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Silver Quail stretched her tawny body and sat up in her bed of furs. She smiled at the morning sun shining in through the colored drawings on the skin of her teepee. She was proud of those drawings. They depicted her husband, Tall Elk’s, victories, hunting success, and wealth. She was considered a very good artist and had done work for other families. Hopefully she could add to their pictures, if her husband returned today.

It was good to awake to the wonderful smell of wood smoke and cooking food, mixed with the moist morning dew coming in off the river. She could hear the river rushing by and the sound of children’s laugher as they played in the river.

As she wiped the sleep from her eyes, she noticed that White Fawn was already gone from her bed. White Fawn spent most of her time with aunt, Winter Maiden and her five children. Who could blame her? Winter Maiden was the best cook and baker in the tribe. She would be baking today in preparation for the men’s return.

White Fawn was young but eligible for marriage. Winter Maiden’s 10 and 12-year-old sons could become men at any time. They were highly sought after as was White Fawn herself, who had retained some of her grandmother’s white characteristics. White Fawn and Silver Quail were both known for their creamy light complexions and delicate childlike beauty. Which reminded her, she must make sure White Fawn was drinking her horsetail tea to prevent childbirth. She was much too young to give birth without a husband.

Silver Quail knew it was the day of the buffalo scull ceremony. She was to get willows for the purification ritual prior to the ceremony. Hopefully the hunters, including her husband, would return by nightfall. They had been hunting to the south for a full week. Tall Elk should have taken her along. Men were clumsy at cutting, drying, and smoking meat. That was women’s work. It was hoped that the men would be able to trade with the tribes of the south or Navajo’s in the east, for salt. They needed much of it. Trading with the white men was dangerous and expensive, especially for somebody like Silver Quail who was born to a white mother.

Silver Quail took the cooking pot down from the fork on the teepee pole. She opened the pot and looked inside. Hard white chunks of grease had congealed on top of last night’s stew. She picked them from the pot and dropped them on the ground, as she made her way to the cooking fire. She knelt on the ground by the fire pit and blew on the ashes. Many people took note of her creamy soft thighs, as her dress rode up behind her. A few coals lit under her gentle breath. She added suckers from the nearby pines and blew again until the fire caught and began burning nicely. She added more wood and looked around the camp as she set the pot on the flat cooking rock.

White Fawn was nowhere in sight. Runs Like A Deer raised a cloud of dust as he rode the village horse herd up to the grassy hills above the camp. He would stand watch today. There was no telling when the white men, or the Crows, could sneak in for a few scalps or wives. The camp was always nervous when the men were away.

Silver Quail headed to the private area of the river. It was a little cove known as the women’s area. She broke a willow branch from a tree and chewed it, before using it to clean her teeth. She tossed the branch aside and pulled her knife. She cut several branches for the buffalo ceremony, then sheathed her knife and went on down to the river. Three naked women were in sight, two just ahead of her and one too far away to recognize, on the far side of the cove.

“Small Fish and Rainbow,” Silver Quail said with a smile as she approached. They were naked and bathing. They waved, then continued bathing as they talked up a storm. Silver Quail tried to tune them out. There was a rumor that Small Fish was pregnant again. Silver Quail glanced in her direction, then shook her head. Small Fish had a perfect body. She had the small breasts which any man would love, and a slender work-hardened body which most women envied. Rainbow was the complete opposite. Rainbow was lazy. She made her children do most of her work for her. She had larger breasts, but she also had a bulging stomach and thick thighs with bumps. It was said that Rainbow was a lesbian. Silver Quail doubted it. Being a lesbian required a few things considered gross in their culture, and Rainbow was very old fashioned. She refused to do anything revolting. She also refused to do anything involving work. Silver Quail herself might be interested in Small Fish. Her figure was really very cute, similar to Silver Quail’s own.

