Gender: Male Age: 60 Location: Good Old South, USA
|Introduction: Desert mysteries awaken horny pussies and a hard cock|
JackassTales … Tale # 65 … Readers; as we all know, Indiana Jones is a bigger-than-life character who loves adventure, excitement, and an occasional romance. It is my belief that Mr. Jones also loves sex! The following is my romanticized tale of one of young Indy’s early sexual adventures. Here, defending love, lust, and horny pussies justify mayhem and violence.
Young Indy Jones & the Gift of Wet Pussies
Now in his sixteenth year of living, Henry “Indiana” Jones Jr. lay in his berth listening to the rhythmic clackety clacking of the steam engine’s steel wheels as they passed over the uneven rails of the Egyptian desert. Outside his darkened window nightfall had cloaked the never-ending landscape in a shroud of mystery and magic. What adventurous escapades awaited this daring young man in this wild, untamed land?
[Part 1] Damp, Dripping Desert
Indy was acutely aware that beneath his thin blanket his young cock was stirring. His hand had unconsciously searched his warm, nude body until it had found the elongated penile protrusion. This boy/man of few years was enormously proud that this authenticator of manhood was an erectile device of above average length and girth. Not ordinarily given to bravado, Indy’s latest measurement of his penis’ length had reached the eight inch mark on his ruler and the circumference had touched the six & a half inch girth mark on his tape measure. A quick mathematical calculation gave the measurement of a bit over two inches in thickness to the meaty rod.
Suddenly, one of the mysteries of this ancient land presented itself. The comfortable berth’s heavy, dark drapes opened and a person crawled beneath Indy’s blanket. In the quick, dim light of the train car’s passageway, the young man glimpsed a longhaired female figure. The woman, or girl, had thrown a robe aside and was now dressed in only a sheer nightgown.
Backing ass first into the narrow berth, the female’s body settled against the rigidity of Indy’s aforementioned penis. “Please, Sir Robert,” the mystery voice beseeched. “Please, not tonight!”
Recognition now came to Indy’s mind. The voice belonged to the twenty-something looking traveling companion of Sir Robert Stern. Whispers had been made that the young lady was a paid escort and bedmate to the wealthy munitions trader. If he wasn’t mistaken, young Mr. Jones believed he knew her name to be Miss Anne Hathaway.
In spite of his most gentlemanly intentions, Indy insistently pressed his nude body against the long, cloth-covered crack of his bed partner’s ass. His persistent erection settled in for a long winter’s nap. Nap hell, this young man’s cock established itself as a permanent, undulating fixture trying to probe into feminine flesh!
“Oh all right, Sir Robert,” the woman reluctantly relented. “Do it and be done with it!”
To her bedmate’s surprise, the woman stripped her nightgown and her undergarments from her body. Indy’s stiffened cock now had no obstruction between it and the smooth, warm ass-flesh of this female. When she raised her top leg, the young man’s erection slipped in between and just like a water-seeking dowsing stick, it found moisture and bent toward it.
With an abundance of feminine moisture guiding his erection, Indy imbedded his masculinity into a sweltering hot hole. At first his cockhead kissed the wet butterfly wings of the woman’s delicate inner pussylips. And then magnetic juices drew his entire cockshaft into her dripping vaginal tunnel. Using Mother Nature’s sinful urges, he began thrusting in and out in a rhythmic beat which matched the clackety clacking train wheels.
Anne Hathaway felt the stiffened erection as it entered her body. She was no stranger to dicks being stuck into her womanhood, yet there was something about the feel of this one that was quite unexpected. Sir Robert’s penis was never this erect; it did not stretch her tender vaginal flesh this tightly; and it did not penetrate into her vagina as deeply as the unfamiliar penile penetrater within her pussy did.
Determining that she must have crawled into the wrong berth by mistake, Anne knew that the most ladylike course of action would be for her to depart forthwith. Yet, did she really want to act like a lady, or did she want to amuse herself by staying and allowing the wondrous vaginal fornicator to finish its dutiful deed? Deciding on the latter, she set aside all inhibitions and opened her heart and loins to lust! Actually, she had no choice because the elongated cockshaft was ramming into her so forcefully and quickly she knew she was on the verge of cumming!
Indy had played around with a few girls, yet this was his cock’s first full grown woman. They, that are men, say that a cunt is a cunt, but this was one independent-minded young man who now had evidence to the contrary. Miss Hathaway’s cunt was a miraculous exception! Super slick and tight beyond belief, this miss’s pussy was a blistering-hot hole that had elastic vaginal muscles which milked and squeezed his meaty erection.
Using doggedly determined instincts, Indy fucked this extraordinary bitch’s cunt with energetic thrusts of his manly erection. His pussy-pounding rhythm increased until his screwing speed approached that of an enthusiastic stud jackrabbit.
