Author's Note: I'm giving away one hundred copies of my Windows/compatible
               CD-ROM: "Artwork & Stories of Vince Water". This is the same
               computer disc being sold in the ADL bookstores. For details on
               how you can request a FREE copy, look to the end of this text.

******************************************************************************
CRYINGLO.TXT                                    "Crying Loon's Seduction"
(Part 3.5 of the "Big Horn's Path..." series     Copyright 2000 by Vince Water
******************************************************************************
*                                                                    9/2000  *
                          "Crying Loon's Seduction"

(This account is part of the "Big Horn's Path into the Mahyee-na" series,
coming after part 3. It's an important story that helps explain events taking
place in part 4 soon to be posted with the Nifty Archive.)

     Crying Loon awakened with an urgent need. His front flap was being pushed
from his groin by his piss hard on. He glanced to where his parents laid over
their mat. Heavy breathing came from his father; mother was being held close
in the man's arms. It was obvious to the boy that they were still sleeping. He
looked up through the tipi's smoke hole and saw the faint glow of morning.

     Like a mouse, Crying Loon crawled from his ground mat to the tipi door.
He was small enough to slip through the bottom without having to untie the
door's thongs. The air was cool outside. When the boy looked up, he saw only
blue sky, clear of storm clouds that had threatened rain these past days.

     The youth sprinted towards the woods while clutching the front of his
breechclout. His dick felt like it was going to explode! After passing a few
trees, Crying Loon barely managed to lift his front flap in time before
pissing. He sighed with relief. It took many heart beats of count before his
yellow stream ebbed. The boy dropped his flap. He felt a dull aching from his
body that seemed to reach up through his pole.

     It was an unfamiliar pain. The youth gently pressed over the lower front
of his body, a place of exposed skin on his waist just above his thong belt.
He felt pain coming from his bladder. That seemed strange since it should be
empty with all the pissing he'd done. Crying Loon turned back for the tipis of
his tribe. Walking seemed to help. He didn't feel the need for more sleep so
he headed for the river. There was no one about in camp.

     Crying Loon dropped his two deerskin flaps and thong belt on the bank.
He slipped into the muddy water, ignoring the chill that embraced his legs and
lower body. He kneeled in the shallows. Not to bathe but for a relief from his
body's strange aching. The cold helped. He rose on his knees until his pole
broke the surface. The thick skin of his dick was rolled back so that he could
clean it. The boy smiled with pride that he could squirt from it like a man.
His friend, Wolf Pawing marveled at that accomplishment when they played with
each other in the cat tails. He hoped that his releases would soon thicken
like Big Horn's white sperm.

     The boy emptied his bowels. After wiping the crack between his cheeks
clean, he stepped onto the bank. He tied his thong belt around his waist and
folded the rear flap over it to cover his butt. A moment was taken to peer at
the inner fold of his front flap. What the youth saw made him grin. His cloth
bore a dark stain that had rubbed off his dick after fucking Big Horn. He
covered the front part of his body with much pride.

     Crying Loon raced back to his tipi. His wet legs chilled him. Upon
reaching the door, he crawled in through the bottom. That's when he heard a
low grunt inside. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. The boy was
surprised to catch his parents making love. Half of their sleeping skin had
fallen from the bodies, enough for the youth to see his father laying over his
mother with his breechclout cast away. They were too busy kissing to notice
their son's return.

     He was their only child. Crying Loon had been born twelve summers ago but
no more children had come to his parents. Not that they hadn't been trying! He
didn't miss having any siblings. There were plenty of boys in the tribe to
play with and keep him company.

     The youth crouched low to the ground. He didn't want to make a sound that
would alert them to his presence. His eyes widened by what he saw. It wasn't
unusual for his parent to make love but it was always done at night, too dark
for the boy to watch them clearly. In morning's light coming down from the
tipi's smoke hole, he could see all. Two pairs of legs stuck out from their
blanket. The man's butt flexed when driving himself down into his squaw.

     Crying Loon felt his pole stiffening. It reminded him of all the times
he'd rubbed over his mat when his parents coupled. They were often trying to
make a baby. The boy had played along from his mat, practicing that male skill
for when he became a warrior and had a squaw in his tipi. It was a nightly
game he enjoyed until his mother scolded him about the wet stain he left over
his ground mat one morning. She asked him to 'piss' outside as all older boys
did. The cat tails drew him with its naked activities enjoyed by his friends.

     The warrior grunted with lust. His frantic body drove itself towards
completion in the woman below him. Crying Loon liked watching the man's butt.
It humped wildly as the boy imagined his cock sticking in and out of his
mother's front opening. A giggle almost escaped from his lips. He'd once spied
on his father's erection: a long skinny shaft that curved inwards like a bent
arrow. Crying Loon suspected that the other men in camp had also seen it by
giving him the name 'Bending Arrow' when he earned his first eagle feather as
a warrior. It was a cause for embarrassment that his father had to endure.