Silver Quail pulled off her buckskin dress and tossed it over a branch. She waded into the cold water and gasped. She smiled at their giggles, as she washed her slender, perfect body with handfuls of ice cold water. She filled her dainty hand and poured water over her breasts. They glistened in the morning sunlight. As she bathed beneath her arms, she noticed that the lone woman was gone. She captured a handful of water and bathed her ass. She finished by sitting in the water, then gasping at the cold. She stood and found the other two women eyeing her. She knew that other women envied her. She couldn’t blame them. The best looking women in any tribe where those of mixed blood. But at the moment, Silver Quail would have traded places with anybody. Her pussy was itching, and it had nothing to do with going without sex for a week. It was a more severe, irritating itch which she knew well. She would ask Ravenous Wolf if it were truly a yeast infection, when she took him the willow branches. He was the best medicine man in the area.

“Did you hear about Sprinting Colt?” Rainbow suddenly asked Silver Quail, including her in their conversation.

“Colt? No, what about him?” Silver Quail asked in concern. Colt was one of White Fawn’s friends.

“He captured a fawn which likes to suck penis. He’s becoming very popular with his friends.”

“I can imagine,” Silver Quail snorted. “He will be popular until that fawn bites off somebody’s dick. Has your husband ever asked you for that?” Silver Quail whispered.

“No,” Rainbow said with a revolted look.

“Mine has,” Small Fish admitted. “It’s a white man’s thing, like kissing. I hear it’s becoming very popular in the tribe with the young people.”

“I don’t do kissing either,” Rainbow gasped.

“You’re a prude,” Silver Quail said without thinking. “I’m sorry,” she said as a hurt expression crossed Rainbow’s face. “I didn’t mean that. You just like the old ways. I’m feeling guilty because Tall Elk has asked me, but I refused. I have felt bad ever since,” Silver Quail admitted.

“Some women fantasize about being captured by white men so they can experience all their perverted ways,” Rainbow whispered in a conspiratorial tone.

“Have you ever asked him to lick you?” Small Fish asked Silver Quail, ignoring Rainbow’s drama.

“No, I wouldn’t have the nerve,” Silver Quail giggled.

“Well the next time he asks you, you ask him right back. If he refuses, you can too.”

“You’re right,” Silver Quail felt better. “I will ask him, hopefully tonight.”

“Achee, I’m freezing,” Rainbow gasped. “I’m going up.”

Silver Quail waved water into her open pussy lips. It felt good, but the feeling didn’t last long enough. She would see Ravenous Wolf now. She didn’t want this problem upon Tall Elk’s return.

“Hey, Quail,” Small Fish yelled.

“Yes?”

“If you don’t want to do it, call Sprinting Colt. He would be glad to lend you his fawn for a gratuity,” she giggled.



Silver Quail dropped the willow branches by Ravenous Wolf’s door, and went inside. She explained her problem.

“Burning? Let me see,” Ravenous Wolf said promptly.

“Achee, old man. Can’t you just take my word for it?”

“Not in this case. Besides, you have the best looking pussy I’ve ever seen. It’s not a big old gash like some women in the tribe. Come on, let me see it,” he insisted impatiently.

Silver Quail sat on the rock, which served as his examination table, and lifted her skirt. He sank between her knees and touched her pussy. She hissed as his cool hand contacted her warm flesh. He looked closer and opened her pussy lips. She felt the soothing cold air enter her pussy.

“That feels good,” she admitted, then stiffened as he moved his face between her legs. She held her breath in anticipation, but he only sniffed.

“You know what it is,” he said accusingly, rising to his feet. “Does Tall Elk wash before you make love?”

“Not always. Sometimes he just pushes me down and fucks me.”

“I can imagine. That’s what I would do,” he said with an evil laugh.

“So what can I do?” she asked, both amused and angry at her plight.

“Apply a sour milk and boiled mullen poultice. If you can’t find mullen, use tobacco. And borrow somebody’s dog. I hear Gray Fox has an obedient dog. Winter Maiden has a bitch, and she’s milking, so she should be perfect. A bitch won’t spend all night trying to fuck you.”

“A dog?”

“Dog saliva heals most wounds,” he nodded. “But you have to use the poultice first or it won’t work.”

“Thanks. Do you need me at the ceremony?”

“And have you playing with your crotch all the way through it? You will have the men out in the brush beating their meat,” he laughed. She grew embarrassed, but was pleased.

“The ceremony is more traditional than practical. The buffalo will never return. The white men sent a group of us east so we could see how hopeless it was to fight, and I saw piles of buffalo hides the size of mountains. They have been replaced by the white men’s cattle, which is why I sent the men out to hunt cattle. Go take care of your home. The men will return after sunset.”

