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Nowhere Man: Book TwoChapter 20 free porn video
Cramona asked to take a turn, but he refused, as he considered the tree cuts were too near the final break and could be dangerous.
John got Cramona to go through the set of preparatory questions before starting to fell a tree, and when she did that satisfactorily, he made his first undercut wedge before moving to the opposite side for the full attack on the thick trunk. This required several cuts from different points of the compass, as the trunk was thicker that the guide bar length.
The battery power level was low, so he switched batteries for the final assault on the trunk.
He told Cramona to move much further backwards, out of the way of any rebound as it fell. He was himself planning on dropping the chainsaw and running, the moment it started to go. He did not trust his own preparations 100 per cent. The falling trunk might hit a stump and jerk to one side, or upwards, or both; none was a safe bet because of the trunk length, so the farther the better.
It was just as well he did. He was most of the way through the cutting when he felt a shudder, then an immediate cracking sound, followed by a pause as if the tree was thinking about its next move. John jerked the chainsaw out of the tree, switched off and dropped it, and ran as fast as his moccasins would let him.
“Down!” he commanded Cramona, then crouched down behind a smaller tree to present as small a target as possible for any splinters.
There came another, louder, crack, and the whole tree started to lean; thankfully in the chosen direction. John leaned to one side to look, while catching his breath. The magnificent woody structure very slowly tilted and then speeded up as it fell gracefully to the forest floor.
It struck several short stumps that had remained in the way, and bounced back up, quivering, then down again in a slightly different position, this time staying on the ground shivering until it halted.
Its tree canopy had shattered on collision with the ground and the beach, leaving only the branches on the upper side remaining on the tree. The few twigs at the very top were now lapped gently by the low surf, due to the immense height of the downed giant having reached the water’s edge.
John checked that Cramona was unharmed, and she replied, “You made a wise decision, John, to get me to stay back. You kept me safe. Thank you, my wonderful man.”
John smiled at her, but said nothing. He had made his point about safety precautions.
He retrieved the chainsaw and strode down the length of the tree to the first surviving branch. It was so large that it took a full minute of sawing to lop it off, with John having to jump back as it was severed, for it rolled to one side with it’s weight. He then proceeded to the following branches and removed them. They were progressively thinner and easier to lop, until he was almost at the shoreline.
He examined what was left, and decided that the final part of the canopy would be suitable for tying round to pull the tree into the sea. If the northerners were going to tow the trees, they needed some means of tying them tight, and the canopy might help with that.
He switched off the power, then brought the chainsaw back to the bi-cycle, laid it in the basket with the part-used battery beside it, and deposited the depleted battery at the far end of the basketwork. He smeared some mud on the surface, to mark this battery as depleted, so they would not get confused with the clean fully charged ones.
“Right, Cramona. On to the next tree; same direction.”
It took them several hours to move between trees, fell them, then trim the branches, but at last all three of his earmarked trees were down and ready for collection by the sea merchants, some closer to the water than others, but at least accessible. John cut down a few more trees to clear the path nto the sea. Cramona got an opportunity to use the chainsaw on some of the thinner trees, and was pleased at her efforts supporting John’s work.
“We can make our way back to the fisher village now, Cramona.”
“As soon as you try again to give me a baby, husband.”
She smiled gleefully as she spoke, so John said, “Then let’s find a soft spot to lie on, unless you want to bend over and have me take you from behind.”
“Oh, that sounds like fun. How about on all fours? You usually want to lie on top of me, face to face. Another time, can I lie on top of you?”
“You are an adventurous young woman, my love. Are you always going to be like this, looking for loving at every opportunity; even when you have a baby with you?”
“Why not? It is fun to make love with you, now that I know how good sex can be if it is done with love. Someone will hold my baby safe while we make love and start on the next one.”
“Good grief! How many children do you propose to have?”
“We’ll just have to see what happens. As long as you can tear yourself away from your other women, we can work on more babies for us.”