     Little Fawn began wailing in her husband's arms. Her high-pitched voice
joined with her husband's low groans, warning the youth that his father was
close to seeding. It was daring for the boy to be watching them but he
couldn't tear his eyes away. His erection throbbed for attention within his
breechclout. He dared not masturbate, promising himself that he'd seek relief
in the weeds later that day.

     A loud grunt startled the boy. He watched his father thrust downwards
into his squaw with quick stabs that released his seed in her. Little Fawn
cried out. After the man was done, he buried his face in the woman's neck when
he rested. Crying Loon was turning for the door when he was caught! His mother
peered at him. Not an angry stare; her face was tense and knowing. The boy
made a quick escape from their tipi.

     Crying Loon could hear the rush of blood in his ears. Below, his front
flap was pushed away from his body like a tipi. The boy quickly glanced about.
He was relieved to see that the People hadn't stirred from their tipis yet. He
raced to the river with his hard dick. The youth felt pain from his bladder
again. To dull it, he lifted his breechclout flaps and sat in the river.

     The cold crept up the boy's legs to his waist. His pole quickly lost
its strength. The pain from his bladder went away. He looked across the river
for the lone tipi on the far bank. That's where Big Horn was staying with
Coyote Thief, an enemy warrior of the Spear-bearing People who'd come to live
with their tribe in peace. A sly grin formed on the boy's lips.

     It had been a few days since he'd been naked with Big Horn. That last
time, he allowed the brave to stick into his butt hole and sperm him. He took
his turn mounting the reluctant man. The sensation had been very exciting and
powerful for the boy. A great achievement! He had squirted deep in Big Horn's
butt that left a dark stain over the skin of his dick when he withdrew.

     For a full day, Crying Loon had worn the brave's 'butt paint' over his
pole - proof of what he'd performed though he dared not show anyone. His
mother noticed the bad odor coming from him the next morning and asked that he
clean up in the river. The boy turned it into a sex rite. He kneeled in the
shallows, reliving his thrilling stabs through the man's hole while he kept
the end of his erection pinched. That had trapped his knob within. It made for
a great coming out. Pleasure exploded in the boy's head when his loins flowed.
He let his knob pop out in his hand. His palm filled with a dark fluid that
was unexpected until he realized that had come from the man's shit behind his
knob mixed with his cum.

     Crying Loon sighed in lusty remembrance. He hoped that Big Horn would
return to this side of the river and seek him out in the cat tails. The boy
stood up. Before dropping his two flaps over his body, he saw that his pole
was semi-erected. Thinking of that brave had gotten him excited, he realized.
It was a nice sensation.

     The youth made his way back to his parent's tipi. He remembered the stern
look coming from his mother for having spied on them so he turned away to give
them time to awaken and be at their morning tasks. Crying Loon wandered about
camp. He saw the tipis stir with activity. Men carried weapons for the hunt or
to take up their guarding posts outside the tribe. Women performed their
chores: beating out dust from ground mats, the sewing of clothes and meals
were prepared. He mostly ignored it all.

     A voice called out to Crying Loon. He waved back at Wolf Pawing who
rushed to his side with a happy face. The youth was three years younger than
him but they were already becoming good friends. Without a word, the two boys
ran along the river bank that would lead them to the cat tails.

     "I saw something exciting this morning," said Crying Loon. He glanced
sideways at his little friend and saw the youth's eyes shine.

     "Tell me!"

     Crying Loon continued to keep a fast pace. Wolf Pawing struggled to keep
up, especially since he was eager to hear what his older friend had to say.

     "Have you ever caught your parents making love?" he asked.

     Wolf Pawing thought a moment before nodding his head. "At night, I
sometimes hear them kissing and breathing hard. Once, there was a full moon
coming down from the smoke hole that let me peek on them. My father was laying
over my mother. I could see their bodies moving but their sleeping skin
prevented me from seeing much."

     "Theirs fell off this morning," hinted Crying Loon. Wolf Pawing grasped
his arm in a gesture to tell more so he continued. "I could see most of my
father's body when he mounted Little Fawn!"

     "How did they do it?" the little boy pleaded.

     Crying Loon ignored his friend's question. He sprinted ahead of the
youth and reached the cat tails first. Wolf Pawing ran to him with breaths
racing through his mouth. The boys rested a moment before dropping their
breechclouts to the ground. Both bore erections.

     "Did you see your father's cock?" asked Wolf Pawing. He eyed his friend's
dick knowing that his father's had to be much bigger.

     "No. He was laid over my mother with his butt humping," answered Crying
Loon. "They were kissing a lot so I wasn't noticed. My mother wailed from
feeling his cock in her. When father grunted, I knew that he was sperming."

     "I wish that I could have seen that!"

     Crying Loon smiled. "Well, keep your eyes open at night and in the early
morning. You may get a chance to catch your parents doing it!"

