“So pretty.” I muttered. “I’ll be thinking about you tonight—especially those tits.”
I hit the gas and passed her, keeping her car in the rear-view mirror for a little while. Laying eyes on the blonde goddess snapped reality back to my cock and it gave me a throbbing sensation against my zipper to remind me how long it had been since I used it to pound a beautiful piece of ass.
Fuck. I probably would bury it in Mrs. Blanchard at this point...
Retiring at a young age and leaving the world behind for the solitude of the mountains had some negatives. It wasn’t like the local bars were going to offer me anything worth fucking except for the occasional tourist, but they were usually there with a boyfriend or a husband. The single girls usually traveled in packs and there were usually a few guys with them, even if they weren’t actively dating. The blonde in the red sedan was an anomaly, but she was likely headed to meet friends.
As I neared my turn, I noticed she had disappeared in the rear-view. I slowed down to wait, just to make sure she didn’t do what I thought she did. When her car didn’t appear on the horizon, I realized she had turned down Devil’s Pass. None of the locals used that road and there were no vacation cabins anywhere near it. It was originally planned to be an interstate route, but some rich asshole convinced them to run it through a town fifty miles away so it would be closer to his hotels.
“Good luck, blonde goddess. I hope you don’t get eaten by wolves—unless they save the good parts for me.” I laughed and headed up the mountain to my cabin.
I doubted she would continue down the stretch of road for long. Even with the technological black hole we were in, she would have to realize the road wasn’t taking her anywhere. Either way, she wasn’t my problem.
I got the visual. That’s good enough for tonight.
The storm was coming and I had things to do before I was ready to weather it. I pulled my truck up to the front of my cabin and immediately attached my snow chains. If there was a reason to go, it would be easier to do that if they were already on the tires. Once that was done, I boarded the windows, got a fire going in the fireplace, set up my backup generator, and made sure the fuel was filled.
Perfect.
The fire would be enough to keep me warm, especially with the amount of wood I had, but I didn’t want to take any chances. The locals still talked about the storm that came through in the 1950s when the weatherman predicted a light dusting, but instead the area got a blizzard of epic proportions that shut things down for weeks. Unfortunately, some people froze to death before it was over. I had enough supplies to last for months, so that wasn’t going to be an issue. If there was one thing the corporate world taught me before I left it all behind, it was to prepare for the unexpected.
“Okay...” I looked around the cabin with a satisfied smile. “Time for a drink.”
I filled my favorite glass and lifted one of the cigars to my nose, inhaling the pleasant aroma of a plantation somewhere in South America that didn’t even know what snow was. I sat down in my chair and sipped whiskey while the first sounds of the storm really started to hit the side of the mountain. It already sounded worse than predicted.
I lit the end of my cigar and let the smoke seep out of the edge of my lips. I had everything I needed, except a good set of lips around my cock or a tight pussy in my lap. Women were just more trouble than they were worth. I had one once—a damn good one—or so I thought. I lifted my glass angrily to her memory.
Here’s to you, bitch. This place is perfect because you’re not here.
She was gorgeous with an ass I could stare at for hours, but I rarely took time to stare. Usually I was fucking something—mouth, pussy, ass—I didn’t care. I loved everything about her, from the way she enthusiastically swallowed my cock, to her insatiable appetite for taking it in every damn hole.
We were young and stupid. We liked fucking each other so much we thought that was worth marrying over and as fun as it was, it was the only thing we really had in common. She was a spoiled brat who thought she should have everything she wanted and I ran a minimalist, frugal household dedicated to saving and preparing for the future.
Fuck being responsible, right?
My dream was to retire to a nice cabin in the woods and live off the land. Her dream was to build a mansion and hire people to do everything for her—just like she had growing up. The company I was working for required a lot of extra time and she hated that, until it took off and my stocks were worth more than her Daddy’s fortune.
She hit me with the divorce papers the minute I told her I wasn’t interested in building her dream house because I didn’t want to waste money when we had all we needed in our tiny two-bedroom home. Fifty percent wasn’t enough to break my wallet, but it was enough to break my spirit. It crushed every bit of trust I had for members of the opposite sex.
A few months later I saw her out with another man—a man I once called a friend—and I lost it. My ex-wife and I started yelling at each other in the middle of the restaurant, laying out everything we hated about each other. Somewhere in there, she confessed she had been sleeping with him during our marriage. All I could see was red. I took a swing at him and while I connected with his jaw, he acted like I had just broke his neck. He played it up like a bitch, falling on the floor, wailing, and when the doctors got done with him, he had conditions I had never heard of. It was bad enough that I lost my cool and punched him—I found I didn’t like that side of myself, with rage and jealousy coming out in the form of a monster who lost control.
