Big Horn's Path into the Mahyee-na
The full moon of Mid-summer's Eve was rising in the early evening sky.
It marked the occasion when fifteen-year-old boys of the Kalinlepi could be
initiated as braves. Sadly, this small tribe of Omaha Indians would not be
conducting the ritual this year. Not that there weren't boys to be found
running amongst the tipis in skimpy breechclouts or going about naked in the
hot summer sun. None were of age yet. Last year, Little Fisher received his
brave's name of Catch-fish-with-arrows. The tribe celebrated that youth's
initiation that had elevated him from boy to man. If he proved himself worthy
in battle by touching an enemy with his hand, feathered coup stick or tomahawk
he'll be allowed to wear the proud hair adornment of eagle feathers, the mark
of a warrior. The passing of a few more moons may tell.
A feathered man was more likely to win the hand of a young woman he
desired from her father. Braves have married but it was believed that success
for the couple lay in the man's accomplishments; a warrior has already proven
himself able to protect his tribe, attain honor and show courage. He passes on
those desirable traits to his sons. Strong warriors were encouraged to have
large families. Each new feather in a man's hair gained him from brave deeds
added to his glory.
Big Horn's long black hair was not so adorned. He remained a brave at the
age of eighteen. There had been four years of peace enjoyed by the Kalinlepi
so he hadn't the chance to prove himself in battle yet. The last attack upon
their tribe had come from Spear-bearing warriors who struck without warning. A
few young women were carried away in their night raid along with a warrior;
his body had never been found though everyone believed he'd been tortured and
killed. Big Horn couldn't utter his name because it was taboo. He was often
reminded of that man loss whenever he looked deep into Willow Bird's eyes. For
four years, he'd been acting as that boy's monedo, training him to become a
brave in the place of his father.
Willow Bird would receive his brave's name next summer. He was learning
the many skills that a man needed to know: hunting, tracking, to be strong in
battle and how to receive the aid of spirits called upon in song. Big Horn
enjoyed spending his time with Willow Bird for he was a good student. Not all
his teaching were serious or an effort. He took the boy on long walks, swam
naked with him in the cold muddy river and they talked. Willow Bird had so
many questions needing to be satisfied! Not all were easy to answer. The other
day, Willow Bird had asked if a man could love a boy in a manner satisfying to
both as if he were a girl. Big Horn's reply was misdirecting and weak since
its asking had troubled him. He had secretly longed to embrace Willow Bird
with his manly love but felt it was shameful, a kin to the battlefield
atrocities he'd heard of fallen warriors enduring rape by their enemies. Boys
too had been used like captured squaws. To protect Willow Bird from his darker
self, he'd kept his lust hidden.
A feathered man could satisfy himself in the arms of his wife. Big Horn
desired none. By remaining a brave, it kept him from that awkward duty. He
stood still in that stage of his life while younger braves passed him by when
becoming warriors. Each year also strengthened the dark rumors in camp about
him. The Chief of the Kalinlepi often pressed Big Horn to marry so that his
brother's blood would pass beyond his only son. It was becoming difficult to
resist his uncle's council.
Big Horn released a weary sigh. He tried to put an end to his swirling
thoughts that kept going round and round in his head like a dark funnel cloud.
What really worried him was Willow Bird. This moon of Mid-summer's Eve began
an ordeal for the boy. He had led the youth over the wide river that afternoon
to the rolling plains far from their tribe. Weaponless, Willow Bird would have
to find food and water while keeping himself safe from his enemies. Only after
a hand of fingered days could the boy return home. That was the test.
The brave had endured a test of his own. When Willow Bird stood before
him to hear his last words of advice, Big Horn tried not being tempted by the
boy's brown pole sleeping over his balls, the tuft of groin hair above it that
marked his nearing passage into manhood or to reach out to snatch his brown
butt. The brave had kept his voice from trembling when he advised Willow Bird
to hide from the revealing sun during the day and to travel only at night. He
warned him that there were hunters out there who sought naked boys. The youth
had turned from him and sprinted out to the plains. Little did he suspect that
his monedo was one of those lusting hunters. The truth of it weighed heavily
in Big Horn's heart.
Willow Bird's return to camp would be the true measure of his skills. The
highest result being if he remained unharmed, clothed in a breechclout of his
crafting and weaponed. Big Horn knew that not all boys returned. Some youths
merely passed their test by returning naked and exhausted after the five days.
Others crawled back to camp early because of injury.
Big Horn had watched the boy's departure until the sweet image of him had
faded into the distance. He had almost revealed his secret desire to spend
those five days with him, to convince Willow Bird of his love that was also
for his male body - that they should try embracing it in spite of the
consequences. It had been a very near thing. That afternoon, the brave had
passed a test of his own. He would continue to act honorably as Willow Bird's
monedo.
Big Horn was glad to be training him. Willow Bird's boyhood years had
been difficult because of his loss. It had made the youth shy and feeling
small in his tribe's eyes. His mother's tipi was small. Warm Hands worked hard
for the others to gain the food and hides that they needed. Taking a new
husband would have provided those necessary things of life but the woman never
seemed to get over mourning her loss and she didn't worry about her son
because he had a monedo to guide him into manhood.
The brave tried replacing Willow Bird's father but it wasn't the same. He
couldn't stay with the boy in his tipi or be ever at his side when he needed
guidance. Yet love had grown between them in those four years. Big Horn didn't
want to betray that trust by taking Willow Bird's body for his twisted
desires. Fear of his darker self has kept the brave wandering from camp for
days on end under the guise of hunting or scouting for enemies. Not until his
pent up lust was spent in hand would Big Horn return to the tribe feeling like
a good person again.
That made Willow Bird feel very lonely. He only had one other close
friend to play with - Song Bird. He was the chief's son so he ranked high in
the tribe. It was a strange association, thought Big Horn. A fatherless boy
had the lowest status amongst his People so he was often taunted by the other
boys struggling to set themselves in their proper place when becoming braves
and warriors.
Big Horn knew his place in the tribe. He was an unproven man who went
featherless and without a squaw in a tipi to keep him. He was lucky that his
uncle was chief. It's provided him a place to sleep at night. Yet of all the
other men in camp, the chief had asked him to act as Willow Bird's monedo. The
brave thought it was because he too had struggled to manhood without a father.
One more summer must pass before Willow Bird would be named a man in his
tribe's eyes. Big Horn had done his best to guide the boy. As his body grew
into manhood so had the brave's desire to take it. Only love for his charge
and the thought of betraying the youth's trust had kept him in check. This day
had proved that he could keep his darker self hidden. But only just barely.
Big Horn knew that there were other men with lusting hearts. Willow Bird
might not be able to escape a sexual assault from them on the plains. Little
Fisher had met that fate. Though he returned to camp after his test, the boy
hadn't managed it unmolested. Only Big Horn knew that he'd been captured by
two enemy warriors who had used him like a squaw. Little Fisher had gone to
Big Horn for his help because they were blood brothers. The brave secretly
tended to the boy's wounds, both of flesh and his spirit. His vow of silence
about the incident would always be kept.
Big Horn sighed with apprehension. He wondered how his charge would fare.
He raised his eyes to the starry night's sky in silent prayer unto Wah-Conda,
the Great Father Spirit: 'Please keep Your guiding Hand upon my boy!'
The loud churning of the river filled Big Horn's ears. He lowered his
face from the bright evening sky after his prayer was given. Five summers ago
he had passed this test himself. He knew of the difficulties that Willow Bird
faced ahead. Water could be easily found but hunting and keeping warm at night
was the real challenge. And there was always the threat from enemy scouting
parties. They knew what tonight's moon would set loose on the plains. To kill
a boy was much easier than facing him later as an armed warrior.
Little Fisher would have been scalped during his testing if he hadn't
accepted male humiliation instead. His lusty captors had offered the boy the
choice of being killed or performing as their willing squaw. He chose to
survive and would seek vengeance upon the Spear-bearing People as a man. Until
that day of reckoning, those lusting warriors would continue to enjoy their
mid-summer sport.
Big Horn felt his hands trembling. He feared for Willow Bird since scouts
had been reporting that the enemy tribes across the river were increasing
their hunting range. Raids were becoming more numerous amongst their allies.
The brief time of peace would soon be coming to an end.
"Willow Bird, be like the rabbit!" pleaded Big Horn into the night. He
knew that the youth was far away in lands unknown to him. The Kalinlepi kept
their tipis planted near the larger woods in their hunt of deer and the elk.
They remained safe on this side of the river because there were few places a
war party could cross. Bow men kept their vigil from the trees. The river
crossings were always guarded. The chief of their tribe had vowed that no
Spear-bearing raiders would catch them unprepared again while breath filled
his lungs.
That protection was of little use to Willow Bird. Big Horn had cast him
into the hunting grounds of their enemies that afternoon. There he would have
to survive to prove his worth unto the Great Spirit and the People of his
tribe. If it was meant to be, the boy would return home. If not...
Big Horn closed his eyes. He tried not thinking about that latter
possibility. Willow Bird may be naked and vulnerable but his head was filled
with many skills that would allow him to survive. His heart was good. Surely,
the Great Father Spirit would guide His little son safety through the plains.
He would make it back home!
Across the river was the safety of his tribe. Big Horn could just make
out the tall ghostly shapes of tipis under the full moon. A twinkling light
amongst them caught the brave's attention. Someone had a fire going but for
what purpose he couldn't determine. A raiding party could use that beacon to
an ill purpose, he realized. That angered him. Upon his return to camp he'll
have a talk with the chief about it. His People were becoming too lax.
Big Horn sighed. He couldn't bring himself to entering the river yet. He
knew that its crossing would be cold and not without peril. There were water
spirits who could pull a man beneath, especially at night. He could use that
as an excuse before his uncle in the morning if he were to camp here for the
night. Crossing the river also meant leaving Willow Bird on his own. A naked
morsel for Spear-bearing men to capture and enjoy...
The brave thought back to Willow Bird's departure from him in the plains.
He had ran like the wind, his flexing butt driven by strong legs and the
rhythmic swaying of arms against his side; naked and vulnerable. Yet the boy
was proud and ready for his five day ordeal. He was a freed bird at last.
Big Horn grinned. He knew that a bird always returned to the nest after
its first flight of freedom. Surviving in the plains would prove an exciting
adventure for Willow Bird. After the five days, the boy would return to him.
The brave had kept something of the youth. In the moonlight, he could just
make out the squarish shape of two deerskin flaps in his hands. A boy being
tested had to go without. Even the thong belt had been taken from Willow Bird
since it could serve for trapping animals or in the binding of a stone club.
No advantages could be given the youth. He was supposed to endure this test
alone with only his wits.
Willow Bird's thong belt was twisted nervously around three fingers of
Big Horn's right hand. He noticed their tight binding when the fingers turned
numb. He dropped the long thong to the ground at his feet. Its release made
his hand feel the stinging of sharp thorns. The boy's deerskin flaps were to
be tossed into the river and that was what stayed Big Horn. He wanted to keep
that small part of the boy for a while longer - the bodily scented cloths. He
was often sniffing their inner folds, trying to determine which cloth had
covered Willow Bird's loins and his butt. He detected their boyish sweetness
mingled with the sharp odors of sweat and something else.
A familiar aching filled the front of Big Horn's breechclout. Unlike a
boy, he wore the lengthy cloth of a man that folded over his thong belt in
front, passed under him and ended in a folding against his tense butt. Yet he
could easily reach a hand in from the side to handle himself at need. The
brave discovered that's where his left hand could be found. It pulled over his
thick skinned horn. Pleasure slowly filled his loins. The brave allowed
himself that simple male pleasure until he connected his sniffing to his lusty
act, becoming angered. Big Horn leapt from the weeds and landed in the river
with a loud splash.
The cold water came as an expected shock to his loins. His manly power
dwindled in response. Big Horn strode through the shallows towards the fire he
saw in the distance. His right hand kept hold of the boy's small flaps. He
couldn't bring himself to letting go that part of Willow Bird to the river.
Big Horn walked around camp to dry off. He came upon the fire and stood a
moment to warm his legs. His hands were about to reach out for the welcoming
flames when he dropped them from the old woman's seeking eyes; clutched within
each were the boy's breechclout flaps. She tended a boiling pot filled with
deer bones to extract marrow from them. The brave scolded her for doing this
at night where their enemies could see it. The woman shooed him away so that
she could finish her late night work in peace.
The troubled young man stumbled outside the sleeping tipis in deep
thought. A woman had sent him away as if he were only a boy! He was an
initiated brave; less than a proud warrior but more than a mere boy. Big Horn
shook his head in frustration. His life was becoming more and more difficult
for not being able to live up to the expectation of others. A chief wanted him
to marry. The younger men with eagle feathers in their hair asked when he
would be earning his rank. Big Horn was the oldest brave of the Kalinlepi;
that was not an honor. Only by acting as monedo for a fatherless boy gave his
life purpose and a little pride but he was afraid of what his lusting heart
might reveal to Willow Bird if he wasn't careful.
It was very late when Big Horn laid down to sleep in his uncle's tipi.
He heard their loud snores. The chief slept with his younger wife in his arms
while Yellow Deerskin slept alone in a corner of the tipi. Her son was laying
over his belly on a mat next to the brave's.
Big Horn tried closing his eyes but sleep wouldn't come. He knew why.
His eyes swept round the walls of the tipi in search of that he didn't know.
He followed a pale shaft of moonlight coming down from the tipi's smoke hole
to the central fire pit. It reminded him that he hadn't eaten today. He spied
a few mice searching for food around the dead embers. One scurried along the
dirt floor and squeaked when it ran into a water jug. The chief's snoring
filling Big Horn's ears was like an elk bull's mating call.
A soft cry caught Big Horn's attention. It had come from Song Bird. He
turned his head to look for the sleeping youth. The faint moonlight coming
down was enough for him to see by. He noticed that the boy was clutching the
corners of his ground mat. His legs stretched then slowly relaxed and there
was a slight humping to his rear end. Big Horn heard a gasp for breath. The
boy continued to clutch his ground mat while rubbing his belly against it.
The brave felt his loins stirring. He recognized the boyish rite that
Song Bird was performing. His small straining body was seeking pleasure in the
night. It was a thing Big Horn had done when he thought his parents were
sleeping. The boy slowly released his breath before gulping in another. He
held it in his lungs to deepen the thrills his erection was giving him.
Big Horn knew that this boy was too young to shoot. Come morning, there
would be no embarrassing wet spot on his mat for mother to scold him about.
His thrills were easily won and of little risk from discovery. The brave
considered joining into Song Bird's boyish rite. His cock had grown to full
length and it strained to be freed from the front of his breechclout.
Another thrilling outcry from the boy. Big Horn decided. He turned onto
his right side at the edge of his sleeping mat closest to where the boy laid.
He dared to reach his hand out to Song Bird's humping. He felt the warmth of
his butt through the small deerskin flap. The boy's cheeks tensed up. Big Horn
reached into the side of his breechclout to bring out his hard cock. He caught
the movement of the boy's head turning towards him in the dark.
Big Horn pressed down on the boy's rear end. He felt the skin softness of
Song Bird's butt and upper thigh along his arm. The brave relaxed his right
hand. In his left hand, he pulled over the foreskin of his throbbing cock for
thrills. Another push was given over the boy's rear flap. Through the brave's
fingers, he felt Song Bird flexing the cheeks to his straining butt. Big Horn
relaxed his hand. The boy's breath came out as a moan.
There came a secret understanding between the man and the boy. Both
sought male pleasure for need only; no love between them. Song Bird accepted
the brave's hand over him. He peeked on the brave's manly display in return.
Big Horn was proud to show off his big cock. He didn't know how much the
boy could see of it and for that he was glad. The near darkness somehow kept
what they were doing together from being blatant or wrong. The two of them
were stealing pleasures in the tipi where they knew they shouldn't be.
Lustful thoughts filled the man's head. He was urged to try more with
the needing boy - lay beside his small body and take his hard pole in hand.
Maybe suck on it. Big Horn tried casting away his darker urges that would have
him kissing over Song Bird's little butt, finding his puckered hole with his
tongue and a daring stab of his manhood into it likened to a lusty battlefield
conquest. The brave kept himself rooted to his ground mat. He was fond of the
chief's son and wouldn't do anything to hurt him.
For a long while, Big Horn played the youth's bottom like a hand drum.
He thought about fingering through the boy's soft cheeks to touch his hole but
thought it would be too daring an act. It was thrilling enough for him to be
a part of the boy's pleasure rite. His cock was often brought close to cumming
but he kept himself from exploding. The youth enjoyed many dry climax.
A weariness finally overcame Big Horn. He felt his body relaxing and
ready for sleep so he withdrew his left hand from the boy. His cock was
slipped back into his breechclout. The man's eyes closed.
