Avery’s visit to a reconstructed First Nations village goes topsy-turvy when he arrives on a day it’s closed to tourists. He does run into one hunky reenaactor with some curious ideas and a raging desire to explore the world of Twink on Top!
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The town of Tomwell, Ontario was beautiful, and Avery was glad he went, but he was annoyed with himself for taking an extra day there. He had driven this far from Thunder Bay — where he was staying for a business trip — only to visit the authentic Nakawē (Saulteaux) Indian village called Wazhashkwaazh a few miles even further west. He’d long been fascinated by First Nations cultures, and he’d looked up the reconstructed village on a list of tourist attractions. He felt like a giddy child on the way to an amusement park as he rolled into the village near the Eagle Lake 27 reserve.
But there was no one around. The gate at the village entrance was unmanned. The parking area had four cars in it, but they looked like they’d been there a long time. He saw no signs of any people. On the website, the village was crowded with reenactors, they had bow-making demonstrations and pottery and body art and storytelling sessions.
He knew the village wasn’t free, he had been planning this trip for months. It cost a hundred Canadian dollars for a tour and a show through this reconstructed Nakawē village. Avery had watched their video on YouTube several times.
It was the middle of the day on a Saturday. What tourist attraction wouldn’t be open then?
He looked in the little window at the gate. There was a stool and a cash register and credit card machine. The drawer from the cash register was on the floor, which was sprinkled with coins, like the till had been spilled. A few footprints in the dirt near the gate were the only signs of actual humans. There was only one set of footprints, though whoever it was had walked in and out of the gate and then gone into the less footprinty part of the village — only the dirt near the gate was loose enough to keep a footprint.
No one was here to take his money. An eerie feeling overtook him, and for a moment, Avery was certain he’d been transported back in time, that he was now living in pre-contact Indian times. Any second now he thought he’d see a grizzled hunting party wandering into town, lugging a slaughtered bison.
But no, the dirt road that ran through town was still there. There was a tourist stand nearby. A plastic bag danced in the breeze near a sign announcing tour hours that was posted near the gate. His car was parked on the side of the road. It was still modern times.
He walked to the nearest tipi, which was also the biggest — that would be the chief’s, presumably. He figured, if any tipi had people in it, it’d be that one. Aside from being the biggest, Avery spied an extension cord snaking out of it and running over to an outdoor fusebox tucked away near the gate. The extension cord was both camouflaged with foliage to hide it and marked with bright orange tape to avoid a tripping hazard.
“Hey, Thin-Chin, who are you?” barked out a voice from one of the smaller tipis nearby. “You’re not allowed here. Wazhashkwaazh is closed today.”
Avery went over there and saw a Nakawē man, tall and broad-shouldered, with muscles rippling over his chest. He stood in the shadowy entrance to the tipi, glaring at Avery. He was built like Superman, Avery thought, blushing like a silly girl. He was so handsome he virtually glowed. Between his aquiline nose and the beautiful straight black hair that ringed his head, Avery was about ready to shower him with kisses. But the man was tough, scarred, harsh-eyed, square-jawed. He looked more like a biker than a traditionalist Indian, and he certainly wasn’t a reenactor trying to convince anyone he was a pre-contact Indian. Avery had a feeling he didn’t work for the village, but why else would he bere? A series of Grateful Dead dancing bears was tattooed on his bicep, so he was hardly attempting to pass. He could have covered up his arm with a sleeved shirt or some sort of leather armband, but he hadn’t.
“Uh, hello, man,” Avery said. “I’m Avery. I was coming to see the village, is that not-?”
“Thanksgiving. Today is the day we celebrate escaping the thumb of your people’s control-“
“I’m not Canadian, I’m American.”
He narrowed his eyebrows to slit as though he hated Americans. “What?”
“I’m American. You thought I was Canadian, my people were never in control here,” Avery said. His heart sped up. Was he in danger? This Indian seemed hostile, and his bulging muscles were imposing. Maybe he did work for the village, Avery thought now that he was close enough to see the man — he wore a leather sleeveless shirt that showed off his biceps (including those Grateful Dead bears), but he had on tight bluejeans as well. A feather stuck out from the headband he wore, keeping his wild black hair in place.