Anne’s vagina began spraying a mist of feminine fluid. It was vaginal cum and her female body was cumming like crazy! Never had any cock made her cum this quickly and never had a man make her body feel such exquisite delight. She wanted to squeal, she wanted to scream, and dear god, she wanted to shout her joy to the high heavens! Yet, considering the circumstances of her orgasmic thrills, she remained silent. Goodness, she didn’t even know the identity of the man fucking her!
The man fucking her was beginning to cum, too. Indy’s masculine loins were summoning forth seminal fluids. Suddenly, pressurized streams of creamy cum were expelled into the older woman’s slippery cunt. An orgasm of monumental proportion made this man hesitate for a second and then begin thrusting again. During the brief hesitation, Indy’s infatuated mind caused him to realize that his hands, or at least one of them, was fondling and playing with a pair of bountiful breasts. Well-formed mammary mounds welcomed his manhandling molestations. As if nature intended so, nippled nubs easily rolled between his thumb and forefinger.
Anne’s innermost depths felt the seminal flood which was forcefully discharged within her body. Multiple orgasmic explosions carried her cunt into a netherworld of euphoric pleasure. This woman’s mind cleared enough for her to consciously compare her current blissful ecstasy to that she had received from any other man. Accordingly, she found all others lacking.
Indy’s cock was milked nearly dry when the woman abruptly pulled away from him leaving his hardon still stiff and erect. Miss Hathaway threw the bedcovers down to the foot of the berth then she mounted her man from an on-top position. Fumbling fingers found the erection she sought and guided them back into her sodden, cum-filled pussy. Raising and lowering herself onto the elongated penile pole, Miss Anne Hathaway energetically fucked the man beneath her!
If God or Indy’s mother knew what he was doing, then there might be hell to pay. But, his mother was in Cairo and locals say that there is no God in the Egyptian Sinai Desert. So Indy grabbed himself two handfuls of tits and played with them like the little devil he didn’t know he could be. When the nubbed nipples touched his chest, the young man transferred his groping hands onto a pair of nice, round asscheeks. This man’s engorged penis spit its seminal fluids straight up with no attention paid to gravity.
Anne rode the stretched and swollen cock as hard as her invigorated body would allow her. The elastic opening to her cunt was getting bruised and battered. She cared little for the consequences. As long as she was getting cock-induced orgasms, she cared not for anything else! Well, maybe there was one thing.
Indy felt Miss Hathaway’s lips meet his. She kissed him with a wild, wanton passion. Anne’s breasts pressed their nipples against his, her slippery tight pussy slid up and down his meaty pole, and together this man and woman shared impassioned lust mixed with just a touch of romantic love.
The beat of two hearts suddenly stopped. Well, at least the pulse-racing undulations of two fornicating bodies stopped. Almost! In spite of no movement, several mini orgasms ran through both Anne and Indy’s cummy loins. Neither had ever experience such glorious sexual ecstasy.
Exhausted, Anne Hathaway slipped off the man she was lying atop. This woman’s nude body ended up sandwiched between the berth’s outer wall and the naked body of the man she had just had sexual intercourse with. When her heaving chest slowed its labored breathing, her ardor was reawakened and she again kissed the man she lay with. Her kisses were returned by a young man with obsessive adoration.
“Dear God, I mustn’t do this!” Anne regretfully exclaimed. “I don’t even know your name nor do you know mine! Sir, I am not a whore! Please don’t think of me as such!”
Indy thought no such thing. “Goodness woman, that thought has never crossed my mind,” he responded. “I’ll remember you as the greatest fuck I’ve ever known in my life!”
Anne Hathaway climbed over the man in the berth with her and then she slipped on her nightgown, undergarments, and robe. Just before she pulled aside the heavy drapes, she huskily whispered, “You’re the best fuck I’ve ever had, too!”
And then the magical creature was gone back into the mysterious night.
[Part 2] Pussies and the Sands of Time
Indy entered the dining car a little late the next morning. His eyes spied a man waving him over to a table. The man, Mr. Lowell Thomas, was an American author, newspaperman, and broadcaster who was currently covering the unrest between warring tribes in the World War I Mid-East. Mr. Thomas was also charged with the dubious task of watching over young Henry Jones. Anna Mary Jones, Indy’s mother, had allowed her son to accompany the famous adventurer only on condition that the trip be considered a gift of the highest educational value.
“Good morning young man,” Mr. Thomas greeted. “Allow me to introduce you to our dining guests this morning. To my right here is Lieutenant Colonel T. E. Lawrence a British Army officer serving in a liaison role between the warring Arab tribes and the Ottoman Turks. To my left is Sir Robert Stern, an arms consultant, and his lovely traveling companion, Miss Anne Hathaway.”
