Carving Out a New Home



By Tommyhawk1
Artwork (c) 2003 by Roscoe
Illustration of Carving Out a New Home

I sat on a rock looking eastwards toward the Cumberland Gap, feeling very, very lost and alone. It was just after sunrise, and the mountains still blocked the sun itself, leaving the clouds above them clearly outlined and glowing in gold, while three spears of sunlight cut through the mountain haze and illuminated the sky above them, turning the eastern sky to a beautifully delicate blue, while the western sky was still darker, almost the purple that lets the stars still shine through. Beyond that Gap lay most of my family, all my friends, my former home, all my familiar things, every damned thing! Behind me was the skeleton of what was to be our new home, and Daddy, always keen on us getting an early start, was already at work on one of the floor beams, planing it smooth. Daddy could get so involved in such a project, making sure the beam would be level so the floor above would be, that I could (and did) slip away. I wasn't keen on helping build our new home for the simple reason that it wasn't my home and never would be!

Why had Dad dragged me, and only me of all his family, through the Cumberland Gap and into this Godforsaken wilderness? In this year of 1778, only Indians lived here along Big Creek, that and a tiny handful of white men. Everything I had heard about the red man had been bad and moving in among them like this struck me as the height of insanity.

But Dad had insisted we do it. Build a house, clear the land, get in on the start of a huge tract of land that we would turn into our own little empire. So Mom and my younger brothers and sisters had been left at home to manage our little farm back in Virginia, while Dad and I came here to clear the land, build a home and get things started enough to let a woman and eight children arrive and be able to feed them. Okay, so maybe Daddy had the right idea here...why did he have to drag me here? I didn't want to be a farmer! Never! I was going to head for a town, Boston or Philadelphia, and I was going to make something of myself!

But now, I had an entire mountain range between myself and any sort of future. If making my way to Boston had been a difficult journey before, now it was well nigh impossible! What a fate to befall a youth soon to be of an age to be out on his own, but to find his life planned out for him by his father for the next five years or more. Yet what else was an obedient son to do but follow his father's wishes until such time as he was permitted to take his leave from the family?

So I was sitting upon a rock in the wilderness, staring back towards home, and wondering if I would ever feel comfortable in this new land in western Virginia (or was it western North Carolina?)

"Son? James?" came my father's call, but I acted like I didn't hear it. Instead I stood up casually, and moved down the other side of the hill. He let me go, he knew I had nowhere to go.

And I didn't. Any further than down the hill on this side and I risked running afoul of a bear or a pack of wolves or anything. Even....

The thought brought the fact, a brown face looked at me out of the brush. I looked into beaming, merry eyes and shining teeth. And he reached out and rapped me on the head with a small stick! Had I known but a little less of the red man, I would have been offended; as it was, I laughed.

Counting coup on me! By his game, I was now "dead" and disgraced. He took off running and I ran after him, if I could "count coup" on him myself, I'd be even with him. Okay, part of this (more than a part) was play, I liked the guy at once. As I ran after him, I could see he was about my own age, and I was desperate for any kind of companionship right then. I was even ready to spend time with a red man!

He would have gotten away cleanly, only as he made one turn, his foot slipped and he fell down. He tried to keep going by crawling, but I caught up to him easily and tackled him. For me to "count coup" on him now, I had to completely overcome him. He would have to give up struggling.

He was a handful, but I managed to finally get both his wrists in my hands, and then worm my body on top of his and I was sitting on top of him, while he flailed about with his legs, nearly totally nude.

He stopped struggling, and I said, "You give up?"

He smiled and said something in his own language.

"Sorry, I don't understand." I said. But I let him go, that game was over now, that much was certain.

His hands came up and his brown, strong hands clamped onto my thighs, one on either side of his upper legs and he squeezed them, not hard, but in a way that was somehow languorous and enticing. It gave me a funny feeling, his hands on me like that.

I looked down, to look at his hands, and instead I saw his loincloth had been knocked aside, and his manhood was standing full and upright.

"Well, will you look at that." I said in wonder, as I looked back up at his face, at his smile, open, accepting, as if we'd been friends all our lives instead of just a bare handful of minutes.

He moved his body under me, and his cock waved back and forth in response, and he thus caused it to slap against my own crotch. And he sighed softly, and his voice was liquid syllables of cooing, soothing music. I didn't understand a word...and I understood perfectly.

"Looks to me like you got yourself a hankering for a white man." I asked him. "Or me, at least." I wasn't too surprised at his wanting to play a little slap-willy with me, shoot, there wasn't much else you could do on a farm, after dark or during the winter time, and you'd be trapped under your blankets to keep warm even in the daytime, you and your brothers and maybe cousins in there with you, and a hand would come over and grab hold and suddenly you were entertained for a while. And I was getting hard in a hurry, with his prick flapping up against mine as he hunched under me, making little grunts of eager pleasure.

