#287) Up in Michigan

It was spring in northern Michigan. This meant that there was sunshine, but still chilly. Liz had spent a summer as a young girl on a lake near Grand Traverse Bay. (If you hold your left hand up, like a mitten, as all Michiganders do, this is just above the pinkie finger.) The lake was so clear and cold and pure. It’d left her with memories that were distinctly the same. So she had eagerly agreed to join a girlfriend who was headed up that way. Carrie was a freelance writer who had the assignment of covering the Cherry Festival in the summer. She decided to drive up to get the lay of the land ahead of time. Liz suspected that Carrie really just wanted to take a little vacay, needed someone to share the cost of gas, the driving, and a motel room, and didn’t have a boyfriend at present.
Even with an early start, by the time they got to their motel it was dark. They ate a whitefish dinner at the adjacent restaurant, then walked down the main street to a bar. It was there that they met Jake.
Jake was full-blooded Potawatomi. Both women discovered that this was a tribe in this region. Liz didn’t even realize there were still Native Americans around, much less full-blooded ones. He reminded her of what Jim Thorpe must have looked like in his prime. He was rough-hewn and rugged, a man of few words, at least when he was drunk, as he was now. It wasn’t a myth that Indians had trouble with fire water. Liz found his tall, dark, and handsome total package irresistible. So she spent the night not in the motel room, but in Jake’s trailer in the birch woods on the other side of the lake. She convinced him to let her drive them there. No sooner did he stumble into the bedroom area of the old Gulfstream silver sausage-shaped trailer than he fell face-first on the bed and passed out. So Liz snuggled close to him (because the trailer was not well heated) and joined him in drugged-dreamland.
She awoke in the exact same position nine hours later. Neither of them had moved a muscle. Evidence of this were the marks the sheets left on her cheek and body. She got up to pee in the bathroom that was exceeded in its filthiness only by its tiny size. She wondered if there was enough hot water to take a shower, but decided not to risk it. She wandered out into the bright sunshine and went to the lake shore. Liz drank in the indescribable environment as if in silent prayer.
She heard Jake let the screen-door slam and walk towards her.
“I thought Indians were supposed to know how to sneak up on Whites,” she joked.
He hugged her from behind. He crossed his arms around her and cupped her right breast in his left hand and vice versa. He did this through her fake fur coat until his hands warmed, then inside the coat. Her nipples hardened in his hands. This was not from the brisk air. They looked out across the lake at the pristine environment, thinking the same impure thoughts. She felt Jake grow stiff against her butt. Liz pulled her sweatpants and underwear down with one swift jerk and thrust her big bottom back at him.
“This is why I came home with you last night…” she said, hoping that, like pizza, it would be just as good, if not better, the morning after.
He parted her buttocks with both hands. She wondered if she needed to clarify what she was offering, was about to say something like, ‘Don’t get the wrong idea which hole I want it in…’ That proved unnecessary. She felt him push his cock into her pussy’s lips.
If his dark external package had caught her eye last night, his package impaling her sex now exceeded all expectations. He was thick in girth. It made Liz open her mouth wide in awe, in the vain hope that opening one end would help open her other end. He pushed his length into her. He was also marvelously long.
Time ceased for Liz. She had once visited Las Vegas and experienced something similar; two o’clock A.M. and two o’clock P.M. feel exactly the same there. Here, time became irrelevant, meaningless. He fucked her from behind for a great long time in the sunshine by the glistening lake. It could’ve been for forty minutes It could’ve been four hours. They could’ve lived in 2022, or in 1822. Liz climaxed so frequently, so intensely from his incredible cock that she lost all sense of time. Space only depended on his huge erection between her thighs, plying her pussy exquisitely, pistoning her pudendum cruelly. She could not keep count of the climaxes that wracked her. But she knew that Jake didn’t experience one. He withdrew from her grip. She felt especially cold until he helped her pull her pants up over her wetness.
“Can I suck you off?”
“I’ll use it later on you,” he said. It sounded like he was discussing a billy-club to bludgeon her with sexually.
“You’re not putting that massive thing up my butt!” she proclaimed. “It’s just too fucking much…I’m just too fucking tight… back there!”
At this mention of her rosebud, that’s all Jake thought about from then on.
She had not yet stood back up fully from the rogering when she stopped. Something in the water caught her eye.
“Is that a…?” she exclaimed.
“Petosky stone,” he finished.
“I collected them as a girl up here!”
Jake didn’t seem to mind getting his shoes wet. And with his long arms, he reached down to retrieve the spotted stone. It was like no other stone in existence, fossilized quartz. It looked like the pattern on a snow leopard’s coat, a gray spotted design that was fascinating to her as she inspected its unique beauty. Liz put it in her coat pocket.
“What are you doing?” Jake asked pointedly.
