It's Monday, the weekend is over, although the weather has tuned even hotter, so that Naked Lake is an even greater temptation today. But no, we've all got work to do. Our kids are back from their USA Concert Tour and re-concerning themselves in their almost-forgotten studies at the UW, Elaine seems to have gotten over the worst of her almost-being-murdered trauma now that her her children are home to need her, Pokey has returned, fresh and eager to lead our squatch school forward into the future and I get to go back to full-time daily maintenance of Hacienda Forest. So I guess it's safe to say that things are Back To Normal. Not that running this place been a pestilence while they were gone. Dabronat has been a great help as my #1 assistant, having developed an innate understanding of basic architecture and the tools to make things happen, despite the lifetime of anti-syssk propaganda he'd been subject to, now building yurts and huts without needing me to instruct him. And Roberto must be # 2, no matter what his age or national culture, the kid has a natural talent for learning and/or teaching language that rivals Adam's. But come late September we'll be enrolling him into Monroe High School, along with Dalarbart. Good thing Pokey has come back to take up the struggle anew. Pokey also has a pretty good knack for teaching squatches to speak English. I always find that amazing because I'd been one of his teachers in High School and clearly remember what a lousy student he'd been; lazy, deliberately dumbed down, uninspired. But worst of all, an alcoholic Indian fuck-up. To say that he's changed is... inadequate. Pokey himself believes it's all due to Adam's magical Oracle super-shamanistic powers having cured his alcoholism, at least that's the version that seems to work for him. He is now my trusted partner in our school for Nokhons assimilating into modern American culture. He becomes more fluent in Nokhontli day by day, already far better than me . And he loves the job, enjoys it, thrives with it. Of course it's not really a job, in the strictest sense of the word. He doesn't get a paycheck or earn a salery for the hours he puts in. But then, neither do I, nor Elaine, Melly, Lissandra. We all get monthly shares of the S&F band's music business, which is amazingly successful. In other words, we all get the same rediculously generous amount of money every quarter whether we lift a finger to do any work or not. We've all become rich people with hobbies, not quite each and all millionaires yet, but getting there. Melly and Doug Wielson were already fairly well off, due to deceased movie star Sally Rathers' estate-- her mother, his wife. So Melly contributes large clumps of cash to her favorite charities and Doug lets her do the same for him. And they both contribute to the NNP, as does Adam. And me. As I mentioned, hobbies. Oops, I was writing about Pokey coming back to work today and got off track. Out in Mead Hall are the video screens we use to show our Nokhon students of themselves trying to speak English phrases. We deliberately use technology-- forbidden skesk --to put our students in a different universe, far from the Nokhon rules of conduct. Pokey is perfecting that technique. Dannogat and Dobaarlet, those two young male squatches we often see hanging out on the dock at Naked Lake, are among the five Nokhons we have joining us for English class today: plus two other males, Desrovet and Dollordot, and one female, Mappassa. Only the two dock-happy squatches had ever met Pokey before, just this last weekend. The other three had not yet met him, since he'd been gone on the concert tour before they'd ever arrived at our squatch school. But Pokey knew how to break the ice and get the class started: arriving with a big fat chocolate-honey-almond bar that he broke up into pieces to share with them while he told jokes in Nokhontli, soon having them all bobbing heads and tittering.
The squatches tittered, politely at first, then harder and louder. I don't know, it didn't seem that funny to me, but then they were laughing out loud-- which squatches almost never DO, until it had them rolling on the floor. So finally it occurred to me: Pokey knows what he's doing. He then showed them an ancient video clip of "I Love Lucy", the one when Lucy & Ethel are trying to package chocolates from an assembly line and failing miserably to keep up. Now that one; it was my turn to laugh myself silly. But the squatches didn't get it, of course-- having no concept of a work ethic --until Pokey explained in Nokhontli, then had them answer some questiuons in English.
I've previously mentioned that Dobaarlet was one of our better students, he learned better and faster than anyone else. Although the female, Mappassa, was best at pronounciating words, Dobaarlet learned them faster and understood them better. He could actually carry on a simple conversation in English-- although with so awful an accent that only a few can understand him. But I can now, so it's almost there. I spent the morning with Pokey and his students, mostly to make sure things were progressing as intended, and I left quite assured that our students were in capable hands. I really like who Pokey has become.