In the very early morning, Big Horn awakened from an exciting dream. He
couldn't recall the fading images of sex but his cock throbbed within his
breechclout in lusty remembrance. The brave took it in hand. He suspected
that his dreaming was about boys and that he was probably raping them. It was
a secret desire that he had coming from the darker side of his spirit. His was
a good heart so nothing like that could ever happen while he remained awake.
Big Horn turned on his side to look for Song Bird. He found the boy
sleeping on his back, the front folding to his breechclout was spilled upon
his belly. The brave smiled when he saw the youth's erection. He suspected
that Song Bird had watched him dreaming and may have even dared to touch him.
The man's last sensation upon waking was of a small hand around his foreskin.
From his dreaming or the curious grasping by Song Bird?
The boy looked like he was asleep. Big Horn couldn't tell in the faint
morning light. The youth's erection could have come from a need to piss or
even from him enjoying a lusty dream of his own. The brave would test him. He
reached out for Song Bird's hard pole and grasped it. The foreskin was soft
and warm in his fingers. He pulled over the boy's dick to free its rosy knob.
An urge came into the man to suck on it but he wouldn't dare... The brave knew
that his mother would catch him even through closed eyelids. After a nervous
glance was taken in her direction, Big Horn continued to handle both their
dicks. Song Bird didn't stir.
Big Horn was greatly thrilled from the act. He had in his right hand the
manly expression from a young boy. The moist knob popping out against his palm
and the pole's stiffness moving through his tight fingers resembled his cock,
though being of much smaller proportions. He carried the boy towards a sweet
climax. His balls tingled in warning that he was about to shoot his cock. He
rushed to cup what spurted from his knob. Pleasure exploded in the man's head
when he seeded. Strongly! After releasing a careful breath, he thought he'd
heard the boy moan.
Song Bird's eyes were closed. If the boy was feigning sleep, he was doing
it well. Big Horn grinned when a clever idea dropped into his head. He brought
out his cupped left hand from within his breechclout and stretched out his arm
towards the youth. With his opening hand, the brave released his sticky sperm
onto the boy's immature loins. He knew that Song Bird would welcome the male
power he was offering to them.
Big Horn completed his 'growing up' rite for Song Bird by silently
mouthing the sacred ending words. He gently pulled the boy's front flap down
from his belly to cover his wet dick and balls. No sign came from the youth
that he'd been pretending to be asleep. An enjoyable weariness came to the
brave. After making sure that his dripping cock was hidden within the folds of
his breechclout, he turned onto his back and closed his eyes in sleep.
Later that morning, Big Horn awakened with the need to relieve himself.
He rose from his warm sleeping mat. Song Bird was laying on his belly with a
smile on his face. The brave stepped over his small form and tried making a
quiet exit from the chief's tipi. He knew that his uncle liked to sleep late.
Yellow Deerskin opened her eyes and gave the brave a frown. The old woman had
made it known to Big Horn that she didn't like having to share her husband's
tipi with an unmarried man of his age. It was yet another burden for the young
brave to bear. If he were to marry, a tipi of his own would be set up.
After reaching the woods, Big Horn peed to the roots of a great pine. He
grasped his foreskin for a moment longer to release the remaining drops of
urine. His cock quickly swelled from handling. Rolling the thick skin back, he
cleaned out the smelly paste from around his knob. A few sharp thrills there
made his breathing heavy. He had already come out in the tipi but his tingling
erection proved that he was still in need. Willow Bird's two flaps that he
saved from last night came to mind. He had them hidden in a sack of animal
hide scraps in the tipi. To sniff them would heighten his sexual thrills...
Big Horn became angry. He didn't want to lust over the boy's breechclout
but had kept it in the event Willow Bird didn't return. And even when he did,
having the two cloths could be put to some use. He could bring out the boyish
garment to reminisce over when Willow Bird was older. How small they would
appear over his mature body, unable to cover his manly nakedness. A good laugh
to be had between them!
The brave released a happy sigh. He tucked his long horn back within the
front of his breechclout and pulled the ends taunt over his thong belt. The
bulge from his erection would show but he didn't mind. Many a warrior in camp
enjoyed exhibiting themselves before the women and envious boys. Big Horn may
not have a feather sprouting from his hair but he could boast the biggest cock
in camp.
Big Horn left the cover of trees to head for the river. His long walk to
the south with Willow Bird had been a hot ordeal and he was unable to get a
proper bath last night for fear of being pulled down by water spirits. Upon
reaching the bank, he walked down river a ways to ensure privacy. Girls were
known to wash clothes on the bank nearest to camp.
When the brave felt he had traveled far enough, he untied the thong belt
from around his waist to drop his lengthy cloth to the ground. The man leaped
into the muddy river without pause. The cold water assaulted his body. It was
a refreshing sensation that took some getting used to though. Diving along the
bottom took his mind from the chill. The current swept him down. He checked
the distance between himself and his clothes by walking against the strong
current every so often. When the cold water no longer seemed to bother him, he
knelt in the shallows to draw up sand to clean his face, neck and chest. The
grainy feel over his breast made his brown nipples harden. He fetched more
sand to clean his back down to his butt. Lastly, he rubbed his legs clean.
A high-pitched giggle in the distance caught Big Horn's attention. He
allowed the river to carry him down until the voices grew louder. He waded
towards a stand of cat tails where he spied on two naked boys, one taller than
the other. The brave silently kicked his feet against the current until he
rested amongst the tall reeds. Hidden.
Both youths were covered from head to toe with dark mud. The shorter boy
tossed a handful at his companion with a happy glee. It was answered by a
volley that struck the little boy in the chest. Another handful was quickly
taken up and thrown. The little boy held out his right hand in a gesture of
submission. That ended their game.
"You look like a mud monster!" the younger boy sung in his high-pitched
voice.
His friend answered, "You too! We should clean up in the river before
returning to camp."
Big Horn recognized the older boy's voice. It was Crying Loon's, son of
warrior Bending Arrow. The brave wouldn't have recognized him otherwise with
all that mud obscuring his facial features. A small fear gripped his heart.
He knew that the two boys would find him hiding in the reeds when they passed
by to clean up in the river.
"The water is sooooo cold," complained the little boy.
"I know of a warmer method!" Crying Loon announced. He reached down for
his dick and pointed it at his companion. A long stream of piss struck the
youth who accepted it, admits lots of giggling.
Relief filled Big Horn. His tense body relaxed though he had to clench
his teeth to prevent them from chattering. He dared to part the tall reeds to
get a better view of the dancing youth. It was Wolf Pawing, a nine-year-old
boy who was only a few years younger than his friend. The youth took his pole
in hand and pissed back. It was a fine game that almost made the brave laugh
out loud.
Crying Loon stood closer to Wolf Pawing, pissing away mud from the front
of the little boy's body. It revealed the lighter color of his skin. Big Horn
spied on the youth's smooth groin with his pole lifting up from his small
clutch of balls.
"Isn't this a better way to clean up?" asked Crying Loon with a laugh.
Wolf Pawing giggled. The boy's yellow flow ebbed but his pissing had rid
some of the mud from Crying Loon's lower body. Big Horn saw that neither boy
had any groin hair. The older youth's pole stuck out from his body with its
pair of balls bouncing beneath. The man continued to lay low amongst the cat
tails with his own body covered in dark mud.
When Crying Loon couldn't piss any more, he shook the last drops from his
dick with a grin. It had grown long from handling. Wolf Pawing also bore an
erection. Big Horn felt the sexual tension building between the two boys.
"Can you shoot your dick like a man if you wanted?" asked Wolf Pawing.
Crying Loon nodded. He sat down near the reeds with his butt being sucked
down into the mud. At his gesture, Wolf Pawing sat over his thigh. Big Horn
could see where the little boy's eyes were being drawn down to. He had to
slither closer to spy on what the older boy performed.
Wolf Pawing ended his giggling. His eyes widened when he watched the
older boy pull over his erection. Big Horn smiled knowingly. He had gained
full view of the two boys but had to be careful least Wolf Pawing see him.
Crying Loon sat in the mud sideways to where the brave hid. The little boy sat
over his friend's thigh, facing him. The youth's pulling made for a revealing
squishy sound.
The man was excited. He felt his horn lifting between his legs but was
prevented from handling himself. Both his hands gasped the cat tails from
where he peered out from. He saw that Crying Loon's mud-stained face was
tense. A pink tongue stuck out from the boy's mouth. He gasped for breath. His
proud-looking eyes stared down at his action but he glanced at Wolf Pawing's
face every so often. The little boy was in awe of Crying Loon's dick and what
was being done to it. If the youth were to lift his face towards the river,
Big Horn could be discovered.
"When will you shoot?" asked Wolf Pawing.
"I want to hear you cry out first," answered Crying Loon.
"Me? I don't think mine will do it..."
"I know you can't!" said Crying Loon, "but you can still thrill it
towards a feeling of explosion."
The little boy shrugged his shoulders in a gesture that he didn't
understand. Crying Loon paused from beating off to show him the proper way. He
took hold of the little boy's erection, moving its tight foreskin with
rhythmic fingerings. Wolf Pawing gasped with delight. His little butt humped
over his friend's thigh in beat to what was being done to his pole. Another
gasp. When the youth felt that he knew what he was supposed to do with
himself, he pushed Crying Loon's hand away.
Wolf Pawing positioned his left hand around his finger-length erection
and made a quick pulling of its foreskin. Crying Loon resumed to masturbate
himself. Big Horn saw that both boys made their rosy knobs pop in and out from
their foreskins. It was a really cute display.
Crying Loon reached low around his friend to hold his little butt humping
over his left thigh. Their struggling bodies leaned closer together, almost
touching. Big Horn had to move a bit closer so that he could peer down into
their laps. It made him more vulnerable to discovery. His hard cock really
ached him to be handled. He settled for flexing his thighs around his balls
for thrills. The mud sucked at his humping ass.
Wolf Pawing's face screwed up. He found it hard to hold breaths but had
learned that doing so intensified the thrills coming from his hard pole. His
belly trembled from the effort. When the little boy couldn't hold one any
longer, he cried out. Pleasure exploded from his erection unlike anything he
had ever felt before. Big Horn knew of the boy's dry climax from the way his
eyes fluttered.
Crying Loon laughed. "Didn't that feel real good?"
Wolf Pawing nodded. He paused from handling himself for a moment to catch
his breath. He looked for any sign that his dick had shot. Nothing. Crying
Loon gestured for the little boy to keep doing it. He knew that by not having
any sperm in his balls would allow the youth to enjoy thrill after thrill.
Big Horn was tempted to join the two boys but thought better of it. He
knew that there were enough bad rumors circulating around camp without him
doing something foolish to verify them. He settled with bringing his left hand
down from the reeds to pull over his aching cock. It tingled with sharp
thrills. He knew that his coming out would be a very good one.
Wolf Pawing cried out again. This time, he didn't pause to catch his
breath but continued to pursue more thrills from his angry-colored pole. All
the while, his eyes stared down at Crying Loon's erection. He didn't want to
miss seeing his friend shoot.
Crying Loon was proud to show his young friend this male pleasure. It
surprised him that the boy hadn't discovered it on his own or been shown it by
another. He would prove that his hairless groin didn't mean that he was still
a little boy. His dick could shoot like a man.
Wolf Pawing kept eyeing his older friend's action. He'd heard about boys
touching themselves there but as a naughty act he'd be scolded for if his mom
caught him. They were far from the tribe. Alone. The youth felt proud to be
performing this naked act with his friend where none could see it.
"Look now!" warned Crying Loon. He aimed his long dick at Wolf Pawing and
after several hand jerks, he squirted. True to his name, the boy cried out
like that crazy lake bird. Big Horn saw the clear liquid pooling over the
little boy's groin. Wolf Pawing giggled with amazement. He watched his friend
pull out the remaining cum from his swollen knob and gather it into his
fingers. This he brought down to cover the little boy's erection and balls.
Big Horn recognized the 'growing up' rite that Crying Loon performed. He
didn't speak the words a proud father or uncle would announce after the act
but the result was the same. Wolf Pawing accepted the male power coming from
his older friend.
Crying Loon released a long drawn-out breath. His shoulders slumped
wearily. Wolf Pawing spread his legs to examine his anointed loins for signs
that they would mature or something. Over his groin, he found some of his
friend's cum so he gathered it into his left hand. He lifted it to his nose
for a curious sniff. Some was even tasted! Big Horn didn't know what the youth
thought of it because in the next moment, the little boy spotted him.
With a cry of alarm, Wolf Pawing jumped to his feet. Crying Loon stood up
with him. They both stared fearfully into the reeds for the man. Big Horn
slowly rose from his hiding place to fully reveal himself since he's been
discovered. For a long tense moment nobody spoke. The two boys stared at the
brave's big cock standing against his belly with envy. Big Horn smiled when he
looked down. He compared his mighty curved branch with their twig-sized poles.
Acting like nothing had happened, Big Horn address Wolf Pawing with a
request. "I've been swept down river from my breechclout lying on the bank.
Could you go fetch it for me?"
The little boy darted away in answer to his plea. Big Horn was glad that
Crying Loon didn't follow him. The youth stood his ground with a wide grin. He
still bore an erection even after having just come out.
"You're so... big!" Crying Loon exclaimed. He stepped closer to the naked
brave with wide eyes. Smiling.
When it seemed that Crying Loon was going to touch him, Big Horn held the
boy's right shoulder to prevent him from coming any closer. It became a tense
moment. When the man's teeth chattered, the youth laughed at him. He gestured
down at his own nakedness covered in mud that was keeping his body warm.
"Sit down while we wait for Wolf Pawing to return with your breechclout,"
the boy asked. He took hold of Big Horn's hand from his shoulder and managed
to pull the brave down to the ground with him.
The mud sucked at Big Horn's butt. It was warmer to be sitting out of the
wind. Crying Loon positioned himself in front of the brave, facing him close
with his long legs stretching over the man's. Big Horn felt nervous but was
assured that the tall reeds were hiding them from view. He glanced up at their
brown seeded heads swaying to and fro. He wondered how Wolf Pawing would be
able to find them again if he returned.
"You were spying on us, Big Horn!"
The brave lowered his eyes to the boy's with concern. It was true and he
feared what the consequences would be. He was put a little at ease when he saw
some mischief in Crying Loon. Not gloating or anger in the youth's shining
eyes but a longing - for him! The boy was only a few years younger than his
charge. Perhaps he could seek sexual relief with him that would lessen his
lust for Willow Bird.
Crying Loon stared at the brave's thick cock. He was in awe of it. Not
even fully erected, it stood along the man's hairy groin with a slight curve
inwards. Tucked within his foreskin was its rosy knob, oozing with lots of
precum. The boy knew about that. He'd fooled around with an older boy once who
had claimed that his dripping helped prevent his sensitive foreskin from
getting chaffed in hand.
Big Horn looked over the boy's skinny dick. He was surprised that it held
a nearly erected shape after coming out already. The boy was smooth groined
like his little friend but he knew that this youth was old enough to shoot
even if it were the clear release of a younger teen boy. The wrinkled tip of
his foreskin was dry; no sexual excitement. Big Horn didn't think he saw any
oozing when the boy had handled it earlier.
The boy was excited to be lusted over by a full-grown man. He'd heard the
rumors that claimed Big Horn wasn't interested in women. Some even said that
he didn't want sex. Crying Loon knew that wasn't true or else the brave
wouldn't be sitting with him in the mud with a hard dick.
Crying Loon pulled back his thick skin to reveal his rosy knob. There was
a little pearl coming from his piss hole. He proudly dabbed it onto his
pointing finger to show the man. Big Horn didn't know if that was precum or
what remained after beating off with Wolf Pawing. He saw that his own cock was
dripping. A lot. There was an aching in his balls for not completing his act
in the weeds. The young man knew what would give him relief and that's what
kept him with this boy. A part of him warned that he should get up and flee.
He could go do himself in the woods without his help and fear of reprisal.
"Your turn, Big Horn. You watched us doing it so..." Crying Loon was
reaching for the brave's cock when his hand was blocked by the man's. He
giggled in nervous rejection. The boy withdrew his hand to handle his own
dick. He playfully gestured to the brave that he should handle his.
Big Horn held his left hand in the air for a moment before lowering it to
his cock. He surrendered to his urgent male need. The boy nodded with
approval. Together, the man and boy pulled on their hard dicks. A revealing
squishing sound was heard amongst the reeds. The thrills filled Big Horn's
loins. He knew it would be a very pleasurable release. Crying Loon thought
that he could perform again. He was sitting close to a full grown man and that
was very exciting. His butt humped in the thick mud. He sought a more intimate
position with him though.
Crying Loon slowly brought his legs around the brave's hips. That drew
his body closer to Big Horn's. Their bobbing hands nearly touched. His fingers
reached out to the man's rosy knob and he stole precum from it for use around
his dry dick. It made for a slippery handling that enhanced the thrills slowly
returning to his erection. Big Horn became tense. He was on guard to prevent
the youth from attempting to touch him again.
