Sosoni Ch. 03

When all was spent, I drew the shaft out and a great gush of cum slipped out and down Sosoni's inner thigh.

Needless to say, Sosoni did not like spilled semen. She quickly moved to collect and lap up all that her ass couldn't keep contained.

***

The shoulder and ankle were healing well.

We made it through a menstrual cycle; I bought her some tampons, showed her some videos for how they're used.

Television and the Internet showed her there were other people the world, and I took her on a drive into town so that she could see civilization for herself. I was surprised to find her unruffled by it all.

Yet, I hesitated to show her these things because I knew they would evaporate the illusion of my heroic greatness in her eyes. She would learn I was just some guy and not a bear-killing, machine-riding god of some kind.

But, that didn't happen. If anything, introducing her to civilization made her more affectionate and eager to please me.

Still, more and more of Sosoni's personality began to emerge in those days. She was devoted but ready to learn skills that would make herself more personally independent—hygiene, food preparation, etc. She was inquisitive, always looking to understand how something worked. Often with technology, I had to admit I had no idea, and it surprised her, it seemed, that I would so casually use things that I didn't understand.

She was equal parts energetic and lazy, able to spend entire days with me working outside as easily as she passed days with me never leaving the bedroom except to bring in food.

She loved taking showers. She loved brushing her hair.

She could be demanding and insistent, but always in ways that kept me close to her.

At night, we sometimes fell asleep apart from one another, but always woke up intermingled.

In sum, she loved being my partner and helper, and she hated feeling useless.

***

There was an idea buried inside my mind needing to get aired, but it terrified me.

As I grew more convinced that I wanted to be with Sosoni for good, the idea rattled all the harder in my head.

It was the issue of choice.

I had gotten one. I lived a life amongst people. I met and dated many different girls and women as I grew up. I chose one—chose poorly because she divorced me—but, I chose.

Now, as I considered Sosoni as a potential mate-for-life—using that terminology in my own mind because I had no idea how I could marry a person who didn't really exist on paper—I realized that Sosoni had not gotten to choose.

What if some other fella had found her out there? Would she now be that guy's devoted partner and helper? Would she be giving her body to him?

What if I called up some professor in Boise and told him about Sosoni? What if a team of anthropologists took her off to a lab to study and educate her? Would she come back to me?

Before meeting Sosoni, one of the images that occasionally haunted me on my long hikes was the thought that, all alone in the wilderness, I wasn't going to be meeting some new woman. Moving from the city might have helped my heart—my life, really—last a bit longer, but at what cost? Did I really want a longer, lonelier life?

And here, this strange, beautiful woman appears as if in answer to these fears. Do I risk losing her?

Or, flipping that thought over, do I risk earning her lifelong resentment for keeping her like some caged eagle?

Do I dare, in other words, set her free?

The answer was easy.

I'm an American. Freedom is my fucking job.

***

I began the process of setting Sosoni free to make her own choices by formally introducing her to Charles, my doctor and friend.

I invited him up to the house one weekend. Sosoni was a bit wary of him until she saw the two of us laughing together. Then, she kind of latched onto him, as if an understanding of friendship were hard-wired into human consciousness.

The next time, I invited Charles to bring his wife.

There was a tricky moment.

Charles's wife, Deborah, is fairly large-breasted. Sosoni immediately recognized her as a woman. When this happened in my front entryway, Sosoni sprang toward me and stood beside and in front of me. She reached back with her hand and grabbed the crotch of my pants, and with her other hand, she reached out as if warding Deborah away from me. "This cock is mine," she seemed to declare.

I eased her out of that situation, and when she saw that Charles and Deborah were their own couple, Sosoni finally relaxed.

We went to their home the following weekend where Charles showed her some magic tricks. Sosoni loved it, and she insisted on being shown how the tricks worked. Charles obliged, later admitting to me that, even though magicians never reveal their tricks, Sosoni's face was too hard to resist.

Deborah, a former school teacher, had an inspiration. She and Charles have two grandchildren who spend weekends with them on occasion. Deborah went to the "grandkid's closet" and pulled out some games she thought might help Sosoni learn basic skills.

It was a head-smack moment for me. Of course!

Before leaving McCall, Sosoni and I stopped at a store and left with Candyland, Chutes and Ladders, Memory, and a bunch of other kids games.