“Keeping it as a memento,” she replied innocently.
“It belongs here.”
“Tourists take them all the time.”
“Wrongly,” he said with finality.
She thought for a moment. “I think I paid for it by fucking you, a resident.” Liz felt justified in the theft.
“So you agree that as a Native, I have some title, some ownership rights…?” he queried. Liz nodded, enjoying this repartee. “That’s more than a lot of Whites…” She smiled, as though enlightened. “But how does pleasuring you, as you wanted, reimburse me, or the land?”
Liz had no answer, tried to keep smiling. “A dollar.” He scoffed at the low-ball offer. “Ten dollars.” Jake still looked skeptical. “Okay, what do you think is fair?”
He hugged Liz, this time from the front. His hands cupped her round bottom this time. He parted her, goosed her through her sweatpants, tickling her rosebud.
“Oh, no! For one lousy rock?”
“For the rights to any Petosky stone you see…”
“And you’ll get in the cold water to get it for me?”
He nodded with a sweet, little boy’s expression on his face. Ever since the topic had come up, Liz had been thinking about it, too. It seemed like a challenge. He didn’t know it, but she came hardest when taking it up the butt. And she wanted to give him an orgasm.
“You have some lube in that sty of a trailer?”
Jake smiled, “The best!”
She took his hand and led him back inside, putting the spotted stoner in her coat pocket. The “best” lubricant turned out to be liquid Crisco in a bottle. Jake used it to make frybread, a staple in his and most First People’s diet. Liz peeled her coat off, but just pulled her pants down and kept her Ughs boots on. She still felt chilled. She parked her butt in the air as she knelt on the bed, with her face again on a pillow.
“You look so hot!” he complimented as he lubed-up her rosebud.
“That feels so hot!” she returned, her toes curling inside the lined boots. “You have done this before…?”
He nodded but she wasn’t convinced.
“Just take it slow…”
Her anus looked like a buttonhole to him, the sexiest, tightest, most perfect buttonhole. He pressed his greased cock against her greased-up hole. It disappeared into her. As it did, her buttonhole was slowly stretched.
“Oh… God…!” she sighed.
“You okay?”
“You’re just… so big… Keep going…”
He followed her instructions, this one and all that followed, to the letter.
“I’m in… all the way… balls deep,” he exulted.
“It feels like I’m taking the world’s biggest crap! It feels like I’m about to split in two! It feels… like nothing else in this universe! Fuck me!”
He began the age-old in-and-out, but in her butt. It was other-worldly for Jake, as well. Time has ceased for him, space was solely the tight grip of her rectum around his cock. He was deep in her butt! He was fucking her there! It was so tight, so similar to vaginal intercourse, so different. It was such an unnatural act. Liz was taking it as though it was the most natural thing to do. He was fucking her in a place most girls didn’t even want to acknowledge they had.
“Fuck me… Fuck me in my butt…” she whispered seductively.
It felt like he was violating her, debasing her, and she was begging for him to do it. The friction was building as he sped up. It burned, burned like hell. The masochist in Liz fed off it, stoked his fire. She looked back at him over her shoulder. He plowed into her with abandon.
“Are you enjoying this?” she asked wantonly, like the most deprave of sluts.
“Yes,” he openly confessed to the sin.
“Me, too,” she confirmed, conceding that she was the most depraved of sluts. “I’m gonna cum! Will you cum with me, in me?”
The orgasm wracked her, making her scream, making her tighten down and grab his cock hard, rectum spasming, buttocks flexing. Still, he didn’t climax. She figured-out that he needed more stimulation, but what…?
“Spank me! Spank me for being such a whore, for liking it so much!”
Jake spanked Liz as though she was a naughty little girl, caught doing the worst crime, needing correction. Each slap sent her fanny flesh into contortions, made her grip him all the more, burned all the hotter in her ass, now across her ass.
He jerked. He jetted into her. He moaned and emptied himself into her. Thankfully, this made his largess shrink. Finally he was small enough (if that word can be used) to plop out of her butt hole. They cuddled. She held his manhood, in two hands.
“God, you are hung like a horse… My stallion…! I’ll call you Crazy Horse’s Cock. I just had a vision. I’m giving you a new name…”
Jake was impressed that Liz knew this trivia about his people’s naming traditions, knew about this great leader.
Liz’s cell phone rang. Carrie’s voice asked, “Where the holy fuck are you?”
“Fucking. In a most holy way,” she smiled with all the energy she had left. “No, why don’t you continue checking out the area, and I’ll join you in an hour or two…? What will I be doing? I’ve got some rock hunting to do!” And I winked at Crazy Horse’s Cock conspiratorially. “Okay, bye.” Then Liz said to her Indian chief, “I figure we can rock hunt for half an hour, then come back here. You’ll be rock hard again by then, won’t you?” She turned, bent over, stuck her bared ass out, and gave it a solid spank. Liz saw Cock’s cock stir, and knew that she’d have to hurry through any rock hunting that she’d earned.

3 responses to “#287) Up in Michigan”

  1. I don’t know if you know, but there’s some of ME in every story I write. This one has more than just some. I love the photo, I’m proud of the story!


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