The Sexual Adventures of Huckleberry Finn,
Part 06
Written by nick55 `at' kansas.net
This is a story based loosely on characters created by Samuel Clemens (better known as Mark Twain) circa 1884. The plot borrows from "Further Adventures of Huckleberry Finn" by Gregg Matthews (Crown Publishers, 1983, now out of print but still available on the net from Barnes & Noble). Apologies are extended to any heirs of Mr. Clemens or Mr. Matthews who might read this.
In this story, Huck is 16, and the story takes place in 1849.
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Matt lay down on the bed. I moved down between Matt's legs and looked at him. "He is a little bigger than I am," I thought, "but so perfect."
I decided to get to business and took the head of Matt's leaking cock into my mouth. I went down slowly, much as he had done with me, using my tongue to feel every ridge, every bump and contour of Matt's cock.
Matt flexed his cock as I started to move up and down, doing it harder and faster.
"I'm going to shoot real soon, Tom, it's like what you're doing with your mouth is reaching down inside of me to draw it all out," said Matt.
Hearing this, I picked up speed. I wanted Matt's sperm in my mouth, wanted to feel him shoot hard, wanted to make sure that I gave as much pleasure as I had gotten earlier from him.
I moved my face down again and then felt it, Matt's cock pulsing as an intense stream of sperm shot out, almost choking me and filling my mouth with Matt's semen.
We were both lost in a world of pure feeling, concentrated on the spurting cock. It felt so good, so natural. This was what we both had been dreaming about but the dreams didn't compare at all with the reality of doing it.
I kept softly sucking on Matt's cock for a few moments, running my hand up and down to pump out the last of Matt's cum. As I felt Matt's cock soften, I gave it a last kiss and moved to lie beside Matt. He took me in his arms and hugged me. I hugged him back. I fell asleep like that. All thoughts of my being wanted for a murder I didn't do, all thoughts of trouble, they left me. All I knew was that I was safe in Matt's arms and, for tonight at least, that's where I wanted to be.
The next day, at breakfast, Phineas says:
"Boys, we're heading for Slocombe, but the wagons are so slow we likely won't be there before nightfall. I want one of you to ride ahead with Matt and go see Mr. Trask that owns a farm on the north edge of town. Tell him we're on our way and ask if we can use one of his fields like last year. Now then, who wants to go?"
I volunteered.
"Oh, can you write?"
"Yes sir."
"Alright you go. Matt, here's $10 for the field. If Trask agrees, give him that, with my thanks, then take Tom into town and put up our posters anywhere you can, penciling in `Trask's field, 8PM, Friday' in the space at the bottom."
Well we didn't have any trouble at Trask's, but when we got into town and started putting up posters, I got a fright. Matt saw a wall that already had papers stuck on it, so he went over to give it another or two. Then he saw the wanted poster.
$500 reward for information leading to the arrest of HUCKLEBERRY FINN, definite horse thief and probable murderer.
Description:
Hair: dark
Eyes: brown
Build: slight
Height: a bit shy of 6 feet
Age: 16 years
Assumed DANGEROUS! If the boy's killed once, he may kill again.
Do not try to apprehend. Approach with caution.
Send all info to Sheriff Wade Bottoms, St. Petersburg, MO.
"Hey Tom, come take a look at this," Matt called, so I went over, and I saw what it was. Now Matt's looking at me, back to the poster and back at me. "You best be careful, Tom, this boy wanted for murder and thieving, well it could be you."
I looked around to see if anybody was within earshot. It didn't seem anyone was, but still I whispered "that's because it IS me!"
"No!" Matt gasped. I clapped a hand over his mouth right quick.
"I never done that murder, Matt, and I only stole the horse to keep the boy from reporting me so easily. I'm trying to get out of Missouri and into the territories where I can live free, cause I figure no one will be looking for me there, and there ain't laws and lawmen out there, not yet anyway."
"Then you better leave tonight, Huck," Matt whispered back.
"Why?"
"Our group sometimes runs afoul of the law," Matt told me.
"But you're a church!"
"That's just our cover." Seeing the confused look on my face, Matt continued. "Ever since the gold rush, there's just no money in religion. People may not put more than a nickel in the collection plate now, when we used to fetch a dollar a head! You can only raise the Lord's words from your throat if there's food going down it on a regular basis. We were hungry, and folks were saving their money for the gold rush, I reckon. It was May 12, 1848, when Sam Brannan really set off gold fever by writing about Gold from the American River!' in his newspaper, the California Star. Course we didn't hear about it that early, but by the first of June, we knew we'd have to offer something more than salvation, so we turned to the world's oldest profession. Uncle Mordecai will preach and Uncle Phineas will play the calliope, and get the women singing. Then the men will sneak out of the meeting tent and head to the wagons. For nearly a year now each wagon has been a whorehouse on wheels! The girls can make good money, and sometimes a man will pay for sex with me. Aunt Harriet, she checks the men over to be sure they're clean, with no obvious disease, before she'll let em fuck any of us, so it's not too bad."
"Do you and the girls LIKE being whores?" I asked.
"I can't speak for the girls, but I can say for me it's just a living. Even though it's sex, it don't satisfy much because there's hardly ever love involved. Not like when you and I made love, now THAT was beautiful! Huck, can I come with you to California?"
"Well sure Matt, if you really want to, but will your kin let you?"
"They're not my parents, I reckon they have to let me go if that's what I want."
"Well alright then."
(to be continued)