("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2008. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- The Camp Guest by Anonymous (address withheld) *** In 1851, the American frontier was still untamed. There were inhabitants scattered throughout states, territories and wilderness, some of who had already spent a generation living as pioneers facing any number daily obstacles. Not least among those obstacles was frontiersmen, lawless and forceful in there juxtaposition with the existing pioneers as well as the immigrants flowing into the open land. This is a story of such lawlessness of one man met on the trail west and how his actions were quieted. (Mg, ped, nc, oral) *** The red hound dog's head suddenly popped up from his drowsy position next to his master, Jackson Yoast. They all heard the noise of something approaching the campsite. The faithful hound became rigid, a low growl issued from his throat, as his bare teeth glistened in the fire light, and hair on his back stood up, ready to spring on some unknown adversary. Yoast quietly told him to stay. The creak of saddle leather and tinkle of some metal, sounds of an approaching rider brought the adults travelers alert to possible danger. Darkness had encompassed their campsite. The warmth of the fire felt good as the Yoasts and the Hiltons enjoyed their strong delicious coffee, and good conversation; it had been a long day of traveling. A supper of Catfish, Bluegill and a couple of Perch was over. The two teenage Hilton boys had done well wading along shore of the Cumberland River the travelers had just crossed, finding the fishing easy, as they worked the net with one on each end holding his makeshift pole to hold the seine near the bottom. The approaching guest caused Jackson to turn to face the sound, putting the firelight on his left side. His unseen right hand, next to his right leg, held his cocked Walker-Colt pistol. Caleb Hilton had also moved out of the firelight on the opposite side of the fire and repositioned his shotgun. "Howdy," a deep voice from the dark said loudly, "Kin Ah jyne ya?" "'Mon in," Yoast replied, tightening his grip on his pistol a bit more. His palm was damp he noticed. The fear of the Tennessee horror still would not allow him much rest. Manys the night the knife fight with the two Cowans had him sweating that cold sweat and suddenly sitting up in bed. The visitor's oversized mule was first to be illuminated by the campfire as it emerged from the darkness of the copse of maple and pine trees, and surrounding brush, into the camp. The camper's eyes widened with the sight of the rider astride the big John Mule. His wild, curly black hair on his head peeked out from under the 4-inch brimmed vintage 'John Bull' gentleman's top hat and blended into the massive beard that covered his face. He weighed at least 300 lbs. and looked to be twenty hands tall. Bits and pieces of brush and dirt clung to the hair everywhere. Astride the big mule, wearing a buffalo hide-coat, he could only be described as looking like a wild bear on a mule. Jackson was wary of the big stranger, always alert to a chance run in with a Cowans or some of their kin. "Wha brangs ya out so late, Mista?" he quizzed, carefully looking to see if he had any recognition of the man. "Names Jedidiah Higginbottom, he offered. Ah were a tryin ta git cross tha river tanight 'fore campin'. If'n y'all weren't mind, Ah'd put my bedroll nextta ya fire fer tha night." Yoast glanced over to Caleb ever so slight, Hilton gave a small nod of approval and Jackson quickly looked back at Higginbottom and told him to step down and join them. This bear of a man was as large on the ground as he appeared mounted on his large John Mule. Not only was he big but he exuded an odor that would probably stop a bear in its tracks. The campers winced as the smell permeated the area. Higginbottom didn't seem to notice their reaction, most likely didn't care as he was used to the reaction as well as the smell. The stranger looked around as he stood by the fire. He could see the four adults and the four girls peeking out of the side of the Yoast wagon where they were bedded down for the night. He flashed the four staring girls a big grin, said howdy and gave a waggle of his fingers in a wave. "Y'all care ta share tha piece a fish thar?" he said as he spied the last of their supper setting by the fire. "Help ya self, Jackson responded, pickin's air amight slim but mebbe thars sum hushpuppies ta go with it." He had the fish in his hand and half eaten by the time Jackson had uttered hushpuppies. With a mouthful of Catfish, Higginbottom, asked for some hot coffee he had discovered near