     Wolf Pawing dropped to his knees and started handling his pole. Crying
Loon joined him. Their rosy knobs popped in and out admits lots of giggling.
It was an exciting game for the boys that would lead them to deeper acts of
sex. Crying Loon wanted to see if he could coax his friend to suck on his
dick this day. He thought of clever words that would achieve his lusty goal.

     "A young boy needs someone to give him sperm to fill his empty balls,"
explained Crying Loon. "There are different kinds of 'growing up' rites to
accomplish this."

     Wolf Pawing suspected trickery. "Which rites?" he asked suspiciously.

     "You know that Big Horn had annointed my balls with his thick seed,"
answered Crying Loon. "We met again a few days later for a stronger rite."

     "What did he do with you?" the boy asked.

     Crying Loon grinned. He knew that Wolf Pawing was falling under his
spell. "To get his manly seed into my body, I sucked on his cock. It really
thrilled the brave while I enjoyed drinking from it."

     "Ugh!" the little boy exclaimed.

     "There's even another rite that a man can perform to empower a boy..."
hinted Crying Loon.

     Wolf Pawing nodded. He thought that he knew what it was. He recalled
Crying Loon sitting over his erection to fit it in his butt. The act had felt
good but a man was needed who could shoot thick seed into his friend to help
his body to mature.

     "You can't release from your dick yet," whispered Crying Loon. He pointed
his hard dick up at the youth.

     Wolf Pawing shook his head. He didn't want his older friend to perform
any of those empowering rites on him! They didn't seem normal.

     Crying Loon sighed. He knew that the little boy was too reluctant to try
new things with him. Big Horn would. A man who didn't have a squaw in his tipi
was often pained by his lust to find release. He was glad to attend to the
brave's needs.

     The boys heard heavy footsteps of someone's approach. Wolf Pawing rushed
to his feet. He grabbed his breechclout flaps and streaked away.

     Two men came upon the lone boy. Crying Loon was relieved to see that it
was Big Horn and standing with him was Coyote Thief. The enemy warrior smiled.
The boy grinned back while continuing to handle his erection. Big Horn's face
revealed embarrassment.

     Crying Loon made a naughty gesture with his right hand that the men would
understand. The boy glanced down at his hard dick, pulling over its thick
skin. He gestured for their breechclouts to come off.

     "I'll bet that your companion has a big cock!" said Crying Loon. "I know
yours is, Big Horn. Ask him to join us..."

     The brave swallowed nervously in his throat. He felt caught between a
rock and a hard place. Instead of showing weakness, Big Horn put on a brave
face and thought of something clever to say.

     "He's a five-feathered warrior from an enemy tribe," warned Big Horn. "If
he were to get naked as you've asked, you may get your butt raped."

     The boy laughed. "You've already done that. Tell me, Big Horn... Has he
stuck into your butt? I could show him how." Crying Loon pointed his erection
up at the brave with a sly grin.

     Big Horn's bluff had been called. He couldn't think of anything to
counter Crying Loon's threat. Coyote Thief lifted his hands for gesturing.

     'I can go search for tracks in the woods nearby,' suggested Coyote Thief.
He thought that Big Horn wanted to be alone with this youth to talk... embrace
their 'needs' without him watching it.

     Crying Loon understood most of what the warrior's hands had said. He gave
Big Horn a sly grin, expecting him to accept Coyote Thief's withdrawal. The
boy's left hand dropped around his erection and he resumed pleasuring it.

     A revealing bulge came from Coyote Thief's breechclout. The boy grinned
with anticipation. He wondered if the enemy warrior would want to take his
butt. If not, it would be exciting enough to see the man's nakedness and
watch him squirting from his cock. An awkward silence followed. Crying Look
looked the warrior over, noting his many battle scars and his proud display of
five eagle feathers. His face appeared old that was a contrast to his
shortly-cut hair a boy wore. His body was lean and muscled. The boy admired
his male power.

     Big Horn was caught. He didn't want to stay with Crying Loon but felt
that rejecting Coyote Thief's suggestion would anger the boy who might reveal
bad things about him. If he stayed, the warrior would know of his desire for
this boy and close his heart to the possibilities of love for themselves.

     Before Big Horn could decide what he should do, the warrior gave him a
warning gesture with his eyes lifting to the tree tops. As-a-crow was perched
there. The boy also noticed the spying guard. He grabbed his two flaps from
the mud and ran towards the river without a word.

     Crying Loon escaped into the water. He held his breechclout high above
his head to prevent it from getting wet. A dull pain came from his abdomen.
The boy waded through the shallows, against the river's current towards camp.
He thought about speaking with the shaman about his pain but was afraid that
the old man would scold him about such a small concern.

     When the boy neared camp, he stepped onto the bank and quickly put on his
breechclout. There were two girls washing clothes at the river's edge. He
avoided them. Another pain came to the youth but it was a familiar one. With a
rumbling stomach, he headed for his parent's tipi to get something to eat.

     Crying Loon found his mother resting over her ground mat outside. He gave
her a shy greeting before slipping past to enter the tipi. To his woe, the
woman followed him inside. She dropped her mat beside the fire pit. From a
clay vessel, soup was poured into a wooden ball and handed to him.

