The Tribe
folder
Original - Misc › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
41
Views:
6,107
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
41
Views:
6,107
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction about oral & anal sex between men and boys, aged 10-16. The characters, locations & incidents are fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coinc
Chapter 26
©2010 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author's permission.
As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herbcatwriter@yahoo.com. Thank you.
.oOo.
Chapter 26
"Phil, how old did you say Guido's friend was?"
"Eight, I think."
"No fuckin way. That's way too young. Any new kid has to be ten at least."
"You mean too young to hold a hammer?"
"Or to keep a secret?"
"Or to fuck?"
Jason didn't explain, but the minimum age became the rule. The tribe would be open to boys ten and up.
The next few months were busy. Meetings with lawyers and bankers. But they got their papers for a nonprofit, secured a mortgage and bought the property from the defunct Archery Club. When the boys learned what was happening, they were thrilled. School was about to recess for the summer and the men explained that now the real work would begin. They cleared the land for the longhouse and poured the slab. Then they began constructing the walls. The boys' parents were pleased their sons were gainfully occupied throughout the summer. Every afternoon, full of sweat, the men and boys stripped to skinny dip in the mill pond and have a good fuck before heading home. They'd be back at work early the next morning. The four men had businesses to run, but arranged their hours so at least two of them could be on site every day. On Sundays they were all there.
That summer they brought two more boys into the tribe: Howard, a talented young archer who at age 10 was already competing statewide, and Martin, a black eleven-year old with an impressive work ethic and an even more impressive pubescent cock. The five boys helped dismantle the old clubhouse, carrying whatever Jason thought could be salvaged back along the trail to the longhouse site. They got scraped up and shed blood, but were undeterred. Every so often, the men felt the boys needed a break from construction,--well actually, they needed a break more than the boys,--so they would stop to shoot some arrows or take a walk in the woods, learning about trail markers and animal tracks. They learned how to build a campfire and light it using flint and steel. They got an old canoe to paddle around the pond. They'd spend rainy days inside the old millhouse where they learned how to carve leather from Guido, beadwork from Jason, and whittling from Wallace.
They erected a sign over the entrance to the parking lot that read simply "The Tribe," spelled out in birch log letters. Only the members knew the tribal name Pusscock. Below they added a placard that read "Private property. No trespassing." As soon as the roof was in place, the tribe spent their first night in the longhouse. They arrived in the afternoon, stripped and donned their breechcloths and moccasins. They made up the secret handshake and secret sign, and began to spell out their honor code. They agreed to call the men Chiefs and the older boys Braves, but boys who hadn't reached puberty would be Rookies. They sat around a campfire and sang and listened to stories and huddled close to each other. When they went inside the longhouse, they stayed up late into the night fucking each other. All agreed this was the way life should be. They decided that once school started, they'd have a weekly tribal meeting in the longhouse. Chief Wallace suggested every Friday, but Braves Guido and Benny insisted they wanted their weekends free to date girls. So they all agreed on Thursday evening. But they would schedule more overnight campouts in the longhouse as well as a hunting trip up into the mountains for the boys old enough to have a bow license.
.oOo.
As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herbcatwriter@yahoo.com. Thank you.
As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herbcatwriter@yahoo.com. Thank you.
.oOo.
Chapter 26
"Phil, how old did you say Guido's friend was?"
"Eight, I think."
"No fuckin way. That's way too young. Any new kid has to be ten at least."
"You mean too young to hold a hammer?"
"Or to keep a secret?"
"Or to fuck?"
Jason didn't explain, but the minimum age became the rule. The tribe would be open to boys ten and up.
The next few months were busy. Meetings with lawyers and bankers. But they got their papers for a nonprofit, secured a mortgage and bought the property from the defunct Archery Club. When the boys learned what was happening, they were thrilled. School was about to recess for the summer and the men explained that now the real work would begin. They cleared the land for the longhouse and poured the slab. Then they began constructing the walls. The boys' parents were pleased their sons were gainfully occupied throughout the summer. Every afternoon, full of sweat, the men and boys stripped to skinny dip in the mill pond and have a good fuck before heading home. They'd be back at work early the next morning. The four men had businesses to run, but arranged their hours so at least two of them could be on site every day. On Sundays they were all there.
That summer they brought two more boys into the tribe: Howard, a talented young archer who at age 10 was already competing statewide, and Martin, a black eleven-year old with an impressive work ethic and an even more impressive pubescent cock. The five boys helped dismantle the old clubhouse, carrying whatever Jason thought could be salvaged back along the trail to the longhouse site. They got scraped up and shed blood, but were undeterred. Every so often, the men felt the boys needed a break from construction,--well actually, they needed a break more than the boys,--so they would stop to shoot some arrows or take a walk in the woods, learning about trail markers and animal tracks. They learned how to build a campfire and light it using flint and steel. They got an old canoe to paddle around the pond. They'd spend rainy days inside the old millhouse where they learned how to carve leather from Guido, beadwork from Jason, and whittling from Wallace.
They erected a sign over the entrance to the parking lot that read simply "The Tribe," spelled out in birch log letters. Only the members knew the tribal name Pusscock. Below they added a placard that read "Private property. No trespassing." As soon as the roof was in place, the tribe spent their first night in the longhouse. They arrived in the afternoon, stripped and donned their breechcloths and moccasins. They made up the secret handshake and secret sign, and began to spell out their honor code. They agreed to call the men Chiefs and the older boys Braves, but boys who hadn't reached puberty would be Rookies. They sat around a campfire and sang and listened to stories and huddled close to each other. When they went inside the longhouse, they stayed up late into the night fucking each other. All agreed this was the way life should be. They decided that once school started, they'd have a weekly tribal meeting in the longhouse. Chief Wallace suggested every Friday, but Braves Guido and Benny insisted they wanted their weekends free to date girls. So they all agreed on Thursday evening. But they would schedule more overnight campouts in the longhouse as well as a hunting trip up into the mountains for the boys old enough to have a bow license.
.oOo.
As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herbcatwriter@yahoo.com. Thank you.