by. He got up, walked over to his Mule, reached in his saddlebag and produced a large tin cup. Everyone watched him closely, not sure what to expect. There were a few quiet sighs of relief as he turned back to his spot by the fire and reached for the blackened porcelain coffee pot and poured the last of the rich nectar. Jackson's wife, DeLyla, handed the big man a small basket with six of the flavorful pan-fried cornmeal balls; she nearly gagged at the man's odor. Jackson had not moved; he still kept his left hand on Red Dog, the hound, and the right hand, full of his Walker-Colt handle, resting by his leg. The five of the six hushpuppies quickly disappeared washed down by the strong black coffee. He offered the last one to Red Dog. Jackson said okay. The hound now calmed down but still alert to the smelly stranger, was not one to turn down food of any kind, even from a stranger. That hushpuppy also disappeared quickly. The hour late, and the fire burned down to a red-orange glow of hot embers, Caleb, put a medium size log on the embers for the night. He was also aware that his two boys were not to be seen since the stranger appeared in camp. He had taught them well about survival on the frontier. He knew they were watching the activity in the camp, just part of their training. The two could handle the old single barrel shotgun they shared as well as the large bladed knives they each carried; knives they had learned to throw with quiet accuracy. The stranger had placed his bedroll close to the fire where he was now lounging. He was munching on the Indian jerky pulled from his saddlebag. He had offered some to all, which they accepted out of courtesy, and tossed a piece to Red Dog. The hound was starting to warm to him a bit more with each bite of jerky. Yoast and Hilton had finally dozed off sitting by the fire, and the women and children had taken to their beds for the night. Higginbottom watching the dog carefully, pulled another piece of jerky from another pocket, a special piece of jerky made for special occasions, the same as the rest of the adult travelers had eaten. Red Dog took each bit tossed to him with eagerness, not tasting the sedative type herb the meat had been soaked in before drying. The big man had a bag full of tricks he had learned here and there. This one taught to him by some old medicine man. He also used it on his captives to make them more manageable as he disappeared in the night with the stolen treasure. The campers were correct to be unsure and wary of Mr. Higginbottom: Jedediah Higginbottom was a thief, among his other failings, in the worst way. He stole young girls, kept them for a while using them to satisfy his sexual needs then sold them for a nice profit. He had not accidentally stumbled into this camp; he hung out on this side of the river and selected his prey as they came across the Cumberland. His eyes this night were on the older two of the four girls in the big wagon. He knew a buyer, when he was done, that would pay good hard money for a twelve year old. Hell, that buyer was so rangy, he'd probably buy a good sheep. Several hours had passed since all had turned in. All were asleep except the two wide-awake teen boys, not far from the campsite, watching Higginbottom toss bits of jerky to the hound. They weren't sure why the red hound was quickly sound asleep. "He musta fed ole Red Dog somethin ta mek him sleep, James whispered in his brother Theodore's ear so as not to be heard." Theodore nodded his head enough for James to feel the movement. The boys had not moved other than a slight stretch to get out the kinks, and take a piss. They watched as Higginbottom quietly got up from his bedroll. It appeared he was going to add wood to the embers for more warmth but he moved quietly towards the outside of the darkened camp, opened his britches and pulled out an eight inch penis and relieved himself near a tree. He then approached the Yoast wagon and his target. Jackson was still soundly asleep on the other side of the wagon near the dying fire; his pistol now resting on the ground partly out of his relaxed hand, and his chin parked on his chest. Caleb had managed, drunkenly staggering, to join his wife in the cramped space of their wagon. The thief made his move. He lifted the side canvas enough to see a little of the interior and the sleeping occupants by moonlight. He couldn't tell with certainty, which one was which but the one near the tailgate looked big enough. He slowly lifted the flap a bit more. He could now see she was one of the older girls. He took out his small bottle of herb sedative, uncorked it and dripped some in her slightly open mouth, waited, looked