     The boy gestured his thanks. He sipped from the bowl, noting that the
venison soup was cold. No words passed between mother and son but he could
feel the tension building between them. He took a long time eating. It only
delayed his scolding that the boy knew would come.

     "You left the tipi early this morning," whispered Little Fawn.

     Crying Loon nodded his head, dropping his empty bowl to the ground. He
stared at his mother's feet.

     "Your father wants a little brother or sister to give you company," she
whispered. "You know how that's accomplished."

     Crying Loon was surprised by what he'd heard. He was expecting a bad
scolding from his mother. Her words made it seem like she was treating him as
an adult or at least older than he thought of himself.

     Little Fawn noticed her son's uneasiness. She suspected that he was
prepared to get yelled at. With a sly grin, she knew it was Bending Arrow's
fault for allowing his lust to make them careless.

     "You're old enough to know better, my son. You should have left the
tipi to give us privacy."

     Crying Loon lifted his eyes to his mother's. He saw amusement there mixed
with an emotion that he couldn't identify. "It was too late," he stammered.
"I had come back from relieving myself in the woods and saw you..."

     Little Fawn nodded her head with understanding. She took her son's empty
bowl and held it in her lap.

     Crying Loon squirmed under his mother's gaze. He was feeling very
uncomfortable so he blurted out: "Father is often trying for another child.
Why hasn't one come?"

     Little Fawn was startled by her son's question but it wasn't all that
unexpected. The boy showed maturity. She looked upon him with new eyes,
realizing that he was only three years from being named a brave.

     "I think that the problem lies in me," the woman whispered. "When you
were born, I was a long time recovering from a fever."

     Crying Loon knew about women in the tribe who suffered from difficult
child births, a few had even died. His mother's words made him feel guilty for
some reason.

     Little Fawn read her son's face. "Your father and I were so happy when
you were born!"

     "Yes. But I am only one son," whispered Crying Loon with his eyes
lowering to the ground. "You will need a few more to take care of you in your
declining years."

     "Hmm. I think you'll become a great warrior who can take care of us both.
I'd love to have grandchildren to look upon."

     Crying Loon felt his heart twist inside his chest. He suspected something
about himself that would prevent him from marrying... A shameful thing!

     Little Fawn rose from her mat. She rinsed out the wooden bowl with water
and set it down with the others. Crying Loon kept close to the tipi for the
rest of the day. His bladder was aching him. That didn't prevent him from
helping his mother with her chores. They talked about many things.

     Bending Arrow returned that evening from guarding their camp. He had
watched over a crossing up river that their enemies could have used. After the
arrival of Coyote Thief, Chief He-who-walks-beyond-all-others commanded that
their tribe be on guard from Spear-bearing raiders. A warrior spent a day
guarding, allowed to hunt or rest the next day and back on guard the next. The
Kalinlepi was only a small remnant of what it was from the past. They were
vulnerable to attack.

     To Crying Loon's relief, his father acted like he didn't know about his
spying. A revealing nod from mother proved that she had kept it to herself.
She even praised her son in front of Bending Arrow for helping her with the
chores that day. In reward, the man held his son over his knee and told him
stories about the glorious days of their tribe.

     The boy welcomed his father's attention. He was usually too tired from
hunting or guarding the camp to spend evening time with him. Within the man's
right arm, Crying Loon heard about the good old days. It was something he'd
been told before but he enjoyed listening about the brave deeds of warriors,
counting coup and how their enemies were defeated.

     That night, Crying Loon closed his eyes with a smile on his face.


     Bending Arrow went hunting the next day. Crying Loon had hoped that his
father would rest in the tipi and give them the opportunity to be together.
His mother noticed the boy's disappointment. She knew they had enough meat
but her husband was often away. A difficult thing for a son to endure.

     Crying Loon wasn't up to performing women's work again; he'd been
forgiven by his mother for spying. The boy roamed about camp looking for his
friends or any trouble he could get himself into. Some of the squaws shooed
him away from their tipis because of his bad reputation.

     A sharp pain from the boy's abdomen made him gasp. He held his side.
After some deep breaths, it settled down to dull aching. Crying Loon was
concerned. Yet he didn't want to trouble the shaman about it. The old man was
someone to be feared so he performed his own medicine: a soaking in the cold
river to dull his pain.

     Crying Loon kept an eye out for girls. He knew that Star Light and
Leaping Rabbit were often washing clothes from the bank. A glance over his
shoulder found the lone tipi on the other side of the river. He could just
make out a horse tied to his post. Smoke issued from the tipi. That meant one
of the men or both were inside.

     Perhaps he could talk with Big Horn about his hurt. The brave would know
if it was serious or easily cured by ingesting a healing herb. Crying Loon
decided against crossing the river though. They may not welcome his visit or
worse, he'd interrupt a ritual that warriors were often known to perform. The
boy didn't want to anger Big Horn more than what he had done from yesterday.