When my lawyer started talking legitimate jail time, over a punch that barely connected, I knew I was about to be railroaded by a system I didn’t trust. I packed everything in the back of my truck and left. As much as they might have wanted to prosecute me, they weren’t going to chase me across the country for an assault charge when the case was shit to begin with.
“Fuck people...” I muttered as I stared at the burning tip of my cigar.
I didn’t like thinking about that shit. I was happy in my new life. I retired early and my dream came true. I was living off the land and didn’t have to worry about anything. I pushed the anger of my ex-wife’s betrayal out of my head and started thinking about the blonde goddess I saw on the road. I might not be able to fuck her, but I could do a lot of things to her in my head.
My hand slid down to my cock and I caressed it through my jeans. It was more than ready for a little bit of fun. I slid my boots off and then tossed my clothes on the floor by the fire. They would be nice and toasty if I got cold again.
I took another sip of my whiskey and caught a glimpse of my naked body in a mirror. Six years in the mountains had transformed my body. I was no longer thin and athletic. My muscles had grown and hardened over the years, especially my upper torso. As well defined as they were, there was one muscle that needed a real workout, so I sat down in the chair and let my cigar rest in my lips.
I knew it wasn’t going to be a marathon when I wrapped my hand around my cock. The sensitivity reminded me of my teenage years when I barely had to touch it to get off.
“Damn that feels good...” I muttered as I gave myself a few strokes.
I always preferred the real thing over jacking off, but I had to do it from time to time just to keep myself from going insane. Even after six years alone, it still didn’t make me cum like a nice tight pussy, but it was enough when I thought about the baggage that came with an actual relationship.
Just a quick release—then I can drink in peace.
I puffed on my cigar, stroking my cock with my eyes closed. The image of the blonde goddess filled my thoughts and I imagined her there in front of me, ready and willing to bend both knees and wrap those gorgeous lips around throbbing cock. That would just be the beginning, of course, because I would fuck her like she had never been fucked before.
Every hole. All mine.
It was nice to have a face to go with my fantasy for a change. Normally it was just a faceless wonder with big t
its, a nice ass, and a soft mouth. I hated that I hadn’t seen the blonde goddess’s eyes; I would have loved to know what shade of perfect I would have been staring into when I made her cum.
I lasted longer than I thought I would, but there wasn’t much build. When it was ready, the pre-cum was already erupting so I had to quickly grab a towel for the finish. It was a lot of cum. The reserves hadn’t been emptied in a while. I stared at the mess and sighed at the sight of it on the towel when it could have been inside of someone who would have enjoyed it.
“Oh man...” I shook my head. “What a waste.”
I continued drinking and enjoying my cigar until the latter was burned out and the former needed a refill. I flipped on the television and surfed the channels, finding the weatherman rapidly filling the audience in on how off his prediction was. It was going to be a real storm after all—even he had to admit his fucking mistake.
I went back to my chair and watched for a little while longer before deciding it was time to retire for the evening. I filled the fireplace up with enough wood to last the night and walked into the bedroom, feeling a heaviness in my eyelids as I stared at the bed. As much as I liked the peace and quiet, there was something about the city I missed, and that was the dull roar when I went to sleep.
I could go all day without hearing a single sound except nature’s song, but when it was time to sleep, I would roll around for hours if I didn’t have something in the background. I flipped on the radio and climbed into bed. It would give me enough meaningless noise to go to sleep. It took one hell of an antenna pyramid to get good stations, but it was worth the cost. I felt my eyelids growing heavier and heavier as the music played, and then a commercial came on, followed by some local news.
“Authorities are still searching for missing nineteen-year-old Heather Westbrook. The Tennessee native was supposed to be meeting friends at a cabin near Lake Rutherford, but she never arrived. Authorities are asking everyone in the area to be on the lookout for a 2014 burgundy Volvo with Tennessee plates... Ms. Westbrook is 5’6 with blonde hair and green eyes...”
“Wait a second...” My eyes opened.
Every bit of progress I had made towards falling asleep evaporated in an instant. I thought back to the car I saw and the blonde goddess driving it. I called it red, but perhaps it was burgundy. I didn’t pay attention to the license plate, but there was an orange T in the corner of the back window.
Fuck. It was a University of Tennessee logo.
If she was headed towards Lake Rutherford, she was way off course. There was no way they would go looking for her as far out as Wolf Creek and they certainly wouldn’t check Devil’s Pass. As much as I wanted to just ignore the news and go back to sleep, I couldn’t. I was probably the only one who knew where she was.
Not my problem. Not my—ugh.
