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