August Moone
Book 7
Shadows of Moons
Chapter 43
Stand Alone Story

Decent into Horror
Part X

This guy walks into a bar in Alabama and orders a white wine.
Everybody sitting around the bar looks up, surprised, and the bartender looks around and says: "You ain't from around here, are ya... where ya from, boy?" 
The guy says, "I'm from Iowa." 
The bartender asks, "What th' hell you do in Iowa?" 
The guy responds, "I'm a taxidermist." 
The bartender asks, "A taxidermist... now just what th' hell is a taxidermist?" 
The guy says, "I mount animals." 
The bartender grins and shouts out to the whole bar, "It's OK boys, he's one of us!"
*

The salesman stopped at a farmhouse one evening to ask for room and board for the night. The farmer told him there was no vacant room.
"I could let you sleep with my daughter," the farmer said, "if you promise not to bother her." 
The salesman agreed. After a hearty supper, he was led to the room. He undressed in the dark, slipped into bed, and felt the farmer's daughter at his side. 
The next morning he asked for his bill.
"It'll be just two dollars, since you had to share the bed," the farmer said.
"Your daughter was very cold," the salesman said.
"Yes, I know," said the farmer. "We're going to bury her today." 

*
	Dana’s lifeless body lay over the saddle of her mount, her clothes fixed in a bundle.  Logan had paused at the truck long enough to put his clothes back on—but the forest had already scratched him up pretty good; his shins and ankles taken the brunt of all the low laying ankle height laying-in-wait limbs and rocks.
	As the man guided the horse thru the woods on some unknown trail only he apparently knew about, Logan wondered if he should tell him about the others.  How pissed would he be?  
	Logan was impressed at how well the man made his way thru the woods without a light.  There would be a moon, but later.  As evening came along it got dark and did so in a hurry.  
	Revenuers?  Logan still didn’t know what that was all about.
	They moved thru the woods, down a questionable gulley, up a steep hill, and on and on for two hours at least.  Finally, looming up all around Logan noted foreboding hills.  A strange scent was in the air he couldn’t place.  The horse made some horse sounds and the man grumbled something incomprehensible to Logan.
	The horse was halted and the ranger’s body dragged off.  She made a loud “umph”  when she clobbered to the ground which made Logan wonder if she were still alive or what.
	It didn’t matter, though, as the man rolled and rolled the ranger to what appeared to Logan as a partially hidden pit.  A cave that went down into the ground at a steep angle.  Horrendous smells and odors wafted up from the bottom of the pit and Logan couldn’t imagine what the smell level would be like at the bottom.  And he didn’t intend on finding out.
	The strange man rolled the ranger right to the edge, held her precariously at the edge with his boot saying, “May Gawd preserve ye and keep ye, ‘fore ye not belongin’ to this ‘ere world no mo’!” and with that he rolled her swiftly off into the abyss.

	He paused several times getting his bearings, “Follow that crooked star, stay with the trees with the moss, count four BIG boulders, cross one creek, come to road.” Sounded simple, almost.
	The man took the horse and went off into the woods saying he’d meet Logan at the truck ‘fore midnight.  Logan wondered if he himself would be at the truck ‘fore midnight!  He had his doubts.  Running amok in the friggin dark trying to follow “signs” wasn’t good.  He wasn’t a boy scout!

	He musta missed a boulder ‘cause the next thing he knew there were huge trees (with no moss whatsoever) that weren’t mentioned in the “directions.”  And turning back only made things worse.  He needed a light, a lantern, something with light to pave the way.  In the ever encroaching darkness of the night finding his way to the road and the truck was near impossible.
	And he hated being lost.
	He paused to try and gather himself but with the darkness everything mentioned in the directions was enveloped by the dark and forest.  Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.  The man who had kidnapped him was dangerous.  A murderer!  Rape was one thing, kidnapping was one thing, kidnapping for rape and sexual molesting was one thing.
	But murder?
	True, the woman had died as a result of being sexually tortured, but still.  It bothered Logan and caused him to doubt his continuing association with the man.  He figured that if he DID make it to the road and the truck would work, he’d leave.
	Megan.
	Megan and Cortney.
	Jackie.
	Megan, Cortney, and Jackie.  Now where the hell had they gone!?

	The moon was out—but it did little to help guide the way.  An owl hooted; his shins were bleeding, then every other part of his body.  And along with the bleeding there were the bruises and numerous hurtie-owies.  He fretted about stumbling into a patch of hemlock or poison oak.  That wouldn’t be good.
	He didn’t stumble into a patch of poison oak, though, but the road.
	That was good.
	But there was no truck—that was bad. 
	Was he ahead of it or behind it?
	Going in one direction (or the other) would only grant him the assurance of getting more and more lost.  But how lost could he be?  He was ALREDY lost!

	Flipping a coin inside his head he turned left.  He didn’t go far when he heard noises; crying sniveling noises.  He held fast where he was then moved stealthfully to the side of the road by the hill the road went around.  Did animals cry, snivel?
	He didn’t think so.  Only humans did that.

	Moving even slower, Logan crept up onto the sobbing human.
	Sitting on a rock sobbing uncontrollably in the pale moonlight was Megan.  Beside her was a glum Jackie, curled up at their feet was Cortney and Karen.  Logan sighed.
	Jackie had managed finally to unbind Megan’s ankles but the rope about her wrists was too much.  The girl was happy to see Logan, but not overwhelmed about his proposal.
	“Are you fucking craz!?”
	“It’s the best way,” he told her, “this isn’t good, we don’t know where we are and--”
	“That MAN is a fucking lunatic; he RAPED me, he made you two fuckers rape me!” she then went into a rant about Cortney and Karen.  Jackie rolled his eyes and sat perched on the rock sadly shaking his head.
	“SHUT UP—WILL YA!” Logan lost it.  Haughting his breath, “I know, I know—the man’s a fruitcake, (and a hell of a lot worse) and what he’s done is terrible, but--”
	“But?  But nothing!  We’ve got to get out of here!”
	“WHERE? Meg?  Where we going to go?”
	Megan looked around, “I don’t fucking no!  This road I guess.”
	“It’s a long ways!” declared Logan, “We were on this road a long damn time, I remember that.”
	“There’s no one out here but this crazy fuck.”
	“We cant go back, you cant be serious.”
	Logan nodded, going back to the truck was better than the mad fucker coming after them.  If he caught them out (from the truck) he’d be pissed for sure and no telling what the fuck he would do.  “If we’re at the truck when he gets there--”
	“What?”
	“I dunno, it’ll be better.”
	“How the fuck will it be better?  For you?  You and Jackie?”
	He knew what she meant.
	“I don’t know, I just think that there will be better opportunites.”
	Megan seethed, contemplated, and though vile as it was, she agreed.  She knew that she was going to be raped, sodomized and no telling what all, by Logan, Jackie, and the man.  Repeatedly.  A sex slave.  She knew that her sister, too, would suffer sexually.  That she loathed.  
	Logan carried Karen and the group returned to the truck—
	Ten minutes ahead of the truck’s driver…

*

In a word—villainy
	Karen peed on him along the way.  He didn’t mind, he didn’t care.  His body hurt all over and he couldn’t wait to get to the truck and possibly lay down.  Would the messed up kidnapper really return?  Where the hell was he going with the horse anyways?
	They paused in their trek, Megan wasn’t sure just how far they had gone but was sure that it was “just around the corner.”  Well, several of those “just around the corners” later and the truck WAS found.  By then the gang was way tired and collapsed onto the truck’s bed near dead from exhaustion.

	Though he was dead tired and in great pain from his trek into the woods and down the road then back to the truck, Logan couldn’t sleep.  Every fiber of his being was on fire.  He clenched all over involuntarily as well as voluntarily.  His stomach growled and he had a major headache throbbing in his head—where else would a headache be?
	Little Karen still was with him, she was sound to sleep.  Slowly Logan found himself caressing her bare backside—and then her ass.  Her ASS!?  As soon as his hand cupped the girl’s butt—his cock sprung to sudden hardness.  He gulped.  He was already sweating but sweated more as his hand rubbed the girl’s skin, delving down into the crack.
	Turning his head he saw Megan barely.  She was on her back with Cortney up against her.  Jackie had crawled into the truck where the backseat was more comfortable than the hard grungy bed of the truck.
	Very gently he moved the slumbering girl down some—just to where her virginal poon brushed against his surging cock.  His mind went ballistic; what a fucking day!  Screwing his girlfriend, getting his brother to screw his girlfriend’s sister; caught by some backwoods redneck, forced into outrageous deeds of sexual depravity; then the ranger woman.
	The ranger woman.
	For a moment there was regret.  
	Suddenly the air was filled with a non-pleasant odor and the presence of the redneck appeared at the truck’s side.  He made some sort of grumbling noise, patted Karen’s ass then left.

	Carefully Logan moved Karen off of him and sat up.  It was too dark to make out anything but he thought he saw the man simply lay down.  Logan waited a moment, there were no movements, no sounds.  Pesky gnats and buzzing mosquitoes filled the air only.  A soft Summer breeze brushed his face and he laid back down and sleep took him.

	It didn’t seem but a minute or so before he was rudely being awoken.
	It was daylight.  Just breaking dawn and little chilled.
	“What the--”
	“Time’s a-wastin’ boy, time to git.”
	Logan scrambled to get himself together, stand off to one side and pee.  His body still hurt, there were scrapes and bruises adorning virtually every inch of his once fine nude body.  (half a dozen mosquito bites, too.)
	Megan and the kids were put into the backseat—after standing in the middle of the road to pee.  The redneck shut loudly the hood of the truck and didn’t seem too interested in the girls’ peeing antics.  Megan gave Logan a glare.
	The truck started and they were off.

	Up a long hill that twisted some before straightening out as well as finally leveling off.  Logan didn’t think that they were too high up though, two or three thousand feet, may four but not much more than that.  Huge meadows on each side of the road, lots and lots of trees, hills, and not much more than that.
	After a big sweeping turn something of a homestead came into view.  On the dash of the truck the water temperature was once more at the peak high end of tolerance.  Steam was billowing out from under the hood.
	“Better turn it off before it seizes.” suggested Logan.
	The redneck took the suggestion with a nod and switched the engine off, put the gear shift into neutral and coasted the remaining few yards to the site of where a cabin was built partially into a hillside.
	“All out.” quipped the redneck.
	Logan piled out, sighed.  It looked homely, very homely; something only a redneck would love.  On the porch a ragged hound dog stood up, barked once, wagged its tail, then laid back down.
	Megan and Cortney were lined up with Jackie at the driver’s side of the truck.  Karen sat picking her nose and cunt in the front seat.  Logan came around and wondered what was next.

