Date: Sat, 25 Feb 2017 23:23:09 -0500
From: Milford Slabaugh <tommyhawk1@aol.com>
Subject: The Papoose of Saddleback Camp

[Note: This story is set in the days of the Gold Rush (1850's) and involves
a man/men and an underaged boy having sexual encounter(s). As always, my
stories are fantasies with no basis in reality either intended or implied,
I personally have a clearly defined border between fantasy and reality in
my own life and can enjoy these sort of stories with no desire to go out
and emulate them in my own life. But if stories of this sort offend you,
please, spare yourself and read no further. I write a wide variety of
stories (it's what lets me stay so prolific) so check back next week for a
story of mine that may not go too far for you.]

                  THE PAPOOSE OF SADDLEBACK CAMP
                      By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
                   WWW.TOMMYHAWKSROGUEMOON.COM

     It was a solemn assembly of the men of Saddleback Camp that cold
January day of 1852. Snow had gripped the mountains months ago and now
covered everything with six inches of cotton-like flakes that made the tree
branches droop like they were crying. The squirrels were curled around with
their noses buried in their fluffy tails, the geese had fled south, the elk
was stepping gingerly from copse to copse in search of food, but to the men
of this company, the snowfall was nothing. They had laid in winter supplies
before the snows had closed the roads to travel and it didn't even end
their digging for gold in this camp, for they had struck a rich vein the
summer before and now had a sizeable tunnel into the mountains that they
mined in an impromptu company, each man pulling for himself what he could
from the diggings. Twenty-three men were now gathered at the tunnel's
mouth, for they had to decide what to do about the Papoose.
     The Papoose had come with his mother the summer before, and their
arrival had heralded the strike. Not that Shawnee Sal had been so much of a
surprise, for there were women who clung to these mountains, eking out
their living by providing to the men of the camps with the female
companionship that young men, no matter where they are, crave and
desire. Her claim to be Shawnee Indian in ancestry was very much in
dispute, for her face and language spoke richly of a heritage that owed
more to the Rio Grande than to the Snake River. But no man was foolish
enough to challenge her claim for fear that she would thereafter deprive
them of her services.
     Shawnee Sal had thrived during the summer and the fall, and the
Papoose had become a fixture of his own about the camp. He was a sturdy
tumblebug of a lad, his skin was several shades lighter than his mother's,
the shade of well-tanned leather instead of his mother's desert-rock
complexion, but his hair was the same thick black lustrous mop and his eyes
were black sparkling pearls and his smile shone like the fresh-fallen snow
even in the hot summer. He was eager to spend his time with the men,
helping them here and there, and no matter how weary a man was at the end
of his digging, he could not help but devote a few minutes of time playing
a game of kick-ball with the Papoose, while his comrades went in to his
mother for their own games of a much more adult nature.
     But the snows had come, and Shawnee Sal had fallen prey a half dozen
days ago to a fever that had carried her off the night before. The Papoose
had been the one who had come to tell them that his mother lay cold and
unmoving under her blankets and he had watched with somber, unwatered eyes
as these men used the same shovels and pickaxes they used on the rock to
clear the snow and dig his mother a grave, to pile upon the mount a good
set of rocks and over all that a layer of snow, and Shawnee Sal could now
rest in her death in a manner that she had never been able to rest in life.
     The twenty-three men of this camp had each built a small cabin for
themselves, the most typical (but the term is self-defeating in any
collection of individuals) being some ten feet by eight feet, big enough to
hold their bedding, a box for their sundries, a fireplace built of rock cut
from their tunnel to cook in and to warm their shacks, and not much
else. So they had gathered in the one place that they all could, a small
cavern not far from the mouth of their cave, a fire in the middle of it
made it bearable for the meeting and lit the faces with a reddish,
flickering tint that gave them all the seeming of demons in conclave.
