Dick Fitswell goes to Canada
by Jack Corbett

"Dick.....You are thirty-five now and no longer in your prime. It might mean more than life and death. It just could be your sanity."

"So when can I return to some serious fucking?"

"That’s up to you but I suggest you take at least a month off."

******

"Those damn bitches have been doing this to me. They just don’t understand that I’ve been trying to do them a favor. I give them my best shots, right up their pussies of the best elixir in the world, and what do they do to show their appreciation? They act like bitches. Caused my blood pressure to get out of line and now that Doctor says he can’t just give me an antibiotic----he tells me I’ve gotta take it easy and quit fucking them for awhile. But I can’t. So I’m going somewhere where I’m not going to be tempted. Where there’s either no women or where the women are too damn ugly. I’m heading to Canada."

Wending its way through the Yukon wilds, the Canadian Pacific passenger train was now carrying the most precious cargo it had been entrusted to in years. The live carcass of Dick Fitswell complete with its eighteen inch pleasure rod. But Dick wasn’t too happy with his situation. He thought about what he would do during the long nights ahead of him as the train approached Dawson, his final destination. Almost worse than ordering him to give up women, the Doc had asked him to stay away from alcohol. The train got into the station at 2 AM. Dick got himself a room at a near by hotel and passed out almost immediately after hitting the pillow. It had been a long train ride with no booze and not a single good looking women aboard.

Dick spent the next afternoon exploring the town but the sun went down early, so he found a restaurant and had a reindeer steak, a local favorite. He hated doing it but went back to the hotel where he settled down with a book, "The Seduction of the perfect woman," when the lights suddenly went out.

"Shit. Damn electricity’s gone out. That’s what I get for going to a Socialist Country. Now what am I going to do?"

The thought of a bar intrigued him even though he had promised himself not to drink. "A bar in Dawson’s gotta have lights. Electricity probably goes out here pretty often and these Canadians probably cannot stand being around each other for very long without getting shitfaced. That’s what I’ve seen in those old Dawson Dog sled movies while the men were looking for gold in the Klondike. They will have kerosene lamps or a generator or something."

Although it had gotten dark Dick Fitswell could still find his way around since the Yukon sky never got inky black this time of the year. He had walked only several blocks from his hotel when he saw it. The Hunter Bar. "Alright," he nearly said aloud, "Got the right kind of name. And it looks disreputable enough. I think I’ll go in and cause some shit."

Inside he found total chaos and immediately fell in love with the place. There were few whites in the bar but plenty of Eskimos and Indians. Dick Fitswell heard that the Canadians had felt so badly about what they did to the Eskimos and Indians in the Yukon that the government put them all on welfare as long as they hung out in the towns and couldn’t make a living hunting and fishing. Each dispossessed Indian or Eskimo got $3000 Canadian dollars per month as long as he or she met the government’s requirements. Which was basically to get drunk and stay drunk.

Dick found the prettiest woman in the bar sitting on a barstool and sat up next to her ordering a lemonade from the bartender. He couldn’t tell whether she was an Eskimo or Indian and didn’t care since he was planning to get her drunk on her butt which shouldn’t cost much since she was already half way there. He was about to make his move when he heard a loud thud, turned around, and saw that an Eskimo male who had been sleeping it off on one of the tables had just rolled off and fallen to the floor. The man was so drunk that the fall hadn’t awakened him so everyone in the place decided to just let him continue sleeping it off on the floor.

"They ought to rename this place Comatoseville, Fitswell said to the woman sitting next to him."

"What did you say? I do not understand you. But do you have a cigarette?"

"Sure...and let me light one for you," Dick said to the woman as he reached for one of his Marlboros, put it in his mouth, lit it, then handed it to her. "Can I get you anything? Beer? Whiskey? How about a Tequila? That’s what real women drink back where I"m from?"

"Get me some Vodka. That is what Eskimo women drink. I’m Eskimo. Did you know that?"

"I’ve never met anyone who’s Eskimo," Dick replied. Then he ordered her vodka from the bartender.

She was getting to be pretty drunk after the first one. By the time he ordered her fourth vodka, the woman was almost falling off her barstool. Suddenly another woman was in their faces shouting to his newfound Eskimo, "You give him to me. He is too good for you." But although she was drunk Fitswell’s companion somehow mustered up enough presence of mind to deal with the intruder. The Hunter Bar was not the cleanest place in the world and the bartender who had spent most of his life on welfare wasn’t good about picking up the beer bottles and glasses the previous customers had left there. The Eskimo woman grabbed a beer bottle that still lay in front of her and smashed the other woman in the head. The woman dropped to the floor as the blood started to pour out of her head. Everyone in the place let her lay there.

"Now I feel like a woman should," the Eskimo said. "I love blood. It makes me want to have sex."

"I’m in trouble now," Dick Fitswell told himself. "The Doc told me to stay away from women and whatever I do not to have sex--- at least for a month."

"Do you want to suck my tits?" the woman asked as she took off the fur t shirt she was wearing.

