|Roger that, Scotsquatch
by Deborah ©
I first became fascinated with crypto-zoology when I took several graduate courses at a major university in Ohio. Bigfoot, or Sasquatch, the common Native American terminology, was my peculiar fetish.
The erotic dreams woke me every night. I fantasized I was seduced by a Sasquatch.
Were the tabloid headlines like "Beautiful Women Help to Lure Bigfoot" and "Sasquatch Likes to Study the Ladies" true? I could never get back to sleep after the frightmares until I masturbated and changed my panties.
Soon after my arrival at the university, I began a love affair with a certain professor of religious studies. Pillow talk has its rewards.
This nutty professor had all sorts of intriguing unconventional religious theories and even kinkier sexual desires. He told me I was a descendent of Lilith, the original demon of the dark. He ignored me when I said, "Oh shit, not again, a chick who wears leather and carries a whip always gets stereotyped."
So Doc, that's what I called him, tells me all this jive about Lilith and how she was the first vampire and invented fellatio. Her goal in life was to suck the life force out of a man, his blood and his semen.
Doc even quoted the bible to me and pointed out passages where Lilith appeared. And he also had copies of Dead Sea Scroll fragments that he said clinched it.
I felt like saying, "Geez mawn, will you just stick it in me and shut up?" But the more Doc talked about this stuff the more intrigued I became. I could suck his cock slowly and softly for hours listening to him babble on and on about demons, vampires, fallen angels and bigfoots.
According to Doc, Lilith was a parasitical predator who used her greatest weapons, her incredible beauty, her aura of sensuality and the skills taught her by supernatural beings to lure men into her snare.
"Who, who, me?" I stammered.
"Yes, you!" the Doc exclaimed. "Who, who is right. Lilith, the screech owl, whose color changes from red to gray and back to red, depending on the results of the night's hunting."
And then he would beg me to feed. He would beg me to take a razor blade, cut a cross shape on his chest and lick and suck the blood. He never would let me cut his penis but the licking and sucking always finished up there.
When he finally came in my mouth, he would change the subject from Lilith to Bigfoot.
He would ask questions like "Is the Bigfoot a man, beast or an aberration that resulted from the sexual perversions of the fallen angels thousands of years ago? Why do Native American legends abound regarding bigfoot like creatures? The Sasquatch of our country, the Yeti of Asia, the Mapinguari of the Amazon region, the Yowie of Australia, the Abominable Snowman of the Himalayas are all what?"
And then he would answer his own questions. "Bigfoot are mutants. Their ancestors are Nephilim, fallen angels; the fallen angels who came to earth and copulated with women. A dormant recessive supernatural gene has caused significant genetic damage over the past 6,000 years. They remain, however, incredibly intelligent despite their outward appearance. There are numerous photographs and footprints of Bigfoot in evidence. Sightings are increasing but they are extremely elusive and dispose of the remains of the dearly departed."
When I told Doc about my latest Sasquatch erotic frightmare he would spank me. I love being a bad girl and I love being spanked for my misbehavior even more. He was brutal! Talk about a sore red ass.
Doc liked to spank me with my panties on. When he was done smacking the shit out of me he would remove my panties with his teeth and keep them for who knows what. He never told me and I didn't ask because he would always give me his credit card and tell me to go buy more. I made quite an impression at K-Mart charging $500 worth of panties.
As it turned out, my lifetime supply of panties came in quite handy for Sasquatch hunting. I had so many panties that my new friend Caitlin helped herself although it took her some getting used to because that squaw had gone without most of her life. I bought some "Barely There Underwear" just for her. It's a psychological thing.
Then Doc would put on this stupid gorilla suit, lick my pussy with the utmost enthusiasm and change the subject again.
Doc was an "expert" on just about everything, particularly cervical-puboccygeal orgasm. Right, vaginal orgasm. I described my orgasms and he insisted they were clitoral and not vaginal. He wasn't impressed by my scholarly attitude when I said, "What the fuck difference does it make? I'm not interested in what name you give it, just how it feels."
I guess it was some sort of private lesson when he taught me about Kegal exercises. I soon found myself practicing every time I took a piss. Sitting on the can I kept hearing his words, "Tighten for a count of ten and work up to a count of thirty."
I'd also get bored in just about every class and start practicing and wonder how many other coeds were doing it. Maybe this was just my erotic imagination but there seemed to be a whole lot of squirming going on. I'd pick out either the professor or the cutest guy in the class and pretend I was squeezing his dick. You know, with no hands.
Doc suggested I take a class in molecular genetics so I did. The professor of that course obtained a hair sample from an alleged Sasquatch and attempted to isolate a sequenced mitochrondial gene fragment to determine the phylogenetic affiliation of the creature.