Next, I went over to the Refugee Camp. We don't actually have any real refugees living there, we just call it that for fun. Because it looks more like an odd experiment than a potential village, which is what it's actually supposed to end up being; a Nokhon village. The only inhabitants are Nokhons who want to learn how to come in out of the woods, so we've built several different types of shelter, from the most simple poncho-tent to classic teepees and more complex huts, yurts and sheds. Some of them do try to fit the rules of Atli, but half of them compromise to some degree, like allowing glass windows or smoothed wooden floors. At the moment we have nine Nokhon guests staying here, including the big multi-family Hobbit House that Dabronat shares with Dagrolyt and their three wives. There is a place reserved for Daklakht, the Alutna-jii Himself, but it's only a tangle of bushes woven to ward off rain and snow with zero creature comforts, almost not even a bakhl at all. Daklakht insists that he won't compromise any rules of Atli. But he DOES like to hang around the Atli-forbidden campfire at night, just like everybody else. He also enjoys driving Agent Stinger's confiscated Humvee and Adam's beat-up old 1998 Camero Z28 convertible with the top down, which I assume must be totally forbidden. So the guy's not perfect? Good, we like that. At the camp, Dabronat was supervising the construction of a new shelter, a tree house with swingaway ropes and ladders, probably mostly for squatch kids. Of which we now have three in camp, to the delight of all our females squatch or human, including Elaine and myself. Our semi-grandkids, I suppose. Nokhons don't have many children, because they have flawless population control, somehow administrated by the Sha-haka-mas. Don't ask me how, but unwanted pregnancies just don't happen. So female squatches fuck like bunnies any chance they get. Sounds great for horny males, right? But the fly in the ointment is that most squatch males are too lazy to be bothered with anything less exciting than slam-bam thank-ya-ma'am raw-pounding shyøma-powered sexual encounter, which tend to peter out between Full Moons. They can fuck like bunnies with every female at any kha-rat, but that only happens under a Full Moon. At any other time between it's too boring and hardly worth the effort for a lazy male without shyøma to drive them horny. Unless they happen to be in love and truly desire their female partner, then they make love, just like us humans.
I was walking back to the main house, crossing the expanse of Mother Meadow, when I saw Maki coming my way, bearing a small basket, obviously on her own way over to Mead Hall with some lunch for Pokey . We waved to each other, me yet again smitten by her exotic oriental beauty. But managing to be polite about it, as I should. Both of us know that seventeen nights from now, at the next kha-rat, we'll be making passionate carnal love, Maki and I, me coupling with this beautiful young woman, among all our other friends and lovers, everyone carried away by the aphrodisiac scent of shyøma, as we at Hacienda Forest have already been 11 times by now. Although, since she's been away on tour, I have only been intimate with Maki at three kha-rats. I loved it, of course, just like I do with Melly, Lissandra, Elaine, Magga, Masnia, and all the other women I love each in their own way. But it's always been the shyøma version of raw lust. And no choice but to yøramma every female anywhere near me, so it's hardly "intimate". I have vivid memories of fucking Maki, my organ deeply... well, you know... us pumping away full-bore right next to her beloved Pokey and Lissandra, who are doing the same. Then we swap partners, and yes, it's glorious! It can be hard to forget such moments. Sometimes it feels strange, all of us Hacienda folk being so sexually familiar with each other as we have become, then just going back to our everyday, working and socializing as if our lives had not been drastically changed. Along with our code of sexual mores, for example. Still walking, Maki and I were about to pass one another when she reached over, even as I did the same, both of us easily sliding into a clever dance step, a hug and a squeeze, me intending to plant an innocent kiss on her forehead as we twirled on by, passing and continuing on our separate ways with nary a drop of semen spent. But Maki was wearing a thin cotton t-shirt, easy for her to tug aside and offer a friendly bare breast for me to kiss instead. So I did, gladly, latching onto a perfectly perky nipple for a gentle nibble in passing. And that was it; a fun little thrill, enough for the moment, although leaving me with a major erection to deal with all the rest of the way back home. We could probably have dallied, but somehow agreed that we didn't need to, both knowing that we'd meet again at the kha-rat, naked and primed to have all-out rampaging sex with each other, as well as all of our other friends and lovers in absolutly unapologetic promiscuity. You know, we old farts try not to pester all the pretty young girls; that's just too embarrassing when we get called out for it. But we can usually handle it okay if it's the girls who are pestering us. Just the way it is, folx.
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