story begins I was a puny 13 years old.  Coal-black hair,
light complexion, small, delicate hands and feet.  I had a splash of freckles
across my cheeks and button nose.  But the most peculiar thing about me what I
had been blessed with the cock of a donkey and the balls to match.  The damn
thing hung more than halfway down my thigh even when it was soft, which wasn't
often.  It was about eleven inches long and as thick as a lady's wrist.  No one
was circumcised in those early days, and I was no different.

  I think it was the size of my pecker that caused ol' pappy to take to drink
in the first place.  See, my mom had told me that my dear father wasn't nearly
so well tooled, and it caused him no end of consternation. He had accused my
mom of "having a darkie in the woodshed" and he used to say that maybe I was
part negro.  There was never any doubt what part he was referring to.  

 Anyway, things were always pretty dull around here until Tom and I discovered
hidden treasure. We found twelve thousand dollars in gold!  It was money that
had been buried by robbers, so Judge Thatcher decided it was rightfully ours.
Tom and I got six thousand dollars apiece. 

 The Judge put the money in the bank for us, and we each got an allowance of a
dollar a day. For us, in that little town, it was more money than we knew what
to do with. But the money didn't make me happy. 

 At about this time, the Widow Douglas decided to take me in and raise me as
her own son. She was kinds grateful, I guess, 'cause I helped save her life. 
But it was rough living in a house all the time. The Widow made me wash and
dress up and eat all my meals at regular hours.  She tried to discourage me
from yanking on my pecker every chance I got.  She even took me to church. 
When I couldn't stand it any more, I ran away and got into my old rags. Then I
felt free and happy. But Tom Sawyer hunted me up and said he was going to start
a club. And I could only be a member if I went back to living a respectable
life with the Widow Douglas. 

 So I went back, and the Widow cried over me, calling me a ''poor lost lamb.''
She put me in a new suit of clothes that made me feel uncomfortable and sweaty
all over again. I had the hardest time getting used to regular meals and polite
talk. 

  You see, the old Widow Douglas wasn't all that old.  She must have been
thirty-two then, but she looked a lot younger. She had the smoothest skin I've
ever seen on a full-growd person, a narrow waist and a nice set of teats under
her tightly-laced corset.

 Then there was Miss Watson, the Widow's sister, who had just come to live
with her.  She took an immediate interest in me and tried to teach me to read
and spell. These lessons just made me tired and lonesome. By and by, she would
send me to bed with a piece of candle for light. 

 One night after my lesson, I felt so unhappy there, I wished I was dead. I
sat in the quiet house and listened for the sound of the wind or the rustle of
the trees while I slowly pulled on my hard crank. After a while, I heard a
''Meow! Meow!'' coming from beneath my window. 

 It was Tom's signal. He had called a midnight meeting of our club. I answered
his signal with my own ''Meow.'' Then I stuffed my damn pecker into my breeches
very quietly and was out the window in a flash. 

 We all met by a clump of bushes not far from the Widow's house. There was me
and Tom and Ben Rogers and Tommy Barnes and Joe Harper. 

  We decided to have an election to see who would be the leader of our club. 
Tom suggested that we have a yank-off contest, and the boy who shot his spunk
the farthest would be the boss.  It wasn't hardly fair.  I had already jacked
off three times that day, having no noting of our impending election this
night.  Tom, on the other hand, must have saved it up for a week ‘cause he shot
his seed into a high arch and the stuff landed four feet from where he stood. 
Shot-dicked Joe Harper even beat me by a few inches in the spunk-distance and
he was the second captain of our band.  There was no office for third place.  I
took some delight in noting that I had the longest, thickest pecker in the
whole club, although Tom was mighty close.  We talked for a little while, and
then we all took an oath of loyalty to the club and sealed it with our spunk.
We all jacked off once more for good measure and I sneaked home. 

 I climbed up the shed and crept into my window just before daybreak. My new
clothes were greased-up and full of clay, and I was dog-tired and my balls
hurt.

Pap Returns

 Well, I got a good going-over in the morning from old Miss Watson because of
my clothes, but the Widow didn't scold me. She just cleaned of the grease and
clay and looked so sorry that I thought I would behave if I could, at least for
a little while. 
"Land's sake, Mister Finn, you are one filthy child," Widow Douglas exclaimed
upon seeing me at the breakfast table.
"I'm powerful sorry, Widder Douglas.  I guess I played a bit too much in these
good duds," I said, not meaning a word of it.

  She insisted that I take a bath.  It was in the morning and it was still
three days to Saturday, too!  She filled the old tub with kettles of steaming
water from the stove and bade me undress and settle in.  
"But, ma'am, I can't undress in front of you.  You're a lady, and all," I
protested, hoping to avoid the bath all together.
"Now, don't fuss me, boy!  I'm old enough to be your mother and I've bathed
many a child in my days!" she said with what passed for sterness.

 I was resigned to my fate.  I slipped off my shirt and kicked off the store-
bought breeches.  I stood before the Widow dressed only in a fine sheen of
dirt.
I could hear an audible gasp from the Widow's delicate throat.  She brought her
hand to her neck and a ruddy flush rose in her face.
"Should I get in, now, Ma'am," I asked, my hands on my hips, my pelvis thrust
out slightly.  I did a little roll on the balls of my feet to give my old
pecker a good swing.