John exclaimed, “Ah, here’s a spot under this tall bush; it looks dry, and if it is not inhabited by insects or snakes, it will suit us.” John used a stick to swish through the dry dead leaves and make sure it was free of unwanted life, then invited Cramona to kneel on all fours in front of him, for him to start a new life in her, or at least try. She found that it made her a little apprehensive, for this ‘animal’ position was what Gobango had used on all the women he had taken from their parents for sex, but she wanted to get over that memory and replace it with a good memory of the position.
She told John her thoughts, and he said encouragingly, “Then I want you to see that all sex positions are fine, as long as they are engaged in lovingly. Try this one and see.”
Hesitantly, she got down on her hands and knees, looking back at her husband for reassurance. He patted her rear end lovingly, saying, “Trust me, my Cramona. Think only of me and us, and it will be fine.”
She held herself still with her hands flat on the ground as he positioned himself, then eased slowly into her already wet vagina. She found herself being entered carefully and considerately; so she then relaxed, and gasped her delight as he filled her, not defiled her. Once she was sure of her own control of this sexual union, she moved cooperatively, then demanded further action from John.
He began his thrusting, pistoning slowly at first, then faster and faster as she insisted on more effort from him. He suspected tuition from his other wives, for he would not have expected her to be embarking on this so soon after being abused by Gobango. She had accepted his assurances very readily, suggesting advance female input to her knowledge. His women had wanted her to learn to enjoy all forms of sex. For some reason, this made him harder than ever, and he exploded as soon as she orgasmed.
The minute he had finished ejaculating into her and his penis relaxed, she moved to get him to lie on his back and straddled him, trying to push his cock back inside her.
“Hey, give me a chance, Cramona! A man takes some time to recover before he can stiffen up enough to go again.”
“Oh. Is there any way I can hurry up that recovery?”
John tried to explain the technique of using the mouth to stimulate his member, but she was less than happy with that unheard-of plan, and instead simply lay beside him until she was able to encourage his return to hardness with her teasing fingers.
At last they attempted the cowgirl position that he explained to her, using words that she might follow, as cowgirls or even cowboys did not exist here. He used the terms ‘wife on top, bouncing up and down’ and that satisfied her. He thought that phrase sounded to him very Chinese in tone, which made him almost laugh. Cramona liked the position and its effects.
Once they were finished, she told him, “That position will be ‘wife on top’ from now on, when I ask for it, John. That all right with you?”
“Yes, dear,” murmured John. That had become his most used phrase with his wives.
Having everything packed into the basket, they wheeled the machine back along the track to the village, Cramona taking her turn every few hundred yards or metres, not that anyone was measuring the distances; not even in terms of minutes when they didn’t have a watch to time their travel. Every so often, the pusher would look to his or her partner and they would swap over without a concern as to distance or time; it was simply changeover time in their mindset as a couple.
Cramona was pushing the bike as they emerged into the cleared area around the village, and John took over.
“I want my wife to look relaxed, letting me take the strain,” he told her.
She giggled at the idea.
“You strained more when you were fucking me, John!”
“Well, that is not for everyone to know, is it?”
“It will remain our secret, husband.”
The guardian children spotted them and hurried over to greet them and ask if they had felled the trees.
John admitted to that ocurrence.
“Yes. We left three more trees on the ground, with many branches lying around; but these are too heavy for children to collect. Perhaps we can go back and cut up the branches to make them easier to gather for firewood.”
The older boy spoke up. “New cut wood is no good for the fire. It has to be dry wood, and that takes a great amount of time, our Maker told me.”
John accepted this technical advice.
“That is so. I had forgotten. It means there is no rush to cut up the branches, and that should reduce your own work of collecting wood for the fire.”
“Hey, that’s right. Good thought, High Chief John ... Shaman John ... Chief John ... which is it, sir?”
“Any of them will do, youngster. Titles never bother me, so whichever you use is fine by me.”