Crying Loon noticed. "You have plenty for your need," he complained. "I'm
not old enough to drip from my dick yet." He saw the effect of his words on
the brave; pride tinged with a little guilt. When his fingers darted over to
gather more of the sticky fluid, Big Horn allowed him.
The brave didn't like Crying Loon's wicked grin. He felt himself being
maneuvered by the boy who was drawing him deeper in an act that he knew he
shouldn't be performed with one so young. Would the youth boast to others that
he had witnessed his manly performance?
The sweet aching in the man's loins put down his fears. His lust was
consuming him. As long as they didn't touch each other, Big Horn felt that
his act with the youth was of no consequence. It would be over soon and they
could part ways.
It wasn't enough for Crying Loon. He wanted to see how far he could coax
the brave into a more intimate bonding with him. His boyhood friends were but
small challenges. To embrace a man with sex, the greater! It would give him
power over Big Horn to do anything that he wanted.
"I hope that my dick will grow up as big as yours!" the boy exclaimed.
"You're so strong that our enemies would surely flee in terror if they were
to see your long 'spear' aimed at their butts."
Big Horn laughed. He relished the boy's praise that played on his vanity
with a much-needed boost. Crying Loon tightened his legs around the man's
waist to bring their loins together. He let go of his erection in the hope
that Big Horn would handle them together.
Crying Loon reached his arms around the brave's back. Hands locked behind.
His tightening legs kept their unmatched bodies together with the boy's heels
digging in the mud for the man's butt. The youth vowed to himself that he
wouldn't let go! After an awkward pause, the youth felt Big Horn's fingers
extending around his dick. With one hand, their loins were beating as one.
Big Horn's fears were finally cast down by of his great lust. He enjoyed
the boy's small body clutching his as if seeking a protector. The man would
carry his young charge to manhood with a fiery display! He released their
hard dicks to let them struggle unguided between their bellies. The brave
rushed his arms around Crying Loon with his left hand falling to the youth's
soft flexing butt.
"Oh, Big Horn!"
Crying Loon's words were sweet in his ears, likened to the young woman
embracing her needing husband on their wedding night. He listened to the boy's
gasps of pleasure but kept his eyes tightly shut. The man concentrated only
on fulfilling the dark needs of their male bodies; a kind of battle. Big Horn
pulled over the youth's soft butt to mash their groins together. His hard cock
was building with many wonderful thrills against Crying Loon's dick. The boy
felt them too. He tightened his legs around Big Horn in beat to the big hand
under his bottom. With their loins pressing together, the boy wanted to steal
as much power from the man as he could.
They were being watched. It seemed like the man was embracing his long
lost son with love but with them being naked, it was an obvious sex rite.
Their muddy bodies strained together. Hands were wrapped around one another
with their bellies rubbing, dicks stabbing. It was an act never seen before
by the anxious intruder let alone ever imagined.
Big Horn moaned. He felt close to a wonderful explosion but his balls
seemed reluctant is if he were piss-shy. It would badly shame him if his loins
couldn't flow to the boy. With a renewed effort, the brave kept up his attack.
He felt that he was fighting a part of himself.
Crying Loon hung on for dear life. He realized that he'd awakened a dark
beast in the man from the way Big Horn was fiercely embracing his small body.
It was a little frightening. The brave growled out like an angry bear. His
cock stabbed against the boy's dick in an unmatched contest. Strong man hands
prevented escape.
Big Horn was totally consumed by lust. He beat his hard cock against the
boy to subdue the front of him. His hands attacked the back of him. Fingers
dug into the crack of Crying Loon's butt and found his hole. He dared to stick
one in. A wonderful tightness was found within. Sphincter muscles quivered
around his middle finger that he kept pushing deeper inside. He heard Crying
Loon's sharp gasp of surprise.
The boy couldn't believe it. He felt Big Horn sticking into his butt hole
with much pain. He wanted to get away! His legs loosened from around the man's
waist and his hands tried pushing him away. He feared getting raped.
Small fists pounded against Big Horn's right shoulder. It brought him up
from the carnal depths that he'd fallen to. His eyes opened to see Wolf Pawing
standing at his side. Anguish showed on this youth's tense face. The brave
rushed to his feet carrying Crying Loon up with him. They stood a part from
each other as if nothing had been happening.
There were tears in Crying Loon's eyes. When he saw Wolf Pawing, the boy
put on a brave face to hide weakness from his little friend. A hand was wiped
across his wet face. There was much regret showing from Big Horn's face.
"We should tell on him!" shouted Wolf Pawing.
"I'm not hurt," Crying Loon assured his friend. "Big Horn is too powerful
a man for me. It's all right..."
Big Horn spotted his breechclout at Wolf Pawing's feet. He retrieved it
with eyes that wouldn't look at the little boy. A low mutter of thanks came
from his mouth. He turned one last time to Crying Loon with sad eyes before
walking away from the two boys. His fast walking turned into a run. The man
ran along the river bank with his heart in turmoil. He ran and ran. When he
stumbled over an unseen branch, the brave fell to the dirt and cried. He
pounded the ground with his left fist and vowed never to touch a boy again!
All day long, Big Horn sat over the bank on the other side of the river
from camp. He thought long and hard. His balls hurt him from not finding
release. He welcomed the pain as a punishment for the dark deed he had
committed against Crying Loon. The boys would tell everyone what had happened.
He couldn't face that! Big Horn turned away from his tribe and walked towards
the plains to search for that he didn't know. Willow Bird was somewhere out
there. He'd be the only person who wouldn't have heard the terrible things
being said about him back in camp. Perhaps they could run away together and
never return...
Big Horn walked far down the elk trail where he had taken Willow Bird
yesterday. He knew that it was wrong to go to him during the test. How could
he even find the boy out on the plains? Yet he kept walking. Father Sun beat
down hard on his shoulders. His body sweated. When the brave's legs ached him,
he fell to the ground to rest. The tall grass chafed against him. His head
felt dull from thinking too much. He closed his eyes and found relief in
sleeping.
The sound of a horse awakened Big Horn. He saw a Spear-bearing warrior
atop it with his tomahawk at the ready. Fear gripped the brave. He noticed
that the old man wore no face paint but a terrible gleam of lust was in his
eyes. Big Horn slowly rose to his feet with a sense of defeat. The brave knew
that he wouldn't be able to outrun this enemy warrior. His hands held no
weapons or even a shield for defense. The safety of his tribe was far, far
away. They likely wouldn't want to help him anyway.
Big Horn accepted his fate. With outstretching arms, he welcomed the
man's blow that was soon to come. He closed his eyes. A death song sprang to
the brave's lips but he didn't utter it; he didn't feel worthy. The horse's
footsteps came closer but for a agonizing long moment that tomahawk blow never
came. Big Horn forced his eyes open.
The Spear-bearing warrior slowly dropped down from the advantaged
position of his horse's back. The appaloosa lowered his head down to nibble on
some grass. He nickered with contentment. Big Horn admired the fine horse. It
surprised him that the stallion didn't fear his presence; it was as if his
master were greeting a long-lost friend.
The two men eyed each other in silence for many heart beats. Big Horn
thought that the enemy warrior was deciding if it was worth doing battle
between them. The brave knew that he was no match for him; inexperienced,
weaponless and no eagle feathers to be found in his long hair. He appeared as
a weak boy before this mighty Spear-bearing man.
The warrior stuck the long wooden handle to his tomahawk back into the
left side of his thong belt. His lust for battle was fading from his eyes.
Curiosity filled them instead. He stood in silence to study Big Horn. The
brave felt his legs trembling; from fear or something else he didn't know. He
fell to the ground with his legs folding in a sitting position. To his
surprise, the warrior sat down with him.
Big Horn looked the enemy warrior over. His arms and chest bore many
battle scars. No war shirt was worn. He didn't wear leggings but a pair of old
moccasins covered his feet. A frilled breechclout was worn around his waist.
In his shortly-cut hair were five feathers of the eagle - a proud display.
The brave felt naked before this mighty warrior because of his unadorned head.
'Did you come into our lands to die?' the warrior gestured with his hands.
'You look too old to be one of the boys the Muddy River People send out on
Mid-summer's Eve. And too well clothed.' The old man grinned at his joke.
Big Horn noticed where the man looked down at him. No. He hadn't come to
the plains to be tested like Willow Bird. Perhaps he had come seeking death
as the warrior suggested.
'How are you called?' the warrior asked after the long silence.
Big Horn lifted his hands and gestured his name. The old warrior laughed.
He looked down at the front of his breechclout with seeking eyes. The brave
didn't understand what was so humorous.
'I am called Coyote Thief by my People.'
Big Horn could only nod his head in reply. A strange name, he thought.
'You have a nice horse,' the brave gestured after the awkward silence.
'Yes. Night Moon has been my loving companion for summers without count.'
Big Horn wasn't sure he read the hand sign for 'loving' correctly. He
surmised that the old warrior had meant 'faithful.' Without lowering his eyes
from him, Coyote Thief untied a long pouch from his thong belt. He drew out a
pipe along with a small pouch of tobacco. He filled the pipe and lit it,
offering it to Big Horn to smoke from first as was the custom for a guest. The
brave was surprised by the offer but he drew in a long puff as was expected of
him. The smoke was strong, causing him to cough a little. That brought a
spark of amusement to the old man's eyes.
Coyote Thief took back his pipe and smoked from it. He continued to
study the brave with eyes that gleaned many things. From Big Horn's lack of
head feathers, he knew that the young man was only a brave. A few years after
his naming. He wore a simple breechclout that was adorned with only a sacred
bundle. No weapons, food or even a water skin was upon him for traveling.
Big Horn felt very awkward. He didn't understand what was going on. The
old warrior honored him with the sharing of tobacco and friendly talk. He
lifted his hands in anger. 'Is not my scalp worth taking?' he asked daringly.
'Have you come to offer it to me?' answered Coyote Thief.
Big Horn shook his head. He feared what awaited him back at camp. He
really didn't want to die but neither could he live the way he had been. His
life felt twisted. Tears welled up in his eyes and he felt them fall down his
cheeks with much shame before the enemy warrior. Sobs rose in his throat
unbidden. He lowered his face to his chest to hide himself.
Coyote Thief laid down his pipe. He reached out for the young man's
shoulders and tried comforting him. It was hard looking upon Big Horn's
weakness. Where did the brave's pain come from, he wondered.
Big Horn tried ending his sobbing. He wiped an arm across his wet face
so that he would appear brave before the warrior. It was a long struggle.
Coyote Thief released his shoulders. He lifted his smoldering pipe from the
ground and resumed smoking from it. When offered to the brave, he wasn't
surprised that it was politely rejected.
'You walk a difficult path,' Coyote Thief gestured after he was done
smoking. He saw Big Horn's eyes widen. 'It a difficult thing to be lonely
without a companion to seek comfort.'
Big Horn had to lower his eyes from the warrior. Coyote Thief seemed to
know much about him and that which troubled his heart. But how could he? They
had just met; the man's words could be interpreted in many ways he realized.
Coyote Thief tapped the ashes from his pipe before returning it with the
tobacco to his long pouch at his side. An idea struck him. He reached for his
sacred bundle and ritually lifted it in his right hand, drawing open its
thongs with the left.
'I offer you something from my bundle to take,' the warrior gestured.
'For strength.'
Big Horn's eyes widened. He had never heard of a man allowing another to
see what his personal bundle contained let alone remove something from it.
After seeing the sincerity in Coyote Thief's eyes, he did as he was bidden.
The brave nervously reached into the painted leather pouch. He brought forth
a clear stone. Mostly rounded, it bore a hole through it that a thong could
bear. Coyote Thief's eyes flared.
'If it too valuable, I will return it to you.' Big Horn quickly gestured.
The warrior shook his head but with some reluctance.
'Yes. It is of great value from being gifted me from my shaman. You can
keep it for a while.'
Big Horn paused from placing it inside his sacred bundle. He was unsure
of what Coyote Thief's gesturing had meant. A thought struck him. The brave
reverently opened his sacred bundle but he didn't drop the stone inside. He
offered the warrior to take something from his.
Coyote Thief nodded as if the return gesture was expected of him. Big
Horn watched the warrior remove a fine beaded wristlet that his father had
given him before he died. He had wanted it to be gifted to his son's wife on
their wedding night.
'Is this of great value to you?' asked Coyote Thief.
Big Horn could only nod with a bowed head. He felt the significance of
what they had exchanged. Coyote Thief smiled at him as if knowing his every
thought. It was a bit unsettling for the young brave.
The two men placed what they had traded into their sacred bundles. They
tied them closed in silence.
The brave lifted his eyes to meet the warrior's. Their sharing rite had
made him feel like an equal. His heart had been touched by Coyote Thief's
unexpected compassion but it left him feeling unbalanced. Big Horn didn't know
what to make of this enemy. He studied him with new eyes. The warrior looked
old and very wise. His arms bulged with muscles that rippled down to his
strong chest. A very attractive thing to see in a man! The brave wondered what
it would have been like to test this man's strength against his own, to feel
their straining bodies collide in battle. Afterwards, would Coyote Thief have
laid over him for a sexual connection? Big Horn saw the warrior's eyes aflame.
He could read his thoughts!
Coyote Thief peered into Big Horn's shy eyes. He saw something that was
kindred to him, lacking experience, yes, but there to be awakened. It was as
Snarling Bear had revealed to him long ago from a vision. This brave was the
One. Strange that he would be from the tribe of his enemies as foretold.
'Are you looking for someone?' gestured Coyote Thief. He wanted to know
if this young man would consider him for a lover.
Big Horn mistook his question. He thought that the old warrior referred to
him seeking Willow Bird which was surprisingly perceptive. Fear gripped his
heart. Had the boy been taken prisoner by his tribesmen, or worse?!
The thundering of approaching horsemen kept Big Horn from answering.
Coyote Thief stood up with his tomahawk in hand. Big Horn stood weaponless at
the warrior's side to face what came. Two men rode onto their position and
with a lifted hand gesturing from Coyote Thief, Big Horn realized that they
were his companions.
"To the west, we've found the bare-footed tracks to one of the Muddy
River boys!" shouted Blow Flute. "Take this one's scalp and join us for the
hunt of his companion."
Big Horn couldn't know what was being said because the man spoke in the
language of the Spear-bearing People. He didn't like the lusty glances that he
received from the eyes of the two braves. Just when he thought he'd escape
with his life, the situation had changed for the worst. Big Horn was
determined that he would put up a brave fight. With luck, he'd gain the title
of warrior before he was struck down.
'No. I like the way it looks on him,' Coyote Thief gestured while
pointing at the brave's flowing hair. He both spoke and made hand gesturing so
that Big Horn could understand his meaning.
"I'll gladly take his scalp," offered Sleeps-in-afternoon. The fierce
brave took hold of his flint blade and made ready to jump onto Big Horn from
his horse.
"No!" shouted Coyote Thief. "This brave came to the plains in peace and
we will let him go in peace." The two men shouted back with much protesting.
"It's difficult to share one scalp amongst three," complained Blow Flute.
"This brave would give us better sport than tracking down a naked boy."
Big Horn pleaded with his eyes unto Coyote Thief to let him know what was
being said. The old warrior turned away from his companions and made the hand
gesturing. Fear gripped Big Horn's heart; not for himself. He knew that the
braves must have found signs that led to Willow Bird.
'Take me!' Big Horn gestured in a challenge to the two braves. 'I am more
worthy for battle than the little boy that you've found!'
'He is dear to you?' Coyote Thief carefully gestured for only Big Horn's
eyes. When he saw the brave nod his head, an understanding came to the old
warrior. He offered Big Horn a gesture of peace before hastily mounting his
horse. He talked to his braves with many words Big Horn didn't understand.
They answered with loud protests. Coyote Thief was their war leader so the
braves had to bow to his wishes. Yet anger smoldered in the young men's eyes.
Coyote Thief reined his horse towards the east. His savage kick sent
Night Moon galloping over the plains towards to the Spear-bearing Tribe. He
was followed by his two disappointed braves.
Big Horn watched their dusty departure. He believed that Coyote Thief was
leading them away from Willow Bird and for that he was glad. Something on the
ground caught his eye. The brave ran to it and discovered the old warrior's
tomahawk; how could he not have noticed its falling from his thong belt? A
powerful sensation overcame Big Horn. The tiny hairs were raised at the back
of his neck from a revelation. Coyote Thief had left it for him on purpose.
Big Horn knew that they would meet again.
Big Horn was able to return to his tribe with the fallen token that lent
him strength. He heard nothing spoken against him coming from Wolf Pawing or
Crying Loon in the days after. He conferred with his uncle and the tribe's
shaman about what had happened to him on the plains but he kept the sacred
bundle trading ritual to himself. Word spread about his encounter with the
Spear-bearing horsemen throughout the Kalinlepi and many were amazed that he
survived it. That brought a measure of respect to the brave from the feathered
warriors of his tribe. It was very sweet.