“Are you sure?” Silver Quail asked in excitement.

“Do you doubt the most powerful medicine man on Earth?” he raised his voice, then smiled.

“No,” she giggled as she hurried out.

In good spirits, she waved at everyone on the way to Winter Maiden’s teepee. She scratched on the door and her own daughter threw the flap open.

“There you are, little beauty,” Silver Quail ruffled her hair and kissed the top of her head. White Fawn stood on tiptoes and kissed her mother on the lips. “Come in,” White Fawn stepped aside.

“I’m making bread,” Winter Maiden said as she ground corn in a rock mortar and pestle. She would soon mix it with the white man’s soda, ground grass seeds, walnut flour, and maple sugar for her own unique brand of sweet bread.

“I will start the oven for you. My own breakfast is cooking, if anyone is hungry,” she looked at White Fawn, who shook her head.

“We ate,” Winter Maiden smiled as she worked. “Did you need something?”

“I sure do. I talked to Ravenous Wolf about a slight medical problem. He said I need to borrow your black and white bitch, and a cup of milk for a poultice.”

“I have all the milk you need. Stricken Oak is eating solid food now. You have to get it yourself, I don’t want to stop grinding,” she said, pushing the top of her dress down to her waist. A very lavish set of breasts bounced on her chest. Silver Quail felt the first tendrils of excitement. Her previous thoughts of lesbianism filled her head as she approached the older woman vigorously.

“Can I do it mama?” White Fawn asked eagerly.

“If Winter Maiden was old and ugly, I might let you. But this is my job,” Silver Quail laughed.

“If she was old and ugly I wouldn’t volunteer,” White Fawn said saucily.

“Oh, ho, did you hear that?” Winter Maiden crowed.

“I might have to cut another switch,” Silver Quail said, grabbing a small pottery bowl. She sat beside Winter Maiden, who turned slightly while continuing to grind. Silver Quail crossed her legs and sat the bowl on her dress in her lap. She put one hand on Winter Maiden’s left shoulder and leaned down until her lips captured Winter Maiden’s nipple. Winter Maiden inhaled sharply as Silver Quail’s hot lips made contact. She paused in the act of grinding, while Silver Quail sucked diligently. It took several minutes before the first few drops of milk began flowing. She drank them steadily until a solid stream filled her mouth. She stopped and spit the milk into the cup, then returned to Winter Maiden’s ample breast for more. She was highly aware of the hot skin pressing against her face, and the subtle smells of wood smoke, sweat, and Winter Maiden’s natural aroma. As she sucked and filled her mouth with the sweet milk, she noticed that Winter Maiden had stopped grinding. She also noticed that her breath was coming faster.

“That looks like fun,” White Fawn said, moving from foot to foot impatiently.

“Come,” Winter Maiden said, slapping right leg. White Fawn hurried forward and sat opposite from her mother. Winter Maiden pulled her down to her breast and whined in excitement as White Fawn joined her nursing mother.

“Oh, this is heaven,” Winter Maiden gasped.

White Fawn smacked her lips and smiled at her mother. “I like it. Do you mom?”

“Um, yes,” Silver Quail said. “People should drink milk all the time.”

“Don’t forget to put some into the bowl,” Winter Maiden reminded her. “I don’t have as much milk as I once did.”

“How does it feel, Aunty?” White Fawn asked eagerly.

“Heavenly. It feels like I’ve died and gone to the happy hunting ground. In fact, I hope you ladies don’t mind, but I have to do something about this. Sit back for a moment,” she said, pushing each girl back. She dusted off the heel of her right foot, crossed her legs, and pulled her heel into her crotch until it rested against her pussy. She gasped as she made contact. She began riding up and down against her heel, as she pulled both girls back to her chest.

Silver Quail nursed silently, while watching Winter Maiden’s face. It was very expressive. At times it twisted into a horrible mask of passion, at others her face turned beautiful and angelic. One thing was for sure, Silver Quail was very horny. She couldn’t wait for Tall Elk to return. If White Fawn had not been there, Silver Quail might have had her first lesbian experience. But whatever happened in front of White Fawn, always got back to her father. It would be best to wait and see how Tall Elk felt about a lesbian relationship.

