Roan sat next to his father before the fire, gently striking an oblong chunk of granite against a small piece of flint he held in his other hand, and gathering up the sharp shards that fell to the ground around him. Across the fire from them sat two men, one chewing the last remnants of flesh from the bones of a crow, the other holding a stick that he had been using to rearrange the burning logs. He waved the stick about as he spoke, its glowing tip lighting the evening air with reddish streaks.

"We must do something," he said. "They will steal our women!"

Roan's father laughed. "If they come to my hut, they can take my wife without a fight."

The man gnawing the bones laughed as well. "Perhaps we should suggest a trade? Surely their women are more skilled in bed than ours." Both he and Roan's father laughed again.

"This is not a time for joking," the man waving the stick said. "Twice in the last week they have raided our stores."

"There have been no raids on the stores at my camp," Roan's father said. "Perhaps if you spent more time fortifying your stockades and less time playing ball games in the field, your stores would be secure."

The man with the bones laughed again, but the one with the stick did not. "Our stockades are fine, you know this. We win at the games because my men are stronger and smarter than yours."

Both the other men laughed heartily at this.

"You are certain these newcomers are the Brutes?" Roan's father asked. "How do you know this?"

"My men encountered two of them in the woods while hunting. They were Brutes, this they know from their strange wordless grunts and their crude clothing. My men killed one of them, but were unable to bring his head back to me as proof, because the sounds of the fight summoned more and my men were compelled to flee."

"And you trust these men of yours? They are of good mind and judgment?"

"They are."

"I wonder what brings the savages here," his father thought aloud.

"The same as in the time of our grandfathers. Their ancestral lands grow colder and more harsh, and they come here for better hunting."

"Yes," Roan's father said, nodding. "And our lands grow colder, too." The men grunted their wordless agreement. "But perhaps your men encountered only a hunting party that traveled here from the north? How do we know that those who raided your stores were savagemen? It may have been merely Warim stealing your food."

The man chewing on the bones threw them, thoroughly cleaned of flesh, into the fire, and he laughed. "I do not steal Maret's food. His women bring it to me willingly, in exchange for a warm bed and a hard cock."

"Whose hard cock? Surely not yours!" the man holding the glowing stick, the one called Maret, answered. "Your wife told me last night while we fucked that you haven't been hard in months."

"Ho ho!" Warim hooted in reply, and Roan and his father laughed as well.

"If the savages do have a camp here," his father said as the laughter died down, "do we know where it is?"

"Brutes do not build huts," Maret said. "They sleep in caves."

Roan's father nodded. "That means the valley of the Gray River." The other men nodded in response. "We must determine their strength of arms and fortifications before we attack. Each camp will select two young men for a scouting party. My son, Roan, will be the captain."

Roan suddenly sat up very straight, and nodded solemnly. The other two men voiced their agreement with the plan.

"We will convene our council again when the scouts return, to plan our attack. Have your scouts meet here tomorrow morning."

The men stood, as did Roan, grasped each other by the wrists, and said goodbye.

Roan felt well the weight of responsibly that his father had bestowed on him by selecting him as captain of the scouting party. At fourteen, he had not yet led a war party and was young for such a role; normally it would go to a man several years his senior. But his father was grooming him for leadership, as his father's father had done for him, when he was a young man. The men of the other camps understood this as well, and did not object, nor suggest another, older man from one of their camps to lead. Roan's camp was the most powerful in the valleys and the youngster had the right, and the responsibility, to prove his mettle, or to die trying.

Roan chose as his second from his camp a boy two years his younger, called Aan. He and Aan were not friends, but he knew from their time together playing ball that the boy was lithe and solid on his feet, and intelligent. His father agreed with the choice, and when the scouts arrived from the other camps, the party was complete and they set off on their half-day march to the valley of the Gray River.

They arrived when the sun was half-way to set. "My uncle was right," a boy from the Maret camp said as they settled in the thick brush near the clearing of the camp. "They are Brutes. Do you see their foreheads? Their chins? Their old animal skin clothing? They are not our kind. I hope I have the chance to kill one of them today!"

"Quiet!" Roan scolded the boy in a harsh whisper. "Do not say another word, you foolish child." The boy's face flushed with anger at being called a child by a boy not more than three years his elder, but he knew Roan's family, and therefore held his tongue. "There'll be no killing today," Roan continued, "and no more talking, neither. We are here to count the men and make note of the arms and fortifications, and that is all."

Chastened, the boy turned to away to look again at the Brutes' camp. And Brutes they certainly were. Though Roan had never seen a savage such as these before, he knew the stories, he'd heard his grandfather talk of these people as he had sat mesmerized as a boy, listening to the wise old man tell the ancient tales of their camps. "They had heavy brows," his grandfather had said, describing his encounter with a band of the savages when he was young, "the men especially, and strange small chins, and they wore only rough animal skins, for their women know not how to make a needle, nor twine. And even if they possessed such things they would have no skill with them, for Brute women are stupid, dumb like the animals, not cunning like the women of our camps." Even Roan knew, as a young boy, that his grandfather had added this last part, about the cunning women of their camps, to please his wife and concubines as they sat listening to his story with him and the other people of the camp. And pleased, indeed, they were.

Roan saw just these sort of creatures as he gazed out at the people assembled in the clearing in front of a cave; there were no men present, none that he could see, but the women wore only simple hides and furs draped over their shoulders and tied loosely around their waists. The children wore even less, some of them entirely naked despite the gathering chill. He counted: ten, twelve, fourteen...

Then he saw her, the fifteenth that he counted, as she emerge from the cave. She was young, perhaps only a year or two older than his own sister, who had seen nine winters now. She wore torn rabbit fur, two pieces tied roughly together as a crude skirt around her waist, and nothing more at all. She was tall, and thin, with spidery limbs that made her appear awkward-footed despite her graceful steps. Long obsidian-black hair was pulled back and tied in a knot behind her head. Her naked chest revealed that despite her young age, she had began to become a woman. She would be of birthing age soon, perhaps in a year or two.

As he stared at her, his thoughts meandered to the girls he had been with in his life, traveling girls who had fled their camps because of war, who begged for food and offered what services they could in exchange. These girls were of breeding age already. He'd never been with one who hadn't yet had her first blood, nor her first man. And they were not pretty girls; they were tired and dirty, underfed and malnourished. Even though the girl before him now was a savage, with a strange wide face and even stranger brow, she was far more beautiful than any of the girls he had been with in his life, and he found himself desiring her.

