by Lou Cameron
“But they do fight?” asked Phoebe, fully dressed and looking like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. He could play innocent too, so he nodded pleasantly and said, “Anyone fights if they have to, Miss Phoebe. The Mosquitoes don’t make a habit of doing it for practice. Like I said, they’re not bad guys if you leave ’em alone.”
The grumpy Wilson growled, “We were never told there’d be wild red Indians! We’ve lost our proper leader without ever getting near the treasure trove, and I don’t know about the rest of you, but I vote we pack it in while we still have our bonny scalps!”
Captain Gringo said, “Mosquito Indians don’t scalp. They just put a poison arrow in you and run like hell. But you may have a point. Let’s see a show of hands for turning back.” Nobody raised their hands except Wilson and Gaston. Captain Gringo said, “It’s nice to see you two have made up. But you seem to be outvoted. Okay, gang, let’s all head back to the sacks. There’s still five or six hours of darkness left, and I warn you in advance you won’t be able to kip out in those tents once it warms up again. Gaston, you may as well get some beauty rest too. I’ll stand the next guard mount.”
A few minutes later he was alone by the fire again. The fire no longer cast any visible light, so if anyone was planning on putting an arrow in him they’d have to wait until morning. He started walking, swinging out in a wide circle of the camp through the trees. It wasn’t easy. He had to move slowly to keep from bumping his nose on a mahogany in the almost pitch darkness. But as his eyes got used to it, he could see maybe a few yards. Little spots of surprisingly bright sky glow filtered down through the overhead tree canopy. The moon had to be high as well as full. He couldn’t see it. He hoped the compass on Sylvia’s dash was accurate. He had this neck of the woods, he hoped, pinpointed on the map. But they were going to have to make a few more dog legs across the map through the unmapped jungle in the next day or so, and he really could have used an Indian guide, damn their uncaring shy souls.
He wondered what it would be like to lay chubby little Decepciona. He wondered why he wondered. Phoebe had a nicer figure. Well, a different figure, anyway. Variety was the spice of life and Decepciona was built as different from Phoebe as two dames could be built without one of ’em being a mess. He couldn’t think of anything else he had to offer the Indian girl, and, aside from needing a guide, they might need a translator if they ran into another band less peacefully inclined, damn those other whites over to the east.
He wondered why the gang at the old pirate camp had chased the Indians off. If they had guns, big guns, they shouldn’t have been worried about the fairly peaceful Mosquitoes attacking them. The cute little squaw had said her band used to get along with pirates, and that would have taken peaceful manners indeed.
The gang couldn’t have been worried about the Indians beating them to the treasure. In the first place, jungle primitives had different values. If they wanted money badly enough to work at getting it, the banana plantations up and down the coast were hiring. In the second place, the Indians had had the area all to themselves for years after the Royal Navy cleaned out the pirate camp. Had they known or cared about whatever was there, they’d have taken it long ago.
He made it to Sylvia’s Stanley and said to it, “They were afraid the Indians would gossip about something they’re doing over by the big lagoon. Decepciona said missionaries pestered them from time to time.”
He picked up the machine gun, adding, “I think we’d better move you inside the tent circle after all, pal. If some young buck decides to go joy riding in a steam car, we’re out of luck. But they won’t swipe you just for the hell of it.” He hefted the Maxim over one shoulder, wrapped it in its tarp, and took an ammo case in the other hand before trudging back inside the tent ring. He shoved it inside his tent. As he did so, a sleepy female voice murmured, “Who’s there?”
He whispered, “Go back to sleep, doll,” so she murmured, “All right,” as he heard her turn over with a luxurious sigh of contentment. He smiled as he went back to walking the perimeter. For a gal who wanted to keep their affair so secret, Phoebe hadn’t been thinking ahead. He’d have to make sure he woke Gaston while it was still dark. He knew they’d both want to tear off at least one more before he snuck her back to her own tent unseen by the others.
