by Kaol

Tom gave a casual glance over his shoulder. His horse was kicking up clouds of yellow dust as he moved across the desert plain. He gave a cocky grin at the noticeable absence of life behind him and then turned back around, slapping the reins against the horses neck. He didn't figure Chakeela's tribe would be chasing him yet, but he didn't want to take any chances either. Tom had no particular destination in mind, he just wanted to get as far away from Chakeela as possible. That squaw could cause him seven kinds of trouble and he didn't want any of em.

Up ahead Tom could see the rise of mountains, though he knew he could never reach them tonight. Still, the ground was getting hilly, and he figured he would find a place near a stream to rest for the night. Chakeela's tribe might be good at tracking, but not even they could find him quickly over the trail he had left.

It was too bad that he'd had to cut out like that, but when Chakeela told him that she was going to have a little papoose, well, that was just too much for Tom. She had been fun and all, but there was no way he was going to marry no Indian. Chakeela's pa would have made him marry her too, as it was a major disgrace for his girl to get pregnant before she was married, especially to some white man. Chakeela seemed to believe that Tom would find this news exciting. He didn't know what the hell she was thinking, but he knew it was time to ride for the sun.

Tom climbed off his chestnut mare and walked forward as the stream came into view. It wasn't big, and looked to be mostly dried out, but it was enough to quench his and Patch (his horse's) thirsts. He took off his hat and dunked his scarf into the water, running the sodden contents over his sweaty face. Patch leaned over, bending her head down low, and began to eagerly slurp up the water as well. Tom laughed and slapped the horse's rear in good humor. He'd made good his escape, and now he could ride on and find another squaw he could ride on. In good humor, he set up a campsite for the night and considered where he might travel next. Maybe it was time to see what was on the other side of those mountains.

Tom awoke the next morning to the sunrise and lay there for a moment, soaking up the rays. It looked to be a beautiful day. He enjoyed his life style with nothing to tie him down and no responsibilities except to himself, and maybe Patch. Tom was a good hunter and he wouldn't go hungry before it was time to find a new town or village to settle in...for a little while anyway.

Grabbing his rifle, Tom decided to see if he could scare up some breakfast. With this water source it was likely that animals would be in this area, and he began marching off to see if he could find some. Leaving Patch behind, Tom followed the course of the river southward.

The morning sun was already packing some heat, and Tom frowned at thinking of the ride ahead. He was walking along the shorebank, ready to go around a bend in the stream, when his boots abruptly sank deep into what was strangely mushy sand. "What the hell?" Tom asked to no one, startled and annoyed. With irritation, he jerked one leg up and saw the other one sink in further, the wet sand pouring into the top of his boot.

"Dammit!" Tom snarled, his good humor of the morning quickly evaporating. "What the hell is going on here?"

Forced to place his other leg back down or overbalance, Tom found his left foot plunging back into the slushy earth. He was almost immediately past his knees in the light brown earth and felt it soaking through his pants. Tom chuckled nervously at this predicament, wondering what the hell was happening. He looked about him and saw a dried up tree branch overhead, too far to reach. The sand about him had little puddles of water creeping to the surface and it occurred to him for the first time, that he might just have gotten himself caught in some quicksand.

"Shit!" Tom yelled to the sky, as the quicksand was now up to his crotch. Taking his rifle, he swung it at the branch overhead, hoping to extend his reach. It was still too far away. Leaning forward, he tried driving it into the earth, but it was quicksand as far as he could reach, and the stock of the rifle just sank into the gritty sand.

The quicksand was now up to his chest, and Tom set the rifle on the surface of the bog. Raising his hands to his mouth, he yelled out. "Patch! Patch! Come here, Patch! Get your sorry ass over here!"

Tom lowered his hands, and found his hands and arms slowly settling into the mire as well. The stuff was amazingly thick around him, and when he tried raising his arm again, it felt as though an invisible hand had locked around his wrist, keeping it at his side.

Something like panic began a climb up his spine then. He couldn't believe he was going to die in quicksand, but it sure looked that way.