When she joined the older women of their band, they moved aside to give her room to sit, and he could tell by their deference that she must be an important member of the camp. The daughter of their leader, perhaps.

He was interrupted from his thoughts by a nudge in the ribs from Aan, who was silently pointing to the side of the clearing, where a group of male Brutes were arriving, crude spears in hand, with a small deer slung over their backs. There were six of them, of varying ages from quite old to young enough to qualify as boys in Roan's camp. The women all clapped and smiled at the success of the hunters and everyone began processing the animal: skinning, butchering, then roasting it over the fire. Roan's stomach churned with hunger at the smell of the meat, and he took a leaf-wrapped package of root mush from his pouch. It was a sad meal compared to the roasting deer. A few minutes later another group of hunters arrived, five more. These were empty-handed.

Roan and his scouting party stayed until dark, having counted what they believed to be the entire encampment. Nineteen women and children, eleven men and boys of fighting age. Their arms appeared limited to a few crude spears and butchering knives, and their fortifications non-existent. Roan retreated then from the scene and he and his men set camp for the night a few miles deeper in the forest.

He rose with the early dawn before his men, and quietly walked back through the woods to the Brutes' camp to see if any more men had joined them during the night. As he sat hidden in the brush, he spied again the lovely girl that had captured his attention the day before, still dressed in only her rabbit skin skirt. She carried a gourd in each hand, and disappeared into the woods to gather water from a nearby stream.

Roan followed her, keeping hidden in the brush, until he came upon her filling her gourds in the stream. He stepped forward.

"Hello," he said.

Her dark eyes went wide and she quickly stood, dropping the gourds and spilling their water. She took several steps backward, away from him.

"Don't be afraid," he said. "I won't hurt you. Here, see?" He drove the bottom of his spear handle into the ground beside him, then held his empty hands, fingers splayed, out in her direction. Her eyes were still wide with fear, and as he took a step towards her, she took another step backward. With his hands still outstretched, he stepped forward again, and she stepped backward in unison with him, until he could bend down and pick up the gourds. He filled them again with water from the stream, then held them out to her. She stood motionless, still staring wide-eyed at him. He set the gourds down and stepped back, gesturing that she should pick them up. When the girl still did not move, he unfastened the woven grass cloak that he wore around his shoulders and held it out to her.

"Here," he said. "This is for you. A gift from me."

Still the girl stood motionless and wide-eyed.

He knelt down and set the cloak next to the gourds, then stepped back again and gestured to the gourds and cloak.

It seemed that the cloak proved more than the girl could resist, and she was finally able to overcome her fear, and she stepped hesitantly forward, still staring untrustingly at him as she knelt and took the cloak in her hands. She examined it closely, her downward gaze at the fine weavingcraft interspersed with looking up at him uncertainly.

"Here," he said, his hands still out in front of him. "I'll help you put it on." This time, when he stepped towards her, she did not retreat. He took the cloak from her hands and wrapped it around her bare shoulders and fastened the twine around her neck. Then he stepped back again. Now her eyes were still wide, but there was a very different look on her brown face: she smiled. It was, Roan felt, a very beautiful smile. She twirled, the cloak spreading out around her, then giggled. Roan laughed, and she laughed as well. Then he knelt down and picked up the gourds and held them out and she took them from his hands, looking at him now with an expression that seemed more like interest and acceptance than fear and hesitation. Then she turned and walked back into the woods in the direction of her camp, something of a childish skip to her step.

The men sat together again, eating root mush in the noonday sun with those who had been in the scouting party. Roan related to them the numbers they had seen, and the arms, and the lack of fortifications.

"Eleven men," Warim said, "few arms, no fortifications. This will be simple. I say we go now and dispatch them today."

"But what of the women and children," Roan asked. "Do we kill them as well?"

"What do you propose, child?" the man named Maret said, using a term intended to belittle a young man who had just captained a scouting party. Perhaps his own scout had told him that Roan had used the word with him. "Do you suggest that we show mercy to the Brutes?"

Warim spoke up again. "You have the stuff of a great leader, Roan, like your father and his father before him. A great leader understands both violence and mercy. Your grandfather knew this well. Your grandfather is smiling in the land of the ancestors today. But a great leader must also have a plan. What is your plan?"

"Yes," Maret interrupted before Roan could form a word. "What plan? Their women and children have no skills to offer us as slaves."

"The boys," Roan said, "could be raised by our men as soldiers and hunters."

"Why?" the man shot back, "so they can rise up against us?"

"There aren't enough boys among them to rise up. There are, what..." He looked over at the others from his scouting party. "Five? Six boys? If you fear an uprising from five savage boys, then your camp's stockades must be very weak indeed!"

Maret rose to his feet, clenching his fists. "You make a child a scouting captain," he spat, "and suddenly he thinks he can disrespect his elders!" But Warim, laughing, reached out a hand to stay him.

"Roan," his father said, laughing as well, "give Maret your apology."

Maret scoffed. "Fuck that," he scowled, for apologies of this sort among the men of the camps were often more insult than honesty. "If we make their boys our chattel-soldiers, then what of the women and girls?"

Warim laughed. "You know what the fate of the women and girls will be!" he hollered gleefully. "I like the way you think, young man," he said to Roan. "By your count, there are some thirteen or fourteen women and girls? How many of them are of birthing age?"

"Seven, perhaps."

"Ah, then," Warim said, "five for my bed and one each for the other camps to quibble over."

The men around the fire laughed heartily.

"Then the proposal is before us," Roan's father said as the laughter died away. "We kill their men, and spare their women and children. The boys will be our conscripts, so long as they behave. If one of them steps out of line, this council shall agree to cut his head off with the others as witnesses, to remind them of their place and their fate. For the women, we will divide them as we see fit. The bravest from the fight shall have their first pick. Agreed?"

The men voiced their agreement, but Roan spoke next.

"I will agree with one condition," he said.

"Ho ho!" the man called Warim exclaimed. "The young captain thinks he has a vote in our council!"

"What is your condition?" his father asked him.

"There is one girl I wish to take as my own," he said.

"Ho ho!" Warim laughed again, slapping his knee this time. "The young captain has claimed the prettiest one for himself!"

Roan's father laughed as well. "You must earn your right to choose, Roan, just like the rest of the men."

Roan was unhappy with this answer, but the other men nodded their agreement and he knew that they welcomed his father's fairness.

"And now, when will we attack? Tomorrow?"