Big Horn hoped that honor would also be won for Willow Bird out on the
plains. The days of testing for the youth passed but slowly for him. Often,
the brave walked along the river bank to look across it for any sign of the
boy should he be coming back early due to an injury. That was not hoped for;
failing his endurance test meant having to do another. Yet Big Horn favored
that outcome to what Little Fisher had suffered.
Warm Hands also revealed her anxiety. She sought out Big Horn with small
gifts of food, talking about her son as the brave ate outside her tipi. There
was strong taboo warning Big Horn from accepting too familiar an association
with the widow. He was only acting as the boy's monedo. Anything more from him
would be looked upon as his desire to take Warm Hands for wife. A thing
neither of them wanted.
The tribe accepted that the two only shared their concern for Willow Bird.
When Big Horn ate Warm Hand's meals in full view of the People, no one
whispered behind their hands or tried to make something more of it. Hope for
the boy's safe return was offered to them by everyone.
Warm Hands used the opportunity to thank the brave for guiding her son.
Though she'd never reveal it, the woman knew why their chief had asked his
nephew to serve as Willow Bird's monedo. Much was owed her husband from the
Kalinlepi; his past position as war leader and peace maker with the Split
Tribe. He'd been the trusted councilor to the chief, fulfilling a few secret
obligations unto that old man. A thing that weighed in the woman's heart.
Everyone thought she only had one son to take care of her in the declining
years. If Warm Hands were to lose Willow Bird, she'd be forced to look for her
lost one down river. That, or face the bitter winter alone and unsupported.
Big Horn didn't realize the depths to Warm Hand's concerns. The woman
kept many things hidden for the sake of the tribe. She didn't want to shame
powerful men or be looked upon with scorn. Where her first son was concerned,
however, she was willing to risk much. Warm Hands felt a threat from the brave
that dark gossip had revealed. Her talks with Big Horn confirmed them.
"I've felt the deeper love that you keep from Willow Bird," the woman
announced in an abrupt change of subject from what Big Horn and she had been
talking about. Her stern eyes drove the point home.
Big Horn coughed nervously. The woman's comment had taken him completely
by surprise so he feigned choking on his food.
"Was the raw deer meat I served you too strongly seasoned?" she asked
innocently. Again, her stare at the brave served as a sharp warning.
"No. I appreciate what you've given me, Warm Hands." Big Horn knew that
they were speaking towards a delicate subject; his hidden feelings of manly
love for her son. The brave regretted having spent those anxious days with the
woman. She had dug out his secret through their sharing of talk.
"Willow Bird will overcome the dangers out on the plains thanks to your
training," continued Warm Hands. "Will you protect him from dangers within?"
Her words were as sweet as honey.
Big Horn couldn't return the woman's knowing stare. He simply nodded his
head in reply, muttering the need to drown his cough with a drink from the
river. He rose from the ground and stalked away, defeated.
Throughout the afternoon, Big Horn sat on the far bank from his tribe.
The river passing between them made the brave feel a measure of safety. It
kept him apart from the People. How much did they know?! He knew there would
be consequences for daring to touch boys with his lust. Now Willow Bird would
be beyond his hand's reach. He was sure that Warm Hands would see to that.
Little Fisher came to mind. His body had been used by lusting warriors
when a boy and it's made him hateful and bitter as a man. Big Horn didn't want
that to happen to Willow Bird by his hand. The youth had a year remaining of
growth for body and spirit before being initiated a brave. Big Horn thought
that he should wait until next summer before daring to reveal his heart and
manly needs to him.
The matter pressed down upon the brave's shoulders. He was in need of
guidance. Yet there was no one in the tribe that he could reveal his most
secret and innermost feelings about his sexuality. It was one thing to be
under suspect. Confirming the People's fears with talk was quite another! Big
Horn wouldn't even risk conferring with his shaman. He was alone with his
spirit's dark burden. No one could understand how he felt...
The five-feathered man came to mind. Big Horn remembered Coyote Thief's
unexpected compassion and kindness when they had met on the plains. His life
had been spared. More than that, he felt a strange kindred ship with that
enemy warrior. Their rite of trading sacred bundle items proved later to be a
portent of things to come, after consideration. Coyote Thief wanted him. He
would welcome meeting with that warrior again.
The overcasted afternoon turned into a darker evening for Big Horn when
left to his thoughts. He made the cold river crossing. Pacing around camp to
dry off, the brave hoped to bring a weariness to his body that would allow him
to sleep. He was tired of thinking. Yet there was no end to the swirling dark
thoughts filling his head or the sharp emotions that clutched his heart. It
came as no surprise to him that he spent the long night with his eyes open.
Song Bird slept at his side without offering him the distraction of a boy's
pleasure rite. Even the mice were still. Big Horn's sight faded into the
utter darkness of the tipi but his thoughts were like lightning. Silent
crashing that kept him awake.
Big Horn spent the remaining days sitting on the bank across the river.
He felt that Willow Bird was somewhere out there... almost within reach. Many
times he considered looking for him; to talk about what troubled his heart.
The river flowed at his feet. He was anchored there to the bank of his woes.
No. He would let the boy be to endure his testing. The brave continued to
suffer his own test. Alone.
The fifth day came. Big Horn went across the river to look for the boy's
return. Father Sun slowly rose in His sky and then fell. The brave grew tired
of glancing towards the plains so he laid on his back to cloud watch. Their
varied shapes came to fill the blue sky, often threatening to block out the
summer sun. It hadn't rained during Willow Bird's departure from camp, he
remarked. A good thing. That kept the naked youth from getting chilled,
especially during the cool nights. No rain though meant that he couldn't gain
an easy drink. Water was difficult to find in the plains; only from an
occasional stream could the boy's thirst be quenched.
That was only one concern of many that Willow Bird faced. How successful
was his hunting, Big Horn wondered. During his own endurance test, he threw
stones at rabbits for a meal. Their raw flesh was chewed on without the
benefit of making a fire - too risky. Spear-bearing scouts knew that naked
boys could be found on the plains at high summer. Did his charge escape their
lusty hands?
A shadow fell over Big Horn's face. He turned to face his intruder with
the thought that enemy warriors had caught him off guard again. A smiling
boy's face greeted his tense stance. It was Willow Bird! The brave jumped to
his feet to meet the youth. Sweaty dust clung to his body. The boy's long hair
was in tangles about his shoulders. There were many scratches to his arms and
chest. He was naked; no animal skins had been fashioned during his outing and
his hands were empty of weapons.
That didn't matter to Big Horn. He was glad to see that Willow Bird had
come back from his testing unharmed. The brave's hands shot to the boy's
shoulders with pride. He found himself being embraced. Fiercely. Breast on
breast, the man relished what the sweet boy offered him. His arms went around
Willow Bird with much happiness and relief that he'd returned to him.
Willow Bird was about to make a boast when he noticed tears in his
monedo's eyes. That struck him dumb. He felt that Big Horn's anguish didn't
match the occasion; his return should be celebrated, not mourned over. Perhaps
something had happened in camp while he was away. Fear clutched the boy's
heart when he thought it could be his mother.
Big Horn closed his eyes against his weak display. He continued to hold
his dear boy close, not ever wanting to let him go again! Willow Bird trembled
within his arms.
"Has anything bad happened, Big Horn?"
The brave heard worry in Willow Bird's voice and that made him realize
how his show of tears had disturbed the boy. "No. Everything is well in camp,"
assured Big Horn. He was about to part from the youth when noticing how his
left hand was clutching the boy's soft butt. There was an obvious bulge coming
from the front of his breechclout that pressed against Willow Bird.
Big Horn became alarmed. He didn't want the boy to learn of what he'd
been hiding deep in his heart. With a pinch to the youth's butt cheek, he
stepped out of their embrace. "I smell the five long days upon you without
bathing!" he scolded lightly. "Get to the river and clean yourself."
Willow Bird giggled. He walked past his monedo and eagerly jumped into
the water. It felt cold and refreshing over his body. Big Horn watched the
boy's bathing with a smile, eyeing every part of him as if for the first time.
The youth had a nice butt on him. Rounded brown cheeks that opened when he
drew up sand to clean himself with. Big Horn felt a lusty throbbing from his
cock when he saw the boy's butt hole, only briefly. Willow Bird submerged
himself to clean his matted hair.
"Come join me!" asked Willow Bird when he resurfaced.
A pang of fear gripped Big Horn. He couldn't remove his breechclout since
that would reveal his hard cock. The boy's pole was limp when he stood in the
river with opening arms to him. An idea came to the brave.
"Enjoy a long bathing, Willow Bird while I return to camp to fetch your
breechclout. It would be better that you returned to camp clothed."
Before the boy could gainsay him, Big Horn jumped into the river. He
quickly strode past the boy. Stopping the youth with the raising of his right
hand when he tried following. "I'll be back soon."
Willow Bird sat back down in the water. He was surprised that his monedo
had kept his two deerskin flaps but was relieved that he wouldn't be returning
to camp naked.
Big Horn strode across to camp and ran to his uncle's tipi. He didn't
stop on the way to tell anyone of Willow Bird's triumphant return. The chief's
wives were startled when he entered their tipi dripping wet. They watched the
brave grasp a sack of animal hide scraps and pull out two cloths. Wordlessly,
he ran back out. Yellow Deerskin turned to the younger woman with a frown.
The brave jumped back into the river. His legs fought against the water's
strong current to reach Willow Bird on the far side. Seeing him, Big Horn felt
a renewed sense of relief that he'd passed his endurance test. He was safely
back home! Yet the battle within him raged anew for the love he had for this
boy. Warm Hands had spoken of it. She had asked Big Horn to protect her son
from the dangers that came from within him.
Willow Bird strode through the water to meet Big Horn. In the man's hands
were two deerskin flaps that he'd worn as a boy. Though his naming ritual
wouldn't be until next summer, he felt it would be wrong to wear his old
breechclout. Passing his endurance test had earned him the right to a man's
lengthy cloth for his growing body.
The two met. Big Horn offered the boy his breechclout flaps in his right
hand with a grin. Yet in Willow Bird's eyes was disappointment. He noticed
that there was no belt thong.
"You've forgotten something," said Willow Bird. "How will those old flaps
keep against my body without a belt thong?" He was hoping that his monedo
would hear the anguish in his voice.
"Ah. I dropped it on the bank," answered Big Horn. He noted the sad tone
in Willow Bird's voice but didn't understand it. They left the river and
started searching the ground. The task proved futile. He couldn't recall where
the thong belt had been dropped from his hand those many days ago.
Willow Bird turned to his monedo. He reached out with longing for what
the man wore to cover his body, fingers pulling on his thong belt. Big Horn
didn't glean the boy's desire for having a lengthy cloth instead of boy flaps.
He offered the youth his thong belt.
"Here. Take mine to wear around your waist," offered Big Horn. He fetched
his thong belt from his body, catching his falling breechclout over his left
arm. Willow Bird stood very close to the man when it was brought around his
waist and tied. The boy marveled at the size of the man's thick cock next to
his boyish pole. He daringly leaned closer to the brave to get their dicks to
touch. Their balls tickled together. A thrilling warmth shot into the boy's
loins from the man's. Willow Bird could feel Big Horn's male power!
"I hope to grow up as strong as you, Big Horn!" Willow Bird eyed the
man's limp dick that held the promise of growing into a mighty buffalo bull's
horn when angered.
Big Horn relished the boy's praise. He didn't realize that it had been
directed at his cock. The brave's hands dropped from Willow Bird's waist after
the thong belt was tied. He noticed that the youth didn't step away from him.
It became an awkward moment with their dicks pressed together and growing.
Lust surged through the man to grab this youth for sex but he remembered the
promise he'd spoken: 'Never to touch a boy again!'
Willow Bird noticed his monedo's uneasiness by what he dared. Yet the man
didn't step away or give him a sharp warning. The boy enjoyed his naked moment
with Big Horn that was sending exciting tingles through his erection.
It was becoming very difficult for Big Horn to contain himself. He stared
down at their hard dicks that were seeking male pleasure and relief. They stood
together along their groin hair. His was a bush compared to Willow Bird's thin
tuft of black hair. The pole was very hard but it was only a boy's size. It
was unmatched to do battle with his mighty horn. The man feared what he would
do to this boy when surrendering to his lust. Love for Willow Bird kept his
darker side held back. 'Give the youth one more summer of growth!' Big Horn
urgently pleaded with himself.
A powerful revelation came over the brave. He faced Willow Bird who
seemed to have grown a few fingers in height. His hair was a bit longer. Their
naked bodies came together in a tender embrace of love. It seemed strange to
the man that his breast pressing onto the boy's nearly matched where his
nipples touched his. It was as if they were nearly the same height.
Their arms went around each other and held tight. Between their hairy
groins, hard cocks pressed together and did battle. Willow Bird moaned with
contentment. The brave guided the pace of their love making with a strong hand
over his butt. At last, Big Horn and his boy would consummate their male bond!
Willow Bird meekly covered his body with the boyish flaps. He wondered
why his monedo stood there with a far-away gaze in his eyes. Oh. Big Horn must
have been disturbed for having his awakened male power stolen by boyish loins.
It had been daring... and wrong. The youth dropped his head in shame.
Big Horn returned to the Now. He noticed that Willow Bird stood shorter
than what he'd just Seen. There was a seeking of forgiveness peering from the
boy's uplifted eyes. The brave smiled. He remembered the breechclout hanging
down from his arm and wrapped its length around his waist, dropping the end
over his erection to cover it from sight.
"I'm ready to return home," whispered Willow Bird. He strode down the
bank and into the river with Big Horn following behind him. It was a long
crossing. The boy told his monedo how he'd fared in the plains on his own; the
long walks at night and sleeping during the days, how he ran down rabbits to
eat and the endless thirst he endured until finding a small stream. The brave
only nodded his head from time to time.
"Two enemy braves found me."
That startled Big Horn from his daze. "What? You were captured by them!"
Willow Bird giggled. "I thought that would make you listen to what I've
been saying! Actually, they found my footsteps and tracked them down to where
I was sleeping in the tall grass. I had awakened when one of their horses
snorted. Fear gripped my heart but I kept still in my hiding place only a
stone's throw away from them. Your lessons were ever in my mind, Big Horn, and
that saved me.
"I peeked out to see two mounted braves of the Spear-bearing People,"
continued Willow Bird. "They seemed eager to catch me but for some reason
turned from searching the tall grass to gallop away into the plains. I waited
until they were gone from sight. Something inside me warned that they would be
back, and in greater numbers. I left my hiding place behind. My escaping
footsteps were carefully erased from the ground."
"I met those two braves," Big Horn admitted. "They had returned from
finding your tracks to report it to Coyote Thief, their war leader who was a
five-feathered warrior!"
Willow Bird's eyes widened. "What? How did you escape them?!"
Big Horn chuckled. "Coyote Thief took a liking to me. We sat and smoked
together, talked about a few things..."
"Why didn't he do battle with you?" gasped Willow Bird.
"That was the strangest part of it all," Big Horn whispered. "He'd
claimed that our meeting was foretold by his shaman long ago. I can't explain
it but I felt our connection..." The brave closed his mouth. He feared that
too much had already been given away to the youth.
When Willow Bird only nodded his head, Big Horn spoke again but with a
turning of the subject. "Two mounted braves advanced onto where we sat. Coyote
Thief raised his hand to them in friendship so I knew that they were of his
People. As much as they wanted kill and scalp me, that old warrior held them
back. They told him about finding your tracks so I offered myself in your
place to do battle. Coyote Thief wouldn't allow it. He mounted his horse and
led his braves away in peace. We have much to thank unto that war leader for
having saved both our lives."
Willow Bird's eyes narrowed from not fully accepting what Big Horn had
told him. Could he be making the story up? Yet the brave didn't burst out with
laughter; his eyes seemed far, far away. Even if the account was true, the boy
felt that his monedo had held something important back in its telling.
The remainder of their river crossing was in silence. Willow Bird was
often glancing at Big Horn to see if he'd tell him anything more. He didn't.
A smile came to the boy's lips when he saw the brave's uncovered butt. He may
wear the lengthy cloth of a man but without a thong belt, its wrapping around
his waist covered his loins but fell short of covering him from behind.
The People of their tribe noticed Willow Bird's approach and came running
with happy shouts. The warriors and braves pounded their chests. Unmarried
girls looked upon the returning boy with hope in their breasts that he'd
choose one of them when named a man next summer. Boys surrounded Willow Bird
with pride showing in their eyes. One youth, however, kept his eyes from
revealing the jealousy that he felt. He saw how Big Horn held his boy's
waist with much love. Crying Loon began to dislike Willow Bird at that moment.
A celebration was given to the returning youth. Within the chief's tipi,
he was even allowed to smoke from a pipe that was passed amongst the warriors.