  The Widow Douglas seemed distracted for what seemed like a half hour. 
Finally she cleared her throat and with a creaking voice said, "Yes, now you
get into the water, Hauk . . ."

   Well, I was surprised.  I had never heard the name "Hauk" slip from her
pretty lips before.  This was indeed an occasion!

  I slowly lowered my skinny arse into that soapy water.  My dangling,
apple-size ball sack hit the water first and I let out an involuntary yelp. 
The puckered head of my prick was next.  Finally I was seated on the bottom,
but the buoyancy of my cock made it float upward, the head just breaking the
surface of the water.

   Widow Douglas knelt by the tub side and picked up a brush and began soaping
it up.  I noticed that the smallness of the water closet and the steam from the
tub that brought a coating of sweat to her alabaster skin.  I watched with
almost detached fascination as a drop of sweat gathered at her neck and then
slowly meander down her broad chest and disappear between the cleavage of her
bodice.  I felt a tingling in my balls and knew my pecker was thickening.
"You are a little small for your age," the Widow said, applying the brush to my
back.  "I mean, your height. . . of course," she added quickly.  The room was
getting suddenly warmer, it felt like.  I stirred uncomfortably in the tub, my
cock not sticking a full inch above the suds.    

  From behind me the Widow reach around and began to use the brush on my
narrow chest.  The effect was like electricity as she brushed my sensitive
nipples.  I could feel her bound teats pressed against my shoulders and her hot
breath was in my ear when she said, "I must confess. . .I've had some wicked
thoughts some nights when I've come in to your room to check on you and found
you in a state of. . .arousal."

  That coarse brush was working it's way from my flat belly to the thick 
curlies at the base of my throbbing tool.  I felt her knuckles brush against my
rod.
"I've been a good widow, really I have," she said in almost a whisper.  "But I
have yearned for the feel of a man again so often."

   I didn't notice it for a moment, but at the very instant that I saw the
brush floating unattended in my bath water I felt her delicate hand cup my
swollen ball sack.  I nearly jumped out of the water.  As she gently kneaded my
nuts she cooed, "I know it's a sin against God, but, damn you, you have the
equipment of a full-grown man, Hauk!"

  The pink head of my cock was now fully free of it's hood as the Widow
Douglas stood and pulled at the drawstring of her petticoat.  The damp white
material feel free and lay in a head around her stockinged legs.  I gasped, as
I was eye-level with the Widow's thick black bush!  I had never seen a real one
before, and I didn't quite know what to do next.  The widow had no such
hesitation, and she swung one of her long, shapely legs over the tub and was
now straddling my chest.  She began a slow movement up and down my chest,
pushing that burly bush on my skin like she was still scrubbing me with that
bristle brush.  She had her hands resting on her knees and her head lolled from
side to side, her eyes clamped shut.  Then she reached between her thighs and
grabbed my prick.  I nearly exploded right then and there!  She aimed my cock
at her womanly area and slowly sank right down on it.  The feeling was
indescribable!  I had never felt such a strange, satisfying warmness.  Her
tight hole was better than any fist I could provide.  She continued sinking on
my pole until her bottom was resting on my thighs.  She groaned, and then let
out an odd laugh.  
"Oh, Almighty, thank you!  Thank you!" she hissed between clenched teeth.

   Like a man possessed, I fumbled with the laces down the front of her
corset.  Expertly, the Widow undid some clips of something and the whole device
fell off her shoulders and into the water behind her.  I was eye to eye with a
beautify set of teats.  They seemed to stare at me, hypnotizing me.  I took
first one, then the other, into my mouth and sucked at the large, hard nipples.

I massaged and kneaded those udders as I raised and let fall my hips, trying
to match her slow movements up and down my blissful pole.

  Eventually our movements became so frenzied that the water was slopping and
sloshing from the tub in great waves.  It pooled and drained down between the
floor boards.  The Widow had my head in her hands and was grinding my face into
her bosom.  I had cupped my hands under her round, firm ass cheeks and was
helping her up and down.  I sneaked a look downward and was amazed at how much
of my tool she was taking into her body.  I would have never imagined that it
could fit in there!  Once, then again, I felt her body twitching wildly and she
told me to stop for a moment as she ground her pussy hard on my cock.  She
would be still, her heart pounding so I feared the neighbors would hear it,
then slowly she would resume her ride.

   I couldn't stand it any more.  I felt my seed literally boiling in my nuts
and I gave a mighty thrust upward that almost threw the Widow off.  I could
feel my balls churning, my cock spitting deep within her womb.  She was making
some inhuman growl deep in her throat, her long hair whipping around like a
wind vein in a hurricane.

  After awhile we were both still.  She rested her chest in my face and I
half-way thought that she had passed out or gone to sleep.  Finally, she pulled
back from me and looked me dead in the eye.  I had never seen such deep
affection in another person's eyes before.  Her face looked twenty years
younger, almost child-like.  I started to slide out from under her but she
reached down with both hands and grabbed my waist, holding her pelvis against
my groin like a lock.

  She finally got up.  My now-limp cock flopped noisily against my belly.  She
dressed without saying a word and, giving me one last parting look and smile,
left the room.

   I didn't know what to think of what had just happened.  All I know is that
I had steak for breakfast, supper and dinner from then on!


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