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I had little idea of the physique of Samuel, although, being a man of hard labor, I knew, from when he washed himself on the porch before meals, that he was well-muscled for his age as well. But again nothing like this.
I felt myself moan and my hand lifting up the hem of my dress and search up between my thighs as I crouched there and focused my eyes on the savage's groin. Although he had been well endowed in his manhood, John was rivaled by this primitive being. The savage's meaty orbs hung low in the sac behind a thick, if not terribly long shaft. I gasped, though, as I continued to watch and the savage began to stroke his shaft with one hand while sluicing water on his body with the other. The appendage was growing in length and girth-still not reaching the length of John when hard, but the girth sent electrical charges through my body and I felt the wetness on the fingers that had found their goal between my thighs.
The moment didn't last too long, though. The savage was climbing out of the pool. He reached down and lifted a beaded belt and loin cloth from the ground and fastened the apparatus around his slim waist. A knife on a sheath hung down from the belt on one side, but it took me a while to figure out what was hanging down on the other side. Some sort of animal pelt, I thought, but the hair of the pelt was long and golden blonde. Nearly the same shade as my own hair.
I reacted with revulsion and fear when I realized that it was a scalp. The scalp of some blonde woman. There had been periods of time out here on the edge of the settled world of uprisings and isolated raids-and deaths among the settlers.
I shrank away from the bushes and turned and quickly went the way I'd come over the ridge and down to Samuel's farm. I still was not prepared to think of it as Samuel's and my farm.
Over the next several days, my thoughts continually went back to that blonde scalp. Even more, though, they went back to the magnificent body of the savage. I was young and ripe and I had known the pleasure of the coupling. Here, with kind Samuel, I was drying up into a prune before my time.
I thought of the scalp and the savage and of my needs, and I fantasized on the death of that woman and what might have come immediately before that-what the savage had done to her. What it seemed like, in his extraordinary sensuality and animal magnetism, that he must have done to her. And increasingly I thought, if I was seeking the solace of death anyway, being savaged by a savage-especially one like the one I had spied in the altogether-would be a glorious way to flame out.
There was no conscious plan to it, but not too many days later, I had found the hidden pool on the far slope of the mountain again, and it was I who was standing, naked in the pool, sluicing water over my body.
I knew he-or someone or some animal-was watching me from the bushes. My body glistening from the water droplets, I threw my head back and swished my long, blonde curls out behind me. The strands almost reached the curve of the small of my back down onto my generously plump buttocks. I took my ample breasts in my hands and squeezed them, flicking my thumbs across the plumped-out nipples. I was humming and moaning in low tones. I moved a hand down over my gently rounded belly to between my thighs. Carefully parting my labia between two fingers, I found my clitoris with a third and rubbed the hard nub. My moans deepened and rose in volume.
My eyes flew open in shock and a surprise that I really shouldn't have had at the sound of the primordial animal cry.