It was a sweet moment for Willow Bird. He had passed his endurance test. Only
a year remained before he'd receive his brave's name. The boy wanted the
passing of twelve moons to be quick.It marked the occasion when fifteen-year-old boys of the Kalinlepi could be
initiated as braves. Sadly, this small tribe of Omaha Indians would not be
conducting the ritual this year. Not that there weren't boys to be found
running amongst the tipis in skimpy breechclouts or going about naked in the
hot summer sun. None were of age yet. Last year, Little Fisher received his
brave's name of Catch-fish-with-arrows. The tribe celebrated that youth's
initiation that had elevated him from boy to man. If he proved himself worthy
in battle by touching an enemy with his hand, feathered coup stick or tomahawk
he'll be allowed to wear the proud hair adornment of eagle feathers, the mark
of a warrior. The passing of a few more moons may tell.
A feathered man was more likely to win the hand of a young woman he
desired from her father. Braves have married but it was believed that success
for the couple lay in the man's accomplishments; a warrior has already proven
himself able to protect his tribe, attain honor and show courage. He passes on
those desirable traits to his sons. Strong warriors were encouraged to have
large families. Each new feather in a man's hair gained him from brave deeds
added to his glory.
Big Horn's long black hair was not so adorned. He remained a brave at the
age of eighteen. There had been four years of peace enjoyed by the Kalinlepi
so he hadn't the chance to prove himself in battle yet. The last attack upon
their tribe had come from Spear-bearing warriors who struck without warning. A
few young women were carried away in their night raid along with a warrior;
his body had never been found though everyone believed he'd been tortured and
killed. Big Horn couldn't utter his name because it was taboo. He was often
reminded of that man loss whenever he looked deep into Willow Bird's eyes. For
four years, he'd been acting as that boy's monedo, training him to become a
brave in the place of his father.
Willow Bird would receive his brave's name next summer. He was learning
the many skills that a man needed to know: hunting, tracking, to be strong in
battle and how to receive the aid of spirits called upon in song. Big Horn
enjoyed spending his time with Willow Bird for he was a good student. Not all
his teaching were serious or an effort. He took the boy on long walks, swam
naked with him in the cold muddy river and they talked. Willow Bird had so
many questions needing to be satisfied! Not all were easy to answer. The other
day, Willow Bird had asked if a man could love a boy in a manner satisfying to
both as if he were a girl. Big Horn's reply was misdirecting and weak since
its asking had troubled him. He had secretly longed to embrace Willow Bird
with his manly love but felt it was shameful, a kin to the battlefield
atrocities he'd heard of fallen warriors enduring rape by their enemies. Boys
too had been used like captured squaws. To protect Willow Bird from his darker
self, he'd kept his lust hidden.
A feathered man could satisfy himself in the arms of his wife. Big Horn
desired none. By remaining a brave, it kept him from that awkward duty. He
stood still in that stage of his life while younger braves passed him by when
becoming warriors. Each year also strengthened the dark rumors in camp about
him. The Chief of the Kalinlepi often pressed Big Horn to marry so that his
brother's blood would pass beyond his only son. It was becoming difficult to
resist his uncle's council.
Big Horn released a weary sigh. He tried to put an end to his swirling
thoughts that kept going round and round in his head like a dark funnel cloud.
What really worried him was Willow Bird. This moon of Mid-summer's Eve began
an ordeal for the boy. He had led the youth over the wide river that afternoon
to the rolling plains far from their tribe. Weaponless, Willow Bird would have
to find food and water while keeping himself safe from his enemies. Only after
a hand of fingered days could the boy return home. That was the test.
The brave had endured a test of his own. When Willow Bird stood before
him to hear his last words of advice, Big Horn tried not being tempted by the
boy's brown pole sleeping over his balls, the tuft of groin hair above it that
marked his nearing passage into manhood or to reach out to snatch his brown
butt. The brave had kept his voice from trembling when he advised Willow Bird
to hide from the revealing sun during the day and to travel only at night. He
warned him that there were hunters out there who sought naked boys. The youth
had turned from him and sprinted out to the plains. Little did he suspect that
his monedo was one of those lusting hunters. The truth of it weighed heavily
in Big Horn's heart.
Willow Bird's return to camp would be the true measure of his skills. The
highest result being if he remained unharmed, clothed in a breechclout of his
crafting and weaponed. Big Horn knew that not all boys returned. Some youths
merely passed their test by returning naked and exhausted after the five days.
Others crawled back to camp early because of injury.
Big Horn had watched the boy's departure until the sweet image of him had
faded into the distance. He had almost revealed his secret desire to spend
those five days with him, to convince Willow Bird of his love that was also
for his male body - that they should try embracing it in spite of the
consequences. It had been a very near thing. That afternoon, the brave had
passed a test of his own. He would continue to act honorably as Willow Bird's
monedo.
Big Horn was glad to be training him. Willow Bird's boyhood years had
been difficult because of his loss. It had made the youth shy and feeling
small in his tribe's eyes. His mother's tipi was small. Warm Hands worked hard
for the others to gain the food and hides that they needed. Taking a new
husband would have provided those necessary things of life but the woman never
seemed to get over mourning her loss and she didn't worry about her son
because he had a monedo to guide him into manhood.
The brave tried replacing Willow Bird's father but it wasn't the same. He
couldn't stay with the boy in his tipi or be ever at his side when he needed
guidance. Yet love had grown between them in those four years. Big Horn didn't
want to betray that trust by taking Willow Bird's body for his twisted
desires. Fear of his darker self has kept the brave wandering from camp for
days on end under the guise of hunting or scouting for enemies. Not until his
pent up lust was spent in hand would Big Horn return to the tribe feeling like
a good person again.
That made Willow Bird feel very lonely. He only had one other close
friend to play with - Song Bird. He was the chief's son so he ranked high in
the tribe. It was a strange association, thought Big Horn. A fatherless boy
had the lowest status amongst his People so he was often taunted by the other
boys struggling to set themselves in their proper place when becoming braves
and warriors.
Big Horn knew his place in the tribe. He was an unproven man who went
featherless and without a squaw in a tipi to keep him. He was lucky that his
uncle was chief. It's provided him a place to sleep at night. Yet of all the
other men in camp, the chief had asked him to act as Willow Bird's monedo. The
brave thought it was because he too had struggled to manhood without a father.
One more summer must pass before Willow Bird would be named a man in his
tribe's eyes. Big Horn had done his best to guide the boy. As his body grew
into manhood so had the brave's desire to take it. Only love for his charge
and the thought of betraying the youth's trust had kept him in check. This day
had proved that he could keep his darker self hidden. But only just barely.
Big Horn knew that there were other men with lusting hearts. Willow Bird
might not be able to escape a sexual assault from them on the plains. Little
Fisher had met that fate. Though he returned to camp after his test, the boy
hadn't managed it unmolested. Only Big Horn knew that he'd been captured by
two enemy warriors who had used him like a squaw. Little Fisher had gone to
Big Horn for his help because they were blood brothers. The brave secretly
tended to the boy's wounds, both of flesh and his spirit. His vow of silence
about the incident would always be kept.
Big Horn sighed with apprehension. He wondered how his charge would fare.
He raised his eyes to the starry night's sky in silent prayer unto Wah-Conda,
the Great Father Spirit: 'Please keep Your guiding Hand upon my boy!'
The loud churning of the river filled Big Horn's ears. He lowered his
face from the bright evening sky after his prayer was given. Five summers ago
he had passed this test himself. He knew of the difficulties that Willow Bird
faced ahead. Water could be easily found but hunting and keeping warm at night
was the real challenge. And there was always the threat from enemy scouting
parties. They knew what tonight's moon would set loose on the plains. To kill
a boy was much easier than facing him later as an armed warrior.
Little Fisher would have been scalped during his testing if he hadn't
accepted male humiliation instead. His lusty captors had offered the boy the
choice of being killed or performing as their willing squaw. He chose to
survive and would seek vengeance upon the Spear-bearing People as a man. Until
that day of reckoning, those lusting warriors would continue to enjoy their
mid-summer sport.
Big Horn felt his hands trembling. He feared for Willow Bird since scouts
had been reporting that the enemy tribes across the river were increasing
their hunting range. Raids were becoming more numerous amongst their allies.
The brief time of peace would soon be coming to an end.
"Willow Bird, be like the rabbit!" pleaded Big Horn into the night. He
knew that the youth was far away in lands unknown to him. The Kalinlepi kept
their tipis planted near the larger woods in their hunt of deer and the elk.
They remained safe on this side of the river because there were few places a
war party could cross. Bow men kept their vigil from the trees. The river
crossings were always guarded. The chief of their tribe had vowed that no
Spear-bearing raiders would catch them unprepared again while breath filled
his lungs.
That protection was of little use to Willow Bird. Big Horn had cast him
into the hunting grounds of their enemies that afternoon. There he would have
to survive to prove his worth unto the Great Spirit and the People of his
tribe. If it was meant to be, the boy would return home. If not...
Big Horn closed his eyes. He tried not thinking about that latter
possibility. Willow Bird may be naked and vulnerable but his head was filled
with many skills that would allow him to survive. His heart was good. Surely,
the Great Father Spirit would guide His little son safety through the plains.
He would make it back home!
Across the river was the safety of his tribe. Big Horn could just make
out the tall ghostly shapes of tipis under the full moon. A twinkling light
amongst them caught the brave's attention. Someone had a fire going but for
what purpose he couldn't determine. A raiding party could use that beacon to
an ill purpose, he realized. That angered him. Upon his return to camp he'll
have a talk with the chief about it. His People were becoming too lax.
Big Horn sighed. He couldn't bring himself to entering the river yet. He
knew that its crossing would be cold and not without peril. There were water
spirits who could pull a man beneath, especially at night. He could use that
as an excuse before his uncle in the morning if he were to camp here for the
night. Crossing the river also meant leaving Willow Bird on his own. A naked
morsel for Spear-bearing men to capture and enjoy...
The brave thought back to Willow Bird's departure from him in the plains.
He had ran like the wind, his flexing butt driven by strong legs and the
rhythmic swaying of arms against his side; naked and vulnerable. Yet the boy
was proud and ready for his five day ordeal. He was a freed bird at last.
Big Horn grinned. He knew that a bird always returned to the nest after
its first flight of freedom. Surviving in the plains would prove an exciting
adventure for Willow Bird. After the five days, the boy would return to him.
The brave had kept something of the youth. In the moonlight, he could just
make out the squarish shape of two deerskin flaps in his hands. A boy being
tested had to go without. Even the thong belt had been taken from Willow Bird
since it could serve for trapping animals or in the binding of a stone club.
No advantages could be given the youth. He was supposed to endure this test
alone with only his wits.
Willow Bird's thong belt was twisted nervously around three fingers of
Big Horn's right hand. He noticed their tight binding when the fingers turned
numb. He dropped the long thong to the ground at his feet. Its release made
his hand feel the stinging of sharp thorns. The boy's deerskin flaps were to
be tossed into the river and that was what stayed Big Horn. He wanted to keep
that small part of the boy for a while longer - the bodily scented cloths. He
was often sniffing their inner folds, trying to determine which cloth had
covered Willow Bird's loins and his butt. He detected their boyish sweetness
mingled with the sharp odors of sweat and something else.
A familiar aching filled the front of Big Horn's breechclout. Unlike a
boy, he wore the lengthy cloth of a man that folded over his thong belt in
front, passed under him and ended in a folding against his tense butt. Yet he
could easily reach a hand in from the side to handle himself at need. The
brave discovered that's where his left hand could be found. It pulled over his
thick skinned horn. Pleasure slowly filled his loins. The brave allowed
himself that simple male pleasure until he connected his sniffing to his lusty
act, becoming angered. Big Horn leapt from the weeds and landed in the river
with a loud splash.
The cold water came as an expected shock to his loins. His manly power
dwindled in response. Big Horn strode through the shallows towards the fire he
saw in the distance. His right hand kept hold of the boy's small flaps. He
couldn't bring himself to letting go that part of Willow Bird to the river.
Big Horn walked around camp to dry off. He came upon the fire and stood a
moment to warm his legs. His hands were about to reach out for the welcoming
flames when he dropped them from the old woman's seeking eyes; clutched within
each were the boy's breechclout flaps. She tended a boiling pot filled with
deer bones to extract marrow from them. The brave scolded her for doing this
at night where their enemies could see it. The woman shooed him away so that
she could finish her late night work in peace.
The troubled young man stumbled outside the sleeping tipis in deep
thought. A woman had sent him away as if he were only a boy! He was an
initiated brave; less than a proud warrior but more than a mere boy. Big Horn
shook his head in frustration. His life was becoming more and more difficult
for not being able to live up to the expectation of others. A chief wanted him
to marry. The younger men with eagle feathers in their hair asked when he
would be earning his rank. Big Horn was the oldest brave of the Kalinlepi;
that was not an honor. Only by acting as monedo for a fatherless boy gave his
life purpose and a little pride but he was afraid of what his lusting heart
might reveal to Willow Bird if he wasn't careful.
It was very late when Big Horn laid down to sleep in his uncle's tipi.
He heard their loud snores. The chief slept with his younger wife in his arms
while Yellow Deerskin slept alone in a corner of the tipi. Her son was laying
over his belly on a mat next to the brave's.
Big Horn tried closing his eyes but sleep wouldn't come. He knew why.
His eyes swept round the walls of the tipi in search of that he didn't know.
He followed a pale shaft of moonlight coming down from the tipi's smoke hole
to the central fire pit. It reminded him that he hadn't eaten today. He spied
a few mice searching for food around the dead embers. One scurried along the
dirt floor and squeaked when it ran into a water jug. The chief's snoring
filling Big Horn's ears was like an elk bull's mating call.
A soft cry caught Big Horn's attention. It had come from Song Bird. He
turned his head to look for the sleeping youth. The faint moonlight coming
down was enough for him to see by. He noticed that the boy was clutching the
corners of his ground mat. His legs stretched then slowly relaxed and there
was a slight humping to his rear end. Big Horn heard a gasp for breath. The
boy continued to clutch his ground mat while rubbing his belly against it.
The brave felt his loins stirring. He recognized the boyish rite that
Song Bird was performing. His small straining body was seeking pleasure in the
night. It was a thing Big Horn had done when he thought his parents were
sleeping. The boy slowly released his breath before gulping in another. He
held it in his lungs to deepen the thrills his erection was giving him.
Big Horn knew that this boy was too young to shoot. Come morning, there
would be no embarrassing wet spot on his mat for mother to scold him about.
His thrills were easily won and of little risk from discovery. The brave
considered joining into Song Bird's boyish rite. His cock had grown to full
length and it strained to be freed from the front of his breechclout.
Another thrilling outcry from the boy. Big Horn decided. He turned onto
his right side at the edge of his sleeping mat closest to where the boy laid.
He dared to reach his hand out to Song Bird's humping. He felt the warmth of
his butt through the small deerskin flap. The boy's cheeks tensed up. Big Horn
reached into the side of his breechclout to bring out his hard cock. He caught
the movement of the boy's head turning towards him in the dark.
Big Horn pressed down on the boy's rear end. He felt the skin softness of
Song Bird's butt and upper thigh along his arm. The brave relaxed his right
hand. In his left hand, he pulled over the foreskin of his throbbing cock for
thrills. Another push was given over the boy's rear flap. Through the brave's
fingers, he felt Song Bird flexing the cheeks to his straining butt. Big Horn
relaxed his hand. The boy's breath came out as a moan.
There came a secret understanding between the man and the boy. Both
sought male pleasure for need only; no love between them. Song Bird accepted
the brave's hand over him. He peeked on the brave's manly display in return.
Big Horn was proud to show off his big cock. He didn't know how much the
boy could see of it and for that he was glad. The near darkness somehow kept
what they were doing together from being blatant or wrong. The two of them
were stealing pleasures in the tipi where they knew they shouldn't be.
Lustful thoughts filled the man's head. He was urged to try more with
the needing boy - lay beside his small body and take his hard pole in hand.
Maybe suck on it. Big Horn tried casting away his darker urges that would have
him kissing over Song Bird's little butt, finding his puckered hole with his
tongue and a daring stab of his manhood into it likened to a lusty battlefield
conquest. The brave kept himself rooted to his ground mat. He was fond of the
chief's son and wouldn't do anything to hurt him.
For a long while, Big Horn played the youth's bottom like a hand drum.
He thought about fingering through the boy's soft cheeks to touch his hole but
thought it would be too daring an act. It was thrilling enough for him to be
a part of the boy's pleasure rite. His cock was often brought close to cumming
but he kept himself from exploding. The youth enjoyed many dry climax.
A weariness finally overcame Big Horn. He felt his body relaxing and
ready for sleep so he withdrew his left hand from the boy. His cock was
slipped back into his breechclout. The man's eyes closed.
In the very early morning, Big Horn awakened from an exciting dream. He
couldn't recall the fading images of sex but his cock throbbed within his
breechclout in lusty remembrance. The brave took it in hand. He suspected
that his dreaming was about boys and that he was probably raping them. It was
a secret desire that he had coming from the darker side of his spirit. His was
a good heart so nothing like that could ever happen while he remained awake.