I jumped his bones too. Only way he would tell me a secret. Actually, I don't mind humping gray-beards that much. At least they have something interesting to say. This professor finally admitted to me that his research had determined Sasquatch was far more human than ape. He was afraid to publish his research lest he be subject to great public ridicule. I gave him a real special blowjob for that revelation.
And in his class one girl really got my attention. She would do it so slyly but I noticed. I could tell she was doing the same thing I was doing and then she would slip her hand under her desk to you know where. She was so expressionless who but me could tell? What gave her away, at least to me, was her feet. She always wore sandals instead of moccasins and when she starting wiggling her toes like crazy I knew she was about to give herself one great orgasm.
The sandal clad one's name was Caitlin Cornplanter. Obviously a Native American and extraordinarily beautiful and exotic looking.
I learned so much from her and I'm not talking just all about Native American culture and Sasquatch. We became lovers.
A Seneca she is and born on a reservation, actually in the only city which lies entirely within a reservation, Salamanca. Caitlin is one of the more than five hundred now living descendents of the great Seneca chief, Cornplanter.
Cornplanter's mother was a Seneca and his father was an Irishman. This explained some of Caitlin's physical characteristics. She has extraordinarily red hair both places. In fact, one would think she was a sassy Irish lass with an awesome tan but for the buckskin garb and braids that usually hung over her breasts.
Caitlin also had been in the Doc's bed and she was likewise enamored of the Sasquatch. Although as she told me, "To the Seneca, he is Ge no'squa, the Stone Giant."
She continued, "The Seneca legends passed down for many centuries portray the one you call Sasquatch as a supernatural recluse and spirit being brought out into the presence of humans by only the scent of a beautiful seductress and succubus, a bitch in heat."
"Well, that's us so let's go find one and get rich and famous" I responded.
"Not just yet" Caitlin cautioned. "We have to make preparations and take precautions. First, you must become a Seneca. You will now be known as Little Beaver."
"Hey cool," I said. "So Sasquatch gets a Little Beaver?"
"Don't be so smug silly girl" Caitlin scolded. "Part of the Sasquatch legend is that he has an enormous member with which he first attracts and then punishes those like us. Those like us, who worship asherah."
"Asherah, who or what is that?" I queried. "That's a new one on me."
"No, in you" Caitlin cooed. "Didn't Doc tell you that story? The Hebrew word asherah appears in the bible about forty times. The word means sacred poles; big wooden dildos that became the object of worship. Phallic symbols. Every good little Jewish princess had a smaller version for her own personal devotions. Tantrikas say you should pray at the time of orgasm. An asherah just makes it a little easier. Sure beats the hell out of rosary beads."
"What about splinters?" I asked, just being blonde.
"Not to worry!" exclaimed Caitlin and she brought out her toys. They looked like small totem poles to me. "Here, feel how smooth the wood is polished" and I did.
She strapped on an unusually large one on and surprised me when she pushed me down and tried to force it in me. She said, "Little Beaver, you need a little stretching if you are going to be fooling around with Sasquatch. You are too damn tight."
I'm tall but Caitlin is taller and has powerful legs and muscular arms. I hadn't met the girl yet who could kick my ass but I thought she just might be the first.
I fought her off and once I got out from under her, the advantage went slightly to me. We wrestled and sparred for at least fifteen minutes and we were both drenched in sweat and pumped with adrenaline.
Finally I got off several good kicks to her ribs and she doubled over in pain. I lifted up her head and I was going to punch her right in the face. But when I looked into those big brown bedroom eyes that were crying in pain at the moment, and I looked at those luscious quivering lips, I kissed her hard right on the mouth. Well I couldn't help it!
"OK, now you can do me with your big wooden Injun dildo. Not because you can force me, but because I want you to. Remember, you're not a man who presumes he can just take what he wants without asking. If you were a man, I would have given you two black eyes and a busted jaw. You are not a man, you are a stupid squaw with a stick."
After that little speech I laughed so hard I cried and so did Caitlin. She made love to me slowly, softly and sensually and the stick was only a small part of it. But I could tell we were both thinking, "If only women really had real ones."
What convinced us finally to go Sasquatch hunting was the program on A&E entitled "The Search for the Abominable Snowman" narrated by Leonard Nimoy. Leonard made reference to the hair covered giants of Genesis 6:4 and Bigfoot in the same sentence.
"See," I said to Caitlin, "even Dr. Spock thinks there is something to this supernatural stuff and I personally don't think he is just off in space again."
All she said in response was "I love his ears. Can you just imagine getting a firm grip on those? He'd be eating pussy for days at a time."