Tom heard movement in the distance and felt his heartrate accelerate then. Someone was coming. "Hello!" he cried out, his voice thin with worry. "Hello! Is somebody there? Can you help me?"

"Why would I do that?" Chakeela asked, topping the rise and walking down towards him. Tom gulped at seeing her approach. Even in his current straits, she was a knockout of an Indian woman. Her hair was long, straight and dark, falling to her waist, and her skin was the color of maple syrup. Her eyes were dark above high cheekbones, and she looked amused as she approached. She wore a simple buffalo hide dress with a plain stone necklace.

"Chakeela!" Tom cried out. "Boy am I glad to see you?"

"Is that so, Tom?" Chakeela asked, pausing at the edge of the quicksand and looking down on him. "You surprise me, as I thought you were fleeing from me."

"Nonsense! Flee the mother of my child? You are out of your mind! Now get me out of here so we can plan our wedding."

Chakeela shook her head, eyes downcast. "Ah no, there will be no wedding. I know your heart."

The quicksand was now up to Tom's neck. His descent seemed to have slowed, but he certainly was not moving upward. "Look, Chakeela, you know I love you. Don't you remember the nights under the stars?"

Chakeela smiled then, and Tom saw that she did remember that.

"We can have that again," he continued, desperate. "Let me show you."

Chakeela looked at him closely, kneeling down beside the quicksand. She stuck her hand into the earth and observed it as it disappeared into the semi-solid surface. She lifted her hand back up and a wet dotting of sand covered it. "This is quicksand. It is a stupid man who walks into quicksand."

Tom grinned foolishly up at her. "That's me. Stupid man. Thank goodness I have a smart squaw like you to rescue me."

"Hmm," said Chakeela as if thinking. Standing, she brushed her hands together to clear off the sand on them. "Wait right here," she said and winked at him.

"Come back!" Tom cried as she vanished over the ridge. The quicksand was up to his chin now, and his muscles trembled beneath the surface.

Chakeela returned a moment later with a rope. Looking above, she threw the rope over the branch of the tree. She then secured one end about the base of the tree, and then the other around her waist. Tom watched this with fascination and more than a little anticipation. It almost made him feel guilty that he would have to run off on her again the first chance he had.

Holding onto the rope with one hand, Chakeela moved to the edge of the quicksand and took a tentative step forward. Her moccasin clad foot vanished quickly and effortlessly into the yielding matter. Her dark eyes glanced down at Tom, and she gave a quick smile. Then, without a word, she raced quickly across the surface of the surface of the quicksand towards him. Her feet kicked up sprays of wet sand as she moved, but her momentum kept her from sinking more than shin deep at any point until she stood right before Tom.

Tom looked up at her from his position and was able to see her dark eyes past the mounds of her breasts. They looked very pretty from this angle, and Tom realized how easy it had been to be taken by her charms. He gave what he hoped would appear to be a grateful smile. "Nice job, Chakeela. Now you can get us out of here."

She wagged a finger at him. "Not so fast, white man. You have dishonored me and run away. Maybe I just came out here to get a better view of your dying."

Tom smiled, turning on his charm full blast. "No way, Chakeela. I know you better than that."

A dark eyebrow raised in response. "Perhaps you know less than you think you do. Chakeela took her leg, submerged to her knee, and lifted it, placing it behind Tom's shoulder. She then, with a slurping sound, pulled free the other leg and did the same, so that she was now straddling Tom's body.

Glancing skywards, Tom could now see up Chakeela's skirt at the dark prize which had once snared him as hungrily as this quicksand. "Nice view," he said. "But I ain't exactly in a position to admire it now, darlin'."

"Oh no," she disagreed. "I think you are in a perfect position to admire it. In fact, that is all you are able to do at the moment."

Tom enjoyed the feel of Chakeela's thigh against his cheek as she began settling into the quicksand almost on top of him. However, while he seemed to have stopped sinking for the moment, he was not feeling especially safe. "Look," he called up. "I will admire you all day and in many ways once you get us out of here."

Chakeela pumped her legs up and down, working her way in deeper. She could no longer see Tom, as her skirt was like a teepee about his face, but she could feel him against her legs and knew what he was seeing. "I think you will make me very happy just where you are," she insisted. "In fact, I think it is very important that you make me decide you are worth saving."