Big Horn turned on his side to look for Song Bird. He found the boy
sleeping on his back, the front folding to his breechclout was spilled upon
his belly. The brave smiled when he saw the youth's erection. He suspected
that Song Bird had watched him dreaming and may have even dared to touch him.
The man's last sensation upon waking was of a small hand around his foreskin.
From his dreaming or the curious grasping by Song Bird?
The boy looked like he was asleep. Big Horn couldn't tell in the faint
morning light. The youth's erection could have come from a need to piss or
even from him enjoying a lusty dream of his own. The brave would test him. He
reached out for Song Bird's hard pole and grasped it. The foreskin was soft
and warm in his fingers. He pulled over the boy's dick to free its rosy knob.
An urge came into the man to suck on it but he wouldn't dare... The brave knew
that his mother would catch him even through closed eyelids. After a nervous
glance was taken in her direction, Big Horn continued to handle both their
dicks. Song Bird didn't stir.
Big Horn was greatly thrilled from the act. He had in his right hand the
manly expression from a young boy. The moist knob popping out against his palm
and the pole's stiffness moving through his tight fingers resembled his cock,
though being of much smaller proportions. He carried the boy towards a sweet
climax. His balls tingled in warning that he was about to shoot his cock. He
rushed to cup what spurted from his knob. Pleasure exploded in the man's head
when he seeded. Strongly! After releasing a careful breath, he thought he'd
heard the boy moan.
Song Bird's eyes were closed. If the boy was feigning sleep, he was doing
it well. Big Horn grinned when a clever idea dropped into his head. He brought
out his cupped left hand from within his breechclout and stretched out his arm
towards the youth. With his opening hand, the brave released his sticky sperm
onto the boy's immature loins. He knew that Song Bird would welcome the male
power he was offering to them.
Big Horn completed his 'growing up' rite for Song Bird by silently
mouthing the sacred ending words. He gently pulled the boy's front flap down
from his belly to cover his wet dick and balls. No sign came from the youth
that he'd been pretending to be asleep. An enjoyable weariness came to the
brave. After making sure that his dripping cock was hidden within the folds of
his breechclout, he turned onto his back and closed his eyes in sleep.
Later that morning, Big Horn awakened with the need to relieve himself.
He rose from his warm sleeping mat. Song Bird was laying on his belly with a
smile on his face. The brave stepped over his small form and tried making a
quiet exit from the chief's tipi. He knew that his uncle liked to sleep late.
Yellow Deerskin opened her eyes and gave the brave a frown. The old woman had
made it known to Big Horn that she didn't like having to share her husband's
tipi with an unmarried man of his age. It was yet another burden for the young
brave to bear. If he were to marry, a tipi of his own would be set up.
After reaching the woods, Big Horn peed to the roots of a great pine. He
grasped his foreskin for a moment longer to release the remaining drops of
urine. His cock quickly swelled from handling. Rolling the thick skin back, he
cleaned out the smelly paste from around his knob. A few sharp thrills there
made his breathing heavy. He had already come out in the tipi but his tingling
erection proved that he was still in need. Willow Bird's two flaps that he
saved from last night came to mind. He had them hidden in a sack of animal
hide scraps in the tipi. To sniff them would heighten his sexual thrills...
Big Horn became angry. He didn't want to lust over the boy's breechclout
but had kept it in the event Willow Bird didn't return. And even when he did,
having the two cloths could be put to some use. He could bring out the boyish
garment to reminisce over when Willow Bird was older. How small they would
appear over his mature body, unable to cover his manly nakedness. A good laugh
to be had between them!
The brave released a happy sigh. He tucked his long horn back within the
front of his breechclout and pulled the ends taunt over his thong belt. The
bulge from his erection would show but he didn't mind. Many a warrior in camp
enjoyed exhibiting themselves before the women and envious boys. Big Horn may
not have a feather sprouting from his hair but he could boast the biggest cock
in camp.
Big Horn left the cover of trees to head for the river. His long walk to
the south with Willow Bird had been a hot ordeal and he was unable to get a
proper bath last night for fear of being pulled down by water spirits. Upon
reaching the bank, he walked down river a ways to ensure privacy. Girls were
known to wash clothes on the bank nearest to camp.
When the brave felt he had traveled far enough, he untied the thong belt
from around his waist to drop his lengthy cloth to the ground. The man leaped
into the muddy river without pause. The cold water assaulted his body. It was
a refreshing sensation that took some getting used to though. Diving along the
bottom took his mind from the chill. The current swept him down. He checked
the distance between himself and his clothes by walking against the strong
current every so often. When the cold water no longer seemed to bother him, he
knelt in the shallows to draw up sand to clean his face, neck and chest. The
grainy feel over his breast made his brown nipples harden. He fetched more
sand to clean his back down to his butt. Lastly, he rubbed his legs clean.
A high-pitched giggle in the distance caught Big Horn's attention. He
allowed the river to carry him down until the voices grew louder. He waded
towards a stand of cat tails where he spied on two naked boys, one taller than
the other. The brave silently kicked his feet against the current until he
rested amongst the tall reeds. Hidden.
Both youths were covered from head to toe with dark mud. The shorter boy
tossed a handful at his companion with a happy glee. It was answered by a
volley that struck the little boy in the chest. Another handful was quickly
taken up and thrown. The little boy held out his right hand in a gesture of
submission. That ended their game.
"You look like a mud monster!" the younger boy sung in his high-pitched
voice.
His friend answered, "You too! We should clean up in the river before
returning to camp."
Big Horn recognized the older boy's voice. It was Crying Loon's, son of
warrior Bending Arrow. The brave wouldn't have recognized him otherwise with
all that mud obscuring his facial features. A small fear gripped his heart.
He knew that the two boys would find him hiding in the reeds when they passed
by to clean up in the river.
"The water is sooooo cold," complained the little boy.
"I know of a warmer method!" Crying Loon announced. He reached down for
his dick and pointed it at his companion. A long stream of piss struck the
youth who accepted it, admits lots of giggling.
Relief filled Big Horn. His tense body relaxed though he had to clench
his teeth to prevent them from chattering. He dared to part the tall reeds to
get a better view of the dancing youth. It was Wolf Pawing, a nine-year-old
boy who was only a few years younger than his friend. The youth took his pole
in hand and pissed back. It was a fine game that almost made the brave laugh
out loud.
Crying Loon stood closer to Wolf Pawing, pissing away mud from the front
of the little boy's body. It revealed the lighter color of his skin. Big Horn
spied on the youth's smooth groin with his pole lifting up from his small
clutch of balls.
"Isn't this a better way to clean up?" asked Crying Loon with a laugh.
Wolf Pawing giggled. The boy's yellow flow ebbed but his pissing had rid
some of the mud from Crying Loon's lower body. Big Horn saw that neither boy
had any groin hair. The older youth's pole stuck out from his body with its
pair of balls bouncing beneath. The man continued to lay low amongst the cat
tails with his own body covered in dark mud.
When Crying Loon couldn't piss any more, he shook the last drops from his
dick with a grin. It had grown long from handling. Wolf Pawing also bore an
erection. Big Horn felt the sexual tension building between the two boys.
"Can you shoot your dick like a man if you wanted?" asked Wolf Pawing.
Crying Loon nodded. He sat down near the reeds with his butt being sucked
down into the mud. At his gesture, Wolf Pawing sat over his thigh. Big Horn
could see where the little boy's eyes were being drawn down to. He had to
slither closer to spy on what the older boy performed.
Wolf Pawing ended his giggling. His eyes widened when he watched the
older boy pull over his erection. Big Horn smiled knowingly. He had gained
full view of the two boys but had to be careful least Wolf Pawing see him.
Crying Loon sat in the mud sideways to where the brave hid. The little boy sat
over his friend's thigh, facing him. The youth's pulling made for a revealing
squishy sound.
The man was excited. He felt his horn lifting between his legs but was
prevented from handling himself. Both his hands gasped the cat tails from
where he peered out from. He saw that Crying Loon's mud-stained face was
tense. A pink tongue stuck out from the boy's mouth. He gasped for breath. His
proud-looking eyes stared down at his action but he glanced at Wolf Pawing's
face every so often. The little boy was in awe of Crying Loon's dick and what
was being done to it. If the youth were to lift his face towards the river,
Big Horn could be discovered.
"When will you shoot?" asked Wolf Pawing.
"I want to hear you cry out first," answered Crying Loon.
"Me? I don't think mine will do it..."
"I know you can't!" said Crying Loon, "but you can still thrill it
towards a feeling of explosion."
The little boy shrugged his shoulders in a gesture that he didn't
understand. Crying Loon paused from beating off to show him the proper way. He
took hold of the little boy's erection, moving its tight foreskin with
rhythmic fingerings. Wolf Pawing gasped with delight. His little butt humped
over his friend's thigh in beat to what was being done to his pole. Another
gasp. When the youth felt that he knew what he was supposed to do with
himself, he pushed Crying Loon's hand away.
Wolf Pawing positioned his left hand around his finger-length erection
and made a quick pulling of its foreskin. Crying Loon resumed to masturbate
himself. Big Horn saw that both boys made their rosy knobs pop in and out from
their foreskins. It was a really cute display.
Crying Loon reached low around his friend to hold his little butt humping
over his left thigh. Their struggling bodies leaned closer together, almost
touching. Big Horn had to move a bit closer so that he could peer down into
their laps. It made him more vulnerable to discovery. His hard cock really
ached him to be handled. He settled for flexing his thighs around his balls
for thrills. The mud sucked at his humping ass.
Wolf Pawing's face screwed up. He found it hard to hold breaths but had
learned that doing so intensified the thrills coming from his hard pole. His
belly trembled from the effort. When the little boy couldn't hold one any
longer, he cried out. Pleasure exploded from his erection unlike anything he
had ever felt before. Big Horn knew of the boy's dry climax from the way his
eyes fluttered.
Crying Loon laughed. "Didn't that feel real good?"
Wolf Pawing nodded. He paused from handling himself for a moment to catch
his breath. He looked for any sign that his dick had shot. Nothing. Crying
Loon gestured for the little boy to keep doing it. He knew that by not having
any sperm in his balls would allow the youth to enjoy thrill after thrill.
Big Horn was tempted to join the two boys but thought better of it. He
knew that there were enough bad rumors circulating around camp without him
doing something foolish to verify them. He settled with bringing his left hand
down from the reeds to pull over his aching cock. It tingled with sharp
thrills. He knew that his coming out would be a very good one.
Wolf Pawing cried out again. This time, he didn't pause to catch his
breath but continued to pursue more thrills from his angry-colored pole. All
the while, his eyes stared down at Crying Loon's erection. He didn't want to
miss seeing his friend shoot.
Crying Loon was proud to show his young friend this male pleasure. It
surprised him that the boy hadn't discovered it on his own or been shown it by
another. He would prove that his hairless groin didn't mean that he was still
a little boy. His dick could shoot like a man.
Wolf Pawing kept eyeing his older friend's action. He'd heard about boys
touching themselves there but as a naughty act he'd be scolded for if his mom
caught him. They were far from the tribe. Alone. The youth felt proud to be
performing this naked act with his friend where none could see it.
"Look now!" warned Crying Loon. He aimed his long dick at Wolf Pawing and
after several hand jerks, he squirted. True to his name, the boy cried out
like that crazy lake bird. Big Horn saw the clear liquid pooling over the
little boy's groin. Wolf Pawing giggled with amazement. He watched his friend
pull out the remaining cum from his swollen knob and gather it into his
fingers. This he brought down to cover the little boy's erection and balls.
Big Horn recognized the 'growing up' rite that Crying Loon performed. He
didn't speak the words a proud father or uncle would announce after the act
but the result was the same. Wolf Pawing accepted the male power coming from
his older friend.
Crying Loon released a long drawn-out breath. His shoulders slumped
wearily. Wolf Pawing spread his legs to examine his anointed loins for signs
that they would mature or something. Over his groin, he found some of his
friend's cum so he gathered it into his left hand. He lifted it to his nose
for a curious sniff. Some was even tasted! Big Horn didn't know what the youth
thought of it because in the next moment, the little boy spotted him.
With a cry of alarm, Wolf Pawing jumped to his feet. Crying Loon stood up
with him. They both stared fearfully into the reeds for the man. Big Horn
slowly rose from his hiding place to fully reveal himself since he's been
discovered. For a long tense moment nobody spoke. The two boys stared at the
brave's big cock standing against his belly with envy. Big Horn smiled when he
looked down. He compared his mighty curved branch with their twig-sized poles.
Acting like nothing had happened, Big Horn address Wolf Pawing with a
request. "I've been swept down river from my breechclout lying on the bank.
Could you go fetch it for me?"
The little boy darted away in answer to his plea. Big Horn was glad that
Crying Loon didn't follow him. The youth stood his ground with a wide grin. He
still bore an erection even after having just come out.
"You're so... big!" Crying Loon exclaimed. He stepped closer to the naked
brave with wide eyes. Smiling.
When it seemed that Crying Loon was going to touch him, Big Horn held the
boy's right shoulder to prevent him from coming any closer. It became a tense
moment. When the man's teeth chattered, the youth laughed at him. He gestured
down at his own nakedness covered in mud that was keeping his body warm.
"Sit down while we wait for Wolf Pawing to return with your breechclout,"
the boy asked. He took hold of Big Horn's hand from his shoulder and managed
to pull the brave down to the ground with him.
The mud sucked at Big Horn's butt. It was warmer to be sitting out of the
wind. Crying Loon positioned himself in front of the brave, facing him close
with his long legs stretching over the man's. Big Horn felt nervous but was
assured that the tall reeds were hiding them from view. He glanced up at their
brown seeded heads swaying to and fro. He wondered how Wolf Pawing would be
able to find them again if he returned.
"You were spying on us, Big Horn!"
The brave lowered his eyes to the boy's with concern. It was true and he
feared what the consequences would be. He was put a little at ease when he saw
some mischief in Crying Loon. Not gloating or anger in the youth's shining
eyes but a longing - for him! The boy was only a few years younger than his
charge. Perhaps he could seek sexual relief with him that would lessen his
lust for Willow Bird.
Crying Loon stared at the brave's thick cock. He was in awe of it. Not
even fully erected, it stood along the man's hairy groin with a slight curve
inwards. Tucked within his foreskin was its rosy knob, oozing with lots of
precum. The boy knew about that. He'd fooled around with an older boy once who
had claimed that his dripping helped prevent his sensitive foreskin from
getting chaffed in hand.
Big Horn looked over the boy's skinny dick. He was surprised that it held
a nearly erected shape after coming out already. The boy was smooth groined
like his little friend but he knew that this youth was old enough to shoot
even if it were the clear release of a younger teen boy. The wrinkled tip of
his foreskin was dry; no sexual excitement. Big Horn didn't think he saw any
oozing when the boy had handled it earlier.
The boy was excited to be lusted over by a full-grown man. He'd heard the
rumors that claimed Big Horn wasn't interested in women. Some even said that
he didn't want sex. Crying Loon knew that wasn't true or else the brave
wouldn't be sitting with him in the mud with a hard dick.
Crying Loon pulled back his thick skin to reveal his rosy knob. There was
a little pearl coming from his piss hole. He proudly dabbed it onto his
pointing finger to show the man. Big Horn didn't know if that was precum or
what remained after beating off with Wolf Pawing. He saw that his own cock was
dripping. A lot. There was an aching in his balls for not completing his act
in the weeds. The young man knew what would give him relief and that's what
kept him with this boy. A part of him warned that he should get up and flee.
He could go do himself in the woods without his help and fear of reprisal.
"Your turn, Big Horn. You watched us doing it so..." Crying Loon was
reaching for the brave's cock when his hand was blocked by the man's. He
giggled in nervous rejection. The boy withdrew his hand to handle his own
dick. He playfully gestured to the brave that he should handle his.
Big Horn held his left hand in the air for a moment before lowering it to
his cock. He surrendered to his urgent male need. The boy nodded with
approval. Together, the man and boy pulled on their hard dicks. A revealing
squishing sound was heard amongst the reeds. The thrills filled Big Horn's
loins. He knew it would be a very pleasurable release. Crying Loon thought
that he could perform again. He was sitting close to a full grown man and that
was very exciting. His butt humped in the thick mud. He sought a more intimate
position with him though.
Crying Loon slowly brought his legs around the brave's hips. That drew
his body closer to Big Horn's. Their bobbing hands nearly touched. His fingers
reached out to the man's rosy knob and he stole precum from it for use around
his dry dick. It made for a slippery handling that enhanced the thrills slowly
returning to his erection. Big Horn became tense. He was on guard to prevent
the youth from attempting to touch him again.
Crying Loon noticed. "You have plenty for your need," he complained. "I'm
not old enough to drip from my dick yet." He saw the effect of his words on
the brave; pride tinged with a little guilt. When his fingers darted over to
gather more of the sticky fluid, Big Horn allowed him.
