Boulder Meadow Ch. 02
joeunning
Aiyana never married. She grew into a beautiful woman, wise and respected by all in her tribe. In her language. Aiyana became ogimaakwe, a female leader. She often returned to Boulder Meadow, especially as she expanded her spiritual awareness, but sometimes just to masturbate. As she matured and grew in her sexual awareness, she would carve toys from branches or find other objects to attach to her nipples or labia to enhance her experiences. She lived a long life, and I became well-acquainted with her naked butt as she sat on my face. Sometimes, just for fun, I'd make sure a pebble, well rounded, of course, came in contact with her puckered sphincter as she rapidly frigged her cunt. She even learned to insert her wooden companions in ways that brought forth a shower of her woman-cum all over my face.
Those were good days, indeed, but in time Aiyana passed away, and my meadow and I waited to see if another young woman would find our location. In time, people from across the ocean came to my world. Because other rocks like me were strewn across the landscape, the roads these newcomers built never came within seven miles of Boulder Meadow, but my panoramic views always awaited the adventurous.
Fortunately, rocks are not political, but these newcomers brought with them ideas about property and how it was defined. Some of these newcomers, far from my location, included other human beings on that list of personal property. Those closer to me disagreed with that view and offered opportunities for those distant human forms of property to find new lives away from the bondage known as slavery.
One such instance brought two dark skinned people to Boulder Meadow. There was a man, Elijah, and a woman, Bessy, who traveled to Boulder Meadow one day on their way to a placed called Upper Canada, somewhere to the north. From the first time I saw them, I knew Elijah and Bessy were in love. They brought what few possessions they owned, and for a couple of days camped at Boulder Meadow relaxing after a long, harrowing journey away from bondage and into freedom. Neither Elijah nor Bessy spoke very good English, and some writers might try to mimic their language and peculiar pronunciations of common words, but I will treat their visit with dignity and not attempt to imitate their poor English vocabulary. I have high standards for Boulder Meadow's guest policy.
Elijah was a handsome man, probably around 30 years old. Dark and well-muscled, his body reflected the strength gained from years of work in the fields or in shops affiliated with the plantation of his birth. It was summer and the shirt he wore had many holes, and only one or two buttons held it together across his ebony chest. He stood about six feet and wore boots that were needy of a good cobbler.
Bessy was a bit younger than Elijah, but only by a year or two. She was heavier than other women who've come to Boulder Meadow but had large breasts and a large rear end that felt so good when she sat on my face. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Elijah and Bessy arrived with packs on their backs carrying all their worldly possessions, which included a makeshift tent and blankets. Bessy set up camp, then took some flour from her pack and started to make bread while Elijah took an old smooth-bore musket to see if he could hunt some wild game. An hour or so later, Bessy's bread was finished, and she had added carrots and potatoes to a small pot of boiling water, when Elijah returned with two rabbits which he had field-dressed upon killing it.
"Any room for rabbit in that pot?" Elijah asked Bessy as she was stirring the vegetables in the pot.
"You killed it, you prepare it," Bessy replied. She had never been one who enjoyed cutting meat, whether it be wild game or chicken.
"You know I will, darling," came Elijah's response. He'd already begun the final preparations of the meat and quickly added it to the pot. "Mmm, Mm, Rabbit stew."
After dinner, they finally took a little more time to appreciate their surroundings. They made small talk about their journey, and what they'd hope to find in Upper Canada, then proceeded to sit around their little campfire. Bessy began to hum a familiar song and soon Elijah started singing the words. He approached Bessy from behind, putting his arms around her and pulled her close and softly kissed her neck. Bessy offered no resistance then reached up to embrace the arms that embraced her.
"I love you, Mrs. Collins," Elijah whispered into Bessy's ear. Neither one had had a surname while they lived in bondage, but prior to their escape, they had jumped over the broom in the presence of others, becoming spouses. They carefully planned their escape, which I will not recount here, because I'm sure you readers would much rather hear about their night at Boulder Meadow instead of something more fitting for a history book. Suffice it to say that a family named Collins, who were part of the Underground Railroad network, aided the fleeing couple. The Collins' were honored to have the young Black couple take their surname.