     Crying Loon's legs were turning numb. He crawled up the bank to fetch his
breechclout. After donning it, the youth walked up river to restore the
circulation in his legs. The trees were very thick in this direction. There
were no marshes or stands of cat tails for a long ways. It was as if the
forest had spread to the river for a drink.

     Low murmurs ahead caught the boy's attention. He rushed behind a tree to
hide himself from view. The wind was blowing the right way, allowing the
voices to carry towards him. There were two men talking. One voice belonged to
Ringed Tail. That sent relief through the youth since that meant they weren't
enemy scouts. The boy aimed his ear forward to catch what they said.

     "... would bind that enemy warrior to him," said Ringed Tail.

     "Perhaps. I'd feel better if he were a squaw instead!" spoke the other
voice. Laughter followed.

     Crying Loon recognized who the other man was: As-a-crow. The boy recalled
this warrior spying down on him from a tree when he was beating off yesterday
amongst the cat tails with Big Horn and Coyote Thief in attendance.

     "You actually saw them together that way?" asked Ringed Tail. "A man
sometimes resorts to a close companion for relief."

     "Have you ever?" quipped As-a-crow.

     "No. I was lucky that Soft Calf's Skin agreed to tend my tipi when I was
only a brave. As I boy... well. You know what youths do in the cat tails."

     A long silence. "I saw Big Horn performing a 'growing up' rite for a boy
there. It was a bit more involving than what would be acceptable, I think."

     "Who was the boy?" asked Ringed Tail.

     "Ah. I'd rather keep that to myself. We guard our tribe from enemies but
privacy for the People should be respected."

     Ringed Tail chuckled. "You are worried that Big Horn's uncle is chief. A
bad word spoken against his nephew is a bad word spoken against him."

     "Yes. And there's the boy's father to contend with as well," added
As-a-crow. "If he were told, it could go badly for Big Horn. I've only seen
them together once. Now, he has Coyote Thief to embrace his needs. I don't
accept that kind of love but I agree with you, Ringed Tail. Living with the
brave in their tipi binds that enemy warrior to him. I hope that'll prevent
him from acting against our tribe."

     "I'll keep what you've told me to myself," promised Ringed Tail. "Not
unless there's a real need for other to know, of course. I really hope that
the warrior's defection from his tribe won't cause a war!"

     A long silence ensued. Crying Loon grew concerned, peeking from behind
his tree protector for the two men. He saw As-a-crow climbing a tree. The boy
knew that was his favorite place to watch over the river crossings. Usually
he was perched down river, near the cat tails.

     Ringed Tail couldn't be found. Perhaps he'd been relieved from guard duty
by As-a-crow and was heading back to his tipi to rest, the boy surmised. He
waited a long while before making his stealthy return to camp. Every so often,
the boy's foot tripped over a tree root and that sent a sharp pain through his
bladder. His dick was also aching him some.

     The tipis came into sight. Crying Loon decided not to go see the shaman.
He wasn't hungry so he felt no need to return home. The boy continued to walk
along the bank with the river's flow. He waded in while lifting his flaps so
that the cold would relieve his pain. A stand of tall grass came into sight.
He spied Song Bird making bundles. That surprised him to see the chief's son
working. Willow Bird was the one tasked to feed the tribe's horses.

     Crying Loon remembered hearing that Willow Bird was sick. He was being
attended by the shaman for a fever or something. It was good that he hadn't
troubled the old man since he would be busy healing Warm Hand's son.

     Song Bird noted his passing with a sly grin and hand wave. Crying Loon
didn't drop his flaps; he continued wading through the water with his butt and
dick showing. The chief's son stared at his nudity with curiosity or was it
something else?

     If his body wasn't hurting him, Crying Loon would have approached to find
out. Song Bird was the chief's son and therefore, untouchable. No one dared
fight with the boy least they invite his father's wrath. It was best to pass
Song Bird by. There were other youths like Wolf Pawing he could 'play with'
without risk.

     Crying Loon paused to take a piss. His dick felt a bit uncomfortable but
it wasn't really a pain. That was felt from his bladder after it was emptied;
a sharp throbbing that dulled when he continued wading through the cold water.

     It was slow progress. The boy's feet passed over sand that changed to
slippery mud and back to sand. He noticed that the river's current was strong.
Rain storms had swept through a handful of days ago. The skies had cleared,
though dark puffy clouds passing overhead threatened sun showers.

     The stand of cat tails were coming into sight. Father Sun had reached the
height of His sky, warming the boy's arms and back. It felt good. The lower
part of his body was chilled. He made quick strides towards the weeds with
much anticipation.

     The cold water had performed its trick. Crying Loon stepped onto the
bank with his lower body feeling numb. He searched through the cat tails for
other boys. Once, he'd caught Fox Tail handling his hairy dick but the older
boy had run off without a chance to see if they could 'do it' together.