“Really, sir? Our Chief is a stickler for us using his title, and Shaman Mabana wants everyone to know he is the Shaman.”
“Young man ... if I can use that term, as you sound very grown-up; people are just people. They all have variations in what they like, what they don’t like, and who they like or dislike. I have my own opinions about titles, and your Headman and your Shaman have their own feelings about similar things. As long as you accept that adults are all different in many ways, and fit in with them, you won’t go far wrong.”
“Wow, I never saw it that way. Is it the same with girls and women?”
“Ah, the inevitable question that every boy has. Basically, the answer is the same, in that each woman has her own preferences. Just because one woman dislikes you does not mean that all women dislike you. You will be sure to find another woman that really fancies you and that you can live with if you want to marry her; sometimes more than one, if you can afford to have a larger family. The other day, I officiated as Chief to marry a man to four women he loved and who loved him. He is going to become the Chief of that tribe, so then he will be able to support all of them.”
“I don’t fancy any woman for now; none at all, sir. Is that normal?”
“For a boy your age, it is normal. Once you change and become a man in a few years, you will find yourself newly interested in many young women, but interest in sexual joining is not the same as looking for a life partner. You have to pay great attention to the difference, for it can make your life either a pleasure or a misery.”
They were moving into the fisher village, and the boy peeled off to return to his sentry duties as an adult male came to welcome John.
“Hello again, High Chief John. Who is the pretty woman with you?”
“This is Cramona, my wife. She came to assist me with felling large trees for the sea merchants.”
“I am Travo, a fisherman of this tribe. Are you here to speak with the Chief - our Headman - or with our Shaman as I am told you are also a Shaman?”
“Either will do, as I am on my way home, now that the trees are down. I just need to say hello as one Chief to another or one Shaman to another, as a normal courtesy to them.”
“Oh. Then we can go to the Chief’s hut and see if he is free.”
The made their own procession as John and Cramona trundled the bike with them behind Travo, until they came to the Chief’s hut. John remembered it, a little larger than most family huts.
Travo called at the curtained door, “Are you available, Chief? You have a visitor.”
After a short pause, the reply came, “Come back in a while; I am not dressed at the moment.”
Travo looked perturbed as he turned away.
“He is not usually like that. We can see if the Shaman is available, meanwhile.”
The moved on to Mabana’s home. He was sitting at the doorway, getting the sun.
“A visitor passing through, Shaman Mabana. The Chief is busy just now.”
“He is? Oh, yes, there was a visitor here earlier, someone said.” He squinted up past the sunshine. “That outline; is it you, John? You hold yourself in a special way that makes you different from most locals.”
“Spot on, Mabana my friend. I hadn’t realised I was so distinctive in my bearing.”
“What brings you here again? I thought you were going to be cutting trees.”
“Job done, old friend. Cramona and I are on our way home, so I thought I should say hello as I passed through.”
“Cramona? That wouldn’t be the young woman who came with you to cut down the big trees outside the village?”
“It is indeed. She came back to learn how to cut down more trees with my magic device. She did well today.”
Mabana smiled. “Congratulations, young woman. Are you intending to become a Shaman some day? John seems to encourage women to take on new posts.”
“No. I just wanted to help my husband with his work. Eventually I will be too busy birthing our babies, so I wanted him to be able to recall how much help I was, over and above making good sex with him.”
Mabana laughed. “I like that thought, Cramona. You don’t need to rush to have his baby. His other wives are doing that for him. He has a deserved reputation for fertility.”
Cramona giggled, “I know. He has fourteen or fifteen wives now, plus two concubines, so he is not short of sex. I try to make it special with me, so he will never forget the joy of making love with me, and we will have many babies.”
“Both my wives are going to have babies, but they still enjoy all the fucking; even more since they became pregnant. Do you find that, John?”
“I do. Being pregnant seems to make them more keen on sex, not less!”