"Make it two days from now," Maret said. "My best men are on a hunt and may not return before tomorrow evening."

"Two days then. We meet here with ten men each."

The three camp elders grasped wrists to finalize the agreement. Then Warim turned to Roan and grasped his wrist as well, a sign of great respect to a youth of his age. Then Maret did the same.

Later that afternoon, Roan told his mother that he was going on a hunt, and took a roasted leg of rabbit with him. He ran quickly through the woods to the valley of the Gray River and there he found the savage's camp again, and he sat at the edge of the woods and watched the girl, still wearing the grass cloak he had given her. She sat next to another, older girl, this one of birthing age and holding a small child to her breast. The two of them cooed over the child, as women will do, and Roan determined that the older one must be the girl's sister, and the baby her niece.

He hoped that the girl would go to the stream again for water and he could meet with her and share his meat with her. But when she did not rise from her seat, and after much impatient waiting on his part, Roan felt the need to be more bold. There were few Brutes present at the time, the men apparently on a hunt and the women occupied in the cave. So when the older one was distracted by the child, and the younger was looking up, he stood. He held the rabbit leg up, and waved to her. Her eyes went wide at the sight of him. He gestured in the direction of the stream, then disappeared into the woods again. He watched; she rose, picked up a gourd, and walked with quick nervousness into the woods.

Roan ran as quietly as he could to the stream and they arrived there at the same time. Her dark eyes were wide but she smiled shyly at him when he emerged from the woods. He held out the rabbit leg to her and she nodded acceptingly, and he stepped forward towards her. She did not back away this time. He handed her the meat, and she smiled coyly as she took it from him, and together they sat down on a nearby rock.

The girl was clearly hungry and she pulled the flesh from the bone with excitement, looking up at Roan as she lifted the meat to her mouth. He reached over and took the leg from her and tore off some meat himself, lifting it to her mouth. She let him feed her, and he tore off another piece and ate it himself. He continued with this, feeding both of them, and together they shared the rabbit leg.

When the leg was mostly cleared of flesh, he set it down on the rock next to them, then put his arm around her back. She looked up at him with wide and wondering eyes. He could feel her trembling. Surely not because of fear? Surely she knows he won't kill her now?

No, he realized, she was not trembling because she feared for her life, but for some other reason. Excitement, perhaps? And this thought emboldened him and he reached down to the rabbit skins that covered her nethers. As he pulled them up to expose her sex, she looked up at him with her wide black eyes and her mouth slightly open. Then she turned, away from him, onto her stomach on the rock, reached back, and lifted the rabbit skins over her bare behind.

Roan had never been with a girl who hadn't yet had her first blood. And he'd never been with a girl who hadn't yet been with a man. His experience, limited as it was, had only been with women who were much more experienced than he, and he had no knowledge of the subtleties of how a man should take a virgin girl. But it was obvious that the savage child knew nothing of this either, and that such concerns did not pass through her young mind. A girl of her age wants only to experience a man, this was all that she was asking of him, and this he gave her fully.

He entered gruffly, aggressively, as he always had with the women he'd been with. But this girl was so much smaller, and unprepared, and unpenetrated, and his cock tore at her insides as he drove hard into her. She grunted like an animal in response, and instinctively tried to escape his assault. But Roan would have none of that from her; he grabbed a fistful of her hair with one hand and pushed down on her back with the other, using all his strength to hold her in place as he drove into her again.

He had never experienced anything like this before. She was so small, so tight around his cock, that he felt he would never fit. But he kept at it with the exuberant determination of youth, tearing away her hymen and ravaging deeper inside her with each forward thrust of his hips until he eventually reached her core, her furthest depth, his cockhead battering the soft flesh of the end of her vagina.

And then he rutted like an animal inside her, like a buck mounting a fawn as she blossoms into a doe beneath him. His heart was slamming in his chest as his whole body filled with a surge of adrenaline and he was overwhelmed by a feeling of power, of strength, of dominance and possession. She was his! His concubine and his savage whore! And he would take her and use her as hard and as often as he wished, now and whenever he wanted! He never felt like such a man as this; fierce, merciless, overpowering.

Her sex was on fire now, hot and dripping, and he was able to slide freely despite its vice-like tightness and he slammed into her completely, over and over, until his orgasm boiled and he came. She grunted like an animal as he thrust himself deep into her, and he groaned like a man, and fired his seed inside her.

When he was finished cumming, he pulled back, watching as his cock emerged from deep inside her, glistening with her wetness and streaked with her virgin blood. But his cock didn't soften. He held her tightly in place on her stomach over the rock as he let his cock cool briefly in the late afternoon breeze, then he entered her a second time, equally as gruffly and aggressively as the first.

She grunted like an animal again as he thrust his hips forward and drove into her. She didn't try to squirm away from him this time, she just lay with her face to the side and her cheek pressed hard against the rock by his strong hand still gripping her hair, and she let him have his way with her.

He lasted much longer this time, despite driving hard into the girl the entire time. She was much wetter now, and stretched open enough that she could take the full size of him, and he was able to ride her for five minutes as she grunted underneath him and he held her firmly in place. He finished then, ramming as deep as he could into her and filling her with cum.

When he pulled out this time, he let go of her hair and took his hand from her back and stepped away. The savage girl rolled over and looked up at him with her wide dark eyes as he fixed the laces of trousers back into place.

"Um," he said, "thanks..."

She gave him an uncertain smile, which seemed to imply that she understood his meaning even though she couldn't understand his words. He leaned down and adjusted her rabbit skin skirt to cover her hard-used sex, once pale and virginal but now red and inflamed. Then he touched his fingers to her cheek.

"I'll see you again," he said, "soon. Okay?"

She continued to stare at him.

"I'll bring you more food." He picked up the bone of the rabbit leg. "Food," he said, holding it up to demonstrate his meaning to her. "I'll bring you more."

He reached the bone out to her, and still staring up at him with her dark eyes, she took it and began gnawing at the remaining flesh.

"I'll make the noise of a crow, so you'll know it is me. Caw! Caw-caw!"

She smiled at his imitation. He was glad he was able to make her smile.

"Caw-caw!" he said, smiling himself, and she giggled.

"When you hear that sound, come back to here, to this place. Caw-caw!" he said again, then pointed at her, then pointed into the woods in the direction of her camp, then moved his hand until he was pointing at the rock.

She grunted, "Muhhg." Then she repeated his instructions, making the sound of a crow herself, "cow-cahw," a better imitation than his own, then pointing to herself, then to the woods in the direction of her camp, then moving her hand until she was pointing at the rock.