Deborah and Sosoni grew fond of one another, and whenever she could, Deborah came up to visit and play games with us, bringing new ones sometimes. Before long, Deborah invited Sosoni out, just the two of them. "Women's Time," Deborah called it. It happened about three times per week, and Charles insisted that I not ask Deborah about it.

"Let it play out, my friend," he said.

"I'd just like to know where they went. That's all. I don't need to know what Deborah's teaching her."

Charles waved me down. "Trust Deborah. She's never let me down."

"Alright."

Sosoni's vocabulary growth—hell, mental growth, really—flourished as those "Women's Time" weeks passed.

Charles and I played Cribbage together more than usual during those days, and one day in late May, I asked him if I should notify the authorities about Sosoni.

"In my experience, when you're wondering about telling the authorities something, it means you probably should."

I sighed. "As always, Charles, you're probably right."

"So what's got you worried?"

"The entire set of events."

"Like what?"

"Let's run it down. I didn't immediately report her to anyone, even though I knew exactly what she was—knew her family, even—or, at least, I knew of her family. I let her give me hand jobs and blow jobs. I shot a bear without a license. I disposed of the evidence of said bear. I took her to my house and have done everything a man can sexually do to a woman without special equipment, except for vaginal sex."

Charles guffawed. "Put it like that, of course it sounds bad. You know that's only half of the truth. You saved her life by killing that bear—and your own. Every act of sex was consensual. You've nursed her back to health and given her safety, food, shelter, and love. Sure she's got distant relatives, but her family was—what'd you call it?—forgotten?"

I nodded.

He continued, "Yeah—forgotten. You've eased her into culture and civilization. Because of you, she spends time almost every day with my wife, a licensed, professional teacher. You've saved her from a cold, hard life with an early death, and you've given her a chance for a very long and happy one."

"Friends are expected to see the good in one another."

"No," Charles argued, "I'm looking at this like a scientist."

"So, who do I call? Boise State Anthropology or something?"

"Better still, call Idaho Health and Welfare. I know a guy."

"Yeah?"

"He'll do the right thing, and he owes me one."

"Okay. Before I do, I'm going to head back out to her cave, find everything I can and bring it all back."

"For a complete record?"

I nodded.

"Not a bad idea," he acknowledged. "Take your camera out there."

I pointed at him. "Yes. Good idea, my friend."

***

That night Sosoni climbed into bed, naked as usual. What was different was that she immediately rolled onto her tummy, pushed herself to her knees, and spread her legs wide.

Then she waited, peering back over her shoulder at me.

I heard her breathing, and she sounded almost out of breath.

I began to undress.

She called my name.

I smiled and pulled off my shirt.

She yelled my name and smacked the bed.

I looked at her.

Blood seemed to have rushed to her face. Her eyes glared at me like a mountain lion's at a deer. Knowing she had my attention, she spread her legs even wider and gyrated her ass. Then, she smacked the bed again, crying out in her broken, childlike English for me to go faster, to hurry up.

I grinned, chuckling, "Wait, Sosoni, I need to go to the..."

She hollered angrily and smacked the bed twice, thrusting her pussy in my direction.

I quit moving. She was serious. Her eyes burned at me. She wanted this right fucking now.

I went to her.

She issued a low, almost purring sound when I approached. Her knees drew closer together, and she moved her ass towards me.

The moment I held her hips and brought my face to her vagina, she began to moan. Sosoni never sounded how one expects a woman to sound during sex, but this was even more strange. This moan was like a large feline's death growl.

Her orgasm—the wettest I had ever experienced with her—was almost instantaneous. My tongue had been on her for less than a minute. The growls turned into bawling screams, and she collapsed forward onto her stomach.

I followed her down, but she twisted away from me.

Sitting back on my knees, I watched her recover. Then, as if a deafening alarm had rung out in my bedroom, she sprang up, legs kicking and came at me on all fours.

I fell back, my head over the foot of the bed. Is she pissed off? I wondered. What did I do wrong?

Her lips suddenly closed around my cock and her head bobbed furiously. She moaned and hummed urgently.

I grunted her name.

She drew off, said, "Cum," and inhaled the shaft again.

I propped myself up with my elbows, thinking that I'd misheard her.

Her head rose and fell five, six, seven times, and then she drew off, looked up at me with ferocious eyes and yelled "Cum!"