John told him, “I need to go back and say hello to the Headman before we go. I want to get home fairly soon.”
“Fine. Thanks for coming here. I’ll tell my wives you came visiting; they will want to know.”
They left to return to the Chief’s hut, with Cramona frowning at something. John looked askance at her, then she came out with it.
“Why would the Shaman’s wives have an interest in you visiting the Shaman? It seems an odd thing for him to say.”
John went so far as to say, “It is a private matter between me and Mabana. He loves his wives and is looking forward to them having their babies, just like you want to have our child.”
“I am sorry, love, but that doesn’t make sense to me, if it is all about Mabana and his wives having babies. Where do you fit in?”
“Cramona, you don’t want to go there; just drop it.”
She halted her querying, and thought for a while, before saying, “Don’t tell me you had something to do with...?” she tailed off, musingly, staring into John’s face.
John responded, “Very well, I won’t tell you, just the way you are asking me not to, okay?”
“Okay? What does that mean?”
“It is just a word signifying agreement or reinforcing what was said; that is all.”
This was enough to distract Cramona from her previous thoughts, and they were about to reach the Chief’s hut again, so she said nothing more.
Travo led them to the door and called again.
“Your visitor is here again, Chief!”
There was silence from inside. He called again.
“Chief? Are you there?”
Nothing. He pulled the curtain aside to see if the Chief had fallen asleep, but a moment later he recoiled in horror.
“Chief!” He turned to John. “The Chief appears to be dead; there is blood at his body.”
John shouldered past him, instructing, “Call Shaman Mabana!”
Stepping inside, his first thought was to check for intruders still inside. As his eyes got used to the lower light level with only the small fire for illumination, he cast his gaze over the interior. There were no internal curtains to obstruct his view: the place was empty. Whoever had committed this atrocity was gone; assuming it was a crime and not an accident of some kind.
He stopped himself from moving farther in, as he might disturb the supposed murder locale. His mind marvelled that he was acting as if he was back in his own time, instead of a stone age scene where even the idea of a murder scene was unknown.
He forced himself to simply look at everything and observe what there was to be found.
The Headman was lying crumpled on the floor, head towards the doorway. There was a small pool of blood seeping out from under the unmoving body, indicating a wound somewhere between the stomach and the throat. Where exactly he had been stabbed or cut would be discovered later when the body was moved.
Cramona looked past him, then stepped back and turned to throw up on the ground beside the hut. John tried to ignore this response and kept his attention straight in front.
He looked for a murder weapon on the floor, but there was nothing in evidence: no bladed weapon in sight, therefore unlikely to be suicide. The murderous implement might be a sharp stone axe, or a flint-bladed knife, but nothing metal. It appeared the assailant took the weapon with them, and also without raising an alarm; confirming this as a killing, not an accident.
“John?” Mabana’s voice came from behind him. “What is going on? Travo was almost incoherent.”
John swung round to face Mabana, his face serious.
“Someone has killed your Chief. Looking at the floor, the killer stabbed or cut the Headman, killing him on the spot, the way the body is lying. He had no chance to move far at all. There is no weapon left on the ground, so the killer took the weapon with him or her. We must look for a man or woman who is looking disturbed or upset, has a recently-used weapon with them, and has a reason for harming the Headman. Have you any idea who might have wanted to harm your Chief?”
Mabana had halted to listen to John’s recounting of the facts, and now he ventured, “He found that his current wife - he married her a year ago - was having sex with another man, and he banished her from the tribe yesterday. That is the only person who would have a grudge that I know of.”
“Right. Go with a couple more men for assistance and find her. Be careful not to get hurt yourself, but try to find the killing weapon that she may have used. Secondly, locate the man she was having sex with, in case they acted together, for we saw no-one when we arrived with Travo. Lastly, secure them both with cords or something, so that they cannot fight or run away until we can talk with them about what happened.”
“Will do. I will also get the tribal healer to examine the body, to say how he died.”