So I undid my trousers tie and let my dong flop out. My Indian friend quickly grabbed it and pressed it up against his own. I moaned as I felt the hot heat on the underside of my cock, and the pressure of those strong hands of his as he clutched our two dicks tightly together.

"Aw, yeah." I said to him. "Now you got them both. What'cha gonna do with them now you got them, huh?"

He heard the question and he answered it by working both our cocks at the same time, and I groaned; he did it so damned well! I didn't lose anything by having my cock crushed up against his, for his foreskin and mine worked in tandem, pressing against each other, enlivening each other with the sensation of rubbing male skin upon the glans, more I felt the flare of his cockhead pressing against the side of my shaft, kind of nestling into the bottom of my own glans, and his jerking motion was rubbing it in a way I'd never had it rubbed before! Lord above, this was better than my little brothers ever thought of being!

I didn't last very long, and neither did he. I groaned, he groaned, the sound of his lust rising sent mine soaring, and soon I was jetting my juice into the air, and he squirted his after it, two jets of jism arcing over to land together on his chest and stomach while he grinned eagerly, watching the flood of white man's and red man's pooling, both of them white and indistinguishable from one another.

My orgasm spent, I leaned over and panted with my hands resting on either side of him, and I looked into his lust-softened eyes and they were sparkling with his recent climax, shining with a light of their own, and I grinned down at him and he grinned up at me.

"James? James? Where are you, Son?" came my father's call, not so far away, he was coming down the hill and we weren't that far into the woods.

"My father." I said and got up in a hurry, hitching at my trousers. My shirt was all disarranged and I was still clutching at it as my father's voice got closer, and more worried sounding.

"I'm here, Pa." I said to him as I started back toward him, my fingers raking nervously through my hair.

"Where did you go, Son?" He asked me. "There are dangers in this forest, these are not the woods of the estate where you used to play."

"I...I just had to relieve myself." I lied rather miserably. My father gave me a sharp look, his eyes piercing out of the oval frame that was his hair and beard, all russet fury. He was red-faced from his labors.

"Are you ready to help me with the house once more?" My father said. "We must get it done before the rains set in, and I feel that rain is not but a few days off."

"I'll help you." I said. "I'm sorry."

"You're a good lad, James." my father said. "You won't go wondering off again."

He said that like a statement, not a question and I didn't answer.

I wondered if I would see my Indian companion again and I didn't have so long to wait. The very next day, a bit later in the morning, I looked about me to see a brown form stand suddenly in the bushes, raise a hand to me in solemn greeting, then duck down again as my father also turned.

"What did you see?" my father asked me. "We're about ready to raise this wall."

"Only a bird, father." I said. "But I feel nature calling me. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Those clouds speak of a real downpour." my father warned as I moved off, running. "Don't go too far again!" he called after me.

The brown figure stayed low in the bushes, and I was reduced to stalking my companion for some time. Then he stood up and began to run in earnest, but he wasn't so far away. This time he didn't fall, he just made it into the edge of the woods and then he stopped and waited for me to catch up.

I didn't pretend I didn't know what he wanted, I wanted it also. I undid my trousers and approached him with my manhood pointing the way like a faithful hunting dog.

He grasped my cock as I got close enough and I did the same for him, and he laughed as I did. He must have realized that we didn't have much time, for he began to pump me hard and fast as he could, and I did the same for him.

My father would never approve of this, above and beyond a parent's gentle tolerance of children playing in sexual exploration, a thing to be ignored rather than chastised. I was consorting with a red man, and not in those ways my people would have accepted, I was pleasing him as well as getting my own pleasure.

The difference this second time is that when we reached our climax, again nearly together, his cock was aimed at me and it soiled my trouser leg heavily. I was too caught up in my own pleasure to notice it at the time it happened, only when we were done and I was standing with my chest heaving hard, my ecstasy expended, that I realized my leg was damp.

"Ah, you got it on me!" I said as I wiped at my leg with my hand. Too late, the come had soaked into me, and I could only hope that my father would confuse the heavy male aroma it exuded with my own sweat.

I looked into my companion's eyes and he smiled, his hand came up to touch my cheek (damp with my own jizz at one point) and he stroked my face, then reached up to kiss me. I gave him that kiss, and was surprised to find his mouth tasted quite clean, and his lips tasted sweet and vaguely flavorful, some exotic Indian dish had formed his breakfast and I was tasting that upon his lips now. I hoped my own lips tasted as well, I had broken my fast with a soft mush of ground wheat stirred into water, a poor and unsatisfying meal even for breakfast.

That day formed the beginning of a routine for my companion and me. I learned his name was Muquehali, and he could say my own after a fashion. We learned a few basic words, but most of our short, furtive encounters, we spent in pounding each other's puds.

I grew to know my father, too, as more than a stern master over me, as we learned each other, our relationship became less that of father and son and more that of comrades and friends. We talked as we worked, and when we rested, and soon I saw my father as not just my father, but as another man much like myself in many ways. It let me relax around him, and I became more independent, not bothering to lie as I would go to meet Muquehali.