    A long search yielding nothing. Not even Wolf Pawing could be found. With
a weary sigh, Crying Loon removed his breechclout and laid over a dry patch of
ground. He watched the brown-headed cat tails swaying gently in the wind. It
was putting him to sleep.

     A black bear ambled through the weeds. He sniffed the ground as if
looking for something to eat. That's what Crying Loon thought. Strangely, he
didn't feel afraid. Not until he saw the bear raise his head and peer at him
with angry red eyes!

     Crying Loon awakened with a start. He looked around but only saw the tall
weeds all around him, protecting him. More storm clouds were racing through
the sky. They obscured Father Sun's golden Head which had fallen a handful of
fingers from the height of His sky. The boy realized that he'd been sleeping
for a while. His body felt rested; no pain came from his bladder.

     The youth stretched lazily. He remembered his nakedness when moss tickled
against his bottom. His hand reached down the front of body to grasp his pole.
It was grown to length by thinking about Big Horn and all the things they've
done together. He wished that the brave was here with him now.

     A shadow fell across Crying Loon. When he turned his head around, a dark
form was seen standing behind him. It was a man! The boy didn't startle. He
knew that warriors of his tribe guarded the river so it must be someone from
his tribe. Could it be his lusting brave?

     "Big Horn, is that you?" the boy asked. He realized that it wasn't wise
to utter the brave's name if it were someone else standing there, such as
As-a-crow. He remembered what that warrior had said about him to Ringed Tail
earlier.

     The man stepped around him, revealing to the boy that it was Big Horn!
Crying Loon quickly sat up. His arms reached out to the brave lovingly. The
man was already naked; he kneeled over the boy's legs to accept a hug.

     "Oh, Big Horn..." the boy whispered. "I thought that you were mad at me."

     He felt the man's hands squeeze his back in reply. Their chests met.
Crying Loon felt himself being lifted by a strong hand over his rear end. The
brave's hard cock pressed up against his erection. A smile blossomed on the
boy's face at their lusty meeting.

     When Crying Loon lifted his face in triumph, the man reached his lips
down to his. It became a deep tongue kiss. Something passed from Big Horn's
mouth to his, a bitter flavor that almost made the boy gag.

     "Swallow it," the man gently commanded.

     The boy did as he was asked. He was so caught up with the brave's kisses
that he didn't question what he was eating. The bitter taste should have been
a warning. He ignored it for the sweetness coming from the man's lips.

     Big Horn's left hand surged over his butt. That mashed their dicks
together with sexual thrills. The boy was drowning in the man's kisses. He
didn't think they were strange; it was a gesture of love that he had wanted
from this man.

     There was a sensation of falling. Crying Loon rushed his hands around the
man's upper back to prevent himself from being dropped. Big Horn grunted with
lust. The boy gasped for breath before their frantic kissing continued.

     Crying Loon became light headed. His hands seemed to lose their grip of
the brave's shoulder blades; they fell to the dirt with a thud. He felt his
body being lifted up. Big Horn carried him through the cat tails towards a
line of trees. Oh. He was afraid of being caught by As-a-crow, the youth
thought. His lips still tingled from their kissing.

     The rhythmic beat of Big Horn's feet changed to an easy gait. Crying Loon
felt that their passage through the trees was almost like flying. He dreamily
looked at the man carrying him. He was a huge dark bird flying down the forest
path. A winged whoosh filled the boy's ears. He smelled fire ash.

     "Where are you taking me?" asked Crying Loon. He could barely hear
himself speaking so it came as no surprise that Big Horn didn't answer him.
The boy watched the tall trees rush past them. It grew darker. When fear
started to creep into his heart, he felt himself being lowered to the ground.

     Something rough pressed against his bottom. Crying Loon realized that he
was sitting over a fallen tree. Big Horn kissed over his breast. The sensation
was very ticklish; nipples hardened when the man bit each one. Blood rushed
into the boy's pole. He felt it lifting to his belly and that drew the brave's
hungry mouth. A sensation of wetness and sucking was felt around his dick.
Strong hands held his butt. The boy watched the man's head bobbing over his
groin that lusted for a sweet drink from his loins. He would satisfy Big Horn.

     Breaths hissed through the man's nose. Crying Loon held his breath to
deepen the thrills coming from his erection. Big Horn sucked harder. His
fingers dug into the boy's cheeks, causing a little pain. It became too
intense for the youth.

     With a sharp outcry, Crying Loon squirted. Pleasure exploded in his head.
He heard the brave swallow several times with deep throaty satisfaction. A
strange pain came from his abdomen. He remembered that his bladder was hurting
him so he asked the man about it.

     Again, Crying Loon could barely hear his own voice. Big Horn didn't
answer him but proceeded to scoop him up from the fallen tree. The boy felt
his body being turned in the man's strong hands. He'd have fallen over if the
brave wasn't holding him. Kisses came to both his cheeks. They enflamed the
youth as if his dick was being sucked on again. Wet kisses roamed through the
crack of his butt to his hole. He felt the man tongue him deeply. The
sensation was very intense!