     "We have to do something about the Papoose." Carving James told the
assemblage without much more preamble. "Little fellow can't stay in his
mother's place all alone, and that place isn't fit for the cold and heavy
snows anyhow. Question is, what are we going to do for him?"
     "We could build up his place." Jeff Jimmers suggested. "Shawnee Sal
should have put a proper roof on that place anyhow."
     "That's no answer for a little shaver like the Papoose." argued
Carving James. "Kid needs someone to take care of him, fix him food, keep
him clean, wash his clothes, all that stuff. He's with us until the spring
thaws, so like it or not, one of us is going to have to play his Daddy
until March."
     It developed that nobody wanted to care for a child on top of working
in the mines. They argued and it finally was decided that they'd each give
up, in turn, one day of work to stay in their cabin and care for the
Papoose. He would migrate from cabin to cabin each evening with his small
bundle of belongings, and it would be up to his new caretaker to deal with
him nonstop until the following evening.
     That left only how to decide who got him first. Carving James agreed
to handle the Papoose for the first evening and day, and the men then set
about to cut the cards for the days after that. They agreed on the rules of
bridge, with clubs counting the lowest, then diamonds then hearts then
spades, and so with the cards thus arranged in a clear superior order, the
men all drew a card and prayed the deuce of clubs would grace their hand.
     Whistling Jake found himself with the Queen of Spades, and he had to
hope that someone had pulled her husband, but the louse was hiding in the
deck probably nuzzling with the Jack of Diamonds, that old bugger, which
meant Jake was going to have to give up the digging on the richest
goldurned claim in these mountains. That vein was going to give out sooner
or later (they all do) and every day digging meant more gold in his
pouch. But hell, they wouldn't have to draw again until near the end of
February, and maybe he'd draw a club then and manage to stay out of the
duty again until the snows cleared the Papoose could be packed down the
mountain and dumped in an orphanage where he belonged.
     That next evening at sundown, Carving James was waiting for Jake with
the Papoose when he came out of the tunnel, standing in that same anteroom
where the meeting of the night before had taken place. "Well, here he is."
He said to Jake. "He's yours until this time tomorrow night, Whistling
Jake." He stopped and his mouth worked, and he said, "Unless you don't want
to take him. I could keep him again tonight, if'n you feel he'll be a
bother."
     Now this was something befuddling. Carving James was the most
practical man in the world, he'd been the one to set up their communal dig
as their tunnel had started on his claim and he'd shown his practicality
when the vein had promptly gone under and into his neighbor's claim and now
was into the next man in line's claim if Jake had it figured right. A
charitable act that was making him a lot richer than if he'd clung to his
own claim alone.
     Knowing that, Jake said, "Naw, Carving James, I 'preciate it much, but
I reckon I'll cool my heels tomorry and mebbe dig a little on Sunday to
make up for it. 'Preciate it, though."
     Carving James' mouth worked like he wanted to say more and couldn't
make himself say it. Then he turned and walked off, leaving the Papoose
with Jake. Jake looked down into the little angelic face beaming up at him
and said, "Well, come on, Papoose, you and me are bunkies for tonight, I
reckon."
     "Great!" the Papoose grabbed Whistling Jake's grubby hand and hauled
him off toward his own cabin. Jake whistled (he did that every time
something unusual was going on, it was how he'd earned his moniker, the way
Carving James had earned it by his relaxation-time hobby of carving small
objects out of odd pieces of wood), and said, "Looks like there's a real
blizzard blowing up."
     "Yeah, Uncle Jimmy says that he thinks we'll have to stay indoors the
next two-three days." the Papoose grinned at Jake. "So you might have me
longer than you think!"
     Jake groaned. He didn't want this kid to begin with (he didn't hate
kids, but a ten-by-eight cabin isn't roomy for one man, and in a
blizzard.... Then why did Carving James act so dejected at his refusal to
let him keep the Papoose. Two or three nights? Ee-yow!