Each time we made love, Muquehali grew bolder in his touching of my body. He moved from furtive, single touches to embracing me tightly, so much that it was at times difficult for us to move each other's cocks. As I, too, grew more accustomed to our trysts, I found the sense of urgency that caused me to ejaculate so easily faded, and we two were spending longer and longer in our meetings.

Then one day, after perhaps a dozen of our meetings of male lust, Muquehali grew bold enough to surprise me. I was stroking his prick as I had before, and perhaps feeling myself that our lovemaking could use something more to it, when Muquehali suddenly released me and dropped to his knees.

I was surprised and gasped as Muquehali's mouth fastened upon my cock. After that moist wonder enveloped me, as I felt his warmth and wetness all around me, I was lost to my passion and lost to sense. I could not have moved away from that point no matter what the cost.

I was certainly insensible to that which was going on around me.

Thus the second Indian was able to walk right up to me without my noticing him. I opened my eyes, seeing/not seeing the brown form to one side, and only after a time did I realize that it was human and not some tree or bush. He was standing that still.

Watching me as his tribesman sucked my dong. I didn't know what to do, and I called out in surprise, "Father! Father, help!"

I felt hands capture my arms behind me and I was startled. I'd been surrounded. I turned my head to look at my captor...and it was my father holding me! "Father?" I gasped out.

"Easy, Son." my father said. "I see you've met Dasahali's son."

"You know these Indians?" I said. Muquehali wasn't surprised by any of this, he was still sucking on my cock, though I was deflating in a hurry.

"I got to know him when I came through here two years ago." Dad explained. Dad had taken a job driving a train of supplies through the Cumberland Gap, feeling that he wanted to know the land before he tried to bring his family through. I knew he had spent the greater part of the summer in doing so, but he had never mentioned talking with Indians.

Dasahali was kneeling down behind Muquehali, and I saw his hand cup his son's buttocks, saw the hard shaft of Dasahali's prick tenting out his loincloth, and suddenly my cock got hard all over again. "You all planned this?" I asked him. "You and these red men planned this?"

"I only planned that you meet Dasahali today." Dad said. "You and his son did the rest of this all by yourselves. Though I'm not surprised. These two have very strong passions, they did when I shared their bearskin beds two years ago."

"You've slept with them?" I asked. I saw Dasahali's fingers going into his son's anus, he was probing and his son wasn't trying to avoid it, indeed, his grunts upon my cock became more urgent and excited.

"This is a new land and we must have their help if we are to survive." My father said. "I have been lucky to find such friends in this new land, and so have you." My father leaned in closer and whispered in my ear. "See how he loves your pole, son? You and he can tame this land together if you will let him be with you." My father shifted a bit more and I felt the undeniable poking of his own pole against my back.

My lust overtook me once again, like the first time, and I groaned, fumbled back to grasp my father's cock. My father quickly undid his trousers, and soon I had hold of his bare organ, it throbbed hungrily in my hand and I manipulated it as well as I could while I let my pleasure overtake me.

Dasahali was rubbing spit into his own cock, and I realized he was about to fuck his son while his son sucked me! I watched that in a sort of frozen excitement, trembling with pleasure that did not diminish but also did not increase, it not dependent upon Muquehali's sucking, but waiting to see what his father would do.

I watched as Dasahali shoved his dick into his son's ass, and Muquehali only grunted, taking the heavy shaft easily.

"See how easily they share each other?" my father whispered in my ear. "This is the life we will have here in this new land. This is the life I have chosen for you and me, if you would have it."

I knew then why Dad had insisted on leaving my mother and all the other children of his behind. He hadn't been worried about taking care of them in this new land, he'd wanted to get me alone, let me meet with Dasahali and see how I reacted to a man fucking his own son.

My reaction was simple, my climax clawed at my brain as it pounced on me of a sudden, I was overcome with my lust and as I groaned, as I clambered to the peak of orgasm, I nattered without sense or reason, but my words that came out were, "Fuck me, Daddy, please, fuck me!"

Those were the words I said as I thrashed in my father's arms, as I spurted my wads into Muquehali's sucking mouth and then I was sagging, limp as a wet cloth you hold up before you, in my father's arms.

"Yes, my Son, yes." My father said as he nibbled lovingly at my ear. "I have waited for you to ask me this, hoped this would be your answer."

Muquehali had turned and was holding tightly to his father's back as his father rammed his cock into him.

"See those two, I would have us be as them, loving each other." My father crooned to me.

"Teach me." I said to my father. "I could not take you so quickly as he has, but...teach me." I said.

"I shall." my father promised. "Dasahali and I, together, we will teach you, and so will Muquehali."

"And we four shall build a new home in a new land." I agreed as I kissed my father ardently.

I wondered briefly as we kissed yet again if I would ever see my mother and family again. But now, as I looked toward the Cumberland Gap, I didn't feel lost any more. My old home still lay over there.

But I was carving out a new and better home here now.

THE END
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