My jaw fell open as much from what she said as from how she took me back into her mouth: her head plummeted. It drove down the length of the shaft. Her lips stretched to take more, stretched to gain a fraction.

I grasped.

She screamed into my cock. Her lips came off and she shrieked, "Cum!" slapping the bed three times.

"I will!" I snapped.

She smiled at me viciously.

I reached out, wrapped my hand around the back of her head, and guided her mouth back to my saliva-coated erection.

She hummed, sucked, and slurped.

I collapsed back into the bed at the warm pleasure she gave me. I whispered her name.

She felt the onset of my coming orgasm. Her lips plummeted deep.

I groaned.

She held in place, humming urgently into my cock until her mouth was so full of semen that she could only whimper. With her tongue, I felt her draw the cum back into her throat, and I listened to the wet, throaty gulps that followed.

The orgasm, usually an energy drain, electrified me. I sat up and moved towards her, wanting to play with her breasts for a while. She drew back, and we wound up facing one another on all fours like hostile bears.

She rose to her knees and lunged at me. I caught her, and we kissed. Throwing more and more of her weight upon me, I tipped backward. She capitalized, sliding over my stomach and chest. Now straddling me, pinning my shoulders to the mattress with her knees. She stared down triumphantly at me.

I glanced at her thick, black bush.

She circled her hips and her pussy drew near my chin before arching away. She did it again, and I craned my neck to lunge for it. Sosoni snatched it away before I could reach it.

Our eyes met, and she smiled teasingly. Then, she circled her hips again.

I did not fall for the bait. I grabbed her waist to pull vagina to my face.

She threw her weight backward, denying me and laughing.

When she glanced at me, I said, "Sosoni, please."

She fell forward to her hands and, supporting her lower body with them, she brought her legs to either side of my face and lowered her vagina to my mouth. From the moment my tongue met her, she started in growling again—a low, feminine rumbling purr.

I grew hard again to the sounds of her pleasure, and I wanted her.

This woman, I thought, is in heat. Maybe it was her closeness to nature for her entire life; maybe hormones were out of control, or maybe she saw animals do it this way in nature. I didn't know, but she needed to be fucked.

I was, finally, going to fuck her.

I slid out from under her and spun around so that, before she could voice her protest, I was positioned behind her, rock hard, holding her waist.

She lowered her hips, pointing her anus at my cock, and waited.

I raised her back up, and I nestled the head of my cock against her pussy.

Sosoni's face darted around to me. Her jaw fell open. She visibly panted.

I hesitated.

Even though I looked down on a sloppy wet dream of pornographic imagery—Sosoni's wet pussy, the full arc of her ass, a throbbing little pink anus, the sides of her tits hanging firmly under her chest, and her desperate eyes, shocked and excited about what might happen—I stopped.

I had to wait. I had to let her choose not from one option, but from the world. I had to set her completely free first.

The decision pissed me off. I slathered my index and middle fingers with saliva and, for the first time, slid them into Sosoni's pussy and through her hymen until they could go no further.

She cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

I grabbed a handful of her ass and sucked on it. Then, I grabbed a fistful of her hair and drew it tight while my fingers, at first, slid inside her, and then, when her grunts and whimpers rose, pounded her with them.

Her orgasm was pure savagery—a screaming, roaring, bloody affair. She toppled to the bed like a slain deer, gasping.

Still furious at myself for being weak, for letting my conscience prevail, I rolled her onto her back and straddled her chest. Clutching Sosoni's firm, fat tits, I brought them to my cock.

A few minutes later slashes of semen crisscrossed her chin and face. Pools gathered at her neck. I rolled off and fell asleep.

***

In the early morning the next day, I slipped out from under her arm and, letting her sleep, took my four-wheeler out to the cave to gather up anything she or I had left behind, and to take pictures with my camera.

It didn't take long, other than the trip.

Driving back, I thought about my decision to wait to have sex with Sosoni. I was proud of myself. This was right. Let her, I decided, remain a virgin until she chooses. So, I began to imagine the phone call I planned making to the guy Charles knew at the Idaho Department of Health and Welfare. What would happen once people knew about her?

I slowed down my ATV.

From a few hundred yards away, I saw two trucks parked haphazardly in my driveway.

What the fuck?