	What was next was they were marched to an outdoor shower.  Logan helped put wood into the boiler that supplied the hot water.  The redneck stripped off his clothes then brought Megan to stand under the shower.  She was still bound at the wrists,
	“Missy, if’in you run, if’in you pisseth me off in anway, you’ll regret it.  Got it?”
	Megan refused to answer verbally and only nodded.  The redneck glared at her, “you do as I say when I says it!” he added and then easily undone the ropes no one else had been able to.
	Then took perverted pleasure in lathering the girl up and bathing her.
	Cortney and Jackie looked on in some horror—Cortney more than Jackie.  Jackie got wood.  His feet hurt, he had been bitten by ‘skeeters all over, too, and the not knowing what exactly was going on or WAS to go on filled his young mind with confusion.
	Cortney was just frightened.
	The shower lasted only a few minutes.  After the rinse Megan was positioned with her hands on the top of a stacked woodpile—legs apart.  The redneck caressed her ass, parted her ass, then fingered her ass.  Megan clenched and twisted her body then clenched the wood as the man got behind her and began making anal entry into her.
	When she resisted and straightened up—the redneck grabbed up a belt from a nearby hook and began whipping the girl with all his might.  Logan wanted to intervene and did so with a yell.
	The redneck turned and seethed at Logan for his outburst.
	“You’ll git yer turn!” then returned to beating Megan until she collapsed in a heap onto the ground.
	“Git up.” The redneck said.
	Megan refused.
	“Git up.”
	Megan remained curled up tight.
	The redneck backed up and came to Logan and the kids.  Grabbing Cortney he jerked her to the woodpile.
	“NO!” screamed Cortney who fought all the way, kicking and screaming.  Logan rushed to her defense as did Jackie.  Megan was too stricken and could only lay on the ground contorting oddly.
	Logan got the wind knocked out of him with a punch square to the chest that sent him sprawling over a pail and other outdoor stuff.  He collided against the cabin trying to get his breath back.

	Jackie was smacked upside the head and then hurled backwards to sprawl across the the ground.  He came up with a hunk of wood and charged full bore to the horrid redneck.  His strike landed but whether it did damage or not was not clear.  The naked redneck let go of Cortney and grabbed ten year old Jackie by the nape of his neck and smacked him up against the wood pile—the belt back into play and very nearly “ripped the hide” clean offa the boy!

	“You gonna learn to mind me or you gonna be without a hide!”
	Jackie sniveled as he stood being lathered up under the shower.
	Logan felt as if though a train had gone thru his chest.
	Cortney stood by the shower awaiting her turn.
	Megan lay curled up tight where she had fallen earlier.
	After the showering of which young Cortney seriously got her poon fingered—and she herself had to lather up the redneck’s cock and balls, she was taken to the woodpile and beaten with the belt.
	Not to the point of whereas her “hide” was ripped off, but her little darling butt was turned a bright red that caused her to do a little dance jig right at the end (of tolerance.)
	Then, with Jackie and Logan holding the girl’s cheeks open, the vile redneck murdering-kidnapper sodomized the little girl.  He didn’t make full anal penetration but with a lathered up cock he did a fine job just the same.  And when he had cum he pulled Megan up by her hair, planted her face into Cortney’s ass and said, 
	“Lick it clean!”
	Megan shook her head—there was no fucking way.
	“Lick it clean or I’ll rip her hide off!”
	Megan began to retch and sob uncontrollably.
	“I’ll do it!” said Logan.
	“I dinna ask you, boy!”
	The redneck thru Megan down, “yous done pisseth me off, girl.”
	Logan gulped and fretted.  What was going to happen now?  Maybe he should have listened to her earlier and tried escaping after all.  But he had no way of knowing just how fucked up the redneck was.
	“Take ‘em inna house, sit ‘em at the table and wait.”
	Logan picked up Cortney and with a terrified Jackie at his side went into the house.
	Moments later and there was a bloodcurdling scream that much like nailed Logan and Jackie’s feet to the floor.
	“Oh shit, he’s fuckin’ killed her!”

	Outside, the girl wished she WERE dead.
	The pain to her ass was incredible, and there was a horrible burnt flesh stench filling the air.  Megan clung to the rail that ran along the cabin, her feet dancing as her legs wobbled and she fell—her arms stretched her body as her hands were tied to an upper railing holding her secure.
	“Now you lissen to me, Missy,” spoke harshly the man into Megan’s ear, “you bes’ behave yerself and do as I tells ya an’ as I want; if’in ye dunt then yous gonna get more of the same!”
	Megan sobbed uncontrollably, blubbered something unintelligible but nodded her head for future compliance.
	“Good girl, good girl!” snickered the redneck, “Now you lissen, ‘ere, you pisseth me offa agin and I’ll brand yer other cheek, or maybe your cunny!” then standing up masturbating, “Or maybe I’ll bring you’re young’un out ‘ere and strap her to this ‘ere rail!”
	Megan hurled.

	Logan clenched the old kitchen chair; killing the ranger woman was one thing, even if she were a “rever” whatever; killing Megan was something else all together.  The man was whacked.  Logan deeply regretted not taking flight as Megan had wanted.
	The redneck entered the cabin, cocked his head, looked over the cabin then nodded to Logan, “come on.” he said.	
	Somewhat reluctantly and somewhat still in great pains to his body he went back outside with the man to the truck.  There were lots of groceries to be carried in, Jackie and Cortney lent a hand, too.  There were three great ice chest full of great blocks of ice that were put into the old style refrigerator.
	Reckless did nothing but barely wag his tail, fart, and yawn.
	There were dry ice for perishables—ice cream and milk, cheese, and some lunch meats.  Those were stowed separately.  When one time the redneck was busy inside the cabin storing the groceries, Logan stole a look around the side of the cabin to where he could see Megan.  He saw her slumped to the ground with her hands secured by rope to a water pipe that fed water to the house.  
	Then he saw her move.
	She wasn’t dead after all!

	With the groceries transferred and in place, the naked redneck made dinner.  Logan wondered if he was going to get a shower?  He figured if he did, he would get fucked in the ass, too.  That thought made him clench and deeply regret even more not taking Megan’s plea to flee.

	Chili and cornbread.  Ice cream for dessert.
	It wasn’t bad and they ate in silence.  The man cleared the table after the meal then hauled the gang outside.  Cortney nearly fell apart when she saw her sister in such disarray.
	Logan saw what looked like but couldn’t be—a brand mark on Megan’s left butt cheek.  The man was whacked!  Megan’s wrists bled from all her wrenching.  The redneck let her go then told her to stand up.  When she failed to immediately stand—she was stricken hard with a belt.
	“You best git yer ass up, Missy!”
	Slowly, sobbing and retching some Megan Rhains, thirteen, stood.  She didn’t stand well but she was standing.  The whacked redneck then turned to face the others.  With a nod to Logan and Jackie, the boys stepped into the shower and bathed each other.
	Though Logan and Jackie were somewhat naughty with one another—they did so privately.  With the naked Cortney standing with them and also helping in the lathering them up—the boys got wood.  After rinsing Logan and Jackie took their stance at the woodpile and received several hard incredible swats from the belt.
	The redneck breathed into their ears each, “don’t run off, don’t fight, don’t disobey, don’t piss me off.” 
	“for if’in you do, you git more of the same plus extra!”
	Logan in no way wanted the “extra.”  He didn’t even want “more of the same!”
	Thereafter, with Jackie holding one check and Megan’s trembling hands the other, Logan Marshall got “fucked up the ass” by the redneck with the strange somewhat Scandinavian name, Magnus Chavang.

	“OW! You son-of-a-bitch, that hurts!” Jackie’s wails only intensified the Scandinavian redneck to fuck the young boy’s asshole all the harder.  Magnus humped his fill of the boy, having already humped his fill of Logan.  Megan lay off in a curled heap slowly going out of her young mind.  Logan felt badly for her and detested her mistreatment.
	After the rash butt fucking of Jackie was complete, the man pulled out and slapped the boy’s ass—all the while eying the naked Cortney.  The man’s cock, though, was well worn out.  After cleaning it with a handy-dandy wash rag he motioned for the little girl—the other little girl, Karen, had crawled onto the great bed in the cabin and gone to sleep.
	Cortney came up to a rickety log set into a pair of “Xs”.  She was directed to lay herself over the log and after doing so—the man dropped to his knees behind her, pulled her cheeks open and tongued her hole.

	It gross the girl out—but the whole sordid situation was gross to her.  Her little heart beat hard, she clenched all over, and sobbed as the man’s wicked tongue probed her tight anus.
	Logan stood by masturbating getting harder and harder.
	Jackie stood on the other side of the girl watching with wide eyes, rubbing her seared butt and “digging” into his crack trying to soothe his fucked asshole.
	Cortney fussed and received a harsh ass slap for her wriggling.  The man plunged a finger into her hole and really sent the girl wriggling.  She made noises, clamped together her dainty little ass all the tighter but it did little to keep the man’s probing finger from probing her asshole.
	“You ready yet, boy?” asked Magnus.
	Logan shrugged.
	Magnus suddenly reached out and took over masturbating Logan!  He squeezed the youth’s cock then pulled it to Cortney’s compressing asshole.  Logan was partly into shagging the girl but was embarrassed and ashamed for having to do so in such a manner—‘specially in mixed company.
	Trying to look like he wasn’t enjoying it, Logan sodomized Cortney for the full five minutes.  All the while Magnus Chavang squatted at Logan’s side watching.  Occasionally the strange redneck smacked Logan’s ass and even reached between his legs to grab his swinging balls!
	Whenafter Logan had fired off a round of fresh hot spunk, Magnus clicked his fingers for the girl’s sister, Megan.
	Megan held fast for a moment, her mind was blitzed.  Slowly, though, she moved and did not incur the man’s wrath.  When she had crawled to where her sister and the others were she was given the task of “lick ‘er hole.”
	Megan didn’t retch.
	Megan didn’t hurl.
	Megan licked her lips, blinked her eyes, then put her tongue to her sister’s fresh fucked asshole and cleaned it of her boyfriend’s spunk.
	Magnus the Scandinavian redneck smiled.