As Indy’s gaze touched upon Anne Hathaway, his sleeping penis immediately awakened and began rapidly growing in size and hardness. The young man’s mushrooming pants did not go unnoticed by the stunningly attractive female. Miss Hathaway’s mind seemed to be attempting to reconcile the sight now before her eyes and the events of the previous night. Dismissing any connection, she did what the men had done; she took the young man’s hand and shook it.
A shocking charge of electrical current ran up two arms. Holding hands a few seconds longer than necessary, Indy and Anne’s bodies spoke to each other in a lascivious language only they seemed to understand. While only Indy knew the absolute truth about their moonlight carnal copulations, Anne’s mind seemed to be adding things up and attempting to come up with the answer to two plus two.
“Take a seat, Henry,” Mr. Thomas ordered. “There is an excellent cook on this train and you will surely be contented by his offerings.”
And, so he was. Indy ate with the famished appetite of a man who was recovering from a strenuous bout of exercise. Crowded in as he was with his thigh pressed against Miss Anne’s, the hunger for a piece of pussy was nearly driving this young man crazy. Knowing Anne’s cunt as intimately as he did, Indy made an assumption that there wasn’t another piece of white pussy to match it in a thousand miles!
If events were foretold, then Indy would know that his assumption was wrong.
The steam locomotive pulled the train through dozens of miles of dirt and sand. Yet, after an eternity of clackety clacking, it slowed and then stopped. All passengers disembarked at a small desert village. If this were America, Indy would say that this was a one street, one horse town. Yet, being Arabia, it seemed the camels outnumbered the beautiful Arabian horses.
Sir Robert offered his arm to his traveling companion and she linked her arm in his. “Gentlemen,” the man said to Mr. Thomas, Colonel Lawrence, and Indy. “Would you care to accompany us to watch one of the local tribal ceremonies?”
As no objection was made, all three followed Sir Robert and Anne. A magnificent circular tent came into view just over a rise. Sir Robert enthusiastically greeted an elegantly dressed Arab man and the wayfarers were led inside. Unbelievably, the interior of the tent was illuminated by electric lights. Multi-colored Persian rugs carpeted the sandy floor while Arabian tapestries adorned the ceiling and walls. This barn-sized structure was an ornate edifice fit for a king’s pleasure.
Yet, kings were not the ones to find pleasure here. Too soon it became apparent that the invited guests were to be spectators at a sex slave auction!
Indy was armed with a coiled, ten-foot long, bullwhip with which he was proficient enough with to blind or maim a man. Young Mr. Jones also carried a holstered Webley Mk IV revolver which fired the 11.6mm British cartridge. This cartridge was more easily obtained in this part of the world than any American round. Colonel Lawrence was armed with an identical revolver, yet his army was far away. Mr. Thomas was unarmed except for his power of the pen which would speak of these events at a later date. Sir Robert Stern had a German 9mm Luger auto-pistol stuck in his pants, yet his hand never moved to touch it.
To say that these gentlemen (with the exception of Mr. Stern) were reluctant to participate as witnesses to this tribal debauchery was an understatement. Yet, even as Indy and Colonel Lawrence reached for their weapons, they were prevented from taking offensive action by the presence of more than a dozen heavily-armed Arab security guards.
Indy wondered how Miss Hathaway felt about the probable brutality which she may have to observe. The pale, stricken look on her face answered his unspoken questions. Slavery was a centuries old unfortunate fact of life, yet it shouldn’t be a spectator sport for refined women like Anne!
As a plan formed in Indy’s mind to grab Anne’s hand and lead her out of this hellish nightmare, several more armed guards entered the tent escorting three young girls. Goddamn, not one of the females was of an age where puberty had touched her female body!
Bidding started. A fierce bidding war ensued among the dozens of men present. Indy was an independent student of languages and he was fluent in those being spoken here. Yet, bids came so fast and furious that he was hard pressed to keep up with what was said.
An Arab man walked to each of the girls and ripped their concealing garments from them. At the sight of the three nude young bodies, the bitter rivalry of bids increased. Not one little pussy had a single pubic hair and each chest was as flat as a limestone slab!
“Sold!” was repeated three times by the auctioneer. Each winning bidder came to claim his prize. Local custom demanded that each sex slave be sold as a virginal reward and that the proof of virginity be made by bloody rape. If blood did not flow from a pussy, then the sinning female was summarily executed and the bidder’s money was returned.
At first, Anne turned her eyes away while the men looked on in seething silence. If a man turned his gaze away he would be branded as a coward not even worthy of being spat upon.
Indy knew he was not a coward, yet the sights before him sickened him. Men stripped their clothing and knelt between their prize-girl’s legs. Young pussies were spread and adult cocks were forcibly rammed inside. Screams pealed out from violated girls and the echoes of agonizing pain reverberated off the tent’s tapestry walls. In one sense, a blessing took place; blood spurted from each girl’s pussy, consequently each life was spared.