The brave didn't like Crying Loon's wicked grin. He felt himself being
maneuvered by the boy who was drawing him deeper in an act that he knew he
shouldn't be performed with one so young. Would the youth boast to others that
he had witnessed his manly performance?
The sweet aching in the man's loins put down his fears. His lust was
consuming him. As long as they didn't touch each other, Big Horn felt that
his act with the youth was of no consequence. It would be over soon and they
could part ways.
It wasn't enough for Crying Loon. He wanted to see how far he could coax
the brave into a more intimate bonding with him. His boyhood friends were but
small challenges. To embrace a man with sex, the greater! It would give him
power over Big Horn to do anything that he wanted.
"I hope that my dick will grow up as big as yours!" the boy exclaimed.
"You're so strong that our enemies would surely flee in terror if they were
to see your long 'spear' aimed at their butts."
Big Horn laughed. He relished the boy's praise that played on his vanity
with a much-needed boost. Crying Loon tightened his legs around the man's
waist to bring their loins together. He let go of his erection in the hope
that Big Horn would handle them together.
Crying Loon reached his arms around the brave's back. Hands locked behind.
His tightening legs kept their unmatched bodies together with the boy's heels
digging in the mud for the man's butt. The youth vowed to himself that he
wouldn't let go! After an awkward pause, the youth felt Big Horn's fingers
extending around his dick. With one hand, their loins were beating as one.
Big Horn's fears were finally cast down by of his great lust. He enjoyed
the boy's small body clutching his as if seeking a protector. The man would
carry his young charge to manhood with a fiery display! He released their
hard dicks to let them struggle unguided between their bellies. The brave
rushed his arms around Crying Loon with his left hand falling to the youth's
soft flexing butt.
"Oh, Big Horn!"
Crying Loon's words were sweet in his ears, likened to the young woman
embracing her needing husband on their wedding night. He listened to the boy's
gasps of pleasure but kept his eyes tightly shut. The man concentrated only
on fulfilling the dark needs of their male bodies; a kind of battle. Big Horn
pulled over the youth's soft butt to mash their groins together. His hard cock
was building with many wonderful thrills against Crying Loon's dick. The boy
felt them too. He tightened his legs around Big Horn in beat to the big hand
under his bottom. With their loins pressing together, the boy wanted to steal
as much power from the man as he could.
They were being watched. It seemed like the man was embracing his long
lost son with love but with them being naked, it was an obvious sex rite.
Their muddy bodies strained together. Hands were wrapped around one another
with their bellies rubbing, dicks stabbing. It was an act never seen before
by the anxious intruder let alone ever imagined.
Big Horn moaned. He felt close to a wonderful explosion but his balls
seemed reluctant is if he were piss-shy. It would badly shame him if his loins
couldn't flow to the boy. With a renewed effort, the brave kept up his attack.
He felt that he was fighting a part of himself.
Crying Loon hung on for dear life. He realized that he'd awakened a dark
beast in the man from the way Big Horn was fiercely embracing his small body.
It was a little frightening. The brave growled out like an angry bear. His
cock stabbed against the boy's dick in an unmatched contest. Strong man hands
prevented escape.
Big Horn was totally consumed by lust. He beat his hard cock against the
boy to subdue the front of him. His hands attacked the back of him. Fingers
dug into the crack of Crying Loon's butt and found his hole. He dared to stick
one in. A wonderful tightness was found within. Sphincter muscles quivered
around his middle finger that he kept pushing deeper inside. He heard Crying
Loon's sharp gasp of surprise.
The boy couldn't believe it. He felt Big Horn sticking into his butt hole
with much pain. He wanted to get away! His legs loosened from around the man's
waist and his hands tried pushing him away. He feared getting raped.
Small fists pounded against Big Horn's right shoulder. It brought him up
from the carnal depths that he'd fallen to. His eyes opened to see Wolf Pawing
standing at his side. Anguish showed on this youth's tense face. The brave
rushed to his feet carrying Crying Loon up with him. They stood a part from
each other as if nothing had been happening.
There were tears in Crying Loon's eyes. When he saw Wolf Pawing, the boy
put on a brave face to hide weakness from his little friend. A hand was wiped
across his wet face. There was much regret showing from Big Horn's face.
"We should tell on him!" shouted Wolf Pawing.
"I'm not hurt," Crying Loon assured his friend. "Big Horn is too powerful
a man for me. It's all right..."
Big Horn spotted his breechclout at Wolf Pawing's feet. He retrieved it
with eyes that wouldn't look at the little boy. A low mutter of thanks came
from his mouth. He turned one last time to Crying Loon with sad eyes before
walking away from the two boys. His fast walking turned into a run. The man
ran along the river bank with his heart in turmoil. He ran and ran. When he
stumbled over an unseen branch, the brave fell to the dirt and cried. He
pounded the ground with his left fist and vowed never to touch a boy again!
All day long, Big Horn sat over the bank on the other side of the river
from camp. He thought long and hard. His balls hurt him from not finding
release. He welcomed the pain as a punishment for the dark deed he had
committed against Crying Loon. The boys would tell everyone what had happened.
He couldn't face that! Big Horn turned away from his tribe and walked towards
the plains to search for that he didn't know. Willow Bird was somewhere out
there. He'd be the only person who wouldn't have heard the terrible things
being said about him back in camp. Perhaps they could run away together and
never return...
Big Horn walked far down the elk trail where he had taken Willow Bird
yesterday. He knew that it was wrong to go to him during the test. How could
he even find the boy out on the plains? Yet he kept walking. Father Sun beat
down hard on his shoulders. His body sweated. When the brave's legs ached him,
he fell to the ground to rest. The tall grass chafed against him. His head
felt dull from thinking too much. He closed his eyes and found relief in
sleeping.
The sound of a horse awakened Big Horn. He saw a Spear-bearing warrior
atop it with his tomahawk at the ready. Fear gripped the brave. He noticed
that the old man wore no face paint but a terrible gleam of lust was in his
eyes. Big Horn slowly rose to his feet with a sense of defeat. The brave knew
that he wouldn't be able to outrun this enemy warrior. His hands held no
weapons or even a shield for defense. The safety of his tribe was far, far
away. They likely wouldn't want to help him anyway.
Big Horn accepted his fate. With outstretching arms, he welcomed the
man's blow that was soon to come. He closed his eyes. A death song sprang to
the brave's lips but he didn't utter it; he didn't feel worthy. The horse's
footsteps came closer but for a agonizing long moment that tomahawk blow never
came. Big Horn forced his eyes open.
The Spear-bearing warrior slowly dropped down from the advantaged
position of his horse's back. The appaloosa lowered his head down to nibble on
some grass. He nickered with contentment. Big Horn admired the fine horse. It
surprised him that the stallion didn't fear his presence; it was as if his
master were greeting a long-lost friend.
The two men eyed each other in silence for many heart beats. Big Horn
thought that the enemy warrior was deciding if it was worth doing battle
between them. The brave knew that he was no match for him; inexperienced,
weaponless and no eagle feathers to be found in his long hair. He appeared as
a weak boy before this mighty Spear-bearing man.
The warrior stuck the long wooden handle to his tomahawk back into the
left side of his thong belt. His lust for battle was fading from his eyes.
Curiosity filled them instead. He stood in silence to study Big Horn. The
brave felt his legs trembling; from fear or something else he didn't know. He
fell to the ground with his legs folding in a sitting position. To his
surprise, the warrior sat down with him.
Big Horn looked the enemy warrior over. His arms and chest bore many
battle scars. No war shirt was worn. He didn't wear leggings but a pair of old
moccasins covered his feet. A frilled breechclout was worn around his waist.
In his shortly-cut hair were five feathers of the eagle - a proud display.
The brave felt naked before this mighty warrior because of his unadorned head.
'Did you come into our lands to die?' the warrior gestured with his hands.
'You look too old to be one of the boys the Muddy River People send out on
Mid-summer's Eve. And too well clothed.' The old man grinned at his joke.
Big Horn noticed where the man looked down at him. No. He hadn't come to
the plains to be tested like Willow Bird. Perhaps he had come seeking death
as the warrior suggested.
'How are you called?' the warrior asked after the long silence.
Big Horn lifted his hands and gestured his name. The old warrior laughed.
He looked down at the front of his breechclout with seeking eyes. The brave
didn't understand what was so humorous.
'I am called Coyote Thief by my People.'
Big Horn could only nod his head in reply. A strange name, he thought.
'You have a nice horse,' the brave gestured after the awkward silence.
'Yes. Night Moon has been my loving companion for summers without count.'
Big Horn wasn't sure he read the hand sign for 'loving' correctly. He
surmised that the old warrior had meant 'faithful.' Without lowering his eyes
from him, Coyote Thief untied a long pouch from his thong belt. He drew out a
pipe along with a small pouch of tobacco. He filled the pipe and lit it,
offering it to Big Horn to smoke from first as was the custom for a guest. The
brave was surprised by the offer but he drew in a long puff as was expected of
him. The smoke was strong, causing him to cough a little. That brought a
spark of amusement to the old man's eyes.
Coyote Thief took back his pipe and smoked from it. He continued to
study the brave with eyes that gleaned many things. From Big Horn's lack of
head feathers, he knew that the young man was only a brave. A few years after
his naming. He wore a simple breechclout that was adorned with only a sacred
bundle. No weapons, food or even a water skin was upon him for traveling.
Big Horn felt very awkward. He didn't understand what was going on. The
old warrior honored him with the sharing of tobacco and friendly talk. He
lifted his hands in anger. 'Is not my scalp worth taking?' he asked daringly.
'Have you come to offer it to me?' answered Coyote Thief.
Big Horn shook his head. He feared what awaited him back at camp. He
really didn't want to die but neither could he live the way he had been. His
life felt twisted. Tears welled up in his eyes and he felt them fall down his
cheeks with much shame before the enemy warrior. Sobs rose in his throat
unbidden. He lowered his face to his chest to hide himself.
Coyote Thief laid down his pipe. He reached out for the young man's
shoulders and tried comforting him. It was hard looking upon Big Horn's
weakness. Where did the brave's pain come from, he wondered.
Big Horn tried ending his sobbing. He wiped an arm across his wet face
so that he would appear brave before the warrior. It was a long struggle.
Coyote Thief released his shoulders. He lifted his smoldering pipe from the
ground and resumed smoking from it. When offered to the brave, he wasn't
surprised that it was politely rejected.
'You walk a difficult path,' Coyote Thief gestured after he was done
smoking. He saw Big Horn's eyes widen. 'It a difficult thing to be lonely
without a companion to seek comfort.'
Big Horn had to lower his eyes from the warrior. Coyote Thief seemed to
know much about him and that which troubled his heart. But how could he? They
had just met; the man's words could be interpreted in many ways he realized.
Coyote Thief tapped the ashes from his pipe before returning it with the
tobacco to his long pouch at his side. An idea struck him. He reached for his
sacred bundle and ritually lifted it in his right hand, drawing open its
thongs with the left.
'I offer you something from my bundle to take,' the warrior gestured.
'For strength.'
Big Horn's eyes widened. He had never heard of a man allowing another to
see what his personal bundle contained let alone remove something from it.
After seeing the sincerity in Coyote Thief's eyes, he did as he was bidden.
The brave nervously reached into the painted leather pouch. He brought forth
a clear stone. Mostly rounded, it bore a hole through it that a thong could
bear. Coyote Thief's eyes flared.
'If it too valuable, I will return it to you.' Big Horn quickly gestured.
The warrior shook his head but with some reluctance.
'Yes. It is of great value from being gifted me from my shaman. You can
keep it for a while.'
Big Horn paused from placing it inside his sacred bundle. He was unsure
of what Coyote Thief's gesturing had meant. A thought struck him. The brave
reverently opened his sacred bundle but he didn't drop the stone inside. He
offered the warrior to take something from his.
Coyote Thief nodded as if the return gesture was expected of him. Big
Horn watched the warrior remove a fine beaded wristlet that his father had
given him before he died. He had wanted it to be gifted to his son's wife on
their wedding night.
'Is this of great value to you?' asked Coyote Thief.
Big Horn could only nod with a bowed head. He felt the significance of
what they had exchanged. Coyote Thief smiled at him as if knowing his every
thought. It was a bit unsettling for the young brave.
The two men placed what they had traded into their sacred bundles. They
tied them closed in silence.
The brave lifted his eyes to meet the warrior's. Their sharing rite had
made him feel like an equal. His heart had been touched by Coyote Thief's
unexpected compassion but it left him feeling unbalanced. Big Horn didn't know
what to make of this enemy. He studied him with new eyes. The warrior looked
old and very wise. His arms bulged with muscles that rippled down to his
strong chest. A very attractive thing to see in a man! The brave wondered what
it would have been like to test this man's strength against his own, to feel
their straining bodies collide in battle. Afterwards, would Coyote Thief have
laid over him for a sexual connection? Big Horn saw the warrior's eyes aflame.
He could read his thoughts!
Coyote Thief peered into Big Horn's shy eyes. He saw something that was
kindred to him, lacking experience, yes, but there to be awakened. It was as
Snarling Bear had revealed to him long ago from a vision. This brave was the
One. Strange that he would be from the tribe of his enemies as foretold.
'Are you looking for someone?' gestured Coyote Thief. He wanted to know
if this young man would consider him for a lover.
Big Horn mistook his question. He thought that the old warrior referred to
him seeking Willow Bird which was surprisingly perceptive. Fear gripped his
heart. Had the boy been taken prisoner by his tribesmen, or worse?!
The thundering of approaching horsemen kept Big Horn from answering.
Coyote Thief stood up with his tomahawk in hand. Big Horn stood weaponless at
the warrior's side to face what came. Two men rode onto their position and
with a lifted hand gesturing from Coyote Thief, Big Horn realized that they
were his companions.
"To the west, we've found the bare-footed tracks to one of the Muddy
River boys!" shouted Blow Flute. "Take this one's scalp and join us for the
hunt of his companion."
Big Horn couldn't know what was being said because the man spoke in the
language of the Spear-bearing People. He didn't like the lusty glances that he
received from the eyes of the two braves. Just when he thought he'd escape
with his life, the situation had changed for the worst. Big Horn was
determined that he would put up a brave fight. With luck, he'd gain the title
of warrior before he was struck down.
'No. I like the way it looks on him,' Coyote Thief gestured while
pointing at the brave's flowing hair. He both spoke and made hand gesturing so
that Big Horn could understand his meaning.
"I'll gladly take his scalp," offered Sleeps-in-afternoon. The fierce
brave took hold of his flint blade and made ready to jump onto Big Horn from
his horse.
"No!" shouted Coyote Thief. "This brave came to the plains in peace and
we will let him go in peace." The two men shouted back with much protesting.
"It's difficult to share one scalp amongst three," complained Blow Flute.
"This brave would give us better sport than tracking down a naked boy."
Big Horn pleaded with his eyes unto Coyote Thief to let him know what was
being said. The old warrior turned away from his companions and made the hand
gesturing. Fear gripped Big Horn's heart; not for himself. He knew that the
braves must have found signs that led to Willow Bird.
'Take me!' Big Horn gestured in a challenge to the two braves. 'I am more
worthy for battle than the little boy that you've found!'
'He is dear to you?' Coyote Thief carefully gestured for only Big Horn's
eyes. When he saw the brave nod his head, an understanding came to the old
warrior. He offered Big Horn a gesture of peace before hastily mounting his
horse. He talked to his braves with many words Big Horn didn't understand.
They answered with loud protests. Coyote Thief was their war leader so the
braves had to bow to his wishes. Yet anger smoldered in the young men's eyes.
Coyote Thief reined his horse towards the east. His savage kick sent
Night Moon galloping over the plains towards to the Spear-bearing Tribe. He
was followed by his two disappointed braves.
Big Horn watched their dusty departure. He believed that Coyote Thief was
leading them away from Willow Bird and for that he was glad. Something on the
ground caught his eye. The brave ran to it and discovered the old warrior's
tomahawk; how could he not have noticed its falling from his thong belt? A
powerful sensation overcame Big Horn. The tiny hairs were raised at the back
of his neck from a revelation. Coyote Thief had left it for him on purpose.
Big Horn knew that they would meet again.
Big Horn was able to return to his tribe with the fallen token that lent
him strength. He heard nothing spoken against him coming from Wolf Pawing or
Crying Loon in the days after. He conferred with his uncle and the tribe's
shaman about what had happened to him on the plains but he kept the sacred
bundle trading ritual to himself. Word spread about his encounter with the
Spear-bearing horsemen throughout the Kalinlepi and many were amazed that he
survived it. That brought a measure of respect to the brave from the feathered
warriors of his tribe. It was very sweet.
Big Horn hoped that honor would also be won for Willow Bird out on the
plains. The days of testing for the youth passed but slowly for him. Often,
the brave walked along the river bank to look across it for any sign of the
boy should he be coming back early due to an injury. That was not hoped for;
failing his endurance test meant having to do another. Yet Big Horn favored
that outcome to what Little Fisher had suffered.