	Marched into the cabin the gang settled by the fireplace.  The fire was brought back to life and the man walked to a door by the one bed.  An old chair was positioned against the door latch.  With the chair moved and the latch opened, Logan was totally blown away when about half a dozen kids came out.
	“Holy shit!” he breathed.

	Kristy sighed a desperate (broken) sigh, the son-of-a-bitch had gotten MORE for his jollies.  They made their way to the kitchen table and were served their dinner.  No one spoke, the two groups exchanged glances but kept to themselves and kept quiet.
	When dinner for the first group was complete they were marched outside to the shower.  Logan’s eyes bulged when he saw on ALL them a brand mark.  He sighed and new for sure that when he met up with Megan, they should have headed out and away-away from the redneck.
	An hour elapsed before the first group came back in.  They went to the bed and the naked man with cum dripping from his cock clicked his fingers for the second group.  
	“Now les’ all git to know one anutter real good like, huh?”
	Magnus the Wonderful Horrid One had Kristy lay herself out on the bed, then Megan laid out beside her; their tortured asses right on the side edge of the bed, legs open, fingering themselves.
	Logan went to Kristy while Adam positioned himself at Megan.
	Megan stared up to the log cabin ceiling logs methodically fingering her cunt.  Kristy lay with her lips pursed, mind blank.
	Logan wasn’t so into getting “into” Kristy.  He didn’t know the girl, there were too many peoples around.  Sure, she was pretty, naked, but she wasn’t willing.  He couldn’t figure it—what the fuck was up with the crazed murdering redneck?  
	Adam didn’t hesitate, he crawled up onto Megan, glided the head his dick up and down the new girl’s cunt, then plunged it in and quickly began to fuck.  This helped Logan; his cock surged to life and his mind (temporarily) dismissed his woes and concerns.
	Kristy aided her new lover; she arched her back and quivered as the new dick tantalized her.  Clutching the soiled bedding she humped back into the teen and gave him something to live for.
	Adam gave his all and wallowed in it, too.  Megan did nothing but hang her mouth open; her nipples were hard, her body soft and sweaty, her mind blank.
	Logan pulled out of Kristy, his cum squirter squirting an endless squirt of squirt.  He made an audible moan as the cum spewed from his dick and coated Kristy’s cunt.  All his energy was instantly drained.
	But wait!  There’s more!
	A click of fingers and Cheyenne scooted to the delirious Logan and popped his cum squirter into her mouth.  She cupped his sweaty nuggets and devoured most of his cock all at once!
	It was enough to give a guy a boner.  (and it did!)

	Another click of fingers and Sierra sloughed over to take Adam’s cum squirter and please him back to stiffness.  Wendy’s task(s) were to “clean” Kristy and Megan…
	Logan watched the girls and was mindedly blown.  “Whoa!”
	A click of fingers Jackie stepped up to Kristy, eyed her cunny with awe—Cheyenne, upon finishing her task with Logan’s bone, slurped on Jackie’s cock, his balls, then guided him into Kristy’s canyon.
	Arnold crawled up onto Megan, dipped his wick into her sex and humped slowly.  There was no reaction from Megan.  Arnold lay on her, marveled at her breasts and on his own (sorta--) he suppled on the teen’s mounds.
	Taking Kristy’s place was Cheyenne.
	Logan stared at the girl, she was no more than eleven.  (dead on)
	His cock swelled, his balls swelled.  He knew what he was supposed to do—but that didn’t make it any easier.  Of course, he had no worries about Megan’s reaction ‘cause it was apparent she was no longer apart of the know.  Jackie wouldn’t care, either.  Cortney?
	His attention remained on the eleven year old girl who needed a good hair brushing.  She was clean—but a recent showering had done that.  Staring at her cunny it was clear that she was getting doinked on a fairly regular basis.
	Was the mad redneck doinking her, too?  Or was he just getting his jollies having the boys doink her?  It was bizarre—very-very fucking-fucking bizarre-bizarre.

	As soon as his cock slid into the young girl’s quim he was cumming.  His cock stiffened even harder than it was and he felt squirts of his love cream seething thru his bone.  
	The young girl beneath him arched her back some, winced and masde other faces as she was boned.  Biting her lower lip she endured the invasion and even made some pleasing faces.
	Logan began to pump and the sensation was beyond his imagination.
	Beside him, another boy humped Megan.

	There was just enough strength left in his bone, and body as a whole, to stuff the second young girl who was about the same age as the first.  The second girl was smaller in body size than the other two, skinnier.  All three were pretty—way pretty.  Logan had mixed thoughts about the situation; it was a fucked up situation—that much was sure and true.

	But the girls were pretty.
	What was fucked up, though, was it was evident that they had been tortured.  That wasn’t cool.  His eyes fell on Cortney, he couldn’t see Megan’s sister being branded on the ass and then raped multiple times including at least once by the Scandinavian redneck.
	He boffed Sierra, got sucked on by Cheyenne and then she guided him into the third girl of the group, Wendy.  Rusty had his turn with Megan, he creamed in two minutes with Cheyenne sucking him afterwards and Sierra sucking clean Megan’s cunt.
	Jackie got his turn(s) in, too; boffing Megan and Kristy, getting his dick sucked after each fuck.  He was hooked.  Like Megan, his mind was blank—his cock was in control and liked it.  (a lot!)
	After Wendy, it was Cortney’s turn.
	With Cortney she wasn’t as willing as the others.  She stood naked trying to conceal her sex.  She was all kinds of frightened, even to the point of peeing some.  She knew what was to come and wasn’t into being “trained.”  But a glaring look from the Horrid One and other looks especially from Kristy convinced her otherwise.
	She closed her eyes and clutched the bedding as first to mount her was Adam Hooser.  Kristy had her turn at servicing his tool, fondling his balls, and guiding him into the terrified ten year old.  She was not a virgin, but only had taken Jackie on “a couple of times.”
	Adam went the full Five Minutes and was done.  Kristy and Cheyenne rubbed his butt, played with his balls, then parted his cheeks so as Sierra, Arnold, Wendy, and Rusty could “lick” his rim.  When he pulled out of Cortney, Cheyenne sucked his dick and then it was Arnold’s turn.
	Then it was Rusty’s.
	Then it was Jackie’s.
	Then it was Logan’s.
	Then it was the Horrid One’s turn…
	Cheyenne and Sierra licked on Cortney’s cunt while Kristy and Wendy sucked on the Horrid One’s cock.  Cheyenne guided the manly dong into the frightened girl’s poon.  The man’s manhood went in pretty good—his cock head disappeared and then about an inch of shaft.  Cortney groaned, cried, and reacted as she should as another inch made its way into her sex.
	Logan was beside himself as he had finished with Cortney and stood off being slurped on by the blond haired girl, Cheyenne.  His cock indeed got rehardened from the girl’s working him, but there were mixed feelings.  He had concerns for Cortney, she was young, and his girlfriend’s sister.

	On the flipside she was young, pretty, and he had strong desires to fuck her.  He didn’t know for sure if he would have ever gotten the go-ahead to hump her with consent from both her herself as well as from her sister.
	When he was screwing Cortney (and liking it) he whispered into her ear, “I’m sorry.” Then went on to complete the deed and give her cunny a good dousing of love spunk.
	Watching Cortney getting boinked by the redneck somewhat upset Logan, that just wasn’t right.  But the man was surprisingly gentle.  He went a little over five minutes, didn’t cum but close counts.  Cheyenne slurped his cock while Wendy noshed on Cortney’s cunt.

Winkin’  Blinkin’  and Scroggin
	Logan, Adam, Arnold, Rusty, and Jackie—all had dipped themselves well into Megan’s poon with most the boys unleashing a torrential load of spunk.  Each boy spent his time while fucking sucking titty, too.  When done, some girl—usually Cheyenne, sucked the boy’s dick while another girl, usually Wendy, licked the cunt the dick had been in clean.
	Cheyenne, Sierra, Wendy, Kristy, Cortney got dicked by Logan and Jackie as well as Adam, Arnold, and Rusty.  Afterwards, the group settled at the fireplace and had marshmallows.  Mindless Megan remained on the bed whereupon the ever horny Horrid One took her again, rolled her over and spanked her.  Whispering a command to her she obeyed—pulling her cheeks open and taking dick to her asshole.
	Logan watched and still had to wrestle with many mixed feelings.  On one hand he was ok with what he saw and what went on; he was over 50 percent “willing” to participate in the twisted narly shenanigans the redneck was into—even forcing the poor unfortunate ranger woman suck off on her horse!
	But, on the other hand; Logan wasn’t so much into the torture aspect the redneck was.  He wasn’t so much into sexual perversions regarding the little ones.  Although Logan saw Cheyenne, Sierra, Wendy, Cortney, and Karen as cute and sexually appealing—actual sex with them was kind of ok but then again not so ok.  Mostly it was due to it being against their will.  If the girls, even as young as Cortney, wanted to engage in sex acts of all kinds—then Logan was willing to help out.
	Marshmallow treats were made, sweet raspberry tea was made, too.  Logan couldn’t keep his eyes off of the girls’ butts, the brand marks were disturbing.  The spankings and forced sexual depravity, too, was a bit much.  But other than that…

Depravity has no depths
	With the evening settling upon them; dinner a done deal, bathroom stuff done, the combined groups combined together at the fireplace; more marshmallows along with hot dog wieners.  The Horrid One had dressed but everyone else remained as they were—nude.
	Presently a vehicle was heard and the redneck made for the open door.
	Reckless, on the porch, made one bark but otherwise remained lazy conveying that there was no threat approaching.  The Scandinavian redneck leaned against the doorframe smiling and nodding his head as a late 50s model pickup rolled up.  Hoping out of the truck was a close friend of the remote living redneck, an older man who could be a relative.
	He was not, though, just a friend.
	Hopping out of the passenger side of the truck was a wee little young’un who was all smiles and ran to the nonchalant redneck.  Magnus squatted down and was near bowled over by the impact of the running little girl.  She was about five, honey brown hair, blue eyes, a blue dress outfit, and very cute.  
	She was scooped up and held with the man’s hands cupping her butt.  He squeezed the little girl’s butt, swung her to and fro and planted kisses on her.  The girl’s Grandpa ambled up to the cabin and offered his hand.  Magnus the Horrid One accepted heartily.
	“Brought ya something!” the newcomer snickered.
	“Got sumtin’!” Magnus chortled and clung to the girl a little tighter.
	The newcomer pulled out from behind his back a brown and white porcelain jug.
	Not a regular jug but a moonshiner’s drinkin’ jug.
	Magnus winked conveying “you done alright!” and they ambled to some old chairs on the porch, the little girl still attached to the redneck’s neck.
	The newcomer, “John” pulled the cork and offered the first swig-swaller to his friend.  
	“That stuff tastes nasty!” quipped the little girl, Joanna.
	“Put hair on yer chest!” chortled Magnus.
	The little girl went bashful and buried her head into Magnus’ neck.
	John took the jug of moonshine back and took a swallow.
	“Just made?”
	“Couple days ago, been lettin’ it sit a while.”
	“We’s got company,” stated Magnus, “caught a Rever yesterday.”
	“Damn, I knew’d they was pokin’ their nose about agin.”