“Good idea. I will remain here to stop anyone interfering with the interior of the hut.”
Mabana shot off to attend to the apprehension of the suspect or suspects, while John sat himself down across the doorway as the guardian of the murder scene. His mind went back to what the Headman had said earlier from inside: “Come back in a while; I am not dressed at the moment.”
Why would he have said he was not dressed? This was the wrong time of day to be not dressed, surely? Or was this a clue, telling him that he had with him a person he would normally be undressed with; in other words a woman? That would fit in with the other factors, but it was all circumstantial. There was a need for more incriminating evidence, such as witnesses or a bloody knife, or at best, a confession.
He waited patiently, thinking to himself that this was more a job for Jean with her FBI training, but she was not present so he would have to manage as best he could. FBI facilities were certainly not available to help in this era.
A while later, a small crowd appeared from one part of the fisher village, mostly women as the men would be out fishing. The crowd was led by Shaman Mabana, leading several men and women who were escorting a man and woman who were bound with rope used on the boats. The rest of the crowd were gawking onlookers interested in this unusual event.
John noted that both the man and the woman were of similar short stature compared to the late Chief.
Mabana halted in front of John, turned to face the crowd and made a statement.
“We are here to look into the death of our Headman, the Chief of our tribe. The highest ranking person present at this time is High Chief John, who looks after several tribes, so he will determine the truth of the matter and dispense justice as required. Do you all accept my ruling on this matter?”
There was no objection stated, so he went on, “I now ask High Chief John to make his enquiries into the death of our Chief.”
John nodded to Mabana, and spoke.
“Shaman Mabana has taken advantage of my presence by getting me to look into this matter and give you a ruling on this untimely death. I will do my best to make a judgment that is satisfactory to all. We shall start with a statement of the facts as are known so far. Mabana, has your healer looked at the body?”
“Not yet, High Chief, but she is here. May she enter and make her determination of the cause of death?”
“Please see to that, Mabana, while we look for other supporting facts. Did anyone see one or more persons enter the Chief’s hut today? Specifically, within the later part of this morning? I would like such witnesses to come forward and tell us what was seen. Raise a hand if you have something to tell me about it.”
There were several hands raised, and John asked, “Those with hands raised, please come forward and stand beside me in a line. I will speak to you one after the other. I want to hear exactly what you saw. Note that is ONLY what you saw; nothing about what you might feel or think you know about the person you saw. I just want the name of who you saw entering and approximately when. These are what are called facts. What comes from your memory of the past with them is called opinion and is not relevant to today’s enquiry. Is that clear?”
There was no response to this instruction, so John turned to person one.
“State your name, and have Shaman Mabana confirm who you are; then tell me who you saw and when.”
The first witness declared that Sharna, wife of the Chief, went into the hut halfway through the morning and was not seen leaving, according to the witness.
Witness two said that Karo, the man who was being held bound, had entered the hut late in the morning, but the exact time was unclear.
Witness three reported that she had seen Karo leave the hut late in the morning, but he was alone when he left and seemed not in a hurry.
Witness four said that she saw Sharna running out of the hut, knife in hand, and looking frightened. She had run out of sight behind the hut of Faxo, a fisherman.
These were all the witnesses, so John thanked them for reporting what they had seen, and allowed them to go back into the crowd.
By this time the healer was standing by the hut doorway, so Mabana told John, “The healer is ready to report, High Chief.”
“Healer, come and tell us what you have found. State your name to Shaman Mabana, even if he already knows it – this is to show that everyone is identified correctly.”
“I am Healer Carva, and I have looked at the body inside the Chief’s hut.”
“First, can you identify the body as that of the Chief?”
“I can. It is him, and he was stabbed and his stomach cut open with a sharp knife, most likely a large flint blade such as I have seen before.”
“Carva, a knife may be similar to another knife, so having seen one before is not relevant to the facts. You are only able to state the type of knife that was used; is that so?”