We told Doc about our plans for the big hunt and he made sure we had the necessary equipment. He gave us Hydrocal Gypsum Cement to make casts of tracks and ZipLoc baggies to collect hair and dry ice and containers to store tissue samples. He emphasized over and over the need to get DNA evidence.
Doc suggested we talk to a famous Bigfoot hunter and authority on gorillas and the like. She was known in the press, particularly in the tabloids, as Sasquatch Sally.
Sally wrote the real "Gorillas in the Mist" story. She also has appeared in numerous tabloid accounts of strange encounters with bigfoots, gorillas and other monkey business.
The most famous episode, "Sasquatch Sally Scared Shitless by Huge Gorilla Dick" made most of the tabloids and got her on the Jerry Springer show. She turned down Jenny Jones because she was apprehensive they might bring out the gorilla and she would have to prove she did indeed swallow instead of spit.
Sally told us Sasquatch are attracted by and lust after every fluid that comes out of a woman's body. "That is the only reason Sasquatch comes anywhere near humans. He can't help himself when it comes to the scent of a woman and her every secretion and excretion, and he has a very keen sense of smell. My advice to you girls, if you really want to find Sasquatch, is to use panties as bait. Make sure you wear them for days. Dirty is good."
We got the bait ready. We wore our panties for days and wouldn't take them off, not even for sex. No, we didn't abstain from sex. We just worked around them. Then, once properly stained, we refrigerated our panties to keep the aroma fresh.
One more task remained before we went off on the hunt. Caitlin admitted to me she had very little cock-sucking experience. I took Caitlin to some biker bars. By personal observation, I am convinced that biker dudes have the biggest dicks, relatively speaking.
You got to keep those squaws away from the firewater! As soon as she got trashed, she would offer to suck the biggest cock in the place. And she would much to the delight of the most endowed one and the watchers. Then she'd feel sorry for the runner-up and do him too.
We felt we were as ready as we'd ever be so we decided to head for the southern Ohio-Pennsylvania border. There had been numerous Sasquatch sightings reported in that area.
Caitlin's 4wd truck was our primary mode of transportation. I also borrowed my brother's .50 caliber sniper rifle and put it in the back of the truck. It was five feet long and weighed about a hundred pounds. I thought it could stop just about anything except a tank should the need arise.
We camped overnight at various spots near Berlin Lake. Caitlin would have nothing to do with campgrounds. Our two-woman tent was pitched in the woods in the vicinity of the latest Sasquatch sightings.
And then we found tracks. They were close to twenty inches long and much wider than a man's foot. They definitely looked like the examples of other Sasquatch tracks Doc had shown us.
The tracks ran into a very dense wooded area where no vehicle could go. We didn't see any evidence that hikers and campers had braved this desolate area.
We strategically placed panties about every one hundred yards apart along the path of the tracks. Caitlin said "I'm scared shitless and I just wet my panties."
"Good," I snarled. "Take the fucking things off and toss them on the ground. We need some fresh stuff." I took mine off too, and they were not exactly moisture free. I threw them about fifty feet from where Caitlin's were.
Nearby was what seemed to be a good spot to camp for the night. A flat bare spot kind of surrounded by trees and brush.
One of us kept watch while the other slept. It was my turn and I heard "him" approaching and woke Caitlin.
The creature walked right up to us. It was a full moonlit night and we could see him rather clearly.
Almost eight feet tall he was. "Kinda cute!" I whispered to Caitlin although I was quaking with fear and apprehension.
He reached out with both hands and touched my right breast and Caitlin's left breast.
Stupid me blurts out, "Back off you big hairy motherfucker. Or is this how you introduce yourself in your world?"
Caitlin grabbed my arm and screamed, "Shut up you stupid bitch! You may be able to kick my ass but this dude is way out of your league. Remember you left that big rifle on the truck. I doubt that pistola you got would cause more than a mosquito bite to this monkey monster."
"OK, OK," I grumbled. "Let's do the same thing to him, feel him up. Maybe this is some sort of non-verbal friendly communication."
So we felt his body all over and he let us. Actually, he felt much like a man, but of course much hairier and larger. It didn't take long for him to get an enormous erection. He stared down at it and grunted what sounded like a word, but in a language we didn't understand.
Caitlin pointed at his huge erect penis and said "Roger!" She responded to my puzzled look with "Roger is a Seneca word. 'One eyed evil serpent' is what it means and it is spoken of in Sasquatch legends passed down from generation to generation by our people."
She kept saying "Roger, Roger!" and pointing right at it. "You know how guys like their dicks to have names," she rationalized.
He grabbed Caitlin by the hair and forced her down to her knees in front of him. She stroked his massive member with her hands.
"Bite the damn thing off!" I cried. "Then we'll have our Sasquatch evidence."
