"Aiiee, Red Dog, your long cock is skewering me, now stop fooling around and fuck me you asshole!" She moans softly and pushes back to feel his cock glide effortlessly into her hot pudding of lust, to feel the tip now stretching the entrance to her womb, with her ass pressing against his male body - his hands pulling her tight against him, feeling an erect clitoris being titillated by dangling testicles. The tip stops at her entrance, while enjoying the kissing of her bloated cuntal lips, he then slowly presses his member into her inviting warmth. He slides his member up and down her slit that is depositing feminine goo upon it. She widens her stance when she feels his hands upon her hips, though still in denial. She feels him straighten up and replace his tongue with his erect cock. "Red Dog, we Oh Uh, shouldn't be doing this now, I am probably fertile! Shit you are making me feel real good you idiot! Please stop this, oh, oh, you will get me into trouble by not having the laundry done fast enough!" When you are ripe, I will be ready to share pleasure with you."Īs he continued his assault, her trembling increased along with her breathing starting to become ragged, and in short pants. "Your not that busy, see, your body is preparing itself for pleasure. She then looked back and said, "Red Dog, stop it now, can't you see I am busy?" Still no intense resistance, so he started running the tip up and down her seam while occasionally tapping the tip against her magic clitoris - that is now becoming erect, triggering her noticeable trembling. Since the prize was still available Red Dog pressed his face between her thighs and plunged his tongue into her cunt.
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Without looking back Running Fawn yelled out, "now cut that out asshole!" Using his Indian education, he silently snuck up on her only to reach out for the hem of her skirt to grasp and throw over her back, exposing her feminine delicacy to his view. Running Fawn was down by the river washing clothes when Red Dog came by and became interested in her sensuous posterior, sort of waggling while she was unloading her basket. Then all hell breaks loose encouraging separatism on the part of the older White residents.
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Most of the intermingling of culture is occurring with the children that seem to integrate quite well, until puberty. The year is 1910 the town is a whistle stop in Kansas, racing to become a ghost town! The villagers permit a small band of Indians to camp along a small river (big stream) three miles away, and they try to help civilize the "heathens" by exposing them to book lar'nen, and church! Five tepees compose of the tribe, thus they believe some of the education is taking root however, the old Indian ways are still paramount (that the White folk find troubling). Indians are very individualistic, so one shoe does not fit all, and this presentation of attitude is only demonstrating fictional opinions and practices without prejudice on my part, of a very small sample size.
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This story is an assemblage of bits and pieces of information gathered from Hopi, Cherokee, and Comanche Indians that I have known, along with some historical writings.