“Oh, oh, oh,” Winter Maiden gasped, shuddering as she grabbed both knees and shook dramatically. Her face turned red and she panted like a dog for several movements, until she finally relaxed and sat back. She gently pushed both girls away with an apologetic smile.

“That’s enough for now,” she gasped.

“I’m sure this is enough milk,” Silver Quail smiled.

“Come back any time,” Winter Maiden smiled. “Any time.”

“You horny old woman,” Silver Quail smiled. “Oh, where is your dog?”

“Out by the oven. I had to tie her up. She started chasing the horses and Runs Like A Deer was furious.”

“I will keep her chained up,” Silver Quail promised. “Now I need to find mullen.”

“I saw some, mother. I will get it for you,” White Fawn leaped to her feet and flew out the door.

“I need to check my breakfast,” Silver Quail waved. She took a burning branch from Winter Maiden’s fire and started the wood burning in the oven. She then grabbed the dog and returned to her teepee. Her breakfast was boiling. Stew was always best on the second day. In fact some families simply continued adding ingredients as they found them, adding to stew which was a year or more old. Silver Quail preferred to clean the pot and start over every couple of days. The Paradise Valley area was full of food. Her stew was composed of rabbits, squaw cabbage, clover blossoms, green crab apples, squash, cattail roots, and wild onions. She hoped to add fern heads if she visited the forest today. Mushrooms were always a nice addition. The tree mushrooms grew all year around, as did the puff balls. She had an entire basket of dried tree mushrooms. She had many baskets of food collected for the upcoming winter. She would resupply her nuts and berries as they became ripe. Acorns should be ready soon.

“Here mom,” White Fawn danced into the teepee. The bitch cowered at the end of her leash, afraid of her new surroundings. White Fawn bent and petted her.

Silver Quail cut up several green crab apples and added them to the milk. It turned sour in seconds. She pulled out the apples and set the milk where the dog couldn’t reach it. Silver Quail ate quickly, then rinsed the pot with water from a gourd. She sloshed more water inside and began pulling leaves off the mullen. She set it in the coals of the fire and waited. When the brew was ready, she poured the leaves onto a clean hide, letting them cool. She wrung the water from the leaves and dropped them into the sour milk. She poured the mixture into her hand and cupped her hand over her pussy. She imagined that her pussy felt better immediately. She took the skin garment used to hold moss during her period, and pulled it on. She stood experimentally, seeing if any dripped down her leg. It didn’t.

“That’s horrible,” White Fawn grimaced.

“It is. Have you been drinking your tea? You can’t get pregnant now, it’s too early.”

“I have, mother. I have plenty of medicine left too. Mother, what’s the dog for?”

“She is for licking. She needs to lick my pussy to heal it quickly, before your father returns.”

“Will it hurt?”

“I don’t know.”

“Will she do it?” White Fawn was curious.

“I don’t know that either. Most bitches love to lick pussy. Try her,” Silver Quail nodded toward the dog. “She knows you.”

White Fawn walked up to the dog, lifted her dress and exposed her pussy to the dog. The dog wagged its tail, then notice the naked pussy. She sniffed and stepped closer. She sniffed again, then slid her tongue out and began licking White Fawn diligently.

“Oh mother, this feels great,” White Fawn said enthusiastically.

“Does it? Maybe we should get a dog.”

“Yes, get one mother. Achee, this is wonderful,” White Fawn said, sitting on the storage basket and spreading her legs wider. Once again Silver Quail grew horny, watching her daughter enjoy the ministrations of the dog. It’s funny that she never considered a dog as a form of enjoyment. Mostly they kept the camp clean of garbage and performed guard duty. She knew of nobody who kept one for entertainment. Maybe Sprinting Colt should add a dog to his stable. He could please the entire camp.

Silver Quail moved over to White Fawn’s bed where she could enjoy the view. White Fawn had a very lovely pussy. It was tiny and delicate like Silver Quail’s. It had little hair, and was nestled between perfect, creamy thighs.