around for problems, then dripped some more. She licked her lips, swallowed, made a wrinkled face and relaxed to her sleep. He stood quietly as the herb worked. After a few minutes, he easily reached in and lifted the young Yoast girl, placing her over his shoulder then crept silently to his Mule. He laid her belly down in the saddle, letting his hairy hand slide over her buttocks, with an anticipated caress, lingering on her delicate thigh as his huge fingers explored the warmth of her young vagina lips. The young girl reacted to his forbidden caressing. Her developing derriere wiggled She moaned as he stroked her slit, moving his large finger up and down the full length of the virgin pussy, lingering on her cliterus. He went to retrieve his bedroll, watching for any movement. With the bedroll secured behind the saddle, and the girl tied to the saddle, he then removed some leather socks from his saddlebags for his mule's hooves. The socks would help quiet the movement as he walked the animal with its delicate rider away from safety. The boys watched in disbelief at the unfolding scene. Their anger increased at what they were witnessing, as did their arousal. They were under sixteen but knew what this stranger was doing with Abby, the pest. She might be a pest but they both liked the attention. Good sport to let them give her a hard time too. Higginbottom was out of the camp very quickly, headed towards a nearby heavily wooded area, a good place to disappear to hideouts he thought he only knew. He continued to lead the John Mule a bit faster now with his prize still tied in the belly down position; she was still out. He grinned a crazy lopsided grin as he let his thoughts run wild, anticipating that special moment of penetrating this young tasty morsel. He tried to move faster through the trees but his intense arousal all but caused him to stagger from the pain of desire. The rush of the kidnap and the burning desire were building to a crescendo James had sent his younger brother to get Abby's pa, Mr. Yoast, and their pa as the tail end of the mule cleared the trees surrounding the campsite. James was close behind the big mule with the girl, not about to lose sight. The tree canopies shielded most of the moon light from the leaf strewn forest floor, even though, he still had to be careful not to be seen or heard. He wasn't sure the sand he used for shot in his old shotgun would stop this monster from getting him; he was no match in size at 5'8 inches and maybe half the big guy's weight. A scene from David and Goliath for sure and his slingshot might not do the job. He could only hope Mr. Yoast and Theodore could track them. Higginbottom could wait no longer. The gonadal pain of his very erect 12 inch penis was such that he could no longer move. He stopped looked around the area for a clear spot, spied one over to his right. He took off his buffalo coat and made a pallet on the clearing floor. He wiped the drool from his mouth with his dirty sleeve. James watched as Higginbottom removed Abby from the saddle, caressing her pussy again as he untied her. The young man was mesmerized by the activity he had never seen nor experienced before. The anger returned nearly ready to erupt in stupidity of action. He calmed himself, waiting for some chance to stop what was about to happen. He wiped the cold sweat from his brow not taking his eyes from Higginbottom's attention to the almost comatose young girl. Higginbottom laid Abby on the makeshift pallet, raised her bed-clothes above her chest to expose her nakedness to the moonlight. She stirred slightly, shivering from the coolness of the night, and mumbled something as he bowed his head to her crotch as he spread her satin skinned thighs. She stirred more as he lingered in this position, running his large tongue up and down her swelling vaginal lips. The boy could hear the muffled animal like sounds coming from Higginbottom's active mouth. The attacker finally stood and unlaced his Buckskin breeches, letting them drop around his ankles and stepped out of the confinement. He was bare from the lower waist down, the skin shining white in the moonlight. James gasped at the enormous erect cock. Higginbottom did not hear the large intake of air. Jame's hand raced to his mouth to stifle the gasp. He stared as the huge man knelt between the girl's legs again caressing her as he spread her delicate legs wider. He again kissed her mons, inserting his tongue in her virgin opening as deep as he could reach. She pushed her now hot, pulsating crotch into his bearded face. She moaned loudly. Higginbottom raised up on his knees, licking his wet lips, savoring the Abby's