     Crying Loon knew what was coming next. He submitted to the man's lust by
spreading his legs over the forest floor to open his butt. He reached out for
the fallen oak with his hands. Spit was being put in him. The youth dropped
his head so that he could peek back through his legs for the brave. Big Horn
was standing up. He saw the man's legs align to his, a fleshy short spear
aiming into his butt. The boy felt a hardness pressing against his hole. With
one quick thrust, the youth felt his butt penetrated. It pained him so much
that he nearly fainted.

     "Wait, Big Horn!" the youth begged. If it weren't for the man's strong
hands holding him up, he'd have fallen against the oak tree. The boy peeked
back at the brave in an up-side-down view. He saw the man's large sac of balls
hanging next to his. The boy reached his left hand back to grasp them. His
palm felt their rounded softness. An understanding came to the boy. He knew
that seed from the man's balls would pass into his sac after they had mated.

     It began. Crying Loon's little butt was slammed into by the man's hairy
groin. Again and again the cock stabbed through his tender boy flesh. He felt
the uncomfortable fullness that came from being mounted but he endured it as
he must. How could he prevent this powerful man from raping him if he wanted?
Big Horn's wet love would be given him in trade. He needed that to fill his
immature body and help it grow.

     The dried red-capped mushroom that Crying Loon ate was taking its full
effect. The boy was feeling distanced from his body. His head floated to the
ground like a feather. There was the faint sensation of being held. His butt
pounded as if it were a drum being played: boom... boom. The lusty beat
increased to a frantic tempo: boom... boom boom boom! A stiffening pained the
boy's hole. Groin hair crunched against his cheeks. The drumming stopped.

     "You have a sweet body!" the man hissed after reaching climax. His cum
filled the boy's insides. The thrills he'd achieved from fucking were great.
After a brief rest, he gripped Crying Loon's hips, turning their connected
bodies around until his back pressed against the fallen oak tree. The boy laid
over the front of him, passive and content.

     The man's shape changed back into its normal form. Fire ash covered his
naked body. If the boy could have seen the rear of him, the red stripes down
his butt cheeks would have proven the man's identity. Every child has heard
the scary stories from their parents. A warning about the Trickster.

     The dark-skinned man made a toothy grin. He enjoyed the small weight of
the boy laying over him, the little butt impaled on his cock. With much lust,
he felt over the youth's warm body with his hands: the flat breast with their
nipples erecting under his palms, the soft belly leading him down to a smooth
groin with a sleeping boyhood. He cupped his hands around the boy's sac of
balls and his pole. The sweetness from drinking from it could still be tasted
in the man's mouth.

     A gentle pulling was made to try awakening the boy's lust. He knew that
the poisonous mushroom was effecting the youth but if his flesh and spirit
were strong enough, he'd respond with an erection. Crying Loon flexed his
butt. The Trickster moaned from the sensation of his cock being clasped by
tight sphincter muscles. He knew that innocent boys were best to fuck since
their bodies were smaller when compared to the men he's mounted.

     Crying Loon wasn't sure where he was. His head felt so light that he
thought it could have fallen from his neck. He tried concentrating. There was
a softness under him, sweaty and warm like a man's embrace. A building
sensation came from the lower part of his body. He recognized the thrills. Big
Horn had taken his erection in hand and was pulling over it. How he loved that
man! The boy flexed his aching butt in beat to the man's wonderful hand. He
was feeling very intense.

     The Trickster hissed through clenched teeth. He ignored the small signals
of love that the boy was sending him and concentrated instead on their lust.
His hand drew back the youth's foreskin to pop out its rosy knob. It withdrew
inside with a reverse stroke of his hand. The little butt flexed over his
groin. Deep within, his slippery cock made small thrusts. Oh, how tight this
boy's ass was! His hand began to race over the hard pole while he humped his
wild butt against the ground to drive himself deeper and faster through the
smaller butt he was stuck in. The man heard an outcry...

     Crying Loon's loins exploded. His clear cum rained down on his belly to
collect in small sticky pools. The thrills that he'd won were replaced by a
sharp pain in his butt. He felt Big Horn's cock stiffening and spit in him.
There was a telling throb deep in his hole!

     The Trickster howled out to the forest. Tremendous thrills! He felt the
boy's asshole tightening around his cock when the youth squirted in hand. A
few savage thrusts in that little butt and he was seeding it again!

     Their breaths were loud in the forest; no one heard them. The animals
sensed an evil menace and had since flown. Sweat ran down from Crying Loon's
heated body to the man's. The fire ash covering him turned into muddy streaks.

     The Trickster remembered the boy's cum pooled over his belly. He eagerly
reached for the sweet treat, scooping it up with an experienced hand. The man
sucked his fingers dry. He smiled wickedly. Crying Loon had been seduced by
him from their lustful mating so he'd do anything that the Trickster asked.

     The evil man looked to the ground. He found his splintered stone that
would be drawn across this boy's throat. But not yet. He needed information
from this youth for his master. In his sweetest voice, the Trickster whispered
into Crying Loon's ear.