     The Papoose looked around his cabin when he got inside and got the
lantern lit. "You got a table and chair, too!"
     "Yep." Jake agreed. He had whiled away a blizzard the winter before
hammering pieces of sanded wood into those articles of furniture.
     "Can I sit in the chair? Can I? Huh?"
     Jake considered that this child, living in camp after camp, might well
have not seen a chair very often before. A man needs a place to sleep, he
needs a way to eat, a way to wash his clothes. But a chair...a fellow can
do without it if he has to, and the camps were a place to do without
anything but absolute essentials. "Go ahead, sit your ass off there."
     The Papoose jumped into the chair and sat there, his legs dangling
over the edge and he watched while Jake built up the fire in the cabin from
the coals of the morning and when the fire was going well, he heated water
for himself to bathe himself with. He usually just washed his face and
hands, but a kid ought to learn that a man should stay as clean as
possible, so he was going to set an example here. When the water (which had
been with a layer of ice nearly an inch thick over it at the start) was
steaming with gray wisps reaching up the chimney, he took the small pot off
the fire and emptied it into his washing basin. Pulled down his suspenders
and then fought his shirt buttons free.
     The Papoose was watching him careful as could be. His grin never
faded, but there was an oddly predatory look to his face as he watched Jake
peel off his shirt and then peel back his union suit top so he was bare to
the waist. When Jake did that, the Papoose leaned forward and said, "Wow!"
     "What's the matter, Papoose? Didn't you ever see a man's body before?"
     "Yeah, but not as nice as yours is." the Papoose got down from the
chair and came over to where Jake was sluicing the water up to lave it upon
his hair and face. Damned dirt and rock dust got all over a man in a
tunnel, you came out browner than Shawnee Sal until you washed it all
off. The Papoose was staring at him and getting closer, while Jake washed
his hair and face clean and he was working on his shoulders and upper chest
when it happened. The Papoose overturned the basin and dumped the water
onto Jake's stomach and soaked his pants and union suit clear through! "Aw,
shit, damn, Papoose!" Jake moaned.
     "I'm sorry. I was just looking!" the Papoose whined.
     "Now what am I going to do?" Jake mourned. "I can't wash clothes in
this weather! Have to wait until the blizzard's over at least!"
     "I didn't mean it!" the Papoose was about to cry, and Jake forestalled
him hastily as he could.
     "I know you didn't, Papoose. But now what am I going to do?"
     The Papoose considered it. "You can hang them up in front of the
fire. They ought to be dry by morning."
     "But what'll I sleep in tonight?"
     "You can sleep nekkid." the Papoose grinned.
     "I'll freeze my nekkid bohunkus off!"
     "Nu-uh! I'll be in bed with you, keep you warm. We can put my blankets
over yours and keep it extra warm!"
     Jake hesitated. The Papoose had an idea there at the end. "Well, I
reckon we got to do it that way. But I'm putting one of those blanket
between you and me, me under and you over. That way you won't be rubbing up
against me or nothing."
     "Awwww!" the Papoose whined.
     Jake fixed his vittles, just gravy stirred up in a pan and some
biscuits from a tin, a batch he'd cooked up last Sunday. He'd run out of
them with two eating out of the tin instead of one, but he'd worry about
that after the Papoose was out of his hair.
     By the time they'd eaten, the Papoose devouring every last drop of the
gravy and two extra biscuits than Jake had planned on giving him, Jake was
shivering. The water had caught every bit of the coldness in the room and
the fire wasn't close enough to cancel it out. He'd always felt the room
was warm enough with his long johns and pants on, or under his blankets,
but out in the open like this, he was just plain cold! "I don't know about
you, but I'm ready to get in that bed!" he told the Papoose!
     "Yeah, yeah!" the Papoose was more than eager, he proceeded to strip
his little body totally bare and was climbing in the bed.