A man in jeans and an old ball cap appeared on my deck, carrying a shotgun. He turned and said something to someone inside my house before stepping out and charging the weapon.

Sosoni.

I raised two hands in the air briefly and approached my house.

Another man emerged from my front door, rifle pointed at me as I rounded my house and pulled into the driveway. I parked and raised my hands.

"Get off the ATV," the man commanded.

I stepped off.

"Helmet off," he said.

I pulled it free and tossed it on the ground.

The man with the shotgun emerged from the front door and then a third and a fourth man. The third man led Sosoni. There was a black pillowcase over her head, and her hands had been tied together in front of her with what looked like zip ties. She twisted, struggled, and yelled, "No!" The man held her tight.

The last man, I recognized. It was Bert Headley.

He smiled at me, set his pistol on his shoulder, and groped Sosoni's ass. "Well, if it ain't Mr. Rich City Boy, come home day late, dollar short."

"Don't hurt her, Headley. Please."

Sosoni screamed and fought when she heard my voice. The third man slammed the butt of his pistol down on Sosoni's back and she cried out.

"No!" I hollered.

Seeing her give up the fight, Headley turned back to me. "Only reason she gets hurt is if she fights us, see?"

"What are you going to do?"

Headley sniffed and hiked up his pants with a kind of cowboy-like bravado. "Well, way I figure is this fine lookin' piece of ass don't even really exist. Ain't no one gonna complain she's missing 'cept you. Ain't no cops gonna look for no woman don't exist. So, we're going to have ourselves some fun, eh boys?"

Laughter surrounded me.

"Always wanted me one of them squaws!" one of them cackled.

Bert nodded at the man. "'Specially one so young!" he yelled.

The man escorting Sosoni reached around and cupped her breasts. "And with these big ol' titties!"

More guffaws followed.

Fury paralyzed me. I couldn't speak.

***

What follows here is only what I could piece together after the whole tragic mess ended.

First and most importantly, I had not seen Bert Headley for the twisted old fuck he really was.

There had been hints. He had insisted on seeing me in person. He wanted to be paid for his time, and he asked for quite a sum, given that I only required an hour. He had wanted cash.

When I so readily agreed to his outrageous demand, he had cursed himself not asking for more. I didn't hear it in his voice when we made our agreement over the phone. I didn't see it in his eyes when we met, but his curiosity had been awakened.

He traced back to how I had gotten his name. He talked to those folks.

He had probably looked me up—talking to people and searching the Internet.

He started assembling a story.

Then, knowing I had gone off to speak with Kamewaititi, he went up to the Reservation and spoke with the old Shoshone.

And it was there that he learned what I learned from Kamewaititi. It was there he uncovered my biggest mistake: I had assumed that the first child had been a girl. I had been surprised to discover it was a boy.

Bert Headley undoubtedly left Fort Caldwell thinking that I had found an 18 or 19-year-old Shoshone woman in the forest, the second child and daughter of Tonjadika and Okoweney.

But that wasn't all. He had been able to confirm it. The small network of rural folks loved privacy rights, sure.

But, they liked rumors even better.

Bert probably learned from my gas station guy that I had asked where to find outdoor women's clothing. He may have even gone to the store to find out what I'd bought. Other store owners may have explained how I'd been visiting more frequently, buying more food. Buying tampons.

He might have fed the store owners some juicy tidbits. He may have put it out there as some kind of kidnapping crime on my part. He may have played upon my outsider status—the rich city guy stealing up the land of good Idaho folks.

He got the information he needed. He confirmed it. He knew.

He wanted Sosoni for himself.

So, he assembled his small crew, probably promised them some money and rights to Sosoni's body, and they drew up a plan.

***

When the laughter of Headley's crew finally abated, the old man turned back to me. "You ain't gonna follow us. Already cut yer Jeep tires. And you ain't gonna follow us on that there four-wheeler 'cause, well..." He pointed his pistol at the ATV.

I leaped away.

Two shots rang out in succession.

Sosoni jolted, but the third man held her tightly.

I looked at the damage: both right side tires were flat.

"'Cause of that," Headley said. "And you ain't gonna come after us because this here little girl don't need no fingers, toes, hands, or feet to get fucked." He blinked at me to hammer home the import of his words. "We know where you live, and you might know me, but you don't know nothin' 'bout the fellas here, do you?"