     "Tell me about Big Horn..."

     "I want your love," answered Crying Loon dreamily. "Tell me... Do you
love me?"

     The Trickster felt disgust. Love! The master that he served had no need
for such a weak thing. Again, the man whispered into the boy's ear to tell him
about the brave.

     "You and I have been together... Mated!" answered Crying Loon. "I'll do
anything to have your love. My body is yours to enjoy. I like you sucking me,
fucking me! Oh, Big Horn..."

     "What do I look like in your eyes?" the man asked impatiently.

     "You're young and handsome; the chief's nephew. No feathers in your hair
but I see the manly strength in your arms and chest. Coyote Thief will help
you to become a warrior. I know this!"

     The man hissed with fear. He'd heard about Coyote Thief from the Spear-
bearing Tribe who was initiated Mah Nayee by their powerful shaman. An urgent
whisper filled his head. It was from the Trickster's spirit possessing his
body who served the Darkness-that-comes. 'That warrior must be found. Killed.
Leave this boy alive so that his tribesmen won't be warned to our presence.'

     Crying Loon's eyes fluttered. He was barely conscious of his impaled body
laying over a man's. The mushroom was at its height in power. If more had been
given the youth, he'd be dead.

     The man had his instructions. As much as he wanted to use his sharp stone
lying on the ground, he would leave this boy alive. A part of the Trickster's
evil spirit reached through the man's cock into the youth's body. Its terrible
darkness filled the boy's dreaming and made him forget...

     Crying Loon was pushed off the man's belly like a tossed bone. He was
left sprawled over the ground. A grin crossed the Trickster's lips when he saw
the boy's wet butt. That's the part he enjoyed about being evil. By allowing
that dark spirit to possess his body, he was empowered to rape boys and
ritually take their lives. A few parents of the Split Tribe had mourned for
lost sons. To the Trickster, he felt triumph for his innocent gifts offered
unto the Dark Master.


     Crying Loon awakened late in the night. He didn't know where he was.
Crickets sang their soothing songs all around him. The stars were obscured so
the boy knew that he was in the woods. He was afraid. There was no memory of
what had brought him here. His limbs felt weak when he tried getting up. A
hardness was felt against his left arm that felt like a tree growing in the
wrong direction. Oh. It had fallen over the ground, he realized.

     The boy slowly brought himself to sit over it. He noticed his nakedness
when feeling moss tickling against his butt. It ached him as if he had been
stuck into... Crying Loon reached fingers between his cheeks. What he brought
back to his nose smelled familiar: the sharp odor of sperm. Who had raped
him?! What scared him more was that he had no memory of it.

     When Crying Loon tried to walk, he fell because of his weak legs. A sharp
pain came from his bladder. The boy became faint so he rested a moment before
crawling back to the fallen tree. He could only manage to prop his back up
against it.

     The youth thought of calling out for help but he feared that a black bear
would hear and come eat him. Crying Loon glanced through the dark for angry
red eyes... He found none. It struck him as strange that he would think about
Trickster eyes. He'd heard the stories that were told by parents to scare
little children into obedience. There wasn't really any such thing.

     Crying Loon decided to wait until morning before trying to walk out of
the woods. His head felt very heavy. The dull pain coming from his butt and
his abdomen kept him from sleep. The boy sat in the darkness for a long time.
He didn't notice when his teary eyes finally closed.


     A crow's sharp warning from the tree tops awakened the boy. He looked for
the black bird, dreading its presence that reminded him of As-a-crow for some
reason. Morning had come. He remembered being lost in the woods. Looking down
at himself, he saw his erection that bespoke his need to piss. To the boy's
surprise, he was able to stand. His legs felt strong enough to walk.

     After pissing, Crying Loon searched for his breechclout. He couldn't find
where he'd left it. A path was found that he hoped would bring him out of the
forest. He was bothered by pain coming from his bladder. Every so often, he
tried pissing to relieve its dull pain but nothing would come out of his dick.

     A long walk proved that the boy's sense of direction was true. He left
the woods behind. Cat tails crowded around Crying Loon that reminded him how
boys were known to play naked games here. He came across his breechclout lying
in the mud. The thong belt was tied around his waist. A flap bore a small butt
stain so he dropped it over his rear end. The other flap seemed large for his
front. Were these his, the boy wondered? His body needed covering so that he
could enter camp without embarrassment. The cloths were switched over his body
that felt right.

     It would have surprised Crying Loon that his front flap bore the butt
stain from fucking Big Horn. He didn't remember anything about being with that
brave. Memories of Wolf Pawing and what they'd done amongst the cat tails was
also gone. His sweet memories of Mah Nayee love had been tied off from the
others in his head.

(The story continues in part 4 of "Big Horn's Path into the Mahyee-na".)


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End of file: CRYINGLO.TXT   Continues in "Big Horn's Path Into the Mahyee-na"
                            series, part 4