     "Hey, hey, leave one of those blankets underneath you!" Jake cautioned
him. The Papoose complied and Jake stripped himself more sedately. The
Papoose watched him from the bed with gimlet eyes as Jake finished and then
turned out the lantern. The bed was invisible to him by then but he had the
rustlings of the Papoose in the bed (the mattress was filled with straw and
made a hell of a racket at every movement) to guide him. Besides, he'd made
this trip in darkness many, many times before.
     He got under the covers and sighed. Damn but it felt good to get those
dirty longjohns off his body! He really ought to get himself a second pair
so he could wash one and wear the other. They got pretty funky by this time
of winter, but better to stink than to shiver. And the blankets, his three
and the Papoose's two, made his bed really, really warm in no time.
     Then the Papoose's hand came over and landed on his chest, he felt
bare flesh touch bare flesh. "Durn it, Papoose, I told you to keep a cover
'tween us!" he scolded the boy. "It ain't proper, a man to be buck naked in
bed with a boy!"
     "I don't mind!" The Papoose's hand was traveling down his body,
feeling the muscles of his chest, his ribs, his abdomen.
     "Still ain't proper!" Jake griped. "You ought to get out of this bed
and get back in with a cover 'tween us."
     And that's when the Papoose's hand finished its trip and ended up
where it had been heading all along, wrapped around Jake's whanger!
     "Oog!" Jake grunted when the small fingers encircled his dong and
gripped him tightly.
     "You're nice and warm." the Papoose observed. "'Specially down here."
To reach him that far down, the Papoose's head had gone under the covers,
and his voice was partially muffled.
     "Let go of my johnson, Papoose!" Jake told him sternly. "Shouldn't
ought to go around and grab a man's tool like this and...and play with it
like you're a'doing!"
     For the Papoose was working his hand up and down, pumping on Jake's
prong, and his poor, overlooked organ was whinnying like a stallion for
joy! He hadn't had a servicing like this since...since the last time he'd
paid for Shawnee Sal's services, and she'd only done it long enough to get
him hard, and then she'd....
     "Oh, Mother!" he moaned, because the Papoose had now taken Jake's
prick into his mouth and was sucking on him better'n his mother ever had!
"God bless you, child, how'd you learn to do this so well!"
     The Papoose lifted his mouth off Jake's pud and giggled. "Watching
Mom."
     "When did you watch your mother?" Jake asked. He knew Shawnee Sal,
she'd always chased her boy out of her cabin when she had a
companion. Downright careful about it, the only reason the men hadn't taken
her kid from her and shipped him down the mountain the summer before.
     "When she had Mr. Nash for a client."
     "Nash?" Jake knew the man, he was the banker in the town down the
mountain where all the miners did their banking.
     "He paid Mom extra for having me watch him and her doing it. He'd ask
me questions like, 'Do you see what your mother is doing? It feels real
good, the way she's sucking on me.'" And the Papoose went back to work,
using the lessons he'd learned, on Jake's cock.
     Poor kid! Shawnee Sal must have been enticed by money and then
mortified after. She'd fled the town up to this camp to get her son away
from the memories. No wonder she'd drunk most of her money away quick as
she got it. The whiskey was what had left her too weak to fight off the
fever when it had come.
     But Jake was busily enjoying the benefits of the Papoose's precocious
education. He was sliding his mouth on Jake's long-benighted prick with all
the expertise any man could ask of a woman, much less a young enthusiastic
boy. And while a woman would have gotten tired soon after starting the
task, the Papoose's attentions were unrelenting and insatiable.
     Jake felt over and the Papoose's pud was right...about...there! He
caught hold of the tiny little wiener and while he could only put two of
his work-horned fingers to pleasuring his little lover, he did his best.
     The Papoose was moaning even as Jake's own pleasure surged in him
greater and greater, he was well on the way to his orgasm when the Papoose
turned loose and moaned in his little-boy climax. Jake remembered them
well, when the body was brand new and unfamiliar with climax, all defenses
were down, and the pleasure did more than simply delight you, it shook you
to the very foundations of your being, and you roared in ecstasy unending.
