Date: Sat, 9 Aug 2003 17:17:22 -0500
From: Craig Nickels <nick55@kansas.net>
Subject: The Sexual Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Part 06

The Sexual Adventures of Huckleberry Finn,

Part 06


Written by nick55 `at' kansas.net

This is a story based loosely on characters created by Samuel Clemens
(better known as Mark Twain) circa 1884. The plot borrows from "Further
Adventures of Huckleberry Finn" by Gregg Matthews (Crown Publishers,
1983, now out of print but still available on the net from Barnes &
Noble). Apologies are extended to any heirs of Mr. Clemens or Mr.
Matthews who might read this.

In this story, Huck is 16, and the story takes place in 1849.

===============================================



Matt lay down on the bed. I moved down between Matt's legs and looked at
him. "He is a little bigger than I am," I thought, "but so perfect."

I decided to get to business and took the head of Matt's leaking cock
into my mouth. I went down slowly, much as he had done with me, using my
tongue to feel every ridge, every bump and contour of Matt's cock.

Matt flexed his cock as I started to move up and down, doing it harder
and faster.

"I'm going to shoot real soon, Tom, it's like what you're doing with your
mouth is reaching down inside of me to draw it all out," said Matt.

Hearing this, I picked up speed. I wanted Matt's sperm in my mouth,
wanted to feel him shoot hard, wanted to make sure that I gave as much
pleasure as I had gotten earlier from him.

I moved my face down again and then felt it, Matt's cock pulsing as an
intense stream of sperm shot out, almost choking me and filling my mouth
with Matt's semen.

We were both lost in a world of pure feeling, concentrated on the
spurting cock. It felt so good, so natural. This was what we both had
been dreaming about but the dreams didn't compare at all with the reality
of doing it.

I kept softly sucking on Matt's cock for a few moments, running my hand
up and down to pump out the last of Matt's cum. As I felt Matt's cock
soften, I gave it a last kiss and moved to lie beside Matt. He took me in
his arms and hugged me. I hugged him back. I fell asleep like that. All
thoughts of my being wanted for a murder I didn't do, all thoughts of
trouble, they left me. All I knew was that I was safe in Matt's arms
and, for tonight at least, that's where I wanted to be.

The next day, at breakfast, Phineas says:

"Boys, we're heading for Slocombe, but the wagons are so slow we likely
won't be there before nightfall. I want one of you to ride ahead with
Matt and go see Mr. Trask that owns a farm on the north edge of town.
Tell him we're on our way and ask if we can use one of his fields like
last year. Now then, who wants to go?"

I volunteered.

"Oh, can you write?"

"Yes sir."

"Alright you go. Matt, here's $10 for the field. If Trask agrees, give
him that, with my thanks, then take Tom into town and put up our posters
anywhere you can, penciling in `Trask's field, 8PM, Friday' in the
space at the bottom."

Well we didn't have any trouble at Trask's, but when we got into town
and started putting up posters, I got a fright. Matt saw a wall that
already had papers stuck on it, so he went over to give it another or
two. Then he saw the wanted poster.

$500 reward
for information leading to the arrest of
HUCKLEBERRY FINN,
definite horse thief and probable murderer.

Description:

Hair: dark

Eyes: brown

Build: slight

Height: a bit shy of 6 feet

Age: 16 years

Assumed DANGEROUS!
If the boy's killed once, he may kill again.

Do not try to apprehend. Approach with caution.

Send all info to
Sheriff Wade Bottoms,
St. Petersburg, MO.



"Hey Tom, come take a look at this," Matt called, so I went over, and I
saw what it was. Now Matt's looking at me, back to the poster and back
at me. "You best be careful, Tom, this boy wanted for murder and
thieving, well it could be you."

I looked around to see if anybody was within earshot. It didn't seem
anyone was, but still I whispered "that's because it IS me!"

"No!" Matt gasped. I clapped a hand over his mouth right quick.

"I never done that murder, Matt, and I only stole the horse to keep the
boy from reporting me so easily. I'm trying to get out of Missouri and
into the territories where I can live free, cause I figure no one will be
looking for me there, and there ain't laws and lawmen out there, not yet
anyway."

"Then you better leave tonight, Huck," Matt whispered back.

"Why?"

"Our group sometimes runs afoul of the law," Matt told me.

"But you're a church!"

"That's just our cover." Seeing the confused look on my face, Matt
continued. "Ever since the gold rush, there's just no money in religion.
People may not put more than a nickel in the collection plate now, when
we used to fetch a dollar a head! You can only raise the Lord's words
from your throat if there's food going down it on a regular basis. We
were hungry, and folks were saving their money for the gold rush, I
reckon. It was May 12, 1848, when Sam Brannan really set off gold fever
by writing about `Gold from the American River!' in his newspaper, the
California Star. Course we didn't hear about it that early, but by the
first of June, we knew we'd have to offer something more than salvation,
so we turned to the world's oldest profession. Uncle Mordecai will
preach and Uncle Phineas will play the calliope, and get the women
singing. Then the men will sneak out of the meeting tent and head to the
wagons. For nearly a year now each wagon has been a whorehouse on wheels!
The girls can make good money, and sometimes a man will pay for sex with
me. Aunt Harriet, she checks the men over to be sure they're clean, with
no obvious disease, before she'll let `em fuck any of us, so it's not
too bad."

"Do you and the girls LIKE being whores?" I asked.

"I can't speak for the girls, but I can say for me it's just a living.
Even though it's sex, it don't satisfy much because there's hardly
ever love involved. Not like when you and I made love, now THAT was
beautiful! Huck, can I come with you to California?"

"Well sure Matt, if you really want to, but will your kin let you?"

"They're not my parents, I reckon they have to let me go if that's what
I want."

"Well alright then."


(to be continued)