	“I took care of him, wont bother us no mo’, dropped ‘im off at Sillis Cave.”
	John mused, nodded his head, took a swallow.
	Joanna fussed about on Magnus’ lap, he smoothed his hand up and down her little body, raising her dress to peek at her good parts—but she only had one (and it was five years old!)
	“Well, speakin’ of Sillis Cave,” drawled John as he handed back the jug, “I didn’t exactly come up here for a social call.”
	Magnus swallowed some ‘shine, cocked a cheek to fart—to wit little Joanna held her nose, fanned the air, and giggled.
	Nothing was said but a lot was conveyed.  Magnus stood and slid Joanna down his body, leaned into the cabin and eyed Karen and Cortney.  Clicking his fingers he got their attention and they scurried to him.  The girls were to stay on the porch and play.  The two menfolk ambled down to John’s truck.
	In the back of the truck was a large tarp.  Underneath was the body of a young woman.
	“She got bitchy,” John explained, “she came over to the house all in a fit, remembered the time back when she was Joanna’s age and such and I had to show her a new way.”
	“We’ll take care of it,” Magnus said, “damn shame, though.”  The young woman, mother of Joanna, was pretty.
	“If I would have had one of them EMAD things I could have calmed her down.” But the woman had been in a rant and was not controllable by any means—other than a shove down the stairs whereupon she had broken her neck.
	Susan, a single mother, was raising well her daughter, Joanna.  Being single she had to work and with her Dad, John, a willing babysitter there was no problem.
	John had no problem as he loved his granddaughter.  A lot!  She was innocent, pure, and naïve.  Easily did the wily grandfather get her to romp about in her panties—and soon, less than that.
	Then there was the Games.  Naked Twister was a fav of John’s, little Joanna naked would place her hands and feet to the appropriate colors on the plastic five by five grid on the floor.  It greatly enthused the grandpa and he came up with even more naughty games.
	His second fav was more promising and delightful.
	The Guessing Game.
	Although there are many “guessing games”, John’s game of guessing involved  “guess the object (in your mouth.)”

	Joanna was pretty good—she guessed the apple, orange, and banana.
	Then John guided into her mouth another object that was very strange to her, but similar to the previous object, a banana.  John gave her many tries at guessing—but she never got it.
	Oh, did I mention that she was blindfolded?
	When she didn’t guess correctly he got to blow raspberries all over her sweet young little body.  Tickling her and making her almost (and sometimes) pee.
	He gave her baths, too.
	In the afternoons they napped, well, one of them did.  Minutes after little Joanna clad in panties only had drifted to sleep, Grandpa John was sliding down her panties and squeezing her bare bum to his delight.  This soon led to the horny grandpa to began flopping his hardened dog against her delicate skin, spreading her legs open to get at the girl’s pooter hole.
	With her panties off it was easy to masturbate against her sex, and pooter, and in no time shot lovely ounces of love cream onto her.  His desires though, had been intensified.

	The Guessing Game continued with after her failing to guess the “object” in her sweet mouth he kept it there, humping her mouth until finally ejaculating.
	Little Joanna wasn’t too keen on the man spunk, 
	“Ewewew,” she spewed, “that’s gross!”
	That may have been the catalyst that cascaded the problems that sent the girl’s mother down the stairs of her Dad’s home.  For unknown reasons Susan came to her Dad’s home in a rage.  Repressed memories of her childhood suddenly surfacing?
	When she saw her little girl naked on the downstairs sofa, she flew up the stairs in a furor and attacked her Dad.  John had his hands full with the enraged 24 year old, he smacked her and held her up against the wall—his mind in uproar as he quickly assessed the situation and tried to come up with a backup plan.
	“I know what you did, you son-of-a-bitch!”
	Ut-oh, new plan.
	Susan struck her Dad’s chest, lashing out at him in a blinding Mother’s rage.  John had little choice but to strike her and wrestle with her, throwing her to the floor and landing on her—pinning her.  He was very strong and was able to hold her down but the rage swelling throughout the young woman’s body also held merit.

	During the altercation, Susan’s shirt was ripped.  John fussed with his adult daughter trying to calm her and continually come up with new plans and how to keep the woman from ripping his balls off and then later sending him to jail.
	Susan’s strength waned as she was somewhat “broken” and she sobbed.  John relaxed some but eyed Susan’s breasts.  It had been a long-long time…

	She grunted, groaned, and fought back with trying to twist her battered body—but the strength of her Dad was too much.
	“Get OFF me!” she wailed repeatedly.
	John Calhoon did nothing of the sort but maintained a steady mount as his cock slid in and out of her cunny.  Right on the hallway floor Susan Calhoon-Dogerty was laid out naked being raped by her Dad.  He had never gotten to sink his pud into her cunny, just up her ass.  When Susan was a child and she made some infraction of one sort of another—she got the belt.
	In the beginning it was pure disciplinary actions.  In the beginning it was with clothes on.  In the beginning.
	Then, around age five or so, when caught fibbing about something John pulled his daughter’s pants down and walloped her ass with his hand.  As she got older, the panties came down, too.  By the time she was nine or ten the hand was replaced by the belt.  
	At age eleven, Susan was caught shoplifting—she claimed she had been put up to it by some friends.  Once home Susan was pinned against her bed and her sweet little ass busted severely.  It was then that John instituted a new form of punishment…
	By the time Susan was twelve she was getting fucked up the butt at least twice a month.  He also caught her fingerbanging herself late at night this one time—she was stark nude!  John somehow managed to hold back from jumping her bones and merely whipped the girl senseless instead (and fucked her up the butt, too).
	As she got into her teen years the whippings and sodomy lessons stopped.  She seemed to have forgotten those “special” disciplinary” episodes—until something snapped in her mind that fateful day she came in a rage back to her Dad’s home.
	John plowed his daughter in the hallway and just after he had cum in her she came alive again.  John was at a disadvantage as his clothes were at his ankles binding him up.  Daughter Susan was nude.  The young woman knew that she had just been raped, by her own Dad.  She nutted up and clawed at him, kicked, and scurried out from under him.

	She didn’t get far as her Dad in a panic scrambled up, pulled up his pants and chased her down, knocking her to the wall.  The collision nearly knocked the young mother out.  In her delirium it gave her Dad the opportunity to drag her into her old room and pin her against the bed there.  Then, once more, he belted her ass until she couldn’t stand it.
	And once more, for old time’s sake? he sodomized her. 
	Violently.
	It had been years and a long time coming.  
	When she fussed too much he pulled her arms behind her and held them until they were nearly broken out of their sockets.  John relentlessly humped her butt until getting his nut a second time.  Susan fought back but the fight was mostly out of her.
	John’s energy level was pretty much a done deal, too.  
	Taking a breather he moved off of his daughter and sat on floor on his heels.  For a moment he was fixed on staring at his daughter’s bright red bum and his cum oozing out of her hole—just like old times.
	Suddenly she was on him, though.  She pelted him with blows, kicks, and then the nightstand table lamp.  That did the most damage and nearly took him out.  He grabbed at her as she started to fly out of the room.  She was tripped up but kicked out him with her foot hitting his face.  She then started crawling out of the room and John went after her.
	In the hallway he pinned her to the alcove at the end of the hall where the stairs were.  They grabbled, struggling to get the upper hand; Susan merely wanting to inflict great bodily damage to her whacked Dad and/or just to simply get away from him; John wanting merely to subdue his grown adult daughter and calm her down.	
	Neither of those plans came to be.
	As they struggled, suddenly it happened as Susan gave a mighty push off from her Dad and tripped on the floor rug and went spiraling then headlong down the stairs.  She lay at the bottom of the stairs in a crumbled heap. 
	For a moment she twitched—then lay still.

	“Sillis Cave be a good spot for ‘er,” drawled Magnus, “dern shame, though.”
	“Yeah, if’in I had had one of them EMAD doohickeys it would have been a diff story.”	
	Magnus nodded and made no claims to the fact that HE had one of them whatcha call EMAD doohickeys.  He wished he could have helped out, Susan Calhoon-Dogerty was good!

*
Into that dark abyss…
	The kids tightened up as the Horrid One came to them.
	“Gonna be off a spell,” he said eyeing each one of them, “now, when I’s comes back, see, I wanna see you, you, you, you, you, and you,” pointing to each girl, “with boy spunk dripping outta you!”
	and, 
	“And I’s wants to see you, you and you with spunk coming out of yer pooper!”
	Logan gulped and wasn’t pleased with that notion.  He, Adam, and Jackie had to be butt fucked by one of the other boys.  He sighed and nodded that he understood.
	And for insurance, again, he took little Karen with him.

	Grandpa John took a long swaller of his moonshine then piled into his truck with Joanna and Karen sandwiched in the middle, Magnus on the other side.  Darkness was coming on and the truck quickly disappeared in dust and was gone.

	The boys all were sheepish.  One of them had to make the initiative, and do so before the Horrid One returned.  Kristy, sitting on her butt on the fur carpet throw shook her head.  
	“We probably should wait at least half an hour.” she said.	
	“Why?” asked Adam.
	“We don’t know how long he’ll be gone and--”
	“And our spunk we’ll be gone if we do it now.” spoke up Arnold.
	Kristy nodded that that was so.
	“I don’t know if I can do it anymore,” quipped Arnold, “my dick hurts!”
	“We better do it or--” 
	“He’s got my sister.” said Kristy, making the statement that they would indeed have to follow-thru on whacked man’s decree.
	The group stared at the flickering flames mulling things over.