"Yes!" he nodded. "You understand!"

She grunted, and nodded as well.

"Caw-caw!" he called out as he stood in the woods near the clearing of her camp the next afternoon. He saw her look up, eyes wide, a little smile forming on her face. She rose and took an empty gourd in her hand and walked quickly into the woods in the direction of the stream.

When they met again, he planted his spear in the ground as he did before and they sat down together on their rock. He took from his pouch a package wrapped in leaves and tied with twine. The savage girl watched closely, inquisitively, as he unwrapped it. Her eyes shone with delight when she saw that inside was the roasted meat and bones of a crow. She reached in and pulled off a piece of meat and held it up to his mouth and he ate it. Then she did the same for herself.

When the crow meat had been picked away from the bones and eaten, she smiled at him, then rolled over onto her stomach on the rock and reached behind her and lifted her rabbit skin skirt.

Like before, there was no subtlety as he entered her. He just rammed his cock into her sex and started rutting away like a buck in his doe, the girl groaning with each of his violent thrusts. Although she did not attempt to squirm away this time, Roan still grabbed a handful of her hair and pushed her face down hard onto the rock, holding her tightly in place as his cock violated her deeper with each thrust of his hips. Eventually, she was hot and wet and he slid easily inside her.

With the boundless energy of youth, and with the unthought understanding that this would not be the only time this afternoon that he fucked his sweet whore, he quickly brought himself to a powerful orgasm, holding himself inside her tight quivering cunt and firing his human semen into her undeveloped savage womb.

As before, he pulled out of her hot hole, but he did not soften. He watched his cock, long and coated with her wetness and his cum, though no blood this time, emerge slowly from her until he had exited completely and he felt the coolness of the air against his overheated manhood. Then the girl herself reached a hand behind her, took hold of his cock, and pulled him back into her. Stretched fully open now, sopping wet with her lubrication and his cum, her pussy was his for as long as he wished and he fucked her hard, slamming in and out and enjoying the feeling of a used and willing girl, and one several years his younger.

Five minutes into their second round of copulation, as Roan was just just beginning to work himself to a powerful orgasm again, a male Brute emerged suddenly from the woods. The beast was huge, much taller than Roan and outweighing him by a hundred pounds. Broad-shouldered and muscular, a thick brow-ridge made him look stupid and far more like an ape than a human. Stupid perhaps, but it required little intelligence for the creature to recognize immediately what was happening before him, and the savageman charged forward, crude spear held before him with both hands. But Roan was fast and sure of foot and managed to step aside, and the parry, intended for his chest, contacted only with the flesh of his arm, just below his shoulder, leaving a long and stinging gash. The man stepped back, ready for a second volley with his spear, but as he charged the girl swung over onto her back and lifted her foot and brought it into severe contact with the Brute man's groin. An expertly-placed kick it was, but while it interrupted the savage's charge, it was not enough to bring him down, and in his resultant fury he turned his spear onto the girl. As he began his thrust of the sharp stone blade to end her too-young life, a whistling twang filled the air and Roan's spear, expertly cast, sunk deep into the man's lower back. He fell to the ground, gasping, and Roan wasted not a moment, striving forward and unsheathing his broad stone knife, then grasping the man's hair in his hand, lifting his head, and slicing his throat ear-to-ear. Then he retrieved his spear from the dead Brute's body, picked up the man's spear as well, grabbed the girl by the hand, and the two of them fled into the woods.

Once they were a safe distance from the scene, she paused, gripping his hand and pulling him towards her. With great concern, she soundlessly examined the wound on his arm, then led him to a nearby stream where she carefully bathed it, then selected a plant from among those growing near the waters' edge. She plucked a leaf from the plant, put it in her mouth and chewed it until it was a spittle-infused mush. She then applied it as a salve to his wound. Roan felt instant relief, the stinging subsiding. She selected another leaf from another plant, this broad and long, and wrapped it around his arm to hold the salve in place. Satisfied now, she took his hand again and they continued on.

The people of Roan's camp watched in amazement as their young captain led a Brute girl into their midst. She held his grass cloak wrapped tightly to her, with his arm both protective and possessive around her back. Her wide dark eyes darted about in fear, but also in curiosity, as she absorbed the sights and smells and sounds of daily life in a human camp. He led her to his hut, where she sat down on the grass bed, and he told her he would return to her shortly. She seemed to understand, nodding in acceptance as she stared up at him. Then he left to tell his father what had happened.

Outside the hut, he sat next to his mother, who carefully unwrapped the bandage that the girl had made. She seemed more interested and impressed by the bandage and the salve underneath than by his wound, which she shortly declared deep and fleshy, but clean, and likely to heal well.

"Father," he said, "a savage came upon the girl and I, and gave me this wound with his spear." He held the man's spear up to show his father, who took it and examined it closely. "He was repaid with a slice across his neck."

"Dead, then?" his father asked.

"He took no further breath after he met my knife."

"Well done. You've earned the right to keep the girl as your own, no man will dispute that. And now there are only ten Brute men remaining for us to kill tomorrow. The others of the council will be pleased."

Roan scooped up a bowl of root mush brewing over the fire, and took it to his hut. There he and the girl sat on the grass bed and fed each other the mush, and licked each other's fingers clean when the mush was gone. Then the girl, with a little smile, rolled over onto her stomach on the bed, and lifted her hips as she lifted her rabbit skirt.

Again he was gruff and aggressive, but the savage didn't seem to mind. She apparently accepted willingly her role in their sexual relationship, and simply lay passively on her stomach as he fucked her.

Several minutes into the act, the curtain of his hut opened and his father stepped in.

"Ah," the man said, unfazed by the sight of the youngsters mating. "Roan, the elders are convening our war council now. Join us as soon as you are finished."

"Yes, father," he answered, still thundering away inside the girl. He finished quickly and gave her bare behind a playful slap after he'd pulled out, which made her giggle. Then he fastened his trousers and left the hut.

"Hello!" the man called Warim said. "The young captain joins us! Finished with your savage whore?"

"For now," Roan answered, to the laughter of the assembled men.

"I hear she's a pretty one," Warim said.

"She is," he answered.

"And a young one," the man added.


"Well done, captain, well done. We are glad you killed another of their men."

Roan nodded in response.