“I meant ‘white people’, not ‘white Canadians’.”
“Oh. Well… Okay.” Avery was right in front of the Indian now, which was a terrifying place to be. His deep-set eyes glared down at Avery. Avery gulped and looked down at his feet. “Are you… uh… Do you work for the village?”
“Yes.”
“Oh. Okay. So you’re closed for Canadian Thanksgiving? I, uh… I’m sorry to hear that,” Avery said. “Happy Thanksgiving, I guess-” He was so scared, aroused, surprised and excited that it was hard to really think about what he should do next. He had driven so long to visit here, was he really going to have to leave without seeing anything more interesting than a muscle-bound Indian?
“My people do not celebrate Thanksgiving.” He looked around as though his people’s absence proved that. He shook his head at Avery.
“Well, happy ordinary day then. I just… I was going to pay to visit the village. I feel bad that I’ll see it without paying,” Avery said. He batted his eyes at the Indian flirtatiously. “I was hoping to see a show.”
“My name is Sassaba. If we put on a show today, I would be the bad guy,” he said through gritted teeth.
“Oh.”
“Partway through the dance lesson, I attack, with a dozen men. We use real weapons,” he said. He flared his nostrils. “Real axes.”
“Oh, that’s, uh… cool.” Avery could understand that casting decision — if there were any First Nations men who looked like a real villain, it’d be Sassaba. He was so intense Avery had trouble looking him right in the eyes. “Isn’t that… dangerous? You throw real axes at people?”
“Shut up,” Sassaba said. He seemed about to say something else, so Avery didn’t respond. Sassaba did not say whatever was dancing on the tip of his tongue though. He stood there like a hostile statue.
“Okay, well… I guess if there’s no show today, I ought to leave. If you had a gift shop or something-“
“Shut up, I said.”
“Oh so you don’t want my money? This village has no need for revenue?” Avery wrinkled his nostrils. He was not a confrontational man, but Sassaba was beginning irk him, and after a long drive to get here, Avery was in no mood to be treated this way.
“Come in here with me,” Sassaba said. He phrased it like a command that he assumed would be followed because his commands were always obeyed. His deep voice echoed in the tipi he had been crammed into before Avery arrived, his big body making the large chief’s tipi seem small.
Though Avery was scared, he didn’t even think about leaving. He may have been small, thin and weak, but no one ever accused Avery of being a coward. He had been on the receiving end of plenty of alpha males with desperate hardons, and he had a strong suspicion that that was exactly what was about to happen. He couldn’t wait.
“I don’t like tourists, Avery,” Sassaba said like he despised the name.
“I’m sorry-” Avery followed him into the tipi. It was cozy in there, inviting, dimly lit with just a small electric lamp. The smell of leather filled the air. The tipi itself was artificial leather, Avery was pretty sure, but there were real leather artifacts on display. It was too dark with the flaps closed — Sassaba closed them as soon as Avery came in — to read the informative plaques attached to each artifact. The display cases ringed the outside rim of the tipi interior and took up most of the room.
“Shut up. I don’t like white people either.”
“Seems like a strange place for you to work then. Isn’t this place usually crawling with white tourists?”
“I said shut up.” He paused for a moment to see if Avery continued speaking, but he did not. Sassaba got down on his knees so he could squeeze into the tipi very close to Avery, his eyes on Avery’s level, staring into him like he’d find a treasure in there. Avery found it hard to think about what he still thought was about to happen because, just a meter or so from Sassaba’s feet sat an old, rusty tomahawk. It may have been in bad condition, but it looked plenty sharp enough to hurt. “Do you think I’m scary?”
Avery gulped. He shook his head, hoping he really did believe that Sassaba was kind at heart and it wasn’t just wishful thinking. “Uh… I know Native Americans are peaceful-“
“Do not lecture me about my own people. If I wanted to read Wikipedia, I’d read Wikipedia. And don’t call me Native American. I’m Canadian. Call me First Nations.”
“Yes, sir,” Avery said, then blushed. He hadn’t meant to call this man sir. He was just such an intimidating tough guy it was hard not to.