Silver Quail watched the dog drag its tongue between the delicate lips of her daughter’s pussy. White Fawn’s face was twisted with pleasure. She was oblivious to anything but the dog’s actions. The dog was wagging its stub tail eagerly as it licked. It’s long tongue flashed through White Fawn’s treasure, collecting the glistening juices which grew there.

“My breasts are itching,” White Fawn said in a quiet voice.

“Here, come to your bed,” Silver Quail patted the furs beside her own body. White Fawn pushed the dog away and slid down to her bed. Silver Quail helped her pull her dress over her skinny body. A nice set of breasts appeared. As White Fawn reclined on the bed, Silver Quail eagerly leaned forward and began sucking on White Fawn’s tit. The nipple hardened immediately in her mouth. Both White Fawn and her mother had small delicate nipples, not the dark areolas and large nipples common to their Indian heritage. As Ravenous Wolf was famous for saying, anything different is good. Both mother and daughter liked being unique.

“Oh mother,” White Fawn whispered harshly. “This is wonderful. You have to try it,” she said, then snorted as the dog slid his tongue up inside her. The dog stopped for a moment and licked its lips, looking at Silver Quail and wagging its tail. An idea occurred to Silver Quail, a revolting, disgusting, exciting idea. Her eyes went to the delicate little pussy near her own face. She watched White Fawn snake her tiny hand between her legs, to supplement the dog’s actions. Silver Quail’s breath came faster as she stared at that little pussy, horrified at what was in her heart.

“Whi . . . White Fawn, I would like to try something, but I want your promise never to tell anyone. Do you promise?”

“Of course, mother,” White Fawn said in a disgusted voice. “I would never give away your secrets.”

“Do you mind if I try something new? Something which you may find disgusting?”

“No mom, go ahead,” White Fawn said eagerly. Silver Quail realized that her daughter knew what she intended. Had she done it herself? Silver Quail leaned closer to her daughter’s pussy. The dog suddenly returned to White Fawn’s pussy, but Silver Quail pushed the dog away. Silver Quail sniffed her daughters’ pussy first, then immediately touched it with her tongue.

“Um, yes,” White Fawn whispered.

Silver Quail tasted the mixture of pussy juice and dog saliva. Neither tasted offensive to her. She placed her mouth over her daughter’s small pussy and began licking and sucking. White Fawn heaved up off the bed of furs and clutched her mother’s body. She shivered and panted as her mother’s tongue flashed inside her delicate swollen pussy lips. Silver Quail held her daughter’s slender ass cheeks in her hands. She mashed them as she licked and sucked her daughter’s vagina. Silver Quail felt her mouth fill with pussy juice. It tasted different, but wonderful. The entire experience was very erotic. Why had she waited so long to try it? What would her husband say?

“Oh yes, mother, yes,” White Fawn cried loudly. “Please, suck my pussy,” she groaned.

The dog whined now, being cheated of its entertainment. It tried to nose into White Fawn’s pussy, but Silver Quail pushed it away.

“Oh yes, mother, I’m starting to burn down there. I’m getting ready,” she shouted, withering on the furs. Silver Quail held her daughter’s small legs open and pursued her thrashing pussy. She sucked and licked, then found that White Fawn preferred having her clit tongued. Silver Quail knew about this through experiences with her own finger. She pursued the swollen little bud as White Fawn screamed and groaned. Finally White Fawn found release. She moaned and cried as her pelvis thrashed beneath Silver Quail’s mouth. Silver Quail remained motionless for a moment, letting White Fawn enjoy her orgasm to the fullest. They both knew the exact moment when White Fawn’s orgasm stopped.

Silver Quail sat up and for the first time she noticed the shadows on the side of the tent. There were people standing around outside. She could hear excited voices. This was unusual in an Indian camp. Even though everything was visible in such a small camp, people pretended not to notice. She would speak to them harshly about such rudeness. Silver Quail threw her door skin aside and found herself in the middle of the buffalo scull ceremony. Many smiles and hidden looks were sent her way as she gasped and closed the tent flap. So much for her secret. Who would rush out to tell Tall Elk? It had better be her, she decided.

“Lift the tent in back and go out that way,” Silver Quail whispered. “We may fool some of them.”

White Fawn nodded and disappeared. Silver Quail chided herself for being so clumsy and forgetful. She knew the ceremony had been about to start, she dropped off the willow branches herself. How could she be so foolish?

