Beamo’s Gold part 8

Beamo and Little Bit sneak off to have a forbidden hook-up while the Sawbird Gang is busy having a great big biker orgy.



The Sawbird Gang lit two good-sized campfires beside the waterfall. We ate a quick midnight meal of dried provisions. The biker orgy started when Tee dragged off Roofy, one of Soosey’s young toadies, somewhere up into the darkness of boulders on the mountainside we were camped on. I looked back down to the campfire across from the one I was sitting in front of. Over there, Packit, the other teenage toady, was now burnishing Bonehead’s rod with her lips and tongue while Sass Hootie, naked from the waist down, straddled his face. Her tattooed, ample hips swayed with her special rhythm and her face split in a crooked grin. Couldn’t figure out how Bonehead could catch his breath but that was his problem.


The five other biker dollmolls were getting shared between the remaining seven biker dudes. Chuckles was nowhere to be seen. Two of the girls were on all fours getting it back and front at the same time. Sharp-pitched love hollers and rutting bull bellows and pig squeals going on all around me just like that. I put down my fork and plate and stood up. I had to do something, go run for a couple miles if nothing else.


Major Kaim and his remaining three goons marched down the mountainside, away from the campfire light to go do their business somewhere else. It was common knowledge that the Secret Service security hired by the Big Men behind the Wall were quired to join the Spartan Club, which meant that they had to go at it with other dudes. The Big Men figured that rule would keep their ploosh females safe from their hired goons but of course it didn’t always pan out that way.


I caught a glimpse of Little Bit heading out of the dual campfire light in a third direction. I stumbled after her in the dark. Strange but despite my primo sense of direction I got lost for a half an hour before I found her, almost as if she were evading me. The moon was gone and under the trees it was black as a cave. I finally sighted her little personal campfire, just a pinpoint of light in the distance, and made my way up the mountainside through the brush to her.


Little Bit was sitting on her heels, her legs and feet bare in the now cold air, poking a stick into her small fire ringed with rocks. The side of her tent danced with flame shadows. She looked up at me with big eyes. I couldn’t read her face.


I got hot for her and angry with her at the same time, appalled at her innocence contrasting with all this brutal gold-fever insanity. Coyotes started yipping and yapping at us, not happy we were nearby, and I lit into her, too.


“What are you doing? Why did you follow your fanatic brother out here with these cut-throat black-flaggers? Do you want to end up like Soosey; is that what you want, Lytle?”


“You don’t tell me where to be.” She stood up. “You don’t tell me who to be with, Beamo Roamer!”


She came at me, attacked me, grabbed me by my thick hair with both hands and shook my head. Then she was kissing me. I kissed her mouth back, my aim to turn her inside out. I lifted her off the ground. She wrapped her arms around my back and her legs around my backside. I pulled her panties off with one hand, got my jeans down with the other. We went at it like that for a while, me standing up holding her, until the pleasure-jet gushed and then I laid her on the ground.


After a minute she got up to go relieve herself but because I hadn’t gone down, I pulled her to me again. During round two she caught me stoking her graceful white throat twice; she brought my right hand back up to her throat and held it there the rest of the way.  Little Bit smiled to herself because now she had something on me, knew what I liked. She made small downy moans that grew delicious and greedy. We went on and on, the shimmy-rhythm music in me stronger than ever in my life. When the end came, she raked down my back with her left hand. A true biker dollmoll, her three left-hand middle fingers sported steel talons that went right through my heavy-duty work shirt.


After she came back from relieving herself, we lay together on the rocky ground watching meteors shoot across the starry sky until they disappeared behind the big rock outcropping sticking out from the side of our mountain. Pretty much spent, I fell off the cliff into sleep that was sudden and deep.


When I woke up in her blanket, she was cooking a skinned jackrabbit on a stick spit over her little fire, seasoning it with herbs I didn’t even know the name of. Looked in her big green eyes and for the first time started to feel I could read her. She passed me a mug of chicory.


“Did it get cold last night?” I asked and took a sip of the tangy hot fluid that brought me back to life.


“I stayed warm enough.” She sat back down on a smooth rock, took out one of her brother’s cigars from her leather jacket and split it down the middle using her middle finger steel talon, dumped out all the bacco then replaced it with mashed-up reewana buds. Little Bit lit her bloon with a fag from her campfire, leaned back and took a deep drag. She held it in, passed it to me then spouted the grey smoke.


“Don’t usually smoke this backwoods stuff; your brother Tee doesn’t smoke it either,” I went ahead and started oking on the bloon.


“He said you taught him not to so he could keep a clear head when you two played chess.” She smiled languidly and puffed again. “You were both so serious about that game. He started beating you right before he took off to organize the gang, isn’t that right?”


“He beat me about half the time at his best,” I admitted.


The bloon got to me quick, went right to my head and gave me this smooth feeling that everything fit together. It was such clarity I started getting suspicious.


“Is there something else in this bloon?” I held it away from her until she answered. I had to fight her off but finally she spilled it.


“I put in some magic shrooms I got from Philindra. I love that look on your face!” She pointed at me and started laughing.


“I hope you put in the right shrooms and not her poison ones! That old witch is gonna get me back yet.” I passed the bloon to Little Bit.


“She wasn’t a witch; she was a wise-woman healer.” Little Bit oked long and hard then said: “Philindra was a neat old lady. She taught me all the herbs of the forest and prairie. I’m still pissed at you for shooting her.”


“I’ll feel guilty about offing the old cannibal biddy when they make it the law that says it’s okay for crones to take pot shots at citizens just trying to make a living.” I reached out for the bloon again. I puffed, against my better judgment was enjoying it even though it made me cough.


We stayed quiet except for my coughing and smoked for a while then I asked, “Why didn’t she just give them the map? Why did she take off and then fight so hard to keep Tee and her own grandson Bonehead from getting it?”


“She said if it got out it would bring on another Doomtime.”  Little Bit finished the bloon and threw the stub out onto the rocks.


“That old woman couldn’t write her own name. She was illiterate. Why would she believe a piece of paper with a bunch of scribbles on it could cause the end of the world?”


“’Writing is power’, you always said.” Little Bit looked at me and smiled. She reached out and caressed my five-day unshaved face. “Tee told her you said all kinds of powerful things were in the books you found, but she knew it had power long before that. She always kept the map with her, believed she was its guardian.”


We ate her tasty jackrabbit and her roasted prairie turnips. I used the tip of my famous Bowie knife to slice off pieces and stick them in my mouth. She used her hands then licked her fingers.


I stood up and stretched. Her face looked scared but she was trying to hide it.


“Let’s go back to camp together,” I said. She looked surprised and grateful. “I’m not afraid of your brother.”


“Why do you hate each other now?” She stood up and went about breaking her camp. I didn’t say anything and helped her pack her stuff into her backpack.

© ChairmanWow 2023
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Gritty as usual. You are packing a lot into these episodes. This is one of those stories made for binge reading, and would make a great screen series.


More great writing, CW! Every so often a new voice grabs me and this is one of them. I read a lot and can easily finish a book over a weekend; I reckon I’d do the same with Beamo’s Gold because it’s so full of page-turners.
I reckon you’ve got a helluva formula here.

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