He frowned. “A lot of the actors that work in this village try to jack me off. They are flouncing sissies, ‘sensitive’ types.” He said that as though he disliked sensitivity. “They are not real men.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Avery said, though it didn’t sound like a problem to him.
“They think that, because I’m big, I’d never want to bottom, that I must always be dominant,,” Sassaba said. He sneered at Avery. “I really hate tourists. Stand up, thin-chin.”
Avery slowly stood on stiff knees. He was short enough that he actually fit in this tipi, and he could have even raised his arms above his head. Sassaba could not. Avery felt tiny in comparison with Sassaba’s massive frame.
But before Avery even knew what happened, Sassaba was at his crotch — he had Avery stand so he could kneel. He ripped at Avery’s jeans, tearing the zipper as he pulled Avery’s pants down. Then he grabbed on Avery’s underwear, pulled them down too and swallowed Avery’s limp dick so fast that Avery nearly fell over.
Pleasure shot up Avery’s spine. His knees buckled. His dick remained soft in Sassaba’s mouth at first, as though he was too surprised for his own body to react. A part of him was still frightened that this was all a prelude to an attack, a tourist-bashing, a hate crime or a just plain garden-variety mugging. Sassaba’s mouth was hot and warm, and he was a tall man who easily deep-throated Avery, down to the root.
“Oh, god, oh… Okay…” Avery murmured. He was so used to bottoming for big bears like Sassaba that he didn’t know how to react to this. He sucked in his breath and stood on hies toes. His hands fluttered around Sassaba’s head, which he wanted to grip so he could hump Sassaba’s mouth — that’s how alphas usually did it when Avery was on his knees in front of them — but he thought Sassaba might object, and Avery didn’t want to do anything that risked this not continuing any farther.
Despite his anxiety, Avery was more aroused than he had ever been. His cock rocketed to attention once he got acclimated to what was happening, and pangs of pre-orgasmic pleasure shot up his body. His petite muscles all tensed at once and stayed flexed.
“Oh god, Sassaba!”
Sassaba was clearly unpracticed. He hadn’t been lying about usually being on top, that much was clear. His toothy mouth encircled Avery’s dick hesitantly, and he gagged at the taste. But he didn’t show any reluctance. His massive hands held onto Avery by the thigh as though to hold him in place.
Bent over in front of Avery, Sassaba’s massive body took up most of the tipi. Avery was pinned between him and the leather wall of the tipi, where he could smell the pigments painted on the outside, seeping through the fabric into the interior. Sassaba’s shoulders rippled when Avery’s fingertips touched the firm muscle there.
Avery’s hands reached down of their own accord, jumping like he didn’t expect it when he finally touched Sassaba’s powerful back. His body was like a barrel of rope, Avery thought, the strands writhing as Sassaba moved his head up and down, as though it took every muscle in his body to swallow Avery’s cock.
Then he pulled away without warning. He stopped just centimetres from Avery’s dick, thick strands of precummy spit connecting his face to Avery’s meat. He kissed the tip and frowned like he hated it, as though Avery were making him do this.
“I hate tourists,” he said gruffly. He spat on the floor of the tipi.
“You mentioned that,” Avery said. He took a deep breath. “They annoy me too. I live near a Civil War battlefield back in West Virginia-“
“Shut up,” Sassaba said. He stood — stooped over in the tiny tipi — and glared at Avery like he was a rotten piece of meat. He hissed at Avery, who again felt sure this was it, he was about to be robbed.
But no robbery was forthcoming. Instead Sassaba turned around. He bared his big brown ass as he got on his knees and elbows. Bent over he seemed even bigger, his broad body barely fitting in the tipi at all. He spread his asscheeks with one hand, while he supported his upper body on the other.
Avery couldn’t believe his luck. He was actually getting to penetrate this Indian tough guy — he had to be the most arousing man Avery had ever seen, and Avery got to slam his ass. It was such a shock that Avery had trouble getting in position.
He was a bottom by nature. Avery had only ever topped a few men before, and this was an entirely different situation. Bent over with his ass in the air, Sassaba’s butt was too high — Avery could nearly lick it, and he certainly couldn’t get his dick in. He’d need a stool or something similar.