“That is so, High Chief. The effects of the knife are clear. The exact knife is not.”
“Thank you. Are there any other facts about the body that you can help us with?”
“The Chief is a tall man. The cuts were made at the level of his stomach, and that is consistent with the knife weilder being shorter than him. The way the cuts were made indicates a frenzied attack made by someone using a lot of power behind the knife.”
“That is a pertinent observation, Healer carva, as it indicates the state of mind of the attacker. We are thus looking at an atttacker who probably did not start out with the intention of killing, but lost control of themselves and attacked. Does my conclusion fit with what you found?”
She looked at the High Chief with a degree of awe.
“You are quite correct, High Chief. I cannot say if the attacker was a man or a woman, just the approximate height and the effect of the attack.”
John looked to Mabana and asked, “Shaman Mabana, can you get a search made behind fisherman Faxo’s hut, in the hopes of locating a discarded knife?”
A light lit in Mabana’s eyes, and he at once selected three women to help him do the search. They were off in moments.
John looked at the two prisoners and made a decision.
“Prisoners, each of you will give your story without hearing the other’s story. To that end, I want the one not telling their story to have a cloth wound round their head so that the ears will temporarily be prevented from hearing and the eyes from seeing. Can someone get two cloths that will perform this requirement?”
The Maker declared, “I have pieces of sailcloth that can be used, and cord to tie them round the head.”
“Thank you, sir. Will you acquire the material and prepare to apply it to each prisoner in turn?”
The man went off to fetch the items, and John looked at the prisoners.
“Which of you will be examined first, or does it not matter?”
The man volunteered, “I didn’t kill the Chief, so I will go first.”
The female prisoner glared daggers at him, but said nothing.
John declared, “Likewise, it matters little to me. The man wants to go first, so instead he will go second, and the woman will tell her story first.”
The man now glared daggers at John.
They had to wait until the Maker came back with his cloth and cord, and wound it round the head of the man.
They had only just completed that when there was a shout from Mabana. When John looked in that direction, Mabana was holding up a large flint knife.
He came closer and informed John, “It matches the type of flint blade that the healer described. It was found hidden in the thatched edge of the roof at the back of the hut.”
“Excellent. Hiding it suggests trying to avoid involvement in the killing. A simple frightened runner with no involvement would probably drop it without knowing or caring where it fell. This was an attempt to hide the weapon.”
Mabana reflected that John was really good at this type of finding out what had happened. The process would be worth repeating in future if another mysterious death occurred.
John was now ready with his questions.
He summoned the woman to stand in front of him, where he could look into her eyes, and then checked that the other prisoner was facing away from them, head wound with cloth, so could neither hear or see anything of this evidence being given.
When he was sure all was as it should be, he asked Mabana to take note of what was said, and instructed the woman to tell him what she had done, from before she arrived at the hut.
“Sir, I had been talking with Karo, and he told me I had a right to some recompense from the Chief through having been married to him for a summer or two; and instructed me to visit him and present my demand.”
“On your own?”
“Yes, sir. Karo said I would do better without him being there. He said he would come later, when I should have got my deal.”
“Did you go with or without a large knife in your possession, such as the one that has been found?”
“Without, sir. I only had my small domestic knife at my belt, the one I use for cutting berries and fruit and nuts off bushes.”
“Go on. You arrived at the Chief’s hut...”
“Yes, sir. I entered and told the Chief that I had come for what I was due as a departing wife of a Chief.”
“And what did he say to that?”
“He said, ‘You still expect a payoff, after what you did to me, to my great sorrow?’”
“And...” John prodded.
“And I said that I understood it was a basic amount due, no matter the circumstances of the departure of the spouse.” Then he told me,” ‘That may be so, but I am disinclined to accommodate you, unless you first publicly condemn your lover for his insult to my position as Chief. You know that is what he did to me.”
“If I do that, you will pay me my due?”
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