The council was larger then before, ten men together. A captain from the Maret camp spoke as he drew in the ground with a stick. "Three teams, one in front and one on either flank. Half the men from each flank will meet at the cave entrance to prevent any Brutes from retreating there, and to fight any that might be hidden inside. At the same time that these men advance to the cave entrance, the rest of our men will heave a volley of spears. Tell your men to throw straight! The more we kill at this moment the easier our task will be."

"The soldiers of the Maret camp throw most accurately," Roan said. Maret and his men looked at him with an expression of both surprise and pride. "This we know from the winter games. Therefore his men should be the team in front."

Everyone nodded.

"Then my camp will take the right flank, and Warim's the left," his father said. "Roan, you will captain the squad from our camp that will storm the cave. Select our five best spear-throwers to remain with me, and you shall have the rest."

"Yes, father," Roan said.

Warim appointed a captain for his cave squad as well, with the same instructions, then suggested that his man and Roan should meet to discuss their plans to defend the cave.

The war council agreed to all of this, and wrists were gripped all around. The parties would convene in the morning for the half-day march to the valley of the Gray River.

When Roan retreated to his hut again, after meeting with Warim's captain, he found his mother and sister sitting with his savage girl, drinking warmed water flavored with flower petals and juniper berries. His sister was singing a song, which had brought a broad smile to the savage girl's pretty face, and she hummed along. Roan realized with surprise that she had a very pretty voice; not, to be sure, as pretty as his sister's, but pretty nonetheless.

When the savage girl saw her young lover enter the hut, she smiled at him, then rolled over to her stomach and lifted her skirt, as well as her hips.

"No, no!" he said, gesturing to her to cover herself and sit up properly in the presence of his mother and sister. She seemed confused as to what he wanted. "I'm sorry," he said embarrassedly to them as he walked over to the girl and pulled her skirt back down and turned her to a more appropriate posture. "I suppose it's common in the savages' camp, for the men to demand to mate with the women, even while the women sip flavored water together?"

His mother smiled, first at him, and then at the girl. "Perhaps," she said. "Or perhaps this little one just finds my handsome son irresistible. I can't blame her for that. We'll leave you for the moment, come and get us when you're done." She stood, as did her daughter, and they walked together from the hut.

The next morning, to the sound of soldiers gathering in the field outside his camp, Roan rode his savage girl again, for what must have seemed to her like the hundredth time since they had met by the stream the day before. But she did not object; no, the small smile on her strange beautiful face indicated that she did not mind at all.

She grunted and he groaned, and he fucked her as hard as he ever had, with all the strength and fortitude of a man about to march to danger and needing to feel powerful and dominant as a result. And while she surely didn't understand the specifics of the day, nor of his particular need, she most definitely understood the generalities and quite willingly played her subservient role as passive participant in his show of power and dominance, as well as passive receiver of his seed, which he gave to her in torrents. His output only seemed to have grown larger since their love-making had begun.

As he always had done thus far, he fucked her twice before slapping her rear to her shrieking giggles and then joining his men on the field.

The men bivouacked a few miles from the Brutes' cave encampment and sent forth scouts to assess the current situation. An hour before sunset, the scouts returned, with news that all ten of the savagemen had been hunting and had just returned with a deer and a wild boar in tow, and they were busily cleaning them now. This cheered the men, who hoped for a fine and effortless feast after the battle was complete. They marched in utter silence to the Brutes' encampment, then split into their separate teams. The captains of both the flanks, Warim and Roan's father, gave the signal that all was in place--first the hoot of a monkey, followed by a war cry--and the fusillade of spears was unleashed as Roan, with a roar, led his speeding squad to the mouth of the cave, where they were met by the same from the other flank.

The spears had done their bloody work; two of the savagemen lay dead, two others wounded but still able to fight. Having counted the males among the Brutes before the battle begun, Roan had concluded that there must be no savagemen in the cave itself, and instructed his soldiers to focus on guarding against the retreat of those fighting in the chaos outside. This, however, was a grave error on the part of the young captain, for their original count of the male Brutes proved inaccurate, and from the cave stormed two uncounted males, an old man in a long cape that he must have stolen from a human, and a younger man, about Roan's age. Roan's men, engaged with the battle before them and unwary of the coming attack from behind, were suddenly ambushed. Two savagemen from the front were aware of it, however, indeed most likely expecting it, and they rushed forward to attack the squads at the cave from front and back.

While the odds were still fully in Roan's men's favor, the element of surprise no longer was, and it cost them dear. The old man drove his spear through the heart of one of Roan's soldiers--the boy named Aan, whom Roan had selected for the scouting trip and again for his squad today. Roan, suddenly realizing what was happening behind them, repaid the savageman for his death-blow with a hatchet chop to his thick skull that left the young captain's hand ringing and the Brute, while not dead, bleeding profusely with his scalp hanging off the side of his head.

Roan barked orders to his men as he flung his hatchet at the younger Brute who had emerged from the cave with the old man. The hatchet missed its mark but forced him from his violent advance and won Roan's men a valuable second, as the Brutes in their front hurled their spears at them. His own spear was true and fine and sunk deep into the gut of one of the men, who staggered, blood suddenly spurting from his mouth, but advanced in a violent rage despite the spear that skewered him. Roan's knife was then unsheathed and the teetering man sent to the land of his ancestors with a broad slice across his neck that shore his head clean off.

His men cheered and rallied, but at that moment Roan felt a blow to his side. The younger Brute from inside the cave had engaged him with Roan's own hatchet, though his throw had been too inaccurate to cut through the several layers of leather that Roan wore for battle. Now the two of them engaged in direct combat, fists to faces and chests, Roan's stone blade slicing the young Brute until both were drenched in his blood. Finally the savage fell to his knees, his eyes rolling back into his skull, and toppled over dead. Roan's fine stone blade parted his head from his body forever.

Roan's men had dispatched the old Brute whose scalp hung so ingloriously from his skull, and the other one charging from the front had been set upon by several men from Warim's camp as well as Roan's, and the battle was finally brought to its bloody conclusion.

Dead among the Brutes were fourteen: twelve men, along with two boys who were probably too young to have engaged in fighting but were killed nonetheless. The women, however, and the rest of the children, had huddled together in the center of the battleground and were spared further harm.

Dead among the human men were three, Aan, felled by the old Brute from the cave, and two from Maret's team. Three others sustained wounds requiring the aid of what medical arts the men had at their disposal.