“Uh, you gotta get lower,” Avery said. Sassaba glared at him but did so. He had to crouch to get his ass low enough.
But at last Avery was able to wedge his dick between those cheeks. He had never felt such a muscular ass, with barely any detectable fat, just big plump cheeks — his massive trunk-like thighs spread to give Avery easy access to Sassaba’s tight hole. Avery’s hands roamed over his taut ribs and powerful thighs, then went back to his ass to spread his cheeks. Then Avery guided his cock to Sassaba’s booty.
When Avery pushed the tip of his dick in, Sassaba yelped and howled. He clawed at the dirt floor of the tipi. He shook his head.
“Are you okay, broh?”
“Keep goin’, thin-chin!” Sassaba barked angrily. He backed his ass up but stopped after shoving just a few more centimeters in. He winced and bit his lip. Sensations visibly undulated through his body.
“Here, this’ll help relax you,” Avery said. “I’ll give you a reacharound.” He tried to stretch his arms around Sassaba’s torso, but he found that he was so small in comparison to Sassaba that it simply didn’t work. Avery could barely reach Sassaba’s cock at all, much less grip it tightly enough to jack him off. Sassaba’s torso was too thick, broad and strapping for Avery’s tiny lithe twink body to give him a reacharound.
“What’s wrong with your tiny white arms?” Sassaba asked.
“Sorry, you’re too big,” Avery said. He laughed, the motion of which made his dick slide deeper into Sassaba’s tight ass. That sent a jolt of pleasure up Avery’s spine, and he covered it up with a snort. “Well, not too big. But big.”
Sassaba grunted, the closest thing to a laugh or an even remotely happy sound that he had made since Avery met him. Sassaba’s face was intense — Avery couldn’t tell if Sassaba was enjoying having his ass plundered or not. He assumed he must be happy enough with it, since he had initiated it and could have backed out. But Sassaba’s face was tight, scrunched-up and tense, barely lit by the weak electric lamp in this tipi.
“So the other Native —I mean, the other First Nations reenactors won’t stick you in the ass?”
“It’s not that,” Sassaba said, his voice hoarse and breathless, warbly like an overexcited songbird. He hung his head low as he accepted Avery’s precum-leaking cock, clenching his teeth and wincing every few seconds, then relaxing and letting out a moan of either desire or pain or both. “They would, if I asked them to. But they would never let me live it down. If I let them do it once, they’ll never stop pestering me to do it again.”
“I guess that makes sense.” Avery was trying to slow down his orgasm now, because he felt it coming soon and he wanted to prolong this experience.
“Unlike you. When you’re done, you’ll just go back to Texas and I’ll never have to deal with you again.”
“I’m not from Texas. I’m from West Virginia-“
“Don’t care, thin-chin,” Sassaba said. “Anywhere south of Detroit is Texas.”
They both grunted as the last centimetre of Avery’s cock squeezed into Sassaba’s ass, which had stretched and widened enough that he could take it. Avery gyrated gently but inexorably, driving his dick all the way in and out with each thrust of his hips.
Being on top gave Avery a burst of confidence and bravado. He so rarely felt like this, he thought, and he wanted to do something with these feelings. He lightly tapped Sassaba’s asscheeks. “Hey, if you get to be offended by me calling you Native American, then I get to be offended by you calling me Texan. We’re a different people. Our accents are totally different-“
“Quit whining,” Sassaba said. He grunted and heaved as he accepted Avery’s cock ramming into him.
Since Sassaba hadn’t complained — and he actually seemed to be enjoying himself, he was even jacking his own cock off now, because Avery couldn’t reach his dick — Avery took that to mean he could accept even harder sodomy. He slammed his hips back and forth, gyrating to be sure he hit every part of Sassaba’s prostate.
That must have worked because Sassaba writhed as though he was in the most exquisite pain. He struggled and heaved and snorted, and a part of Avery was glad because the way he moved was so graceless and clumsy — he had this stereotypical view of Indians as elegant athletes who could accomplish anything with their relentless physicality. It was good to know that even a big muscly Indian like Sassaba could be overwhelmed and flustered, even clumsy.