Silver Quail took off the poultice and dropped it into a basket designed to hold garbage. She went to the far corner of the teepee and rinsed her pussy with the gourd of water. Once again the cold water felt good on her flesh. She heard the dog whining and looked over to see it eyeing her pussy and wagging its tail.

“Just a second,” she said, washing the interior of her pussy thoroughly. She knew the dog would not like the taste of sour milk. She placed the empty gourd on a storage basket and went over to her daughter’s bed. She lay on the bed of furs and pulled up her dress. Even before she was done, the dog began licking her pussy and thighs. She realized guiltily that the dog must be thirsty. It was licking the water from her skin first. It took only a moment for the dog to concentrate on her delicate pussy. Like her daughter, she had a tiny, well formed pussy with little hair. Unlike some women in the tribe, who took turns plucking each other’s pubic hair, Silver Quail’s hair was light in color and sparse, needing no plucking. This had been passed down from her mother’s Norwegian background.

Silver Quail opened her legs wide and let the dog have its way. She had to agree with her daughter, it was the most wonderful thing she had ever felt. No wonder the white people liked it so much. As the dog lapped, she felt heat growing from her pussy and spreading into her ass. She mashed her breasts through the material of her buckskin dress. She suddenly wished that she’s had the foresight to remove it prior to her session. She would next time.

“Oh yes,” she whispered, suddenly aware of the people listening outside. The dog was very talented. Its rough tongue seemed to scratch everything that itched. It knew where to lick, of course, it could smell her infection. The dog pushed its nose inside her and began licking deeply. This was unexpected. Silver Quail threw her legs wide to accommodate the dog’s nose and hissed in pain and pleasure. She had never felt anything like this. It was wonderful. The tongue continuously slid inside her, lapping her juices and pulling them from her body. She could feel it well up into her abdomen. As the dog pulled out to breathe, the long tongue began sliding through her swollen pussy lips. It was very fast and slightly noisy. She wished the dog would be more quiet. Only a thin layer of buffalo skin separated her from the entire village standing nearby. Maybe she should have waited. No, she wanted to be ready for Tall Elk’s return.

The quiet sloop, sloop, sloop, of the dog’s tongue was rhythmic. It might have lulled her to sleep, if it had not been accompanied by the burning fire spreading in her loins. She grunted and hunched her pussy against the dog’s tongue. It continued lapping eagerly, unaware of its effect on the beautiful Indian woman. A simple black and white dog, a mut, was doing what most of the men in the tribe fantasized about doing. Tall Elk was no prude, but he liked keeping his wife and her affections to himself. This was thought to be unusual to some, but they both liked it this way. A dog, of course, had never been mentioned.

“Oh yes, yes,” Silver Quail hissed. She found her pussy humping against the dog’s tongue with a mind of its own. She grunted mindlessly as she felt the first tendrils of a major orgasm. Going a week without sex, then being stimulated by perverted thoughts and actions, were taking their toll on her body. She whimpered as her time grew nearer. She bit her lip as her eyes bulged and her face turned red. Holding the dog’s head in place, she emitted a high-pitched squeal of delight. She cried and grunted, trying to keep quiet. But the pleasure was just too much to take. She mashed her face into the furs and moaned, while her pussy exploded time after time. As the orgasm began diminishing, she tried to push the dog away, but it was persistent. She closed her legs with a slap, but the dog slid beneath her bent legs and continued lapping. Silver Quail pushed the dog away again, with a giggle, and pulled a white fox fur over her naked flesh. The dog whined slightly, then lay on the floor, and began licking its own pussy.

“Achee,” Silver Quail gasped, still feeling the effects of her orgasm. She had to agree with her daughter, that was the most wonderful thing she had ever felt. She stood on shaky legs and looked at the silhouettes on the wall. They were gone. She took the empty gourd and a water skin and pushed the tent flap aside. Nobody seemed to notice as she made her way to the river on shaky legs. She filled the skin and gourd, briefly wondering if there was time for a bath. She decided against it. The sun was almost overhead. She needed to collect food for the evening meal. She watered the dog, then picked up a hatchet and a basket. It was time to prepare for her husband’s return.

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