Men were set to guard the women and children, while the rest gathered the slain and tended to the wounded. They bathed and cleaned their weapons, buried their dead and built a bonfire by the stream to burn the bodies of the Brutes, then began roasting the deer that the Brute hunters had felled, agreeing to save the boar for a celebration with all the people of their camps the next day. While the deer roasted, they began their debate of the apportioning of the savage women.

There was little question in Roan's mind who had shown the most valor on the battlefield that day, and he had one of the remaining women whom he wished to claim as his own. And so he argued his case:

"Of the twelve Brutes slain, I killed two, one of them in close and violent combat that gave me this swollen eye and bloodied both my knuckles. A third, the murderous old man who killed young Aan, was rendered incapacitated, though not killed, by my hatchet to his head."

Having presented his argument thus to the assembled men, with the uproarious agreement of those from his camp, others presented their counter argument.

"First," argued a captain from Maret's team that had himself demonstrated valor that evening, "it was the young captain's own fault that we had an inaccurate count of the male Brutes, and therefore his responsibility for the death of his soldier."

Roan could not dispute this claim, and felt terrible as a result. But others replied--"Scouting missions are not expected to be precise, but only close enough for accurate planning, and surely no one claims the report was inaccurate on that score."

"But second," the Maret captain continued, "the young Roan has already taken a savage girl as his own, and surely the finest of all the girls. It is hardly fair that he should get both the first and second choices."

To this, his father rose. "My son's valor the day before, in killing the Brute he encountered at the stream, was unrelated to this battle, as was his acquisition of the girl. It is mere jealousy alone that motivates any man to reject his claim to first among the valorous today, and his right to the spoils thereof, simply because he was also valorous another day. I say let him have his pick and we can continue."

Now Warim rose. "The young captain has fought well today, as he did yesterday, and his scouting mission was a success, even if not perfect. Neither I nor any of my men will stand in his way as he selects whomever among the women he wishes."

A cheer went up among the assembled of Roan's camp. He stood, and walked to the women. He found the one whom he believed to be his girl's older sister, as she held her small child and looked up at him, very frightened. He put her hand gently on her head and gave her a kindly smile.

"This one is mine," he said. Another cheer arose from the men.

After the rest of the women were distributed to the heroes of the evening, the venison was portioned out to victor and surviving savage alike, along with other food found in the savage's camp, and food the humans brought as well. After the dinner was complete, the captains determined that the women and children must be bound together, to make easier the task of guarding them for the night, but the men who had earned their spoils were allowed to spend what time they wished with their new prizes before the captains called the night. Most took their women, some willing, some less so, into the cave, where they could have their way with them relatively undisturbed by the others. Roan considered doing the same with his new woman, but when he heard the cries and screams that echoed through the valley from the cave as the less willing savages were raped by the uncaring and violent men of their camps, he thought the better of it and decided to wait until he was back at his home in the privacy of his own hut.

The face of his savage girl lit with delight when Roan opened the curtain to his hut and ushered in her sister, who stepped fearfully at first, clutching her child. But at the unexpected sight of her smiling younger sister, the older girl's face also lit with delight, and when Roan left them alone together, the two were cooing, the younger girl having instantly taken the smiling child from her sister and began bouncing her on her knee. Roan left them then, and went to help the others prepare the feast of roasted boar, which all their camps would enjoy tonight in a great gathering and celebration.

But first, he had a solemn duty to perform, and he found the parents of Aan, the boy from his squad who had fallen in battle. He told them of their son's bravery, and also how Roan had hand-picked the boy to be on his squad because of his demonstrated skill and intelligence and valor, and then confessed to them, not without some tears, his own feelings of complicity in the boy's death because of the inaccurate count of the savagemen and his wrongful instruction to his squad to ignore the possibility of attack from the cave. Aan's parents were sorrowful at all of this, but thankful for his words and glad to hear his confession.

"This," Aan's father said, "is the mark of a great leader."

"Perhaps," Roan replied, with his own sense of sorrow. "Or perhaps a very bad one."

"You will make mistakes, young man, as do us all," Aan's mother said to him, reaching out amid her own tears and wiping a tear from his cheek. "Admit them, and learn from them, and you will grow into a great chieftain for your people."

After this, the feast was held, with much joy and singing and dancing, and some men drinking too much mead and getting into fights, to the jolly enjoyment of all. The tales of the battle were told, the valor of the men extolled and the fallen remembered fondly. Roan's girl and her older sister joined in the dancing, as his younger sister and her cousin played with the child, until the sun had long since set and a full moon had risen. Eventually, Roan gathered his women and took them to his hut.

There the savage girl, with her coy wide-eyed smile, lay down on her belly on the grass bed and lifted her skirt, and as her sister and the child sat nearby, Roan mounted her with his usual gruffness. He held her down and rode her hard and violently, with the aggressive possessiveness that he indeed felt toward her. She grunted, but smiled, throughout the assault, and when he groaned loudly as he came, she looked adoringly over her shoulder at him, cooing melodically her approval and her acceptance of his human seed. He then pulled out of her and patted her on her rump amid her giggles, and then gestured that she should move aside. He pointed to her sister, then to the bed.

"You," he commanded. "Now."

The sister set the child on the floor and stood, and then she removed her crude animal skin clothing until she was entirely naked. Unlike her sister, her pubis was thick with hair and her breasts were large and full of milk, and they swung as she walked to the bed. There she knelt, then leaned over to her elbows, and Roan took his place behind her and mounted her. He fucked her as hard as he had her sister, and because she was not as small as the younger one, and well-used despite her own young age, he slid inside her easily and she was soon hot and wet, and he enjoyed thoroughly his new savage whore. When he came inside her, he knew that her womb was fertile and he hoped that he would soon, even now perhaps, plant his own child in her belly. He pulled out after he was done, but he found that still he did not soften, and as she moved to climb off of the bed to hold her child again, he grabbed a handful of her hair and pushed her back down onto the bed and mounted her a second time.

The next morning, after he rose and left the hut to relieve himself, he climbed back into the grass bed and grabbed a fistful of the still-sleeping young one's jet-black hair. He flipped her over onto her stomach, pulled her rabbit skin skirt over her ass, and commenced to fucking her with his brutal passion. She cooed to him as he came, and giggled when he slapped her rump after pulling out of her. Then he turned to her older sister and reached out wordlessly to grab her hair as well.

