MY INHERITANCE
Chapter 42 (MC MFRom)
The Hermit
The truck crawled across the hard packed dirt path toward the foothills on this
high plateau. All three women had been quiet since we left the motel. It was an
uneasy silence. Perhaps I should have missed the enjoyable banter or sweet
sounds they normally emitted, but my mind had only one focus: the formula.
They had dressed that morning to please me, as they always should. Each wore a
thin, plain white T-shirt with a scoop neck. It was more sexy than if they were
naked with their breasts plainly visible. And, it was obvious both Mary and
Lisa had nipple rings. The T-shirts were form fitting which displayed their
narrow waists as well as their endowments. All three wore short skirts which
came to mid thigh when they stood, but barely covered them when they sat. No
panties or bras were allowed. Once again, I had hung the bell on its long chain
from the ring through Lisa's vestibule. It tinkled randomly, reminding us all
of their purpose.
Embarrassment is interesting. Lisa, who had been terrible embarrassed when we
arrived at the honky tonk, was thriving, still floating in the high of her
gangbang and actually enjoying the bell between her legs, which she played with
occasionally, keeping herself stimulated. She seemed delighted to be humiliated.
Mary was accepting, neither embarrassed nor pleased by her display, but sexually
open and happy to please her man, although an undercurrent of quiet despair
flickered across her face. Andy was mortified, blushing whenever anyone looked
at her, even though all of us had seen her being fucked on many occasions.
Don't forget, Andy had screamed to be fucked in the ass at the B&D club in New
York. What had she said? Women are mysterious creatures. Strange, isn't it?
Me? I did not care if any of them were happy or unhappy, humiliated or
venerated. I was focused on the formula.
Andy was sitting behind me. Once, I glanced at her in the rearview mirror to see
a nice shot of her shaven pussy. She had blushed again and squirmed to cover
herself. She had not spoken since we got into the car except to ask to pee.
I felt soft fingers stroke the hair on the back of my head. I heard her move to
sit closer behind me as her hand slid down my chest.
"I love you, Davy," she whispered in my ear.
"How is your pussy?"
"Sore and swollen. You really pounded me, sweetheart. Why did you do it?"
"You need a good, hard fucking to remind you that you are a kitten. You are
made to be fucked and fucked hard and often."
"I know. I never forget I belong to you. I am very happy belonging to you,
Davy, but, well, have I done something to anger you?"
"Sit back and be quiet, kitten."
Had she done something to anger me? No. You know better than that. Andy was a
delight. What was wrong was inside me, where it was growing, not going away.
And, I did not want to discuss it with her or anyone else.
It was about two in the afternoon now. The desert sun beat down hard on the
Suburban. Even with the heavily tinted windows, the air conditioner strained to
keep us cool. The road dipped and turned, heading toward a break between the two
hills in front of us. Those hills seemed to be granite, the remnants of some
mountain chain long ago raised by cataclysmic upheaval, only to be eroded by the
wind and primeval waters. There was no evidence of water now. There was no
evidence of life, not even birds overhead.
The road finally petered out. Mary motioned toward a small cut between the
granite uplifts and I pointed the truck in that direction, easing along slowly
in first gear and low gearbox. Approximately a hundred yards from the cut, rocks
had been strewn about to prevent further vehicle passage.
"Now what?" I asked Mary.
"We walk. It is not too far."
The hot, dry desert air hit like a fire when we opened the doors. With my three
women trudging along behind me, I started toward the cut. I could feel the heat
draining the moisture from my body as if some giant mosquito had plugged into me
and was sucking me dry. I was thirsty and tired by the time I stepped into the
shadow where the hills hid us from the sun. We were at the start of a narrow
path, only about four feet wide at the widest, with shear vertical walls on each
side.
I could see light at the other end and I walked toward it. I was halfway through
the cut when I heard the cocking of a firearm. From the bright light at the end
of the cut, a figure appeared, a rifle in his hands with the barrel pointed at
me.
"Freeze," a voice cried out, the sheer walls echoing and magnifying it, making
it sound as if it came from a man twenty feet tall.
"Identify yourselves!"
"I am Dave Wilson. These are my women: Mary, Andy and Lisa."
"Well, little Davy Wilson. I have been waiting for you to arrive. Hello, Mary."
"Hello, Hermit," she replied softly, letting the acoustics carry her voice to
him.
"You ladies just sit there and rest. Do not move. Boy, put your hands in the
air and walk toward me."
Slowly, I walked toward the man with the gun. When I was within ten feet of him,
I still could not determine his appearance because of the bright sun behind him,
but he was not twenty feet tall as he had sounded.
"Far enough," he said. "Turn around and drop your pants."