Finally, the mercilessness cruelty was over. Yet then, Sheik Omar Shariff announced the main-attraction female sex slave to be sold at this auction. Miss Norma Jean Baker was led out by a hemp-braided rope tied around her neck. The kidnapped daughter of an American diplomat, Miss Baker’s capture and humiliation were meant to send a message to the Americans that they shouldn’t interfere in Arab business.
Young Indiana Jones saw one of the most beautiful sights he had ever beheld as the totally naked girl was led out for display. Two foot long, curly-blond hair fell in cascading waves over the young lady’s shoulders and back. A matching bush of thin blond curls adorned her pubic region. This young woman’s chest was decorated with an identical pair of grapefruit-sized mammary orbs.
Indy knew from the diplomatic dispatches he had been privy to that the girl was only fourteen years old. He also knew that a sum of five thousand British pounds had been offered for her safe return to her family. Caring little for reward, Indy was nonetheless intrigued by the prospect of rescuing a damsel in distress. Yet, even more so, he was infuriated by the thought that one of these brutal desert infidels would have the girl to repeatedly rape!
Standing up abruptly, Indy addressed Sheik Shariff in the tribal leader’s own native tongue. Sixteen-year-old Henry Jones demanded the immediate release of the captive child. Dire consequences for refusal were threatened.
Although surprised to be addressed so fluently in his own language, Sheik Shariff found no amusement in the arrogant young American’s threats. Holding up his arm to stay his royal guards from firing their weapons, the Sheik made Indy an alternative offer. The foolish boy could have the girl given to him as a gift if he fought and won a duel testing the honor of his manhood.
Indy was now in too deep to refuse the challenge, so he boldly accepted the contest of wills. Several warriors stepped forward and subdued the young man. He was disarmed and then his body was stripped of clothing. Miss Anne Hathaway let out an unintentional gasp as she saw the size of the naked young man’s erection. Her mind’s eye confirmed her suspicions that two plus two did indeed equal four and that this boy’s cock was indeed the one which had pleasured her cunt the night before!
A hulking giant of a man, clothed only with nude ebony skin apparently scared from many battles and duels emerged from a side entrance and was presented as the boy’s challenger. The menacing monster was handed a long, curved, razor-sharp scimitar. The man grimaced, pointed at Indy’s cock, and then sliced the air in a gesture which threatened emasculation, castration, and worse. No mercy was to be given.
In a primal part of his brain, Indy understood rage. He knew that the merciless must be met and mastered with no quarter given. To hell with fighting fair; winning and living was all that mattered! As his weapon of choice, Indiana Jones chose his bullwhip. He grabbed its handle and ruthlessly flipped its serpentine coil. Stinging leather fangs tore into the ebony testicle sack of his opponent. Even as the man screamed in agony, the fangs found their target again and ripped a testicular ball from its fleshy bag.
Swinging his sword in a wild, enraged fury, the ebony man attempted to find and decapitate his tormentor. Yet, one of his eyes felt the bite of a whiplashing sting and his eyeball disappeared from its socket. Trained in combat to fight till death, the warrior fought on. Another empty eye socket appeared and darkness clouded all sight. And then another testicle ball was torn from its bag.
Mimicking the agonizing squeals of the brave little sex slave girls, the giant stomped around like an infuriated, wounded beast. Finally, a shot rang out and the valiant leviathan fell like a rock to the carpeted floor. Indy looked up to see that Sheik Shariff had dispatched the coup-de-grace himself.
“Bastard, you son-of-a-bitch,” Indy screamed lapsing back into English. “How dare you give mercy to a warrior, yet give none to little girls!”
Sheik Shariff understood enough English to recognize an unpardonable insult. Indy soon found the business end of a rifle barrel pressed against his forehead. The Sheik spoke in his language, “Take your gift and rape her here and now or by all that’s holy by my god, I’ll kill you both!”
Norma Jean Baker was thrown into Indy’s arms. The girl was shivering in fear and frightened to the point of having no coherent voice. “I…I…am virgin,” she muttered. “So, rape me quick!”
Indy held the incredible young beauty in his arms tenderly. His erection was swollen to a point of steely hardness. The girl may only have few years in age, but she definitely had enough femininity to her body that could inspire lust in a man. Oh, but her innocence could not be forgotten! “I will not rape you!” Indy affirmed.
“But you must,” Norma Jean beseeched. “Or else we will both lose our lives!”
Indy pulled the girl’s nude body against his nakedness, entwined his fingers in her curly-blond tresses, and held her face upwards towards his. Without warning, he kissed the girl/child’s lips. With only minutes to do so, his lips and tongue taught the girl to give and receive oral pleasure. Hungry kisses awakened feminine lust. Nippled nubs hardened and breast flesh swelled. Vaginal moisture began preparing a pussy for penetration.