	A few miles down the road and John Calhoon brought the truck to a stop.  Karen and Joanna were to remain in the truck’s cab, the trek thru the woods not a good place for little girls.  The men wrestled with the stiff “object” in the back, keeping the tarp about it and made off into the woods.
	“Got yourself another one, eh?” snickered John.  He wasn’t aware of the “others”, just Karen.

	“One and a few others.” replied Magnus.
	“Oh?”
	“Yep!”
	“Been a busy fellow, eh?”
	“Sumptin’ like that.  I’s got me one of them EMAD things--”
	“You did?  Dang, wished I’d known that, coulda helped me out a bit.”
	“Well, this’in aint all that good, jus’ about undetectable.  Doesn’t have a lot of power so it don’t last long.”
	Although it had shortcomings it was still an EMAD.
	“How many you got this time?”
	this time?
	“Oh, ‘bout a dozen or so.”
	To say the least his moonshine drinkin’ buddy John C was impressed.
	“I gots to meet ‘em!”
	“After we’s make our deposit at the Cave you sure as sheet can!”

	Kristy grunted as Logan plowed his way into her.  Although it wasn’t specified “WHICH” hole was to be laden with evidentiary spunk, Kristy wanted it “up the ass”.  She had already been poked in the cunt several-several times and was fairly sure for certainty that she was probably pregnant.
	On the fur rug she positioned herself, giving up her ass to Logan who had been methodically jacking himself trying to bring himself to cum and just drizzle the spunk onto whoever was willing.  But then Kristy moved to the rug, face down, ass up.
	Although the boys had all come to realize that screwing a girl from behind like a dog did not necessarily mean tagging her pussy, her asshole was available too.  Without the Horrid One there to “guide” and instruct them on where to hump and bury the humpstick it was up to the Fucker and Fuckee to decide on what hole was to be filled and dripping with cum.
	Kristy made the decision for Logan by pulling her ass cheeks apart exhibiting to him her gloryhole.  Logan was ok with that, he was just going to masturbate and jack off onto the hole and let it be that—the Horrid One wouldn’t know the difference.  All he wanted to see was CUM on the girls’ pussy, mouth, or asshole.
	Cheyenne took it upon herself, too, to willingly guide Logan’s bone into Kristy’s pooper.  Once the mushroom-bell portion was in past the rim Cheyenne pulled her hand away and sat (right up close, too) and watched as Logan “went after it.”

	It didn’t take long before Logan was blasting a hot fresh spunk load; his balls slapped loudly in a normal rhythm that was sex.  His cock sunk all the way in to Turd Central.  He just barely made the two-minute mark when his load went off.  Quickly he pulled out and emptied his juice onto Kristy’s rim.
	The girl, too, was worn out and she slowly moved off of the rug to allow someone else’s turn.  She herself gently lay still and hoped the son-of-a-bitchin’ redneck fucker would hurry his ass up so as he could see her hole and release Karen and be fucking satisfied!
	Sierra took her turn nextly, positioning herself like Kristy had, including parting her cheeks and hoping beyond hopes that the Horrid One wouldn’t care what hole had the sperm on it.
	Rusty took up position behind her; his cock ached, his whole body ached; but his dick was hard and into Sierra it went—Cheyenne guiding it in until it was in, then she sat back and waited.

*
Ballad of the Bootlegger and the Revenuer 
There was an old bootlegger who thought it might be time  
To straighten up his act a notch or two.  
But before that big decision, he drew a thought in kind, 
"I'll make me up just one more brew!"  
So he figured and he measured,  
and prepared the batch just so,  
Then he set it all in motion at his still.  
And he waited and he wondered  
 just how his life would go  
When he couldn't sit around  
 and drink his fill!  
Well, the product tasted perfect, and he sampled it again,  
And again, he tested with his testing mugs.  
He was feelin' kind of silly, wearin' just the widest grin  
As he caught the sparkling liquid in his jugs.  

He had stomped back to his cabin just a little before dark,  
And had stashed his treasure in a cupboard there.  
When he heard the shots that signaled,  
"Revenuer 'bout to park,"  
And cold terror crept right up to his white hair!  
The signal had meant,  "Hurry, you have very little time!"  
And he knew he had to hide the proof real quick!  
So he dropped them in the outhouse,  
and they broke upon the slime,  
And the thought of wasted lightenin' made him sick!  
Sure enough, the Revenuer feller knocked upon his door,  
 He searched and sniffed and checked Ole' Willie out.  
 And he couldn’t believe there weren’t any  goods in store!  
He was brisk and very smart without a doubt!  
Now the Revenuer lingered and he asked to use the outhouse,  
 Ole Willie thought that it must be a joke.  
But the man was partly human, even though he was a louse.  
So Ole' Willie just suggested, Please don't smoke."  
For, you see, Ole Willie knew how volatile the fumes would be by now,  
From the liquor as it spread below the seat.  
But the man lit up a cigarette, to smoke it anyhow,.  
The match dropped through the boards beneath his feet.  
Lo, the outhouse blew to pieces.  
It exploded like a bomb!  
And Ole' Willie chuckled deep within his beard.  
And when the dust had settled, there was nothing there but calm,  
And the seated man was gone, just as he feared!  
The explosion lit the night sky for miles and miles around,  
Before darkness came a creepin' on the scene.  
And the nosy Revenuer nevermore again was found,  
But Ole' Willie quit the business, square and clean.  

And now the Devil down in Hades heard a knockin' on the door,  
 And so he went and let the ‘nuer in.  
And the man was sorely puzzled as he settled up his score.  
Said, "You'll never guess how I found out that smokin' is a sin!"  
	“She weren’t one them regular ‘newers, this’in worked for the forestry.”
	“She was recruited, then.” surmised John.
	“Damn shame.”
	The two made their way to the Cave and had to take a breather once there.
	“Ever seen that Puma-cat?”
	“Naw, I thinks he moved on.”
	The woods surrounded them and was very soon pitch black.
	Horribly horrendous smells wafted up from the slanted cave.
	“One of these days this ‘ere cave gonna be full up!”
	Magnus smiled, cocked his head and nodded.  After taking a long swig from the moonshine jug “Whattcha gonna do now?”
	John sighed and took the jug and a swing himself.
	“Well, sir,” he said after getting his fill, “I reckon I can say she runned off and left me with her young’un.”
	“Ole Ed will prob’ly give you a visit.”
	“Yeah, I reckon.”
	“He aint much a sheriff, though,” mused Magnus, “or woulda find yer still and find ME!”
	The two men chuckled and took more tugs from the jug.
	“Don’t like them Rever’s about, though,” said Magnus scratching his chin, “took ‘er horse down to the meadow and let him go.” The saddle and all other gear on the horse was taken off and stowed away for later retrieval to be sold somewhere.  It was hoped (and probable) that the ranger’s horse would mingle and blend in with the other wild horses of the valley meadows.
	“’course, with her missin’, might bring in more of her kind plus those she were workin’ for searchin’ for her.”
	John was right, it was always feared that though remote as he was someone was bound to stumble on his digs.  
	“They know ‘shine is up here somewheres.”
	“Might behoove us to set up a dummy still somewheres.  They’d be happy just a-bustin up a still as anythin’ else.”

	“Yeah, I knows, but they itchin’ to bust the owner of that still, too.”
	John stretched, tugged on the bottle and sat staring at the lifeless form inside the tarp.
	“Damn shame.” he said and gave the body of his first born a shove and booted her down into SillisCave. 

*

	“Is it still there?” Kristy asked.
	Cheyenne peered at the teen’s dirt chute.  She nodded, “Yes.” (the gob of cum was still there…)
	Kristy was relieved, it had been a couple of hours and the whacked redneck wasn’t back yet.  Sighing, Kristy knew—she just knew that the son-of-a-bitch was probably molesting Karen.  Her mind began to shut down again, blocking the horror that was about her.
	There was reluctance among the boys for completing their assignment.  The girls had been done and lay waiting for the redneck to come back and check them.  It was the boys’ turn and they were unenthusiastic about the task of butt plunging one another.
	“Why don’t you just jerk off onto the hole,” said Kristy, “you don’t have to go IN, if you don’t want to.”
	Hmmmm
	Even without having to plunge in and fuck a boy hole, it was still something none of them were too willing to participate in.  Cheyenne helped out the cause; sucking cock, fondling balls, rubbing bare boy asses and the like.  Sierra laid out exposing her cum laden butt hole while Wendy laid out with her legs open wide fingering herself.
	Kristy watched their antics for awhile; she sighed deeply and was disgusted—as well as alarmed at realizing how they all were reacting; how they all were following thru with the whacked redneck’s orders.  
	Logan worked his cock, with Cheyenne’s help, and blasted a load onto Adam’s ass, coating his rim and balls with a goodly amount of jiz.  He was exhausted and would need some time before being able to do so again.  Rusty anointed Arnold’s backdoor, Jackie did likewise to Rusty; then Adam unloaded his love cream onto Logan’s pooper.
	When all the “holes” had been anointed with jiz, there was naught to do but wait.

*

	The Calhoon still was set a ways back in the woods (in the opposite direction of the Chavang cabin).  John and Magnus had drunk up the jug of ‘shine they had and they were still thirsty—so it was a trip to get a refill.  Along the way…
	Little Karen awoke, confused, and in need to pee.
	The girls, Karen and Joanna had been curled up together in the short backseat of the grandfather’s pickup.  Magnus scooped up his little girl and easily stripped her out of her clothes.  She was sleepy and was much like a rag doll.  Once nude he stood her in a girl-standing piss stance she emptied her bladder.
	With the moonlight bathing the small nook area a few miles from the remote Calhoon Still, John Calhoon was enthused.  It was a short piss, Magnus fingered the girl’s poon; held her up, turning her to open her legs for John’s up close and personal approval.
	Naughty-murderer John C licked his lips and put his tongue to the child’s cunt, “You aint gotten her yet?”
	“Nah, got one young’un gone up her butt but lookin’ fer a wee dick to bust ‘er in proper.”
	John licked the pissy pussy, pried the cunt open some and began to get a bad case of the hornies.
	“She suck yet?”
	“Yea, I got her a couple times there.” chortled Magnus.
	Upon hearing that, John unzipped his pants and hauled out his already seriously hard cock.
	“What about your’in?”
	John turned his attention to Joanna who was sound asleep.  The little tyke was clad in a blue dress outfit, differing shades, yellow daises all over, short britches matching the dress that went to mid thigh.  She was a sweet little thing, green eyes and lovely soft brown hair to match her soft facial features.  Very playful and always willing to play the “What’s in my Mouth” game…
	John slowly pulled the tyke’s britches down, smoothing his hand about her thighs and up to the her crotch.  Magnus held the naked Karen to him, cupping her ass with a finger probing up into her hole.  John eased Joanna’s powder blue panties down, opening her legs and taking a long gander at her goodie.