juices as he took hold of his massive cock. He managed to rub his large cockhead up and down her hot, wet slit. The girl moaned and pushed against his throbbing cock. Preparing to push his oversized tool home, he exposed his bare ass and large ball sack, a target James could not resist nor miss. The shotgun clicked! It had misfired. To James the click sounded like a smith's hammer on an anvil. Salty tears ran down his chilled cheeks to his twisted mouth, anguish and frustration was taking hold. Unsure what to do, he stood and watched the scene unfold in the moonlight. Before the boy was totally aware of his actions, he was running towards the rapist, his shotgun barrel now raised like a club above his head. Higginbottom was so intent on the girl beneath him he did not hear movement until James was there, bringing the weapon's barrel down in an arc towards the huge head. The big hand and arm quickly responded to the oncoming threat, warding off the intended blow and grasping the shotgun barrel. The boy pulled on the gun to regain control accidentally re-cocking the protruding hammer. The tugging on the weapon helped Higginbottom gain his feet as the shotgun discharged. The sand load barely missed his head. The overheated barrel forced him to let go and James tumbled backwards, landing on his back. The gun went flying away from his reach. A wrathful Higginbottom came charging at the prone boy, his now semi erect cock swinging in the cool air. James' frontier fighting skills were well instilled from hours of practice. He quickly rolled out of the giants reach and was back on his feet facing Higginbottom. The stench of his unwashed body accented by Abby's feminine essence attacked Jame's olfactory sensors; he gagged. "Ya lil sonnabitch, Ah'm gonna kill ya after Ah've pumped yor ass," the angry Higginbottom hissed. "Doan y'all count yor chickens yet mule shit," the young man retorted, watching the big mans movements, now calmly waiting for a chance to take him down. Higginbottom made his move, grabbing for the young man. James dropped to the ground and shot his moccasin, encased foot upwards towards Higginbottoms exposed crotch. His foot connected with the highly sensitive area; Higginbottom didn't seem to react. The boy cocked his foot and let fly again for good measure. James now watched in the muted shadows as the would-be rapist doubled over and bellowed, then he fell to his knees as his massive hands tried in vain to massage away the pain and nausea. Jackson Yoast was still groggy as he stumbled along behind Theodore trying to follow a near nothing trail. The Red Dog hound was not much help in his condition either. The trackers heard the roar of the shotgun. "Thas James Mr. Yoast, he done got him!" "Mebbe son, mebbe, les hope." They heard noise but still wandered in the near dark trying to single in on the sound. Jackson grabbed Theodore by the shoulder. "Hold up a minute, listen." They could hear heavy breathing off to the right; then the smack of the foot connecting and then the bellowing. "Mon Mr. Yoast, this way!" the boy said as he took off towards the loud sound. James looked at the defeated Higginbottom with his forehead resting on the dirt as if praying to some unseen deity, still moaning. The lad went to Abby where she still lay, starting to move a bit. He knelt beside her, awed by the youthful beauty framed by the moonlight; tantalized by her nakedness and her aroma. Her subtle feminine essence lightly caressed his nose in spite of the foul smelling coat she was lying on. He could not bring himself to pull her nightgown down yet. Warm tears trickled down his cheeks; unsure of his feelings; his young cock stired; he finally reached for the her gown up by her neck allowing the backs of his fingers to touch her soft alabaster skin and hard budding breasts as he slowly pulled the gown down. She moaned and reached for his hand holding it to her hot vagina. He froze. His cock throbbed. The sounds of activity behind him caused him to pull his hand away and look behind him. Higginbottom had managed to mount his mule bare-assed holding his breeches in one hand, steadying himself by also hanging on to the saddle horn. The mule moved out of the clearing quickly. Jackson, Theodore, and the Red Dog came upon the scene just as the giant left. Jackson had started to shoot but could not see much for a good shot. The two boys had helped a groggy Abby to her feet. The hound was now alert, sniffing the girl's legs and then buffalo coat. Abby hung on James' neck exuding her warmth over him. He turned to Jackson without moving away from Abby presenting her to her father who gathered his still sleepy daughter in his