"Now how the hell am I supposed to do that?" Tom said. "My willy is down here in the quicksand."

"But your tongue is not," Chakeela answered. "And I suggest you use it and use it well."

Tom looked up, and her dark triangle was almost resting upon him, the hair tickling his nose. "My tongue, huh?" he mumbled to himself. He was in no position to argue, and there was something appealing to the whole notion anyway. He felt her soft and wet skin pressing against his face now, and he tentatively slid his tongue from between his lips to between hers.

There was an immediate reaction and he felt her thighs tighten about his head. More assuredly this time, he let his tongue slide into her cleft and tasted the moisture there. It was hot under her skirt, and even hotter in here, but he knew his life depended on this little bit of action.

Chakeela swayed her hips, grinding herself against Tom. One hand held firmly to the rope, not allowing her to go any deeper unless she desired it. Her other hand ran over her sweaty face and down her neck. She pretended she was riding her pony and let her hips get a rhythm going just as they did then.

Beneath her, Tom felt himself descending deeper into the quicksand, being pushed there by the body weight above him. He tried to call out a warning, but in order to pull away from the flesh pressed against his face, he would have to pull back into the quicksand, and his head was now tilted back, ear deep, in the stuff. His tongue licked furiously, his lips closing and tugging with gentle kisses in between. He could just make out the cries and moans from Chakeela above, and he silently cursed her for getting pregnant and ruining their good thing.

Chakeela could feel the heat building in her, and the sun above was nothing compared to it. The quicksand about her legs felt like a tribe of tongues, eagerly licking and sucking on her flesh, much as Tom was now. "Keep going!" she cried out as she felt the tongue hesitate within her. She pushed petulantly downward with her hips and immediately felt the tongue probing her with increased vigor and urgency.

It was impossible to think clearly any longer. Wiggling her hips back and forth, Chakeela pushed down, desiring release.

Tom felt the quicksand closing over his face, but he kept his tongue going. He could feel Chakeela's firm thighs still held him tightly, and if he could make her climax in the next few seconds, he knew he would be okay. Holding his breath, his body encased in the boggy womb, Tom forced his tongue as deep into her as he could.

Chakeela felt the quicksand against her crotch now, but didn't pause to consider what that might mean. All she knew was it was another sensation made to push her over the brink. She was bouncing up and down with abandon now, enjoying the feel of the quicksand splashing against her belly. Almost there...almost there...ALMOST....THERE!!!

An incoherent scream emerged from her then, and she let go of the rope that held her to the branch above. She immediately settled waist deep into the bog. Chakeela felt a strong vibration between her thighs, but paid it no mind. It would not last long; she knew that from experience.

Chakeela pulled her sweaty blouse loose from where it had stuck to her breasts and beat it up and down to get some air to cool her off. She loved this moment, where her fluids mixed with those of the quicksand and they shared this intimate afterglow. Tom had ceased struggling beneath her and she spared a sad smile for her late lover. He had been as predictable as all the others. She had never been pregnant, but she had guessed what his reaction would be when he told her, and he had headed the same direction as all the others. So predictable.

The quicksand was now beneath her breasts, and Chakeela sighed, dreamily. Pleasant as this felt, it was now time to pull herself free before the suction was too intense for her. Grabbing the rope with both hands now, she pulled upwards, her muscles straining. It felt as if she was trying to lift the entire bog with her, but after a brief tug of war with the quicksand goddess, Chakeela felt the mire loosen its grip. There was a rude sound as her body broke its suction and began to come free. Chakeela ignored it and focused on freeing herself. One of these days the rope or branch would break and Chakeela would join her lovers, but that uncertainty was part of the thrill.

Kicking her muddy legs free, Chakeela swung over to the side, her body dripping wet sand. Walking over to the tree. She removed the knife that was stuck in the ground beside it. Carefully, she carved another notch in it alongside the eight others already there. With a grin, she walked to the stream to wash off, and wondered who lucky ten would be.

Copyright 1997 Kaol

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This page created March 18, 1999 by Kaol