	Slowly he pulled off all of Joanna’s clothing, opened her legs and began licking her dainty little snatch without the fear of her mother hovering in the background.  The little girl slept on unawares of her grandpa’s doing.  Soon he was pulling dainty little butt to the edge of the seat whereupon he took his grandpa cock to her cunny.
	“She needs a-breakin’ in, too.” commented Magnus.
	John made no comment and rubbed his throbbing cock against the six year old’s poon.  He got after it, too; humping hard, grinding hard; groaning and moaning hard.  Little Joanna came awake somewhat but was too sleepy and confused to realize what was happening to her.
	Magnus laid out Karen on the front seat and “went down” on her.  Karen wriggled some but was too sleepy to fight back.  Magnus slipped a finger up her pooper and pressed a thumb to her cunny.  Little Joanna began to make whines as her grandpa was seriously humping her twat.  A time or two he prodded her cunny trying to get “in.”
	The smell of “smoke” brought Magnus to pause in his deed and stand up.  John had cum, coating his granddaughter greatly with his 65 year old cum.
	“Smell that?” Magnus asked.
	John pulled himself together and stood up sniffing the air.
	“Someone’s got a fire going.” John said in his mono South Alabama tone.  
	“Wouldn’t be a Rever, would it?” asked suspiciously John.
	“Nah, they’d be too crafty.  Must be someone trekkin’ the woods.”
	“Too close.”
	“Progress, fukin’ peoples fukin’ too much having chitlin’s left and right and they’s grows up and they fuck and on and on.”
	Slowly the two men pulled themselves together, put the girls nakedly together in the backseat, covering them with an old sheet before continuing on to the Calhoon Still.

*

Missy
	Twisting her mouth methodically, shifting her weight listlessly, cocking her head with eyes scanning all around—but mostly down the lone dirt road she eventually shook her head and gave a shrug saying over her shoulder, “Nothing.”

	“What’s it mean, Kristy?” asked Wendy.
	Kristy had no fucking clue.  Slowly she made her way to the open cabin door and peered down the dirt road herself, hands on Cheyenne’s shoulders.
	“Maybe his truck broke, too.” surmised Rusty.
	“Maybe they got busted!” said a hopeful Sierra.
	There was no telling, but there was an underlying issue that frightened, no—worried deeply Kristy.  Karen.  If it weren’t for the fact that the son-of-a-bitch had Karen with him, Kristy would care one little bit what the hell happened to them.
	“Maybe this is our chance.” said Wendy.
	Kristy looked over her shoulder to the gathered group behind her.  She said nothing, there was nothing that could be done—not so long as the bastard fucked up redneck had Karen.  Maybe.
	“I still think we can get out of here,” remarked Kristy, “break up and not go as a group.”
	“Head out in different directions?”
	“Yes.”
	“Sounds like a plan!” spiked Adam.
	“Where’s that damn dog?” asked Wendy.
	“Not here.” replied Cheyenne.
	Slowly one by one the group moved out of the cabin and assembled on the porch.  It was one-to-two hours into the new day.  Their kidnapper hadn’t returned and left the kids all in wonderment with one in wonderment and concern.
	“Maybe I should stay.” Kristy said disheartedly.
	“Are you whacked!” chirped Cheyenne, “He’s nuts, he’ll beat you--”
	“And brand your other butt cheek!” chimed in Wendy.
	Kristy looked down the road again lost in thought.
	“She cant go.” said Rusty.
	“Why not?” asked Sierra.
	“Her sister, Karen.”
	“Crap.”
	“Yeah.”
	“That means none of us can.”
	Kristy looked them over; all standing naked, fidgeting, all in mystified wonderment.  
	“We cant stay here,” she said in summation, “one of us has to get help.  Someone has to bring help here.”

	The fucking fucked up Scandinavian redneck had burned their clothes in the fireplace, so naked there were and naked they would be.  It sucked but there was nothing to be done about it.  Traipsing outside one by one they waited, pausing before taking the “next step” and then the next.
	Soon they were off of the porch, Reckless no where to be seen.
	“I don’t think we should go down the road.” suggested wisely Adam.
	“Why not?” asked Sierra.
	Several kids looked at her, ‘are you serious?’
	“Well have to split into two groups,” said Kristy taking charge, she hated to do it—what would the fucking fucked up redneck would do to Karen she didn’t know.  She couldn’t see the son-of-a-bitch branding her, but he had done so to Cheyenne, Sierra, Wendy, and the boys.
	Strange at it seemed, “Why don’t I take the girls,” said Logan, “and you take the boys?”
	When the kids looked to him for explanation, “Well,--”
	“’cause you boys can help me and he can help the girls.” Kristy surmised.
	“Something like that,” sighed Logan, “it just seems better, I mean,--” 
	“’cause you two are the oldest,” said Cheyenne, “instead of all one sex group it’d be better if one of you led the opposite.” She stood nakedly smiling and Logan strove hard not to get wood.
	“HEY!” shouted Rusty who had wandered from the group.  “Come look at this!” he sounded desperate and so the group assembled to where he was.
	Where he was was around to one side of the hill the cabin was set into.  There was something of an old garden that hadn’t been tended to in a long, long time.  Up against the hill was a plot of land that had three grave markers.
“Veera Jeen”
1948---1998
	It was the largest of the three, the “marker” was a large piece of flat wood plank; small rocks made the outline of the gravesite; weeds had overtaken what flowers had started.
“Shurman”
1985---1995
	The second gravesite in the middle was small while the third grave,
“Missy”
1980---1994
was one that seemed more kept up with flowers and picked away weeds.

	Missy.
	Kristy, Cheyenne, Sierra, Wendy, Cortney all stared at the sign.  All them had been addressed as “Missy” by the whacked redneck.  What did it mean?
	“He’s psycho.” said Logan.
	“We know that.” sparked Wendy.
	“No, he means that he’s lost his mind, he’s daughter, Missy; he thinks we’re his daughter, or something like that.”
	The group stood (naked) in the morning sun fidgeting, contemplating.
	“You think he killed them?”
	That was frightening.
	“Veera Jeen was—fifty; Shurman was—ten; and Missy was—fourteen,” said Sierra stooping down picking some weeds from the grave, “you think Veera was his wife, and these other two their kids?”
	There were shrugs and guesses.  With the whacked redneck there was no telling for sure—only that he was whacked, a redneck (and a murderer.)

*

	“You’d think them rever’s would give up and put their efforts somewhere’s else?”
	“Jus’ shows they’s aint got no sense Gawd gave ‘em.”
	“Dern shame, don’t see why they puts so much effort in Gawd fearing folk like us?”
	“Aw, reckon they a-feared theys wont git their share of taxes or sumptin, leastways tats the way I hear’d it.”
	The two moonshiners filled some jugs and stowed them in John’s truck.  The two naked little girls had awoken and were only a little confused.  Little Joanna more confused realizing that she was naked.  She looked around and was embarrassed about being so vulnerable, but took it well being in the company of Karen.
	After loading the jugs the men came to stand before the two girls.
	Magnus scooped up his little girl, John scooped up his.  
	Little Joanna struggled to get a grip on what was going on, being nude was a big struggle.  “Where’s Mommy?” she asked.  John held her, cupping her butt and snuggling her.  
	Magnus took Karen to stand her up at one side of the truck.  There she stood with legs apart and began to pee.  Little Joanna stared in awe and began to blush then giggle.  

	“You gotta pee, too?” asked a hopeful Grandpa John.
	Embarrassingly like little children do she blushed and buried her head into her grandpa.  John took her to stand but she was too embarrassed and wriggled about and wanted to hug into her grandpa.
	Magnus scooped up his young’un again carrying her to the truck, to the front seat driver’s side where he laid her out.  The girl opened her legs (automatically) and Magnus began fingering her, opening her little pussy and fingering her out.
	Grandpa John was never strict with Joanna, never disciplined her, struck her or anything of the like.  He had bathed her, dressed her, wiped her (#1 and #2); he had been there when she was ill and threw up; he had heard her fart.  The Guessing Games she had always had her eyes covered; a banana, carrot, cucumber, cock had all went into her sweet mouth.  She had guessed the banana, carrot, cucumber, but not the cock.
	Magnus licked on Karen’s cunny, opening her legs wider and driving his tongue in and all about her delicate poon.  Karen giggled, wriggled, and gave Magnus a reason to live.  Karen Samholt was so pretty, long-long straight blond hair, a small delicate body typical of a six year old.
	Grandpa John sternly but not forcefully held his wriggling granddaughter; the six year old was upset, a little frightened, concerned, and typically speaking acting as a typical six year old should in such a situation.
	“Spread your legs and pee!” sternly stated John.  
	Little Joanna furled her lips and put on a mad face—she held her arms folded in a defiance mode.  She was generally and usually a very happy child, easy going, sometimes reserved, and for merely six she was very smart.  Curious she was, too, but most six year olds were.  She greatly loved her Grandpa but also loved her “missing” Momma…
	Magnus ran his tongue up Karen’s body, licking and sucking on her nipples with a finger greatly probing her pussy.  Karen hooked a leg to the steering wheel and soon was getting more “probing” and more than just a finger!
	A swift swat to Joanna’s little ass got the young tyke to stand nakedly beside the truck and pee.  John caressed her butt and delighted in watching her standing with a steady flow of urine streaming from her little cunny.  After her pee, John wiped her cunny with his finger.  He had done so before and she was actually used to her Grandpa wiping her in both places that required wiping.
	In the truck it looked as if though Magnus Chavang was “getting some” via out and out fucking via vaginal penetration.  But John saw that the man’s cock was merely grinding ON the vagina of Karen and that was all.