arms and held her tight. His tears fell freely as he buried his head in her neck. "James would y'all take Abby back ta her Maw?" He finally asked. Her savior rose up to all of his 5'8 inches with pride and satisfaction of his role in this terrible deed, "Yas'ur, Ah shorely will." "Mon brother, let's help this pesky lady home. Guess we'all better put her on my back, doan think she kin walk too good yet." Theodore helped a more awake willing Abby climb up on his brother's back. James put his hands back under her to help hold her. He felt the bare thighs. He was suddenly giddy from the contact; the girl didn't say a word in protest, just hugged tighter as his fingers found her wet, hot slit. Jackson and the red hound took off after Higginbottom as the three youngsters left the small clearing. Red Dog had his nose close to the ground as the two followed the trail. The man on the mule couldn't move as freely as Jackson and the dog. Suddenly the hound stopped, confused, not sure of the direction. Higginbottom came charging from some heavy brush. Red Dog reacted but not soon enough; the giant, still naked, hit Jackson like a charging bull seeing red. Yoast went flying, landing in a heap on his side. He lay there trying to get his breath back. The dog jumped and grabbed at Higginbottom. The red dog latched onto the nearest part of the man. The dog hung down the front of the would-be rapist, not about to let go. Higginbottom screamed as he felt the sharp teeth dig in to his phallus, and grabbed for the growling angry dog. Jackson finally stood up and stared at the scene. He nearly laughed but quickly closed the distance while he had the advantage. He came up behind the dancing, screaming Higginbottom with a broken tree limb. The screaming ceased after the three-inch log made contact with the large shaggy head. As the big man started to fall, Red Dog had sense enough to let go, getting out of the way at the last minute. Higginbottom stirred from his long nap. He felt strange, couldn't move his arms or hands. He looked around. He then realized that he was trussed up, hanging by raw hide around his wrists, from a tree branch. As his eyes adjusted to the shadowy light, he could make out the traveler sitting, resting against an old log. The red hound flopped down next to his master's leg watching the naked giant. "Whadya gonna do ta me?" the captive asked. Jackson continued to relax against the log, chewing on a small stick of wood. He finally removed the wood and asked, "Higginbottom, Ah'd guess y'all know thes woods purty good, what kinda game in hear? Any bear or cats?" "All kines," he answered, "yassir there's black bear an bobcats an some mountain lion." The question finally sunk in. "Why ya wanna know?" "Wall Ah could just shoot ya or mebbe cut ya throat, but tha'd be too quick and kind ta tha likes a ya, doan y'all think?" "Ah dint do nothing ta yor girl 'cept taste her," he whined, tha lil sonnabitchun kid dint let me fuck her." Jackson winced at the statement, trying not to visualize what took place, his anger building again. "Ah need fer ya ta suffer fer all yor wrong doins, and 'specially fer my Abby. 'Tween tha boy's foot an ole Red Dog hear, y'all probly not be fornicatin' fer 'while, but Ah need ta make shor ya never fornicate ever again, jest fer ma sat'faction." The 6'2 Jackson got up and approached Higginbottom. The stench was even more pronounced; he'd urinated all over his feet and legs. Jackson Yoast was not a violent man by nature but he knew he had to do what he was about to do. He had his large blade out. Higginbottom's eyes bulged when the moonlight glinted off the wide blade. "Thes is an old Cherokee way a dealin' with trash like ya." Jackson quickly made a bloody six-inch long shallow cut on Higginbottom's lower belly. The big man screamed. "Oh mista jest kill me quick like; jest kill me." Jackson responded with a crooked grin as he made another light incision above the first towards the belly button. The screams echoed through the trees as the blood oozed downward onto his thighs then over his flaccid cock. Jackson made several more similar cuts then mounted the John Mule and rode away. He felt sick but satisfied now that it was over. He stopped, leaned over to the side of the mule and puked, spit a few times to clear his mouth. Tears seeped down his cheeks. "Mon Red Dog, les go fine tha fam'ly. END *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* The author does not condone child abuse, this story is meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a fellow convict in their local prison. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Kristen's collection - Directory 57