Warm Hands also revealed her anxiety. She sought out Big Horn with small
gifts of food, talking about her son as the brave ate outside her tipi. There
was strong taboo warning Big Horn from accepting too familiar an association
with the widow. He was only acting as the boy's monedo. Anything more from him
would be looked upon as his desire to take Warm Hands for wife. A thing
neither of them wanted.
The tribe accepted that the two only shared their concern for Willow Bird.
When Big Horn ate Warm Hand's meals in full view of the People, no one
whispered behind their hands or tried to make something more of it. Hope for
the boy's safe return was offered to them by everyone.
Warm Hands used the opportunity to thank the brave for guiding her son.
Though she'd never reveal it, the woman knew why their chief had asked his
nephew to serve as Willow Bird's monedo. Much was owed her husband from the
Kalinlepi; his past position as war leader and peace maker with the Split
Tribe. He'd been the trusted councilor to the chief, fulfilling a few secret
obligations unto that old man. A thing that weighed in the woman's heart.
Everyone thought she only had one son to take care of her in the declining
years. If Warm Hands were to lose Willow Bird, she'd be forced to look for her
lost one down river. That, or face the bitter winter alone and unsupported.
Big Horn didn't realize the depths to Warm Hand's concerns. The woman
kept many things hidden for the sake of the tribe. She didn't want to shame
powerful men or be looked upon with scorn. Where her first son was concerned,
however, she was willing to risk much. Warm Hands felt a threat from the brave
that dark gossip had revealed. Her talks with Big Horn confirmed them.
"I've felt the deeper love that you keep from Willow Bird," the woman
announced in an abrupt change of subject from what Big Horn and she had been
talking about. Her stern eyes drove the point home.
Big Horn coughed nervously. The woman's comment had taken him completely
by surprise so he feigned choking on his food.
"Was the raw deer meat I served you too strongly seasoned?" she asked
innocently. Again, her stare at the brave served as a sharp warning.
"No. I appreciate what you've given me, Warm Hands." Big Horn knew that
they were speaking towards a delicate subject; his hidden feelings of manly
love for her son. The brave regretted having spent those anxious days with the
woman. She had dug out his secret through their sharing of talk.
"Willow Bird will overcome the dangers out on the plains thanks to your
training," continued Warm Hands. "Will you protect him from dangers within?"
Her words were as sweet as honey.
Big Horn couldn't return the woman's knowing stare. He simply nodded his
head in reply, muttering the need to drown his cough with a drink from the
river. He rose from the ground and stalked away, defeated.
Throughout the afternoon, Big Horn sat on the far bank from his tribe.
The river passing between them made the brave feel a measure of safety. It
kept him apart from the People. How much did they know?! He knew there would
be consequences for daring to touch boys with his lust. Now Willow Bird would
be beyond his hand's reach. He was sure that Warm Hands would see to that.
Little Fisher came to mind. His body had been used by lusting warriors
when a boy and it's made him hateful and bitter as a man. Big Horn didn't want
that to happen to Willow Bird by his hand. The youth had a year remaining of
growth for body and spirit before being initiated a brave. Big Horn thought
that he should wait until next summer before daring to reveal his heart and
manly needs to him.
The matter pressed down upon the brave's shoulders. He was in need of
guidance. Yet there was no one in the tribe that he could reveal his most
secret and innermost feelings about his sexuality. It was one thing to be
under suspect. Confirming the People's fears with talk was quite another! Big
Horn wouldn't even risk conferring with his shaman. He was alone with his
spirit's dark burden. No one could understand how he felt...
The five-feathered man came to mind. Big Horn remembered Coyote Thief's
unexpected compassion and kindness when they had met on the plains. His life
had been spared. More than that, he felt a strange kindred ship with that
enemy warrior. Their rite of trading sacred bundle items proved later to be a
portent of things to come, after consideration. Coyote Thief wanted him. He
would welcome meeting with that warrior again.
The overcasted afternoon turned into a darker evening for Big Horn when
left to his thoughts. He made the cold river crossing. Pacing around camp to
dry off, the brave hoped to bring a weariness to his body that would allow him
to sleep. He was tired of thinking. Yet there was no end to the swirling dark
thoughts filling his head or the sharp emotions that clutched his heart. It
came as no surprise to him that he spent the long night with his eyes open.
Song Bird slept at his side without offering him the distraction of a boy's
pleasure rite. Even the mice were still. Big Horn's sight faded into the
utter darkness of the tipi but his thoughts were like lightning. Silent
crashing that kept him awake.
Big Horn spent the remaining days sitting on the bank across the river.
He felt that Willow Bird was somewhere out there... almost within reach. Many
times he considered looking for him; to talk about what troubled his heart.
The river flowed at his feet. He was anchored there to the bank of his woes.
No. He would let the boy be to endure his testing. The brave continued to
suffer his own test. Alone.
The fifth day came. Big Horn went across the river to look for the boy's
return. Father Sun slowly rose in His sky and then fell. The brave grew tired
of glancing towards the plains so he laid on his back to cloud watch. Their
varied shapes came to fill the blue sky, often threatening to block out the
summer sun. It hadn't rained during Willow Bird's departure from camp, he
remarked. A good thing. That kept the naked youth from getting chilled,
especially during the cool nights. No rain though meant that he couldn't gain
an easy drink. Water was difficult to find in the plains; only from an
occasional stream could the boy's thirst be quenched.
That was only one concern of many that Willow Bird faced. How successful
was his hunting, Big Horn wondered. During his own endurance test, he threw
stones at rabbits for a meal. Their raw flesh was chewed on without the
benefit of making a fire - too risky. Spear-bearing scouts knew that naked
boys could be found on the plains at high summer. Did his charge escape their
lusty hands?
A shadow fell over Big Horn's face. He turned to face his intruder with
the thought that enemy warriors had caught him off guard again. A smiling
boy's face greeted his tense stance. It was Willow Bird! The brave jumped to
his feet to meet the youth. Sweaty dust clung to his body. The boy's long hair
was in tangles about his shoulders. There were many scratches to his arms and
chest. He was naked; no animal skins had been fashioned during his outing and
his hands were empty of weapons.
That didn't matter to Big Horn. He was glad to see that Willow Bird had
come back from his testing unharmed. The brave's hands shot to the boy's
shoulders with pride. He found himself being embraced. Fiercely. Breast on
breast, the man relished what the sweet boy offered him. His arms went around
Willow Bird with much happiness and relief that he'd returned to him.
Willow Bird was about to make a boast when he noticed tears in his
monedo's eyes. That struck him dumb. He felt that Big Horn's anguish didn't
match the occasion; his return should be celebrated, not mourned over. Perhaps
something had happened in camp while he was away. Fear clutched the boy's
heart when he thought it could be his mother.
Big Horn closed his eyes against his weak display. He continued to hold
his dear boy close, not ever wanting to let him go again! Willow Bird trembled
within his arms.
"Has anything bad happened, Big Horn?"
The brave heard worry in Willow Bird's voice and that made him realize
how his show of tears had disturbed the boy. "No. Everything is well in camp,"
assured Big Horn. He was about to part from the youth when noticing how his
left hand was clutching the boy's soft butt. There was an obvious bulge coming
from the front of his breechclout that pressed against Willow Bird.
Big Horn became alarmed. He didn't want the boy to learn of what he'd
been hiding deep in his heart. With a pinch to the youth's butt cheek, he
stepped out of their embrace. "I smell the five long days upon you without
bathing!" he scolded lightly. "Get to the river and clean yourself."
Willow Bird giggled. He walked past his monedo and eagerly jumped into
the water. It felt cold and refreshing over his body. Big Horn watched the
boy's bathing with a smile, eyeing every part of him as if for the first time.
The youth had a nice butt on him. Rounded brown cheeks that opened when he
drew up sand to clean himself with. Big Horn felt a lusty throbbing from his
cock when he saw the boy's butt hole, only briefly. Willow Bird submerged
himself to clean his matted hair.
"Come join me!" asked Willow Bird when he resurfaced.
A pang of fear gripped Big Horn. He couldn't remove his breechclout since
that would reveal his hard cock. The boy's pole was limp when he stood in the
river with opening arms to him. An idea came to the brave.
"Enjoy a long bathing, Willow Bird while I return to camp to fetch your
breechclout. It would be better that you returned to camp clothed."
Before the boy could gainsay him, Big Horn jumped into the river. He
quickly strode past the boy. Stopping the youth with the raising of his right
hand when he tried following. "I'll be back soon."
Willow Bird sat back down in the water. He was surprised that his monedo
had kept his two deerskin flaps but was relieved that he wouldn't be returning
to camp naked.
Big Horn strode across to camp and ran to his uncle's tipi. He didn't
stop on the way to tell anyone of Willow Bird's triumphant return. The chief's
wives were startled when he entered their tipi dripping wet. They watched the
brave grasp a sack of animal hide scraps and pull out two cloths. Wordlessly,
he ran back out. Yellow Deerskin turned to the younger woman with a frown.
The brave jumped back into the river. His legs fought against the water's
strong current to reach Willow Bird on the far side. Seeing him, Big Horn felt
a renewed sense of relief that he'd passed his endurance test. He was safely
back home! Yet the battle within him raged anew for the love he had for this
boy. Warm Hands had spoken of it. She had asked Big Horn to protect her son
from the dangers that came from within him.
Willow Bird strode through the water to meet Big Horn. In the man's hands
were two deerskin flaps that he'd worn as a boy. Though his naming ritual
wouldn't be until next summer, he felt it would be wrong to wear his old
breechclout. Passing his endurance test had earned him the right to a man's
lengthy cloth for his growing body.
The two met. Big Horn offered the boy his breechclout flaps in his right
hand with a grin. Yet in Willow Bird's eyes was disappointment. He noticed
that there was no belt thong.
"You've forgotten something," said Willow Bird. "How will those old flaps
keep against my body without a belt thong?" He was hoping that his monedo
would hear the anguish in his voice.
"Ah. I dropped it on the bank," answered Big Horn. He noted the sad tone
in Willow Bird's voice but didn't understand it. They left the river and
started searching the ground. The task proved futile. He couldn't recall where
the thong belt had been dropped from his hand those many days ago.
Willow Bird turned to his monedo. He reached out with longing for what
the man wore to cover his body, fingers pulling on his thong belt. Big Horn
didn't glean the boy's desire for having a lengthy cloth instead of boy flaps.
He offered the youth his thong belt.
"Here. Take mine to wear around your waist," offered Big Horn. He fetched
his thong belt from his body, catching his falling breechclout over his left
arm. Willow Bird stood very close to the man when it was brought around his
waist and tied. The boy marveled at the size of the man's thick cock next to
his boyish pole. He daringly leaned closer to the brave to get their dicks to
touch. Their balls tickled together. A thrilling warmth shot into the boy's
loins from the man's. Willow Bird could feel Big Horn's male power!
"I hope to grow up as strong as you, Big Horn!" Willow Bird eyed the
man's limp dick that held the promise of growing into a mighty buffalo bull's
horn when angered.
Big Horn relished the boy's praise. He didn't realize that it had been
directed at his cock. The brave's hands dropped from Willow Bird's waist after
the thong belt was tied. He noticed that the youth didn't step away from him.
It became an awkward moment with their dicks pressed together and growing.
Lust surged through the man to grab this youth for sex but he remembered the
promise he'd spoken: 'Never to touch a boy again!'
Willow Bird noticed his monedo's uneasiness by what he dared. Yet the man
didn't step away or give him a sharp warning. The boy enjoyed his naked moment
with Big Horn that was sending exciting tingles through his erection.
It was becoming very difficult for Big Horn to contain himself. He stared
down at their hard dicks that were seeking male pleasure and relief. They stood
together along their groin hair. His was a bush compared to Willow Bird's thin
tuft of black hair. The pole was very hard but it was only a boy's size. It
was unmatched to do battle with his mighty horn. The man feared what he would
do to this boy when surrendering to his lust. Love for Willow Bird kept his
darker side held back. 'Give the youth one more summer of growth!' Big Horn
urgently pleaded with himself.
A powerful revelation came over the brave. He faced Willow Bird who
seemed to have grown a few fingers in height. His hair was a bit longer. Their
naked bodies came together in a tender embrace of love. It seemed strange to
the man that his breast pressing onto the boy's nearly matched where his
nipples touched his. It was as if they were nearly the same height.
Their arms went around each other and held tight. Between their hairy
groins, hard cocks pressed together and did battle. Willow Bird moaned with
contentment. The brave guided the pace of their love making with a strong hand
over his butt. At last, Big Horn and his boy would consummate their male bond!
Willow Bird meekly covered his body with the boyish flaps. He wondered
why his monedo stood there with a far-away gaze in his eyes. Oh. Big Horn must
have been disturbed for having his awakened male power stolen by boyish loins.
It had been daring... and wrong. The youth dropped his head in shame.
Big Horn returned to the Now. He noticed that Willow Bird stood shorter
than what he'd just Seen. There was a seeking of forgiveness peering from the
boy's uplifted eyes. The brave smiled. He remembered the breechclout hanging
down from his arm and wrapped its length around his waist, dropping the end
over his erection to cover it from sight.
"I'm ready to return home," whispered Willow Bird. He strode down the
bank and into the river with Big Horn following behind him. It was a long
crossing. The boy told his monedo how he'd fared in the plains on his own; the
long walks at night and sleeping during the days, how he ran down rabbits to
eat and the endless thirst he endured until finding a small stream. The brave
only nodded his head from time to time.
"Two enemy braves found me."
That startled Big Horn from his daze. "What? You were captured by them!"
Willow Bird giggled. "I thought that would make you listen to what I've
been saying! Actually, they found my footsteps and tracked them down to where
I was sleeping in the tall grass. I had awakened when one of their horses
snorted. Fear gripped my heart but I kept still in my hiding place only a
stone's throw away from them. Your lessons were ever in my mind, Big Horn, and
that saved me.
"I peeked out to see two mounted braves of the Spear-bearing People,"
continued Willow Bird. "They seemed eager to catch me but for some reason
turned from searching the tall grass to gallop away into the plains. I waited
until they were gone from sight. Something inside me warned that they would be
back, and in greater numbers. I left my hiding place behind. My escaping
footsteps were carefully erased from the ground."
"I met those two braves," Big Horn admitted. "They had returned from
finding your tracks to report it to Coyote Thief, their war leader who was a
five-feathered warrior!"
Willow Bird's eyes widened. "What? How did you escape them?!"
Big Horn chuckled. "Coyote Thief took a liking to me. We sat and smoked
together, talked about a few things..."
"Why didn't he do battle with you?" gasped Willow Bird.
"That was the strangest part of it all," Big Horn whispered. "He'd
claimed that our meeting was foretold by his shaman long ago. I can't explain
it but I felt our connection..." The brave closed his mouth. He feared that
too much had already been given away to the youth.
When Willow Bird only nodded his head, Big Horn spoke again but with a
turning of the subject. "Two mounted braves advanced onto where we sat. Coyote
Thief raised his hand to them in friendship so I knew that they were of his
People. As much as they wanted kill and scalp me, that old warrior held them
back. They told him about finding your tracks so I offered myself in your
place to do battle. Coyote Thief wouldn't allow it. He mounted his horse and
led his braves away in peace. We have much to thank unto that war leader for
having saved both our lives."
Willow Bird's eyes narrowed from not fully accepting what Big Horn had
told him. Could he be making the story up? Yet the brave didn't burst out with
laughter; his eyes seemed far, far away. Even if the account was true, the boy
felt that his monedo had held something important back in its telling.
The remainder of their river crossing was in silence. Willow Bird was
often glancing at Big Horn to see if he'd tell him anything more. He didn't.
A smile came to the boy's lips when he saw the brave's uncovered butt. He may
wear the lengthy cloth of a man but without a thong belt, its wrapping around
his waist covered his loins but fell short of covering him from behind.
The People of their tribe noticed Willow Bird's approach and came running
with happy shouts. The warriors and braves pounded their chests. Unmarried
girls looked upon the returning boy with hope in their breasts that he'd
choose one of them when named a man next summer. Boys surrounded Willow Bird
with pride showing in their eyes. One youth, however, kept his eyes from
revealing the jealousy that he felt. He saw how Big Horn held his boy's
waist with much love. Crying Loon began to dislike Willow Bird at that moment.
A celebration was given to the returning youth. Within the chief's tipi,
he was even allowed to smoke from a pipe that was passed amongst the warriors.
It was a sweet moment for Willow Bird. He had passed his endurance test. Only
a year remained before he'd receive his brave's name. The boy wanted the
Labels: Big Horn's Path into the Mahyee-na, Gay Stories, Gays, Hornyu gays, Hot Gays, Hot guys, Indian Encounter, Indian Escapades, Indian Gays, Man to man
posted by Yanagi @ 2:37 AM
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