Fitswell took them in thinking they were far better than he expected in a place like this. The woman had medium size breasts with very large and very firm nipples that appeared to be bursting with milk. Before he could bend down to take one of them into his mouth, the woman was on his lap, as she thrust a tit into his face. Gratefully he wrapped his mouth around a tit and started sucking it. At first it started to ooze wetness into his mouth, then her tit became even more erect as it starting spurting liquid down his throat.

But it didn’t taste like milk. "Nirvana," Fitswell shouted. "Booze. This tit filled with alcohol" as he pulled away for a second or two, then crunched down on it again, and continued to suck------this time deliriously, like a drug addict breathing in from his crack pipe. Somehow the tits full of alcohol didn’t surprise him since everyone in the bar seemed to practically live there and the Eskimo had probably long ago become one with her alcohol.

Suddenly the woman pulled her tit out of his mouth and said to him: "You will get no more until you fuck me. But you have to go home with me."

"You lead and I’ll follow."

They walked almost a half mile before they found her place just on the outskirts of town. The last few hundred yards they had to walk through a foot and a half blanket of snow. Fitswell was thankful for wearing boots. Then he saw it----the place where she lived and blinked his eyes in disbelief. "A fucking igloo. You live in a real igloo? I’ve never been in one of those before."

She knelt down on the snow in front of him and started to crawl through the short, narrow entryway that led to the warmth inside. A little light headed from sucking her tit, Fitswell watched her tight ass wiggle as she worked her way into the igloos interior. He followed closely behind, saying to himself, "I don’t want to lose sight of that ass."

When they got inside she lit an oil lamp, then lay back on a fur that covered one end of the igloo and motioned for him to join her. She pulled off her jeans, then the fur panties she wore to keep her privates warm. "What a body!" Fitswell exclaimed aloud. "I’ve watched too many movies that showed all you Eskimo women as being fat."

"Oh no. Many of us are not fat. I’ve seen those movies too. And most of us like to fuck."

"I want to fuck her so bad," Fitswell said to himself. "But my doctor told me not to. I will have to just satisfy myself with sucking her tits." And then he fell upon her and started sucking the other breast, the one he had neglected back in the bar. As the alcohol started to hit him he started to feel at peace with himself----a peace he had not felt since his last drink.

The next ten minutes he spent going from one breast to the other...sucking them all in as the Eskimo became increasingly excited. Her legs threshing wildly around as she jammed her bosom into his face, she finally reached down and felt Fitswell’s penis which had swollen up to its full twelve inches. "Fuck me," she cried out. "Fuck me now. So we can do it again and again."

"Shit...what am I going to do now? Fitswell asked himself. Then said to her----"I can’t. I can’t fuck you. Doctor’s orders. But I want to."

"What?" the woman screamed. "What do you mean you can’t. Fuck me. Fuck me. I want you in me now."

"I’m sorry, but I can’t. I have high blood pressure and the doctor told me not to fuck anyone for at least a month. But I will be happy to keep sucking your tits."

"You fucker. You are not going to fuck me?

"No. I can’t. I want to but I can’t."

"Fuck you." Then the woman turned around and screamed, "Polarina, take him. He’s yours."

******

There is a lot of truth to the Bigfoot or Sasquatch legends . Hundreds of years ago there was a band of Eskimo living near what is now Dawson who believed that the highest form of bravery was exhibited by the hunter who could mate with a Polar Bear and live. This band or hunting unit that included the women and the children kept to itself and zealously guarded its darkest secrets from other Eskimo bands. Very few men tried it and most of them who did, were killed. The race that sprung from these illicit matings had been believed to have died out but every now and then a sighting was reported.

Fitswell never saw the shrouded figure crouching in the dark recesses of the igloo. Aroused by the screams of the Eskimo woman, the beast sprung onto the fur blanket, Fitswell and the woman were lying on. Then jumped on top of Fitswell. It took just two seconds for Fitswell to suddenly realize that he had no chance. Until now Polarina released her pent up sexual desires by masturbating.

Fitswell felt paw like hands rip his pants off then felt furry fingers grasp his twelve inch member. Already stiff and erect it happened so fast that he didn’t lose his erection as Polarina knelt over him and thrust his penis into her vagina. Horrified by the sight of the gigantic humanoid hovering over him Fitswell's penis, having a mind of its own and in familiar territory went into autopilot mode as Polarina started to thrust against him. Even worse..........it was a tight fit. It was a great fit. The best he had ever experienced. Frightened by the apparition astride him but with his penis engorged in a throbbing tightness that kept sucking it in, swallowing it, relaxing, then tightening up again Fitswell pushed  his body tightly up into Polarina.  Two minutes later, Fitswell started to come in uncontrollable bursts of jetting semen.

Trouble was, Polarina, as sex starved as she was didn’t stop. Lying down across Fitswell Polarina reached underneath him and pulled him tight against her furry body. She didn’t climb off of him for two hours. By this time the Eskimo woman sobered up enough to realize what she had done and called in the Eskimo version of the ambulance------the dog sled. Fitswell was driven to the hospital where he was immediately put into Dawson’s version of Intensive Care.