Norma Jean was nearly a foot shorter than Indy was. She was a featherweight waif of a child who had never known sexual manhandling or molestation. Mr. Indiana Jones now had the reluctant intent of both manhandling and molesting this girl’s wholesome, uninjured young body. This young man’s hands grabbed two handfuls of firm, sexy ass and lifted the girl up to a more comfortable kissing height. Hot breaths and wet lips enthusiastically wed and a devilish passion was aroused. Two uneducated tongues became orally skilled and found an insatiably appetite each for the other. With no preconceived intent to do so, Norma Jean and Indy ravenously tongue-fucked each other.
Indy’s kisses suddenly stopped. He lifted his lightweight gift even higher into the air and purposely found his face buried between the succulent mammary mounds adorning Miss Baker’s chest. Sweet tittie scent nearly stole his breath away. Turning his head to the right, Indy’s lips pressed against warm breast flesh. His lips climbed the mound and encircled its nippled peak. Suckling feverously, he claimed ownership of the stiff nipple nub. After suckling, this young man’s mouth kissed every inch of tit flesh it could reach. Turning his head to the left, Indy’s lips molested the nipple and flesh of the other magnificent breast. Petite in other ways, Norma Jean’s body was endowed with superb, bountiful boobs!
The center of Miss Baker’s feminine being was now leaking profusely. Female moisture now ran freely down Indy’s chest. Drops of wetness were dripping on this young man’s swollen cockhead. Overflowing rivulets of wet fluids coated every inch of Indy’s cockshaft with a layer of slippery lubrication.
Indy’s hands were holding onto Norma Jean’s ass, yet a few of his fingers somehow managed to enter into the girl’s pussy from behind. When the fingers began playing, the slippery vaginal fluids increased their flow and it seemed that a river of welcoming moisture was begging a cock to follow its path home.
Lowering the girl ever so slowly down his chest, Indy’s cock followed the begging pussy’s wet path. His cockhead slipped between Norma Jean’s pulsating outer pussylips and then tenderly kissed her extremely sensitive wing-shaped inner pussylips. Slithering inside, Indy’s snakelike penile head hit upon this girl’s vaginal barrier.
“Wrap your legs around me,” Indy commanded. “I won’t rape you, but if you wish to save your life and mine, you need only to sit down upon the erection I have placed at the entrance to your pussy. It will most likely hurt quite a bit when your hymen tears, but I have faith that you can bear the pain.”
Unbeknownst to the incredibly sweet, yet amazingly strong young man holding her, Norma Jean was eagerly anticipating the vaginal penetration of his massive manhood. His tender molestations had served only to make her virginal body exceedingly horny. Sexually pure as new-fallen snow, young Miss Baker’s body now felt the sinful urges of feminine lust. Knowing that she must at least attempt to deny this sin, she still did not do so!
Following commands, Norma Jean wrapped her slim legs around her young man’s hips and forcibly sat on the erection barely penetrating her body. The man had been right, there was a certain amount of pain when her hymen tore, yet it was nowhere near as much as she had expected. Perhaps the beginnings of an amazingly joyous feeling were offsetting the discomfort.
Yes, that was it! Oh goodness, Miss Norma Jean Baker began cumming by the time she had instinctively ridden up and down four or five times on the slippery cockshaft buried deep within her young cunt! Even though she was a female of fourteen years in age, nobody had ever told her what cumming or having orgasms was. She knew not what the exquisite feeling she was having was called, but she was having a prolonged orgasm. And, most likely her screams and squeals of joyful merriment were mistaken for screams of agonizing pain by her captive tormentors.
Indy knew different. His cock began feeling the sprays of feminine cum as the young lady riding it spurted her joy-juices. Mr. Jones no longer held back his own seminal load. He let loose his seeds in cum-filled wads of milky-white man fluids. Semen and sperm flowed in streams of euphoric pleasure.
Feeling the pressure building inside her, Norma Jean’s pussy spasmed time after time with multiple orgasms wracking her heart, body, and soul. Squealing again after again, this girl’s mind knew what heaven on earth felt like! Oh that she could live here forever and feel the same sweet joy between her legs! Miss Baker reasoned that god had never invented anything in every respect more completely suited as a pussy-pleasing instrument of delight than Mr. Jones’ perfect penis!
Miss Baker’s incredibly tight young pussy was currently milking every drop of seminal fluids from Mr. Jones’ passionate penis. Indy’s cock had not lost all of its testicle juice when he first orgasmed inside this girl’s hot, young cunt. Squeezing pussy-muscles now did their damnedest to acquire every orgasmic pleasure this man had in his hard body.
As the last of their euphoric pleasure melted away, Miss Baker raised her obsessive lips to meet the adoring lips of Mr. Jones. Fervent ardor knew no boundaries and kisses fell as a tempestuous summertime rain.