*

	Moonshine (sometimes known as creek water, hooch, Portuguese grape juice, white lightning, and many others) is a common slang term for home-distilled alcohol, or whiskey for the hills, especially in places where this production is illegal.  The name is often assumed to be derived from the fact that moonshine producers and smugglers would often work at night (i.e. under the light of the moon) to avoid arrest for producing illegal liquor.
	‘shine is made by yeast fermenting a sugar source to produce ethanol and then separating the alcohol from the fermenting mixture (the mash) through distillation using a distillary.  Because of its illegal nature and simple production, moonshine is usually not aged in barrels like its legal cousins such as whisky or bourbon; and it sometimes contains impurities, off flavors, and toxins such as methanol that the more sophisticated distillation methods of commercial distilleries are able to control.  In popular culture, moonshine is usually presented as being extremely strong and is commonly associated with the Southern United States.
	Good stuff, though!
	Steeped in history, ‘shine was a part of American culture as apple pie.   
A gallon milk jug full of home brew costs about $25, a much lower price of legal whiskey.  
 	Moonshiners & Bootleggers have survived through the Civil War, the teetotalling Rutherford B. Hayes years, the "revenuers" of the Prohibition, and even the advent of "wet" Southern cities in the 1960s and 1970s, which allowed the legal sale of alcohol and put many small stills out of business.
	Still, even such high-rolling rumrunners don't exactly live the Riviera lifestyle.  A small-time operator may bring in $30,000 a year, while paying still hands $150 a day under the table.  One pick-up truck full of spirits may bring in about $5,000 for a distiller.
	John Calhoon’s still was a single operation; he made the liquor and distributed it himself cutting out the middle man, still hands, and keeping all the profit himself.  He didn’t make a killing on what he did but it helped out and kept him going.  He had a nominal customer base that kept him going and he saw no reason to quit.
	Twenty-five porcelain jugs fit nicely in the back of John’s truck, packed together in individual wooden holders to keep them from jostling (and making noise) and tucked under a false compartment under the truck’s bed.  The truck was customized but it didn’t look it.
	Twenty-five jugs at $25 a jug--$625.  Fair piece o’ change for little day’s work.

	Just as Magnus was about to cum, and he did anyways, he stopped humping—but his cock didn’t stop cumming.  He brought his head up and craned his ears.
	“You ‘ear that?”
	John Calhoon closed up the tailgate of the truck securing the hidden hooch and listened.
	“Helicopter?”
	“Damn revers getting’ on me nerves!”
	The helicopter was far off, but the throp-throp-throp could be heard just the same.  
	“Sound like it over in the Valley, Durcilla’s Point maybe.”
	“We bes’ be on our way I reckon.” 
	John slipped on Joanna’s clothes, ticked a little that he didn’t get the chance to fool with her as he pleased.  The girls were set in the middle with the menfolk and they were off “to do business.”

*

The Doctor is in
	Doctor Kevin Bakker was a country doctor; he had lived half his life in the city after becoming a doctor and upon seeing the add asking for a doctor in the quiet rural area of Clark County, Doctor Bakker decided a life change was in order.  He accepted and was cheerfully spending his remaining years as a quintessential country doctor.
	It was a good life and not overly hectic.  He wasn’t as well paid as he was in the City, but the stress levels were far less.  The social issues were different, too; in the City the social life of a doctor was almost as hectic as his daily work.  Lots of Ass-Kissing, too, as well as lancing.  Keeping up appearances and lifestyle of a City doctor to impeccable levels was stressful.  Keeping up appearances of a Country doctor was far less.  
	There were occasional mishaps in country living; losing a finger to a thresher; a clunk to the head from a two-by-four; falling out of a tree or a hayloft barn level; thrown from a horse, kicked by a mule, an altercation with a goat or bull.
	There were sicknesses of various types.  
	And a few births.
	Ms. Alyssa Jenkins was ready to deliver, she was at the end of her term but the baby inside was just not quite ready to make its worldly appearance.

	The baby’s father, Joshua Jenkins was a hard working man who had a small farm.  Like Doc Bakker, the city life had taken a toil on him and his new wife and a try for country life seemed just the thing.  A small plot of land to make their way and they were all set.
	Just starting out the young beginning family had no “hired hands” just yet so all the repairs and such were done by Joshua himself.  The home he and his young bride shared was small, so the young man was quick building an additional room.
	Alyssa Jenkins was in Doc Bakker’s examining room, she was unwise to most things and shirked a great deal of technology—she saw it as a sign of Satan.  Her husband was the same way.  Alyssa Jenkins was also gullible an naïve—two factors that coupled with her being pregnant allowed Doc Bakker to easily sway the young woman to strip naked and lay out on his exam chair.
	After “examining” the woman’s swelled belly and performing other doctor type duties as per the norm, he then began performing extra duties.  Young Alyssa was partially drugged and very unaware of the doctor’s doings; her body was angled more so as the good country doctor could very muchly examine her cunny.
	With “instruments” associated with a doctor’s equipment he probed into her sex, determined all was good and then probed into her sex with his cock.  Completely naked as was his 28 year old patient Doc Bakker made gentle vaginal penetration—sinking his adequate manhood into Alyssa and humping greatly once in.
	Alyssa jostled around, her Mommy titties enticing her errant lover.  Sweat dripped down onto her glowing body, her nipples perked up and it wasn’t the first time the doctor was “in.” Right from the onset of her discovery she was with child Doc Bakker had gotten her to strip down and unwittingly give her self to him.  With each visit to his office she was treated with his expertise as well as his love tool.
	When done he cleaned his patient, himself, then dressed her and eased her back into the world of consciousness.  She all the better with just a slight headache.  Her concerns for her baby were eased and she was sent on her way.
	Shortly thereafter while doing paperwork he was visited by two of the area’s most charming; Mary and Laura Ingall.  Mary was the older at a lovely fifteen while her sister was a mere thirteen.  Mary was very pretty, very smart, and very kind.  She had often expressed her possible desire to be a doctor and was greatly interested in the Doctor’s doings.
	Laura had too many interests to settle on just one pursuit.

	“Laura,” said Mary after a few minutes in Doc Bakker’s office, “you best get those things for Ma.”
	Laura dashed off and Mary seemed relieved, rolled her eyes, shook her head.  Doc Bakker was no fool and quickly had taken note that Mary had wanted to shoo Laura off and be with him herself, privately.
	“Something up, Mary?” Doc Bakker asked curiously.
	“Well,” drawled the girl, “kinda.”  She was damn cute, tall, simple styled hair and beholding the a-typical country-girl persona.  Her smile was intoxicating, her pretty eyes, and meekness made her adorable—and desirable.
	Living in the country there were church socials, barn dances, and other assorted “get togethers” were the folk who lived in the community of Walnut Grove could mingle.  The town itself had some 400 residents while the outlaying farm area brought in another 100.  
	Doc Bakker made way to his private office after putting the BACK in FIVE MINUTES sign in the window and locking the front door.  Mary smelled of roses and had a small no-stem rose in her honey brown hair.  She wore a knee length country style dress, knee length socks, simple shoes.  Doc Bakker couldn’t help but wonder if she had been taken.  At the Socials he had seen her in the company of a couple of country boys, surely one of them, or both? had taken liberties “out behind the barn.”
	Once in the private office the somewhat timid girl placed her hands behind her butt and leaned against the sill of a window.  The window blind was down with the top of the window open for natural country air.
	“What’s on your mind, Mary?” Bakker asked as he plopped himself down in his old style high back swivel chair.
	“Well, it’s kind of embarrassing.” she began.
	“Is it about you, your body?” Bakker asked (in hopes.)  He longed to get a look at that delicious young body and had to cross his legs to keep his erection from busting thru his black slacks.
	“No, it-it’s not about me.” She blushed, bowed her head, brought her hands before her and became increasingly embarrassed.
	“I’ve found that the best way to say something is to say it.”
	Mary nodded, smiled, and with her head still bowed said, 
	“It’s just that I saw you--”
	“Saw me?”
	“Yes,” she replied with head still bowed, fingers entwined, fidgety, “the other day out at Silver Creek, by the pond.”

	Doc Bakker took a turn at being embarrassed, as well as being a little concerned.   The “other day” at Silver Creek he had been fishing, a pleasant pastime he greatly enjoyed as a simple country doctor.  While there he happened to become privy to a one Ms. Beetle getting it on with a one Carl Buttler.  Ms. Beetle was a teacher while Carl Buttler was a student!  
	Carl was a farmboy, seventeen, muscular and well endowed with cock.  His teacher was a lovely lass in her late 20s, another city transplant, with kinky red hair, small tits, great little fuckable body.  
	In the shade of a great oak the two lay naked with Ms. Beetle on top taking all of Carl Buttler’s cock.  It was invigorating and Doc Bakker was invigorated.  
	And Mary Ingalls knew it—she was also spying on her teacher “getting some” and then turned her attention to Doctor Bakker as he masturbated eagerly.
	“Well, I-I, uhm, I don’t know what to say, Mary,” said a flustered Bakker, “only that it is a perfectly natural thing to do.” No mention of the naughtiness between teacher and student…
	“It was ok,” said Mary suddenly, “I didn’t mind.”
	Oh?
	“Oh?”
	“Yes, I-I liked what I saw.”
	Really?
	“Really?”
	“Yes.”
	“Uh, me or Ms. Beetle?”
	Mary blushed (but it was hard to see her blush(ing) as her head was bowed so.  “You.” she said timidly.
	“Well, uh, uhm, that’s interesting to hear.” And slowly he stood.
	Mary raised her head and saw the man’s manhood poking out his black slacks.  Thoughtfully she chewed on her bottom lip—never taking her eyes off of the man’s protrusion.
	“Would you like to see it again?” Doc Bakker calmly asked.
	Timidly Mary nodded and Doc Bakker unzipped and “whipped it out.”
	Mary focused on the exposed man thing, it was like some sort of “dessert” or something such.  It was awe inspiring, her mouth hung open, she licked her lips and took it all in—so to speak.

	Slowly the Doc began to stroke his “man thing” giving the teen further reasons to be awed.
	“Would you like to “touch it?” he asked calmly.
	“May I?” 
	“Certainly!”
	Certainly!
	Shyly she stretched out her hand and briefly touched the pulsing prong.  Gently Doc Bakker held her hand and guided it down the length of his cock.  He let out a little moan and gently with ease pulled Mary closer to him.

	The scene of Ms. Beetle on top of Carl filled Doc Bakker’s mind; his cock strengthened and began to “drip” with anticipation.  Laying against the private exam table Mary Ingalls was naked—sort of.  Her dress was up, panties down.  Doc Bakker “examined” the girl’s bare nakedness—parting her cheeks and drooling over her tight seemingly virginal rim and cunny.
	With a generous lubrication to his cock with some infamous cock lube he gingerly made anal penetration to Mary’s willing ass.  His hands went up under her dress, caressing her bare skin and finding her young teenage breasts a great delight to be held.
	Mary was friggin’ herself and Doc Bakker was “getting some.”
	Just as he was starting to cum—a pounding came to the front office door and muffled yelling of desperation.  Pulling out of Mary’s hole Doc Bakker squirted cum all over her ass.  There was no time to “enjoy” it as he quickly had to tend to business.