It didn’t make his tour of guard duty go any faster, knowing there was a ready and willing little dame keeping his bed roll warm for him. But he forced himself to behave as he stayed alert, walking his post in a military manner, like the old general orders said, and sneaking a peek at his watch by match light until his supply of matches was in peril. Four hours by his watch and at least four months by his glands went by before he went to Gaston’s tent, shook the flap, hard, and called out, “Rise and shine, old buddy. It’s your turn to listen to the fucking crickets.”
Gaston said a dreadful thing about his mother.
Captain Gringo said he had to stand guard anyway and moved on to his own tent, unbuckling his gun rig on the way. He ducked inside and knelt on the canvas flooring, listening to the soft breathing of the girl asleep in his bed roll as he quickly shucked his duds in the dark. He crawled in with her and gently rolled her over to press his nude flesh to hers. She protested mildly in her sleep, then started purring as he ran his hands over her to warm her up. He was warmed up pretty good, too. Thinking about the chunky short Indian girl had been a great notion, for Phoebe’s body seemed bigger and leaner now. He wondered if he could get in without waking her. More than one playmate had told him in the past that she enjoyed waking up like that.
He rolled into her saddle, parted her genital lips with the head of his now raging erection, and slowly slid it into her relaxed warm opening. It contracted deliciously as he thrust all the way in and settled his weight gently on her cool breasts and belly. She spread her legs wider and thrust up to meet him with her hips as she murmured sleepily, “Oh, that feels so lovely.” Then she woke up, gasped, and asked, “Who the fuck are you, and what are you doing in my fucking tent, and, my God, you seem to be fucking me!”
He gasped in surprise, too, as he recognized her voice. He asked, “Matilda?” and she snapped, “Who the flaming hell did you expect to find in my tent, Victoria Regina?”
“I’m not in your tent, dammit. You’re in mine and, oops, I seem to be in you. Sorry.”
He started to withdraw . She held him closer with her arms as she thrust her hips again and said, “For God’s sake, don’t stop now! Whoever you are, you have a lovely great dong! By the way, who are you?”
He grinned and said, “I don’t think I’ll tell you,” as he proceeded to treat her right.
She laughed and said, “Oh, it has to be Captain Gringo. Nobody else in camp is this big, in every way, I see.”
“Call me Dick, honey.”
“I will if you’ll dick me harder. Dear God, I’d almost forgotten how good it felt with a real man!”
She proved her point by doing more than half the work when she raised her knees to grip his ribs under the armpits as he dug his toes in and started long-donging her. He hadn’t seen fit to comment on her remark about real men, but he saw now why she spent so much time away from home. She was built looser than Phoebe or, indeed, most women. It was good when she contracted, but her dilations were a little sloppy, even for him, and a man who wasn’t hung right would have had to tie a board across his ass to keep from falling in. Her body, as he’d suspected from looking at her dressed more sedately, was lean and muscular. She was saved from being flat-chested, just, by a pair of small hard boobs that felt sort of like a boxer’s biceps, save for the perky nipples rubbing against his chest as she rippled under him. She screwed like a man might have had he suddenly awakened with a vagina. Matilda was as earthy in bed with her body as she was the rest of the time with her mouth, God bless her. She minced no words as she said, “More, I want more! Fill me up and smooth out all the wrinkles of my cunt!”
He laughed and said, “I’m giving you my all, doll. Try biting d
own a little harder. ”
She did, and grasped his pumping shaft so hard it almost hurt as he ejaculated in her. She felt it and pleaded, “Don’t stop! I’m almost there!” So he kept moving to be polite, but almost fell out when she gaped wide, contracted tightly, and shuddered in a long moaning climax before yawning again with her awesome love maw. He did drop out, then. He said, “Sorry,” as he fumbled it back in her. There was more than room to spare, now. But if he kept his hips close to hers he could at least be courteous.
She said, “That was lovely. Do you think I have a big cunt?”
“Not when it matters. You’d know better than I if it’s right for other guys. I know you may think it’s none of my business, but have you been doing this with any of the others?”
“You mean the others on this boring expedition? Not bloody likely. I’m a married woman and they all belong to the same club as my twit of a husband. Besides, they’re all a lot shorter than you. I’ve been terribly disappointed by more than one tall bloke, but at least, on the average, a man who’s big one way can be expected to be big all over.”