I was actually relieved he had said that. Showing my ass was far from my
favorite thing, but it meant he was checking for the rose tattoo Uncle Bert had
his favorite tattoo parlor give me. When I got it, I thought it was a wild
thing to do. I did not realize then Uncle Bert meant for it to be an
identifying feature of my anatomy. I dropped my pants and boxers.
"Back toward me, boy."
The beam of a flashlight pierced the air and jumped around until I saw it no
more, indicating it was illuminating my ass.
"Now, answer some questions."
The hermit carried me through a list of questions, the same kind Andy had asked
that first day when I met her. The questions were to confirm my correct
identity. I answered all of them.
"Mary, you answer a question," the hermit said. "Is this Dave Wilson, Bert's
son?"
"Yes, Hermit," she replied.
"Hot damn! You people come on in and let me get you some cool water to drink."
With the three women right behind me, I followed the Hermit out of the cut into
a small canyon. The canyon was probably only three or four acres of flat land.
There was a small, adobe hut, probably the size of an efficiency apartment,
abutting the highest of the canyon walls. Next to it was a small corral which
was empty. On the other side of the hut was a vegetable garden. I could see
tomatoes, peas, beans and broccoli, among other things, growing, their shades of
green and red a sharp contrast to the brown of most of the area. A well stood by
the garden with one aluminum pipe running from it into the garden and another
into the house.
I guess the outhouse surprised me the most. It sat far away from the well and
adobe hut, but it was clearly an outhouse. No running water, no plumbing,
growing his own vegtables. I wondered if he had electricity.
The Hermit watched us, waiting as we took in his small world. When I finally
focused on him, I was not surprised by what I saw. He looked like a Hollywood
hermit, with a red flannel, long sleeved shirt under faded overalls and heavy
work boots on his feet. They were not cowboy boots, but the lace up kind which
snugs just under the heavy muscle at the back of the calf.
He was about five four and looked as if he weighed a hundred pounds and not an
ounce more. There was not a bit of fat to be seen on him. He was all sinew,
muscle and bone. His skin was leathery and wrinkled from constant exposure to
the desert sun. He looked a hundred years old. I could not see his hair or his
eyes. A wide brimmed straw hat covered his head, shading him from the brutal
rays.
He guided us into the hut he called a home. His bed was against one wall. But,
there were a few surprises. In one corner was a computer, complete with a
LaserJet printer. Next to it was a TV and VCR. He saw my surprise and laughed.
He said he had solar generated electrical power. Besides what I had seen he had
a microwave, satellite antenna, refrigerator, radiant heat and the pump from the
well all powered by electricity. Modern niceties are everywhere, aren't they?
He removed the wide brimmed hat. It was the first time I saw his eyes. They were
a washed out green with a few random brown flakes floating in the iris. They
were neither cold nor warm, but neutral as if no message ever was passed by
them.
"Mary, honey, how have you been?" he said, gently, taking her in his arms and
hugging her as if he were a long lost uncle.
"Fine, Hermit, all considered. I miss Bert . . . " Her voice caught and she
buried her head in his bony shoulder.
"I know you do, honey. I miss him, too. No one else ever comes to visit this
godforsaken place I call home. Now, introduce me to these girls."
Mary did the introductions. The Hermit seemed genuinely happy to meet both Andy
and Lisa. They blushed at his florid compliments like school girls. While
florid, the compliments were real. I could see him appraising each of them as
men have always appraised women.
I was becoming irritated at the delay. I had come a long way to complete the
formula and I was anxious to have it. Doc was muttering to me, advising me to
push on.
"Look. I want to get the formula and be on my way."
"Relax, Davy. We have all the time in the world. These women look hungry. How
about it, ladies? Need something to eat?"
The women immediately replied, complaining of their hunger. I realized I had
not stopped to eat and it had been a long time since breakfast, but food was not
on my mind right now. The Hermit led them outside toward the garden. I stood at
the doorway of the adobe hut and watched the four of them pick fresh vegetables
for lunch. They looked like a mid-nineteenth century oil of a French countryside
scene except for their clothing, all four working the garden, enjoying the feel
of the dirt and the warmth of the sun on their backs.
"Davy, get on with it," Doc said. "We need to get the formula and be on our
way."
"Hermit! I want the formula."
"Slow down, boy. Is the formula so awfully important to you that you cannot
stop for a good meal?"
"It has been a long search."
"You can damn well wait another hour or two," he said, returning to his
direction of my women in which vegetables to harvest.
I was pissed! In fact, I was more angry than Diablo, who counseled we wait out
the Hermit to make sure we got the formula.
"Don't blow it now. Let him give it to us. No telling what traps old Bert laid
in our way," Diablo said.
I took a deep breath and joined the rural scene, gritting my teeth and trying to
smile.