[Part 3] Two Pussy Gifts; Too Many?
Young Miss Baker was afforded the honor of being allowed to clothe herself in a spectacular, multi-colored Arab robe. Indy redressed and rearmed himself and prepared for flight with his blond female gift. But then, another crisis situation presented itself.
Sir Robert Stern stood up and pulled Miss Hathaway up with him. Indy had been warned to watch for the malevolent streak in this devious man. He now saw the true side of the beast. Sir Robert dragged Anne into the center of the slaver tent and maliciously threw her into the auctioneer’s arms. “Sheik Omar, this is an adulterous whore who has cheated on me!” he lied. “I wish to sell her and make her into the foul red-light harlot she is! Let all your men enjoy her deceitful cunt!”
Anne vehemently objected, “Sir Robert, I am neither yours nor anyone else’s wife! Therefore, I cannot be adulterous! I’m also not your slave to sell!”
Sir Robert smiled spitefully and spoke heartlessly, “Yet, sell you, I will!”
Robert Stern’s wartime profiteering had no allegiance. His guns and ammunition went to the highest bidder no matter who died as a result. To insure the sale and consequential rape of his concubine and to teach a certain young man a hard-learned lesson, Sir Robert added, “Sheik Omar, you may have as a gift one hundred rifles and ten thousand rounds of ammunition after this auction. But, I must see multiple men dip their cocks into this unfaithful wench’s cheating cunt!”
Young Indiana Jones had seen his share of inhumanity, brutality, and death this day. He had even been party to the butchery and carnage. Considering himself a decent young man, Indy had no wish to participate in any more barbarity. Yet he knew he could not stand aside as his nighttime lover became a pawn in a game of rapacious revenge.
Indy strode to Colonel Lawrence’s side. Barely audible words were exchanged. Acting as Indy’s emissary, Colonel Lawrence went to Sir Robert’s place in the center of the tent and clandestinely repeated the message he had been given.
Robert William Stern was not a man easily shaken. Threats were usually brushed aside without giving them merit. This was a man who did not cower in the face of adversity. Yet, at this time and place, Sir Robert reached his hand into the waistband of his pants and withdrew his German 9mm Luger auto-pistol. In the blink of an eye, the weapon spit fire.
An Englishman such as Sir Robert Stern would not reasonably suppose that his young American adversary’s favorite form of entertainment was in watching Western moving pictures. Bad guys wore black hats and good guys wore white. Bad men rode black horses while good guys rode white. Bad guys could draw and fire their pistols very quickly, yet the good guys were trained to draw and fire their pistols with lightning speed.
Just as Indy suspected, Sir Robert did not take his message well. Indiana Jones was not surprised to see the gunrunner’s hand reach for his weapon. In this brutal arena of death, Indy’s revolver was also drawn and it too spit deadly fire. Sir Robert’s speeding 9mm full-metal-jacket bullet punched a perfectly round, neat hole in the slave trader tent roof. Indy’s heavy 11.6mm lead slug struck his opponent’s vest at a place just over the heart and proceeded on to tear a gigantic, jagged hole into the blood-beating organ. Life, as Robert Stern knew it, ended instantaneously.
Holstering his revolver as a sign of courage, Indy walked to the center of the carpeted tent and grabbed Miss Hathaway up by the hand. Holding on to Miss Baker by his other hand, he strode towards the tent’s exit. No shots rang out and no projectiles pierced his body. No words, English or Arabic, commanded him to stop.
After the dim light of the slave tent, the brilliance of the great Sinai Desert was blinding. Indy and his two rescued damsels in distress walked down the one-camel street and entered the train depot. Other passengers were coming also because the locomotive had been refueled and refilled with water. The great desert machine had built up a full head of steam.
A man in Arab garb bowed his head and carefully approached Indiana Jones. Speaking in his native tongue, he said, “Young Sir, my master Sheik Omar Shariff wishes to know if you will kindly honor Sir Robert’s deal for the rifles and ammunition?”
Colonel Lawrence had previously informed Indy that this Sheik’s particular tribe was loyal, at least for now, to the English allies cause. “Yes, take the weapons and ammo,” Indy answered. “May Allah guide their bullets to the heathen hordes!”
Indy was now approached by the desert stationmaster and the train’s Arab head conductor. “Sir,” one of them said. “We have an Arab custom which translates into, ‘to the victor go the spoils’. Would you like to use Sir Robert’s private railroad car for the duration of your journey?”
Taking Indy’s answer for granted, he and his two ladies were escorted to a luxuriously appointed rail car. Norma Jean gasped as she witnessed the magnificent display of wealth. Anne, of course, was well acquainted with the finery found here. Indy was neither impressed nor completely comfortable taking a dead man’s property. Although, this was a hell of a place which would be much more comfortable than the cramped berth he had!