Avery didn’t even realize that Sassaba was near orgasm until it happened. His muscles all flexed at once, and he shook, his whole body vibrating, asscheeks jiggling. The smell of cum filled the tipi as he sprayed cream into his own hand.
That caused his ass to clench down on Avery’s dick, which in turn sent waves of orgasmic pleasure up Avery’s spine. He grunted in sync with Sassaba, and their rutting sounds filled the tipi. Avery bit his lip so hard he drew blood as his orgasm assaulted his body.
Cum spurted forth, coating every inch of Sassaba’s insides. Sassaba shuddered and moaned, and Avery grunted — shocked at how masculine his own sound was, rather than the whimpery groaning he usually emitted. The most jaw-dropping orgasm of his life wracked his body with such potency that Avery collapsed.
“Ah, fuck yeah, thin-chin…” He let out a long, crooning groan.
He landed on Sassaba’s broad back, and Avery licked the sweat off whilst he writhed atop Sassaba’s muscles. Sassaba barely seemed to notice, as he contorted at the same time, those massive muscles flexing all at once beneath Avery’s grasp.
Finally it was all over. Avery had no idea how long he laid there, but he only rolled off Sassaba’s body when every last drop of cum had been drained out of him. Sassaba took a deep breath and Avery sighed. He cuddled up next to Sassaba, nuzzling his nose in the man’s throbbing biceps.
“Wait here,” Sassaba said. He kissed his hand, then planted a kiss on Avery’s cheek. He stood, bare ass gleaming in the dim light that filtered into the tipi. Again he had to stoop over some because he was too tall to fit in here. “Close your eyes,” Sassaba said. “The spirits wish me to show you something.”
Avery giggled and did as he was told. Sassaba hurried outside the tipi, keys jiggling, seemingly unworried about his naked body. He had left his clothes inside, Avery noticed — he could feel Sassaba’s leather shirt and jeans beneath Avery’s body. He’d gone out into the village naked.
A car started. It was only then that Avery started to connect the dots — why would Sassaba have left with keys if he didn’t have his own clothes? Whose keys did he carry?
Of course, there was only one possible answer. Avery opened his eyes. His clothes were gone.
He scurried out of the tipi just in time to see his own car driving away. There were three Indian men walking into the village at the same time, carrying Lawtons shopping bags. They waved at Sassaba in the car, flat-faced and grim, like they assumed Sassaba was a tourist. They obviously hadn’t recognized him.
They glared at Avery, whose naked white body shone in the mid-day sun. He was going to start burning very soon in this sunlight, Avery thought. He shivered and blushed intensely as his mind raced — he had no clothes, no money and no car.
What had happened? It all ended so quick he didn’t get it. He was still putting two and two together as the three Indians came closer.
“Howdy,” said one of the Indians. “Was that your buddy? Where’s your clothes?”
“We’re closed today. It’s Thanksgiving.”
Avery sighed. “Do you… Uh… Is there an Indian named Sassaba who works here?”
“No.”
“Does a rival tribe attack you during your show? With axes?”
“What, no? We’re trying to combat negative stereotypes, sir. Depicting Indians as violent, murderous savages would run counter to that,” said the Indian.
“And the Nakawē did not use axes in combat,” said another.
“Can you put some clothes on, sir?”
Avery sighed. He went back into the small tipi to get Sassaba’s clothes. They were too big for him by far, but it would be better than being naked.
The tipi still smelled like funk and armpit sweat, and the clothes carried Sassaba’s unwashed Indian scent. His attar had notes of pine trees and leather, and the scent made Avery so horny he wanted to bust all over again. He clutched Sassaba’s shirt, which was what smelled most strongly of his manly odor.
He stayed in there, savoring the smell of Sassaba’s body, for so long the Indians outside asked if he was alright. But Avery was better than alright. He may not have had any money, any ID, a car or even any clothes that fit him, but he wasn’t hurt and he’d be able to get his employer to send him a cab. It’d take a long time to get back to to the hotel, but he’d get there eventually. He’d just have to wait here in the Indian village.
That was just fine with Avery. He didn’t care what else happened: he had a leather shirt that would forever remind him of Sassaba.