But the older one stopped his hand with hers and brought their hands down together and set his on her breast. She held his hand to it, demonstrating how he could squeeze his hand around her, and he was surprised by how warm her breast was, and how soft and full, and while he held it reverentially, she undressed until she was naked again. In the dim light of the morning he could see her full breasts swing as she then proceeded to undress him, pulling his shirt over his head, and his trousers down. Her little sister stared with rapt attention; she had not yet seen the young man naked, and from her wide-eyed smile, it was apparent that she liked very much what she saw. When he was naked, the older set a hand on his chest and pushed him back, until he was laying on the grass bed. Then she climbed on top of him.

But she did not fuck him. Not yet. Instead, she leaned over him and took a breast in one hand and set her nipple on his mouth. Uncertainly, he opened his lips and took the nipple in and began to suck. As he did, the savage woman cooed to him, as he had heard her do to her own child while she nursed, and she massaged her breast, holding it in her hand and squeezing it gently, and she began to let down milk. Soon she was flowing, and Roan lapped and drank her sweet warm nourishment. After a minute she gave him her other breast, already leaking milk, and she began to move as well, sliding the wet lips of her sex along his length. Only when he had drank his fill of her milk did she slide up enough that his cockhead could slip into her. She was already soaked, and hot, and she took him easily in to her furthest depths. Then she rode him, slow and smooth and sweet.

But he did not finish inside her. As he began to groan with pending orgasm, she slid off of him and climbed down in between his legs and began licking him, her tongue as warm and velvety as her sex, and she bathed his cock and balls. Then she took his head in her mouth and began to suck, beating on his shaft with a hand wrapped around it and petting his balls with the other. Roan groaned in response. He had never felt anything like this before. He had no idea anything like this even existed.

When he groaned again, the savage woman pulled off his cock with one final suck, and she sat up and grunted to her younger sister, indicating that she should take her place between their lover's legs. The wide-eyed girl moved into place quite eagerly, but before she began kissing her lover's cock, her sister undressed her as well, removing the grass cloak that she still wore, and the rabbit skirt, and the child was naked. Roan gazed with admiration at her young body: She had no hair between her long thin legs. She had tiny, pale breasts. She had a beautiful shining face surrounded by a halo of raven hair.

Then the young girl crouched between his legs and took his cock into her mouth. The older sister watched her, grunting and cooing instructions. Once she was satisfied that the younger one was sucking their lover's cock correctly, she climbed to his top, cradled his head in her arm, leaned over him, and offered a nipple again. Roan nursed, sucking and lapping, as she cooed to him, and his mouth filled with her warm milk until he swallowed, then filled again. While her sister sucked his cock and gently massaged and petted him, she gave him her other breast and her milk flowed easily into his mouth.

Then the older girl sat back and laid down on the grass and spread her legs open, displaying her fur-covered sex to him. She reached between her legs and spread the lips of her sex, showing him her glistening pink insides. Then she cooed to him again, a wordless message that he and her sister understood full-well. The young girl sat up from his cock and he climbed above the older savage, kneeling between her open legs, and he mounted her. He fucked her hard, gloriously hard, and came quickly inside her. With her legs wrapped around him, she held him to her when he was finished. For the first time in his life he did not pull out after ejaculating, but stayed inside her, feeling her wonderful velvety wetness encompassing his cock entirely, and then he leaned down and took a nipple into his mouth again, feeling her warm soft breast against his face. The savage woman cooed and ran her fingers through his hair, and he nursed.

The three of them were naked all morning long, making love. The older sister had the younger offer a nipple to their man, which he suckled lovingly, and then her other nipple. Then the younger lay down on her back and spread her legs and spread her pussy open to show her own fleshy pink insides, and Roan mounted her from above. During their love-making, the older sister had them roll over so that Roan was on his back and the girl on top of him, and the young savage tried her best to ride him as hard as he rides her. But it was clear what the girl preferred the most, and eventually she climbed off of him and lay down on her belly and they completed the act the way they had always done, with her ass up in the air and Roan pounding into her with an animalistic fury.

Mid-morning amid their endless love-making, his sister came in with bowls of breakfast mush. She was surprised to see her brother naked, and to see the savage girls the same. She quickly went to leave, but Roan told her to stay, and she sat down with the younger savage and they ate their breakfast gruel while the older knelt before the naked Roan as he stood, and took his cock into her mouth and sucked him to fullness. Then she bobbed and stroked, to the wide-eyed amazement of their audience.

Eventually she pulled away from him and pointed to his sister, then, nodding, pointed to his cock.

The girl looked up at her older brother, whom she so greatly admired. "I think..." she stammered, "I think she wants me to use my mouth with you."

"Yes," was all that he said in response.

"And... do you think I should?"

He nodded.

His sister took her place before him now and, under the watchful, helpful eye of the savage woman, took his thick cockhead into her mouth. Soon she was sucking and stroking, and petting his balls. It was far more than the young man could take for long, and he orgasmed, firing cum into her mouth as her eyes went wide and she grimaced in shock. When he was finished, she leaned over and cupped a hand under her mouth and spit his semen out, but the savage woman shook her head amid admonishing grunting and took her hand and lifted it to her own mouth and licked his semen from it. Then she held the hand up to his sister's mouth, indicating that she should do the same. And indeed she did, licking her brother's semen from her hand, then swallowing it. The savage praised her with her coos.

And so it was that Roan's savage girls and his sister became close friends, and he and his sister became close as well, and the older savage taught them many things about how to make love with one another.

And now this tale draws to a close.


Fast-forward now, many years. Roan indeed grew into a great chieftain, just as Aan's mother had predicted. For his wife, he took another chieftain's daughter from many valleys away, a marriage that cemented trading partnerships far and wide and united waring camps into a great military force. The girl birthed him an heir, and several other children as well.

But his heart was always with his savage girl, and with her sister, and with his own sister as well. His own sister had herself grown into a great and powerful woman, and married a young chieftain from another distant valley and gave him many children. But whenever they were together, his sister would do for him what the savage woman had taught her that morning so long ago, for she loved doing it as much as he loved it himself.

The savage girls stayed with him for his entire life. They birthed him many fine children, who, although they were half-breeds, proved to be intelligent and talkative and were leaders in their own right among the people, and great mothers and husbands, and poets and singers.

Roan and his concubines made love every morning and every night, save those times when necessity dictated that he must be with his wife. The older girl continued to be her playful self during their sex, but the younger, of course, preferred to make love with him the way they always had, the way they had their very first time together, on her stomach with her ass in the air and him mounting her from behind and fucking her like an animal, then slapping her rump when he was done. She was never, ever, as happy as she was when he was fucking her like this.