“Mr. Jones, or, may I call you ‘Henry’?” Miss Hathaway questioned. “Pray tell, what did you say in your message to Sir Robert to cause him to fire at you? And, why did you risk your life to save me?”
Norma Jean chimed in, “He caused a man’s death to save me, too! May I also call you ‘Henry’?”
“Ladies, call me Henry, Indy, Mr. Jones, or whatever you wish,” the two were told. Indy studied his two, well he supposed they were his conquests, but since he didn’t believe in slavery or bondage, they were two who were free to do as they wanted.
“Miss Hathaway,” Indy responded. “To answer your second question, I would have to use language which would be ‘indelicate’.”
Norma Jean exchanged a curious glance with Anne. “Mister Henry, we two were near victims of rape and torture and we have seen vicious death this day,” she said. “I don’t believe a few ‘indelicate’ words will damage our sensibilities! So, spit them out!”
Indy smiled. The fourteen-year-old child had seen more than she should and the twenty-something lady had, too. “Okay, I was trying to save Anne, so my message simply asked Sir Robert to consider just how much his testicle balls and his eyeballs were worth,” the young Mr. Jones replied. “Apparently, his balls were worth more than his pride. He could have given up Anne without a fight and still live at this hour.”
There was no gaiety to be found in Indy’s words, yet his two female companions found a mutual bond in hilarity. Both laughed and found gleeful merriment as their healing companion. “Hey, Norma Jean,” Miss Hathaway whispered. “Did you know that I’ve been fucked by our Mister Henry, too?”
“You have?” Norma Jean quizzed. “Was it as good for you as it was for me?”
Just then, the train’s powerful locomotive jerked its load of railcars forward. Indy and his ladies unexpectedly fell together in a pile on the carpeted floor of the stately private car. Giggling whispers were overheard by Indy. The young man heard this conversation passed between the females: “Yes, it was the best fuck I’ve ever had!; “Me, too!”; “Let’s fuck him together, okay?”; “Oh god, yes, okay!”
Miss Hathaway asked, “Mister Henry, have you ever had a menage a trois?”
“You mean a ‘threesome’?” Indy uncertainly inquired. “If so, then no, I have not had that pleasure!”
Anne winked at Norma Jean. Together, the two began disarming the young man lying prone on the floor. They laid his weapons nearby just in case he needed them. One of the ladies removed his boots, underwear, and pants while the other removed his shirt and laid his distinctive hat atop his weapons. It seemed that Mr. Jones hardly ever took off this hat. It was a tall-crowned wide-brim fur felt fedora colored a shade of brown called Sable.
Indy lay bare-assed naked on the floor while his two female companions made lewd comments about him, his nudity, and his erection.
“Now there is a cock you can hang a hat on!” Norma Jean exclaimed.
“Or fill up a cunt with!” Anne informed.
“Isn’t it the most beautiful thing you ever saw?” Norma Jean gushed.
“It most certainly is the perfect thing to fill the hole between a woman’s legs!” Anne admitted slipping into vulgarity more easily than a ‘lady’ should.
“Oh, is filling up your pussy with Mister Jones’ cock all you can think about?” Norma Jean teased.
“Well, don’t you want your pussy filled with it again, too?” Anne mocked.
“Oh yes, I do!” Norma Jean said. “But, Mister Jones may be afraid to fill both our pussies!”
“Young Lady, after seeing what we saw today, I doubt this young man is afraid of anything!” Anne commented. “You’re not, are you Mister Jones?”
Indy finally had a chance to speak. “Snakes,” he shuddered. “I’m afraid of snakes. Oh, but I’m not afraid of pussies! Bring ’em on!”
While completely undressing themselves, Anne and Norma Jean discussed the logistics of just how to get two pussies filled with only one cock. Anne came up with a solution. “Norma Jean, you sit on his face and let him eat your pussy while I ride him,” she said. “I’ll then switch with you before we cum and you can the ride his cock while he eats me!”
Norma Jean had never sat on a man’s face before nor had she ever had her pussy ‘eaten’. Yet, it sounded like fun, so she straddled Indy’s head. Mother Nature’s instincts were as good a teacher as young lovers would ever find. This girl spread her puffy outer folds and waited. Indy’s tongue touched her clit and she nearly screamed.
Indy’s tongue flicked and licked the marvelous clit hanging above his head. Feminine moisture drip, dripped into his mouth, but he didn’t mind the tangy taste. In fact, he welcomed it so much, his lips latched onto the meaty clitoris and suckled on its succulent female flavor. Norma Jean whimpered.
Just then, Anne’s hot, wet cunt slipped down over Indy’s elongated, swollen erection. This woman’s tight pussy muscles clamped onto the erectile flesh and began squeezing for all their might. Anne knew how to fuck and she was a lady who loved doing it with this young man. Riding expertly, she massaged Indy’s penile pole with frictional enthusiasm.
