Jean Calceses, the youngest of them, stopped to wipe his brow, taking off his black brimmed hat and running his hand down the long hair at the nape of his neck. He intended to shear off all his hair the soonest he could. This heat was not good for hair. Jean was seventeen years old, and he was burnished to a deep copper gold color by the sun. His thighs were hard and bulging, his chest capacious. A man needed to be able to drink a deep breath in this harsh hellish clime. His penis stood up bobbing like a diviner's crook and he sensed something in the air.

His older brother Luc stopped at his side and ran his hands down his chest and hips. "What is it, Jean? I can smell it too."

"It's cunt I think," Jean said. He sniffed hugely, his nostrils wide.

The third man was old and aboriginal. He was nearly sixty, an almost unheard of age for one who still wandered the wilderness. His name was Cappy Pee.

Cappy's skin was dark as burnt cork but he was not a Negro, his features were vaguely Asiatic, his hair long, adorned with feathers and twigs, and somehow mostly dry. Cappy was wiry and tough and he stood very tall, almost 6 foot 6, and he never went anywhere without quills and a bow on his back, and a stick in his hand. His backpack was native made, by himself, and it had small shells sewn on for beauty, shells bought slowly over years, with discerning loving care. He was a man who had never seen a square of water that didn't disappear in a day.

"Cunts, yes," Cappy declared, a final tired tone to his voice. His member wagged immediately to the upright, large enough to shame the two white men who walked with him. Cappy Pee shielded his eyes and looked hard to the west, but even his experienced eyes couldn't pick out anything. His penis throbbed and he ejaculated. He made two or three spurts before he looked down and saw what was happening, as if he had overlooked it. "Hmm," he snorted. "Close. White, I think. Young. That way."

Cappy led off. Jean looked at Luc and grinned; Luc began to laugh. When the old man came it was so spontaneous and of itself that it was like expelling gas or sneezing more than an act of sex. But since they'd been with the old man, Jean and Luc were almost perpetually erect themselves, and found themselves ejaculating at need rather than by forethought and deliberation.

They went another mile or two, found a small manse, shaded themselves, and the Frenchmen eventually set out to find flying bugs and nestled grubs, while Cappy Pee bored a hole for water.

Luc was adapt at catching small bloated insects and there were many such now that a short storm had come the previous day. He used a net and his hands. Jean rubbed his hands in the little greenish mounds where water had sunk in yesterday, to dig out larvae and beetles. The little mounds were like teenage girls' breasts. He thought of breasts as he broke them down, imagining his silica clogged nails raking over a little girl's puffy breasts and nipples, but for food, not sex....(cont)