Readers will no doubt recognize the "Brutes" in this story to be what we today call "Neanderthals." This story allowed me to explore a favorite speculation of mine: what the interactions between our ancient ancestors and our nearest cousins might have been. I include both of the leading theories: that humans would have seen the "brutes" as competitors for limited resources and would have used their superior technology to kill them. Some speculate that this may be what drove the Neanderthals to extinction. But contra-wise, we know that there are Neanderthal genes in the human genome still today, so we know that the two species mated, possibly fairly often. In this story, I employ a likely method by which both occurred--that the humans killed the males, and mated with the females.

It isn't known whether Neanderthals had language. Physically, they were probably capable of making a broad range of sounds, but whether their brains were advanced enough (or at least sufficiently human) to have the sort of syntax and semantics that we Chomskians today would recognize as language is a matter for pure speculation. They had other behaviors that we would recognize as human--they made tools, they buried their dead--so it's reasonable to assume that they had language, too. Nonetheless, I assume that whatever language they might have had, humans most likely wouldn't have recognized it as speach. Their sounds probably would have seemed like those of apes to us, and ours, to them, perhaps like the chirping of a bird? I leave it to the reader to decide if the grunts and coos of our "savage" females were actually language, or something short of this.

Of course the ancient humans in this story wouldn't have spoken English, but they would have had some similarly complex and varied language and so I chose to present their words in basically modern English with little effort to make it seem archaic, and without trying much to make up words from their unknown language. The notable exception would be the use of the word "brute," rather than Neanderthal (which would be the most accurate translation for whatever word they used for their cousin species). But I wanted to capture the sense that early humans wouldn't have understood our modern concept of "species" and wouldn't necessarily have seen Neanderthals as so different from themselves. They most likely would have seen them as brutish, but not necessarily as "nonhuman."

One final thing. The girl in this story is described as beautiful. This might seem strange to us, who are used to seeing Neanderthals depicted as, well, brutes. But one of the great joys of the human race is our amazing variety; short and tall, thin and wide, broad-cheeked and narrow. I assume that Neanderthals would have had a similar variety and it seems entirely possible to me that a young Neanderthal girl would have looked more beautiful to our protagonist than many of the human women he had been with.

Enough of this talking! I hope you enjoyed my little ethnographic exploration of lolita sex and love between ancient humans and our closest cousins!



Nickname Date Feedback
Anonymous 1/20/2017 "complacency" should be "complicity." yes?

very good story, thanks!
Thank you very much for the correction of the silly typo, anon, and I'm glad you liked the story!
Tom 1/21/2017 Brilliant! And I loved your anthropology notations as a close!!
Oh good, I'm glad you liked the pretentious afterword. I was worried that people would find it too, well, pretentious. :)
DragonBlood 1/21/2017 Great story!
mack 1/24/2017 Best story ever.
Anonymous 1/21/2017 With the savage girl you had me thinking of Ayla, but only to a point. Perhaps this cooing girl who accepted her lot to be roughly plowed while lying on the hardscrabble on her stomach was proud to be treated this way because the ploughboy was a vanquishing warrior and her rescuer. But from what? Perhaps, like Ayla, she and her sister were taken in, and rescued by her Neanderthal clan, and loved by some.

You had me waiting for a reconciliation of the destruction of her clan with her new life with Roan's clan, and blew it off. Perhaps the old guy who appeared from the cave was her protector, her mentor in a strange land, but, while this could be great story, would too closely follow Clan of the Cave Bear. I suggest that herein lies the major failing of what could be a really good story, but not necessarily one for asstr. How did the conflict between the species play out? Are there parallels with the current political situation in the US? What are the savages up to now? Are they good or are they bad? How do they conquer? The savages are always there, a part of human nature, lying in wait to bring down the next empire.
Holy shit, thanks for the awesome and thoughtful comment! God I love ASSTR readers.

I definitely was trying to steer away from "Clan of the Cavebears." As far as your waiting for the reconciliation, I'll also admit that I didn't think too far into the plot of this to consider what needed to be reconciled and how. In my mind, the girl was simply a young teenager, like any (human) young teenager who fell for a handsome older boy and was willing to be his mate and go with him wherever he took her. I really wanted this to be a "coming of age" story like most of my stories, but this one simply focusing on "coming of age" in the context of Neanderthal-human relations. And, plot issues aside, the real goal was hot sex, which I hope I achieved.

Thanks again for the great comment. There couldn't possibly be a better site to be an erotic story writer than right here at ASSTR.
Anonymous 1/23/2017 HOW !

Although perhaps you meant "WOW?" :)
DB 1/25/2017 Great job Chris. I enjoyed your story very much.

Keep up the great work my friend.
Anonymous 1/26/2017 At the beginning you stated that you'd thought of what it might have been like in the stone age. I too have had this thought, only along the gay side. I am sure there were gay "brutes" as well as gay Neanderthals. Glad you wrote this though.
Oh I'm quite certain there were gays and lesbians among them. They very likely had a lot fewer hang-ups about it than we do.
13 again 2/2/2017 Great story! As one that has studied paleontology in greater detail than the folks who hold only one bias on the issue, I could give you a dissertation that would bore you and your readers to tears! But you shouldn't have dissed yourself so much over your point of emphasis being "hot sex" because you had a very good plot surrounding that! It took a long time to get to the sex, and that didn't bother me because of the strength of the story-line! I think even without the sex the story could have stood on its own and would make a great novel had you cared to go that route. I hope sometime you would look over my stuff and let me know what YOU THINK! You rock as a writer Chris!
Thanks, 13 again, cool to have a person well-versed in paleontology who read the story and didn't at least overly object to the way I presented the subject matter.

I'd be happy to look over your stuff. Are you on ASSTR? I searched around and couldn't find anything. Drop a URL and/or email address and I'll be glad to look it over and let you know what I think.
RTM 2/3/2017 Yet again, Chris, you impress me thoroughly enough that I feel compelled to comment. Your delightful foray into the realm of ancient historical fiction was truly magnificent, leaving the reader wanting for nothing; Not only does it make anthropological sense, but it also leaves nothing to be desired in the area of passion, with characters possessing far more interesting qualities than would have been expected. Bravo, Chris, Bravo.
Mukhtar 2/4/2017 Thank you, Chris! I loved your erotic description of the love-making. The narration of the attack was interesting as well.. I appreciate your sharing your knowledge on early Man too.. Best Regards!
latr 2/19/2017 Really good story!

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