	Alyssa Jenkins was the one at the door, and she was in desperation.
	“Joshua fell!” she screamed.  The woman was in a panic and a flustered Mary was there to help calm her.  The three of them jumped into Bakker’s station wagon and made for the Jenkin’s place.
	Not a long drive, five minutes at break-necking speeds.  Joshua Jenkins had been up on the roof of the new addition to the main house and had tumbled off it.  He lay in the grass near motionless moaning in pain.
	Gently Doc Bakker checked him over and was in wonderment to find that he hadn’t broken any ribs or neck.  But he was concerned for any internal damage.
	When he wanted to take the man back to town and off to the clinic slash hospital in Cartersville twenty miles away, Josh Jenkins would have none of it.  Doc Bakker and Alyssa tried and tried to get him to go—but he would have none of it.  He stood and after a few minutes seemed ok.

	But he winced and stumbled a bit, but when a patient don’t wanna go he cant be forced—unless of course his unconscious.  But he wasn’t so Doc Bakker had to let the man stay.  
	Bakker and Mary stayed a while longer and it was clear to the Doctor that the man was suffering internally.  He exhibited very little in the way of pain to let it be known the severity of his pains and without an astute exam Bakker’s assessment was nil.
	At length the Doctor and Mary made their way back to town—they walked.  Living in the country most folks did a lot of walking and the distance wasn’t that great.  Cutting across a meadow and a pasture cut their time in half, too.
	Coming to Silver Creek and the spot where earlier Ms. Beetle was with Carl Buttler “getting some” the two paused and resumed what they had they had been interrupted in doing in the Doctor’s office.
	This time, though, Mary stripped off ALL of her clothes and laid out on them, opening her young teenage legs giving the country doctor a reason to live.  He peeled off his clothes and “went down” on Mary, eating her pussy like it had never been eaten out before.  (and it hadn’t.)
	After bringing the young naughty teen to the brink of orgasmic explosion(s), Doc Bakker mounted, gliding his 49 year old cock against the fifteen year old’s cunt.  She was NOT a virgin, but not a slut, either.  As soon as his cock was sliding she nearly exploded.
	They embraced and became one in the grassy clover; rolling all about with arms and legs akimbo.  Occasionally Mary became on top and she liked it—better penetration and she found that she could squeeze her cunny and get incredible sensations from her lover as well as from deep within herself.
	They shuddered together then fell into a euphoric bliss that lasted quite some time.  There was kissing involved during this bliss, lots of groping, too.  Doc Bakker greatly enthused with Mary’s teenage titties and supple skin.  Mary enthused with the prowess of Doc Bakker’s cock…

	At length they brought themselves together—er, well, to reality and dressed after a quick refreshing dip in the pond—skinny dipping.  (had their been time ole wily horny Doc Bakker would have went for Mary again.  (and Mary would have let him!))
	But time was waning and they had to scurry back to town.
	Along the way…

	They came to the farm of Paul Cunningham.  
	“I ought to stop and check on him,” said Bakker, “see how he doing after that bout of pneumonia a while back.”
	Mary was cool with that and happily/friskily she hoped along beside him; her cunny aching for another humping.  They came from pasture field of the farm encroaching upon the barn first.  It was hear that they heard the telltale sounds of a spanking in progress.
	Carefully the two stole up to the side of the old weathered barn and found a knothole allowing them privileged information.  Inside the barn was Paul Cunningham and his fourteen year old daughter, Jessica.  Jessica was nude and straddled over a haybale, hands on the hay strewn floor, face down, ass up.  Her long legs were spread out and her ass was beaten beet red.
	Paul walloped her nakedness with a typical 2-inch wide strap; most attention was centered at the hapless girl’s ass with an occasional strapping to her thighs.  What her offense was was not known.  And although the beating was horrendous—Mary found herself “wet” between her legs.  Something that Doc Bakker took note of.
	After a time the strap was dropped—so was Paul Cunningham’s pants.  There was nothing in the way of underwear and so Paul Cunningham was nude and his cock was hard.  He stepped up to his teen daughter, one of three he had—no boys.  He firstly caressed the girl’s ass, she was the middle child of the three Cunningham girls; a little bossy when at school, sometimes mouthy, average grades, and often was seen going off behind a barn with a boy…
	Paul C had a big dick.  Eight inches?  Mary’s eyes fell upon the man’s throbbing throbster, she had no idea a man could have such a thing.  He stroked it and smacked it against Jessica’s burning ass then dragged it up and down her crack, poking her asshole and pussy before plunging it into her asshole.
	He went in slowly, hands gripping the seared flesh that was her ass until he was all the way in.  Then, holding her hips tightly he brought her back and forth—back and forth.
	Mary was in fits, the tingling between her legs brought her to fingering herself and inciting desires to Doc Bakker beside her.  And so, while Jessica got nailed by her Dad, Mary laid out on the tall unkempt grass alongside the Cunningham barn and got doinked once more.

	To say the least, Laura Ingalls wasn’t happy when the two finally—FINALLY! arrived back at the office.  She had no idea where they had gone to and Mary had totally forgotten.  Doc Bakker soothed Laura’s fury with candy from his office.  That helped, some.
	The girls gathered themselves and scurried home.  Doc Bakker took a shower…

Two days later
	Two days later and Joshua Jenkins was dead.  Internal bleeding.
	One day later and the town of Walnut Grove was in need of a new doctor as their beloved one had decided to call it quits and move on, return to the City.  He had lost a patient—though there was nothing he could do to force the Patient to seek medical services, it touched the country doctor deeply and disturbed him.
	Mary paid the Doctor a visit (again) with a plan to keep him in business.  As always, the Doctor was pleased to see Mary, she was one of the town’s finest looking girls and it was a pleasure to see her.
	“Busy?” she asked as they finished their embrace in his outer office.
	“No, just sorting some things and awaiting to hear about the new doctor I’ve ordered.” He smiled and was cordial, but haggard over the past days tragic events.  His mop of thick red Irish hair was in tangles and in need of a good shampooing and styling.
	But, be that as it may—Mary’s smile and glowing face enlightened the nearly fifty year old man and together they eased into the private office.
	“You know everyone wants you to stay.” Mary declared.
	Doc Bakker said nothing but furled his lips, shook his head.  He was at a loss for words, really, mired down in bungled thoughts.  He should have insisted that Joshua Jenkins come to town for better examination.
	“If you’ll stay, we can play together anytime you want, all the time!”
	Mary’s declaration sounded enticing—very enticing; but, the pressures of the real world juxtaposed against the desires of the flesh were a mitigated conundrum that was most confounding indeed!
	“Would you like Laura to join us?”
	Doc Bakker was taken off-guard.  “Laura?  Did you say Laura, your sister?”
	There was only one “Laura” in Walnut grove.
	Bakker could only stand and blink his eyes excessively.
	“I-I-I don’t know what to say.” He paused, began to sweat, and continued to blink his old Irish eyes.  “You mean she’s willing?”

	Mary told the Doctor that she and Laura often fooled around with one another—mutually pleasing one another and Laura had shared her lustful desire to be with the Doctor, too.
	Doc Bakker was aghast—not alarmed, but aghast.  He was also amused and rolled his eyes (and thoughts) as he saw Laura standing beside Mary, naked and willing to participate in anything (sexual) he wanted.  It was a dream CUM true…

	Two days later…
	Had Doc Bakker left Walnut Grove as intended then he would have missed a visit by old friends John and Magnus.  Just afternoon and John Calhoon’s truck rolled up to the lee side of the Doctor’s office just as the Doctor was putting the “GONE TO LUNCH/BE BACK HALF HOUR” sign in the window.  He was pleased to see his old friends and greeted them warmly.
	There was the typical jawing and greeting with an occasional eye to the two young’uns in the truck.
	“Thought you’d like to give ‘em one of your “special” exams!” chortled Magnus.  John snorted and added, “and I’ve brought you some “special” payment, too!”
	The Doctor is In.

	Little Joanna wasn’t too enthusiastic about the whole ordeal, her confusion escalated more and more; but she was trusting of a doctor as she had been with to a doctor before.  (but she had never had to be completely naked before!  
	Little Karen was broken, trained, and accepting of all things told to her to do.  Willingly she stripped off her clothes and once laid out on the exam table spread her legs and let the country doctor “exam” her.  Grandpa John had to swiftly bring his granddaughter into line with a swift swat to her butt.  It upset the little tyke and John didn’t really like that; Joanna frowned and was not angrily upset but the other end of that extreme.
	Magnus stealthily whisked a couple of jugs from the truck into the doctor’s private office.  The Doctor used a variety of “special” instruments to exam his young patient; stethoscope, tongue depressor, otoscope, finger, tongue…
	At length the good country doctor utilized his “other” probing finger; whipping out his 49yr old cock he rubbed it expertly up and down Karen’s poon, stiffly gouging her still virgin cunny.  Karen clung to her feet, giggled, and endured.

	When it came for Joanna’s turn, the child had to be calm via another manner.  Being a country doctor, there were many methods of subduing a panicky patient.  Being a country doctor, Bakker had many “medicines” that did the trick nicely with little to no side effects.
	His cock was still hard even after empting a gob slab of cum onto little Karen’s cunt.  He had masterfully made slight vaginal penetration to the child’s cunny and had the situation been a little different he would have tried to make full entry and not care.
	With fussy upset Joanna, the beautiful usually calm happy-go-lucky child was treated with a mild sedative hidden in a candy sucker.  The unawares child brightened some—then slowly began to become lucid and much easier to deal with.
	“Take her clothes off, will ya, John, and I’ll give her an exam.”
	John whisked his granddaughter up and easily undressed her (again) then laid her out on the exam table.  Magnus had Karen in his arms and sat down in a chair outside the exam room.  Here Magnus eased out his cock and pressed it up against Karen’s cunt, poking her hole, and lusting heavily.
	“Promised yer sister I wouldn’t poke ya,” he smiled, “and I aims to keep that promise.” He hugged the girl and satiated himself with humping the girl’s pussy instead of poking.