     And done, the Papoose was panting hard, and he was yanking his pud
away from Jake in sudden pain that follows infantile orgasm. He remembered
that, too. "Now, Papoose, get yourself back to nursing my dong. I figure
I'll blast you a big thick load in another two or three minutes, tops!"
     The Papoose returned to slurping on him and Jake was writhing in his
joy in no time and he groaned, "Oh, yeah, Papoose, I'm about to blow. This
dick of mine is solid dynamite, and it's going to blast the freaking cabin
down if you aren't careful, so hang on tight, Papoose, don't let any of it
get away!" Jake threw himself into his orgasm with complete abandon
then. "Oh, oh, ah, ah, hah, uh, uh, guh, UH-UH-UH-HUH-HUH-HUHHHHHHHHH,
AHHHH-GAHHH-HAHHH-AHHHH!"
     And true to his promise, he squirted long and hard. The Papoose held
on, though Jake's jizz squirted out his nostrils and flew onto Jake's
stomach, the Papoose choked but held on, even while Jake blew a load that
would choke a mule into the boy's mouth and throat.
     When Jake finally finished, the Papoose lifted his head up and
snorted, blew his nose noisily and more spunk flew onto Jake's body. The
other nostril, and more jism, and then he was done and crawled up to put
his face next to Jake's. "Wow, you were serious, weren't you, about how
much there was!"
     "I warned you fair and square." Jake allowed.
     The Papoose giggled. "Yeah."
     Jake reached and kissed the Papoose, and his own jizz was salty icing
on the young lips. The Papoose crawled to lie on top of Jake and the spunk
he'd blown out of his nostrils now smeared the both of them as he rubbed
himself over Jake's brawny, muscled form with his youthful frame.
     "Now get yourself some sleep, kid. We got a lot to do tomorrow."
     "Yeah." the Papoose agreed.
     Jake found, though, that the kid meant something else entirely. He'd
planned some games and chores they could do together, entertain the Papoose
until his shift was up. The blizzard scuttled a lot of those, like chopping
wood, but the Papoose got rid of the rest. He was awakened again and again
through the night by the Papoose's hand working on his pud and,
reinvigorated and erect, again diving down to perform his oral mastery. And
with the blizzard continuing to rage, there was no good reason to get out
of that warm bed except to stoke the blaze again and again. And when he was
done with another load from the store of wood, the Papoose was ready to
stoke his own fires by feeding another load Jake's store of man-juice.
     He was surprised when he heard the knock at his door, and had to
hastily don his shirt and pants to answer it. He opened to find Jaybird
Bill at the door. "Hey, time for me to take the brat off your hands." he
said.
     Jake felt distressed. He was about to lose the best damned cocksucker
ever! "Oh, I don't mind keeping the boy here with me." He said.
     Jaybird Bill laughed real hard, slapping his thigh in
hilarity. "Carving James said you'd say that!" He chortled. "Told me that
we was all going to have to share the boy and share alike. You got a
problem with that, take it up at the next meeting on Saturday night."
     "No, I reckon not." Jake allowed and the Papoose, who had gotten
dressed while they were talking, trotted off into the still-blowing
blizzard with Jaybird Bill.
     He was lucky enough to draw another high card in the drawing they held
when the Papoose had made the full rounds of the men. He yodeled in joy
when he displayed the seven of spades, and found six men offering to trade
cards with him and pay him for the privilege before the drawing was done.
     "Only thing left is to decide what to do with the Papoose when the
roads are clear again in March." Carving James declared.
     Jake was quick to speak up. "I say we don't do one durned thing!" he
declared. "The Papoose belongs to us and we'll just keep right on taking
care of him like we are now!"
     Twenty-two men cheered their second to his motion and it was passed by
acclamation, the Papoose of Saddleback Camp was there to stay!

                             THE END
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