The Hermit was in no hurry, relishing the company we gave him, particularly the
company of three scantily clad and beautiful women. He was telling jokes and
had them all laughing as they returned to the hut laden with vegetables. Soon,
we were eating home made bread (he baked it himself), slices of cold lamb, and a
medley of raw vegetables, washed down with the fresh, clear water from his deep,
desert well. No wonder the old man was in such good health.
He ignored me and my feeble attempts to bring the conversation back to the
formula. We talked about Uncle Bert and farming and the ways things were then
and are now. Still, he had a clear, neutral look in his eyes.
Over lunch, we learned the Hermit was only seventy-one. He had lived out here
since he was in his thirties. We also learned he had a girlfriend, a waitress
named Gladys, who was in her thirties and worked at a small cafe about fifty
miles away. He had a motorcycle, a big new Harley, that he used to go back and
forth to Gladys' place. That was about all we had learned about him.
I wondered how he and Uncle Bert met. Even more, I wondered why Uncle Bert
would trust the old codger with the final key to the formula. Had I been less
anxious, I would have marveled at this septuagenarian riding a hot Harley into
the nearest town to fuck a waitress forty years younger than he was. Maybe that
was what he and Uncle Bert had in common.
Itwas about four when we finished eating and cleared the dishes. The Hermit led
us outside to a small patch of grass which served as his backyard. The canyon
wall hid the sun, providing a welcome shade. He stretched out on the grass, a
toothpick in the corner of his mouth. In a moment, he was almost asleep. The
three women sat in a manner as to not get their bare pussies on the dry grass,
all ending in a half lying position. I squatted down.
"Hermit?"
"I rest twenty minutes after each meal, boy. You just take it easy until I wake
up."
I wanted to strangle him but the devil dog again was pleading for me to be
patient. I lay down. Andy immediately snuggled up against me, burrowing her
head into the crook of my arm. It was the longest twenty minutes of my life
before I heard the old man yawn and stretch, signaling his awakening. He
scratched himself sleepily and staggered toward the outhouse.
"Hermit?"
"My bowels always work after my afternoon nap. I will be back after a while."
Fifteen minutes later I was ready to knock down the outhouse and kill the old
man. My patience had reached his limit.
"How long does it take to shit?" I mumbled under my breath.
Andy, as always beside me, stroked my arm and murmured a reassurance. Mary was
watching me as if she were a mouse avoiding an insane and murderous cat. Lisa
was gently pulling on the chain connected to her pussy, getting herself hot.
The Hermit's eyes never left Lisa as he walked back from the outhouse.
"Well, boy, let's talk a while," the Hermit said, sitting on the grass a few
feet away from me. "I understand your Uncle Bert left you a lot of studying to
do. All finished?"
"How did you know about that?"
"I know a lot. Answer the question."
"I have read everything Uncle Bert left for me. I completed every assignment.
I have performed every task."
"Learn anything?"
I was dumbfounded. What was this old fart doing wasting my time?
"Easy, Davy," Diablo whispered. "I smell a trap."
"A lot. I learned I want the formula a great deal."
"But, did you learn how to handle it? How to program people in the right way?
How to use the power?"
"What is this programming?" Lisa asked.
Lisa was watching and listening intently. Andy had a withdrawn, passive
expression which is the way Uncle Bert had programmed her to be whenever he, or
I, was working with another programmed kitten, or discussing the programming.
"She isn't programmed?" the Hermit asked, nodding toward Lisa.
"No."
"Well, honey, why are you here?"
Lisa turned a beet red, quivering slightly as if afraid. But, subconsciously
her hand gently tugged on the chain between her legs, which sent shocks right
through her.
"I like being with Davy," she replied, the sex dripping from her voice.
"How about with me? It has been a while since I had a young thing like
yourself."
Lisa jerked on the chain and whimpered. She wanted to be fucked and fucked now.
"Hermit, the formula!" I said.
His head snapped toward me, his eyes icy and bitter cold. I had underestimated
him. He was one tough old bird.
"We will do the formula on my time table, boy. It would not hurt you to be
polite."
"Placate him," Diablo whispered.
"Sorry, Hermit," I responded, trying to look contrite.
"You have three lovely women here. How about sharing them with an old friend of
your father?"
Share them? Of course, I would share them and I told him so. He wiggled his
finger at Lisa, motioning her to come to him. She looked at me for approval,
which I gave. She crawled toward him on all fours. It was a sensuous, cat like
crawl, revealing her desire and enticing us males watching her. She stopped
beside him, moving into a kneeling position with her legs spread.
"These brad in her tongue. Does it feel good when she sucks you?" he asked, his
thumb in her mouth, stroking her tongue jewelry.
"Yes. Very much so."
"Well, I want to find out for myself."
To be continued . . .
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E-mail address: ezriter@hotmail.com