Indy grabbed himself two handfuls of Norma Jean’s breasts as they wildly swung far above his head. Hanging onto them was made difficult because he had to reach up and around the girl’s body. Still, he pinched nubile nipples and fondled hefty titties. At this same time, his tongue disappeared inside the vaginal hole of the pussy he was eating. Moisture in abundance flowed here so his oral penetrater was well-lubricated when it came back out and licked the girl’s clit again. Indy suckled, licked, and flicked this clit and also licked and played inside the wet, young vagina. Norma Jean’s whimpers turned into feral squeals.
Anne’s breasts were easier to get to. Indy juggled them enthusiastically and pinched their nippled nubs a bit harder than he should have. Miss Hathaway made no objection because she was having too much fun riding the penile pole buried within her body.
Miss Anne seemed to be making a game with her fornicating loins. She fucked slowly and then she fucked fast. She pulled her pussy up off her young man’s cock as far as she dared, then she slammed back down onto it. Once or twice she pulled up too far and she then had to guide the meaty pole back where it belonged. Guttural screams escaped from her lips.
As Anne rammed Indy’s cock up into her cunt with increasingly energetic force, she reluctantly appealed, “Norma Jean, do you want to switch places now? I’m almost ready to cum!”
Indy had cupped his tongue to make it much stiffer. At the moment of Anne’s question, this stiffened tongue-cock was stuck deep, deep up into the pussy he was aggressively eating. This young man’s tongue-fucking and his zealous clit-eating were producing unexpected results.
“No, I don’t want to change places,” Norma Jean barked. “Because I’m already cumming!”
And, so she was. Squirts of vaginal cum sprayed Indy’s face. Female fluids coated his tongue and ran down his throat. Sticky, slippery feminine juices poured so copiously Indy could feel his hair getting wet. Norma Jean squealed, she screamed, she blessed the gods of oral copulation, and she delighted in a new and joyous experience.
“I’m glad you don’t want to change,” Anne uttered thankfully. “Because, I am also cumming! God, how glorious it is!”
Anne’s cunt was releasing its own sprays of vaginal cum. Her pussy was now so wet she was gliding up and down upon Indy’s cock with ease. Tight pussy muscles begged for frictional bliss. Anne seemed determined to answer orgasmic demands by obsessively claiming Indy Jones’ entire cockshaft as her very own pleasure pole. The increase in her joyous, guttural noises now made speaking impossible. Multiple orgasms took her breath away.
Of course, Indy was now cumming, too. How could any one male have such good fortune as to have such a delightful time with two incredible females! This young man’s hips bucked up into the cunt above his waist. He doggedly met Anne orgasm for orgasm. He grunted, he moaned, his cock shot creamy streams of semen and sperm up into one of his women, and he thrilled in the joy of being a man.
As Indy continued cumming into Anne’s cunt, he dug his fingernails into Norma Jean’s asscheeks and buried his face into her pussy. This girl and her pussyeating lover were celebrating oral enchantment. Pure unadulterated, yet sinful sexual contentment made the world go away.
Two days more it took to reach the desert-crossing steam engine’s final destination at a place of civilization. And, two more nights. Anytime during either of those days or nights an observer of human behavior might find young Indiana Jones’ penis buried within a female mouth, a cunt, or an asshole.
Becoming a connoisseur of feminine sexual flesh, Indy delighted his ladies with his unfettered lusts and desires. Vaginas became his favorite playthings followed by breasts, nipples, and kissing lips. As a change of pace, an asshole was occasionally penetrated.
Norma Jean’s fascination with having her clit and pussy sucked never waned. Although this was her sexual preference, she also delighted in her penile fornications with her rescuer. Shy about returning fellatio, this girl overcame her misgivings and soon became an expert cocksucker.
Miss Anne preferred cock right from the get-go! She loved the pounding of Indy’s steely-hard penile shaft as he rammed it up into her cervical flesh. This was a lady who delighted in the feel of hot, racing man juices rushing into her vaginal hole. Anne’s educated mind accepted the fact that most of her young gentleman’s seminal sperm-swimmers contained wiggly tails which propelled them towards an awaiting unfertilized egg.
Safe at home, Norma Jean Baker missed her next menstrual period. And, the two after that. In her next communique with Anne Hathaway, Norma Jean related the news of her pregnancy.
Anne did not reply with dismay or disappointment. Instead, Miss Hathaway responded in kind. She, too, had missed three menstrual periods and she felt life growing within her.
These two women conspired to withhold this information from young Indy Jones…at least for now. His gifts of love and lust were too precious to share at this time. He had saved their lives, given them purpose, and set them on the road to motherhood.
In time, young Indy would have his fatherhood known. Perhaps, circumstances being favorable, Anne and Norma Jean would again share their gifts of hot, wet pussies with him!
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