She tightened on him experimentally and added, “Hmm, I see I haven’t fatally injured you, but it does seem smaller now. Must be the added lubrication, what?”
He was too polite to agree as he started moving faster in her again. The novelty of her boyish body and the sheer perversity of the situation helped. He knew Phoebe wouldn’t talk, but if she came in about now for a return match, the conversation promised to be grotesque. Matilda may have been thinking along the same lines. She said, “I say, we mustn’t let the others know our little secret, Dick. As I said, same club, and they’d probably want some too.”
“Mum’s the word.” He grinned, trying to come again but not having much luck with her so dilated. He said, “Uh, could you sort of bite down, honey?”
She did for a few strokes, and he was getting harder as she felt more reasonable between her long slim thighs. But she couldn’t hold it all the way to heaven. As she heated up, her love box seemed to gasp for air every other stroke. It sounded vulgar, too, as trapped air farted against his nuts on the downstroke. It seemed to amuse her. She laughed and said,’ “I’ve never been able to control the damned thing once I’ve really warmed to the occasion. I know it’s horrid. Fucking me must feel like fucking a great cow, but I can’t help it. I say, are you game for something a bit unusual, Dick?”
He didn’t think they ought to go sixty-nine. He hadn’t bathed since he’d been in another woman earlier that night, and it didn’t seem decent to have Matilda inhale him, even though her big mouth had to be tighter. He knew she hadn’t been with anyone recently, so what the hell. He said, “I’m game for anything that doesn’t hurt. What did you have in mind?”
She said, “Let me up. I have to get on top to do it.” So he rolled out of the saddle and lay on his back, still semi erect but not half as hot as he’d started. Once the novelty wore off, he had to admit that Phoebe had been a better lay, damn her discreet little snatch. He realized, now, that Phoebe had packed it in and was sleeping in her own tent. Matilda had crawled into the wrong one in the dark. Swell. So how was he to get rid of her without hurting her feelings?
He expected her to go down on him and was braced to return the favor in kind, as a good host should. But to his mild surprise she forked a leg across him to squat on her heels, facing him, as she reached down and gathered his privates in both hands, balls and all. As she lowered her widespread groin against the love bundle she was holding in her hands, she explained, “I can’t do this unless I almost do a split. But, with a little bit of luck …”
He laughed as he caught on and said, “It won’t work, doll. There’s not a man who hasn’t tried it. But it still won’t work. Balls-and-all is just a pool-hall brag.”
Then he gasped as he felt her inhaling with her internal muscles, and as she settled her full weight against his pelvis he marveled, “Jesus, you’re amazing. For God’s sake, don’t clamp down now!”
She started moving up and down with his scrotum and suddenly inspired shaft enveloped in her pulsating warm wetness as she cooed, “Oh, that does feel tight. Do you like it, Dick?”
“I think so. It feels sort of weird. Could you move a little faster?”
She gingerly lowered her knees to the sheet on either side of his hips as she pressed down firmly and said, “Not without ruining you for life or, even worse, losing your lovely balls.”
She braced herself with one hand on his chest as she leaned forward, crotch gaping and well filled as she began to play with her own clit with her other hand. It wasn’t doing a hell of a lot for him. It just teased the hell out of him to have everything he owned in a sack of warm jelly as she gripped tighter with the opening around the roots of everything and jerked her crazy self off. He tried to join the fun by thrusting up and down with his own hips. But she was heavy and rode with it, so he just added to the frustration as he learned, the hard way, that balls and all was more confusion than fun.
But Matilda sure liked it. She moaned in animal pleasure as she strummed her clit like a banjo and enjoyed a long lingering orgasm with her unfortunately proportioned snatch fully packed for a change. The results were more painful for him.
He hissed, “Jeeeezusss!” as she tightened internally, gripping his genitals in a vise of warm wet velvet. It made him hard as a high-school boy in a whorehouse, but he couldn’t move enough to come with her.