She whined "This isn't an Almond Joy, six inches long with two nuts, that you can just chomp off in one bite. Look at that fucking thing! Roger is at least three times the size of your usual pleaser and teaser."
Caitlin continued talking as the beast seemed somewhat content at the moment with just her stroking. "We'll just do what Monica did. Make sure we don't swallow it all. Get some on our clothes and we'll have the DNA evidence we need to prove to the world we met Sasquatch."
We thought we should give the big dude a name before we sucked him off and kind of liked Snatchquatch but that was too much of a tongue twister. So we called him Roger.
The double-team seemed quite appropriate for the task at hand. With both of our mouths and four hands we could cover most of his cock. The first time Roger came was just incredible.
It was like a gusher! We got a lot more than a few drops on our shirts. Talk about a wet tee-shirt contest.
This monkey didn't have much interest in foreplay and Caitlin and I didn't think to bring our Vagisal Intimate Moisturizer or some other lubricant. We had to keep each juiced up with our tongues and fingers in anticipation of that big Roger being slipped inside us.
This turned Roger on even more. Apparently he liked to watch girls play with girls.
Gradually Roger understood more and more words we spoke. We soon began to understand some of his words. When he got an erection, which seemed like about every hour, he would point to it and grunt "Roger, Roger."
It didn't take Roger long to progress linguistically to "Suck Roger" and "Roger screw" and he would grab one of us and get right to it. The Kegel exercises didn't work real well with this dude. There wasn't a whole lot of room to contract and squeeze if you get my drift.
On the second day Caitlin and I taught Roger spanking. Just the feel of a big hairy paw on your bare ass is electrifying. He was very gentle at first; too gentle.
We slapped his face until he spanked harder. I bit his neck and raked my nails along his hairy chest, drawing blood, until Roger whacked me real good. You simply can not imagine the feel of a hand that can squeeze your entire ass.
And Roger had six fingers! Just like Doc said he would; a genetic mutant. Just like the "giants" in the bible Doc told us about.
On the third day we taught Roger cunnilingus. Not only couldn't he say the word, he couldn't do it very well either; not much different than most men.
Not that he didn't like doing it, because he loved it. He just had trouble finding the right spot.
On the third day Roger began to speak somewhat fluently with our coaching. And he had a Scottish accent! He was mumbling something like "Steal softly thru moonlight, steal softly thru snow."
"Roger must be a Scotsquatch," Caitlin joked. "I wonder how he look in a little pink plaid skirt, or kilt, or whatever you call those cute little dresses. He is saying something about your legs and wants to know if you wax them. He even said he would wax his if it would help you feel more free sexually."
"Go get my athame and the Magic, Caitlin. We are gonna give Roger a beauty treatment. If he wants me smooth, I want him smooth."
Several hours later Roger looked like a plucked chicken.
"Big improvement, though," Caitlin said with a smile. "Except for the hair we left on his head. Talk about a bad hair day! Hey, what did you do to my strap-on ding dong wooden dildo? That looks like your face you carved on it."
"It is my face. And itís going right up Rogerís ass. Now, you blow him while I sneak up behind him."
Roger seemed to like anal but he didnít squeal like a pig or call out for his mama. I was a little disappointed.
"Shit, Caitlin, I should have brought the whip and the cuffs. Iíd turn this big gorilla into a cry baby."
Roger was lapping Caitlin right up when I, remembering what Sally had said about his intense obsession with a woman's fluids said, "Try pissing in his mouth." He loved it!
Then I posed the question to Caitlin, "I wonder if he likes to eat shit and boogers too?" She soon found out.
"No more Kleenex and digging six inch holes in the ground for us!" she joked. She mooned me with a "And look, he cleans you right up. Don't need toilet paper either."
I responded, "Yeah, and if you had a Roger as a pet at home think of all the water you'd save. No more flushing the toilet."
We were getting carried away with the joke and laughed until we cried, to the point of almost wetting our panties. "Here Roger, Roger, want a drink?" we chanted at him. One thirsty dude, that Roger.
This orgy went on for five days because Roger didn't sleep for five days straight. Caitlin and I took turns taking catnaps while the other one kept him amused.
Finally Roger crashed. I mean he really crashed. It was more like hibernation.
We took that opportunity to slip away back to the real world. Neither one of us could take much more of Roger at the moment. And we were a little leery of what Roger might get around to wanting to do with Roger next. Being butt bumped by a big fat twenty- inch gorilla Roger was not something we looked forward to with fond anticipation.
Our DNA evidence is locked away in a safety deposit box. Those tee-shirts had so much Sasquatch cum on them they got really stiff. It was like folding cardboard to get them into the box.
We did not kiss and tell (yet). We are going back for more Roger soon.
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