She relaxed her hold on him and slid off him with a loud wet pop. He didn’t care if she was satisfied or not. He was stiff as a poker and wanted to come again, even if he had to wag it like a dog’s tail to touch both sides.
He propped himself up on one elbow, meaning to remount her as soon as she lay back down. But Matilda was still full of frisky tricks. She slid down him to take his raging erection between her pursed lips, and as she swallowed his shaft beyond her tonsils he exploded in her mouth almost at once. She didn’t spit anything out. She gulped and kept sucking as she moved her own lap into position above his face. He took a deep breath and prepared to be a good sport. She smelled clean, at least, and nobody but himself had come in her in recent memory. But as he started to tease her clit with the tip of his tongue, she came up for air long enough to say, “I’m too sensitive there! Fuck me with your fist!”
That sure beat shoving a tongue up her snatch, if it would work. He knew she was built big, but this was ridiculous. Captain Gringo had big hands.
It was her idea, though. So as she drove him nuts with her skilled lips and remarkable gag control, he slid four fingers in, saw he could get the thumb in with a little effort, and then he was in her to the wrist with his fingers clenched in a fist, the knuckles against her cervix. She must have liked it. She started wagging her ass from side to side, rubbing the mouth of her womb over his knuckles as she clamped down on the head of his excited organ with her throat muscles and began literally to screw him with her head, lips tightly pursed around the base of his shaft as she alternately swallowed and half-retched until they came together.
It damned near cracked his knuckles, and he thought his balls were going to get sucked up inside her mouth.
He lay limp as a dish rag as she crawled around to lay her head on his shoulder, murmuring, “God, to think I might have wound up finding my own bloody tent. We’re going to have to be careful, darling, but I’m glad we found each other at last.”
He didn’t answer. Freak shows were all right for a change of pace. But now that the bloom was off the lily, what the hell was he supposed to do about the other sneaky arrangement he had with Phoebe? Matilda would probably go for three in a boat. But he’d promised them both he wouldn’t tell anyone else, and Phoebe seemed a little old-fashioned, as well as a better lay.
Matilda said, “I suppose I should be thinking of getting back to my own chaste bed before it gets too light out. But I’m still hot. How about you?”
“I’d like to do it again,” he lied, “but we’d better not take chances. It
must be close to five, and the sun comes up like thunder at six in the tropics. Dawns are boring as hell down here. You can set your watch by ’em.”
He held her closer and kissed her, meaning it as a gentle dismissal. She didn’t take it that way. She said, “We’ve time for one last quicky, Dick,” and rolled up on her hands and knees, adding, “Doggy-style is a good way to do it fast, don’t you agree?”
He had his reservations about that. Mounting from behind was a good if unromantic way to break a virgin in, since it opened a woman well. But if there was one thing Matilda didn’t need, it was to be opened wider.
But what the hell, he could get it in half-soft in that position and he didn’t want to send her home unhappy. So he got behind her on his own knees, grabbed a hip bone, and fumbled it in. She said, “Either I’m getting looser or you’re getting smaller. We seem to have started an exercise in futility, dear.”
“I noticed. Why don’t we call it a night?”
“I’m about satisfied for now, but I don’t want to leave you frustrated, now that you’ve started, darling.”
“Oh, I can always jerk off,”’
“Why waste it? I know, shove it up my bum.”
That sounded like a good idea. He was coming to life down there again and he didn’t have to worry about hurting a woman built so slackly between the hips. Most girls found him a bit much for Greek loving, so that offered another novelty, too. He got the slippery tip in place above her grand canyon and thrust against the involuntary resistance of her anal muscles until it suddenly popped in. Matilda hissed, “Oooooh, Jesus, you do have a big one!”
He was pleasantly surprised, too. Matilda’s back door was tighter than expected. Tighter than most he’d been in, as a matter of fact. He guessed nature had to take up the slack somewhere. He asked, “Am I hurting you?” and she said, “A little, but don’t stop. I love the feeling of fullness in me.” So he held a hip bone in each hand and started moving faster as she arched her spine to take it deep while she strummed her clit some more.