I thought about calling it in, but I was a lot closer than the sheriff to Devil’s Pass. If her car broke down, she was likely going to freeze to death. It really wasn’t my problem, but I couldn’t just go back to sleep and ignore it. I got dressed and bundled up in my coat before tossing a couple of gas cans in the back of my truck.
The snow tires were going to get used a lot quicker than I had planned. My truck moved down the mountain at a crawl until I reached the flat part of the road. Snow was already accumulating and it wasn’t an easy drive. Devil’s Pass was going to be even worse if she had put some miles on her tires without turning around.
Chapter 3: Heather
I don’t know how long I slept, but when I woke up, I realized something was clearly wrong. The weather outside was a lot colder than I anticipated, and the storm wasn’t letting up. I tried to turn the car on, just to get something flowing in the vents for a moment, but it was totally out of gas. It wouldn’t even turn over.
Oh God. This is really, really bad.
I couldn’t even get it to power on so I could use the radio for a possible weather update. I sat there with my teeth chattering, my skin cold to the touch, and not even enough heat from my breath to warm me up. I got my lighter from my bag and struck it, using it to just warm my hands.
Sweet Jesus. Heat!
Once they were slightly warm, I rubbed them on my neck and face, trying to transfer some of the heat. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a temporary relief. I lit a cigarette, no longer caring about the air quality, willing to just trade it away for a little bit of warmth. My situation was getting desperate.
I don’t want to die out here.
My phone was completely dead and if I didn’t have help soon, I was going to be joining it. I started to regret my decision to stop. I should have pushed on or turned around. It was too late for that, too late for anything except the cold misery of my impending demise. I reached down and pulled my jeans back up—at least they’d find a corpse with some dignity intact. The clothes I had used to cover them had been totally ineffective and they felt like icicles. Even my pussy felt like it had frozen shut.
“I’m going to die a virgin.” I tried to fight back tears. “I’m actually going to die here...”
Attempting to fight the tears didn’t stop me from crying, but nothing ran down my face. My tear ducts were apparently so cold and frozen I couldn’t even produce tears. I couldn’t see out my windows so I had no idea if I was buried in snow or not, but I was not going to try and open the door. The little bit of heat I had would be gone in an instant if I did.
Please. I meant it, God. I’ll go to church! I promise!
I tried to think of the good times, the fun I would have had with my friends, but dark thoughts clouded my mind. I thought about my funeral, the tears that would be shed, and the life I would never live. I would never fall in love—not really. I would never have a wedding or a honeymoon. I would never have a baby.
Stay positive, Heather. Try to stay positive.
My attempt at positivity failed before I even thought the words. Time would forget I even lived and there would be nothing left of me except a few news articles about my stupidity, freezing to death in the middle of nowhere. Even if I could somehow get word out, I didn’t even know how to tell someone where I was.
This is how it ends. This is how I die.
I lit another cigarette and nursed the little warmth it provided, but it was minuscule. When it went out, I tried to just use my lighter for heat again, warming up my hands the best I could. My feet were hopeless and felt like numb ice cubes stuffed in my shoes.
“God...” I muttered. “I know we don’t talk much, but I really need a miracle right now. I need something Biblical here with divine intervention...”
I doubted I was worthy of that kind of intervention but I didn’t know what else to do besides pray. The wind was louder than my thoughts.
I SLIPPED IN AND OUT of frozen consciousness, seeing warmth in my mind even though it didn’t exist. I wondered if the warmth was death, beckoning me into the afterlife with an illusion of warmth. My mind was in absolute disarray and it felt like madness gripping my brain. Suddenly, I heard a noise that didn’t sound like the weather.
Was that in my head?
I opened my frosted eyelids slowly. The sound was like a clicking or a scraping. I listened intently, trying to listen past the echo of nature. The sound got louder. I had no idea what it was. I pushed my face towards the window and then I leaped back when something metallic scraped across the glass, followed by a beam of light. It scraped again and again, exposing more light, and then I saw a face peering in. Was it an angel? Was it God himself? Had he personally come down to save me?
Church! Every Sunday!
The face disappeared and I moved to the window, pounding on it. I heard more scraping and my heart started to race. I wasn’t going to die. Someone or something was out there. My car door moved and I realized it was locked. I tugged on the frozen lock to no avail. I slammed my shoulder into the door several times, just trying to force it open, but all I got for that was a searing pain in my arm.
There was more scraping and then the fac
e appeared in the window again. A fist pounded on the door.
“Are you in there? Heather?” A man’s voice yelled out over the whipping of the wind.
“Yes!” I yelled.
He knows my name! I’m being rescued!
“Get away from the window; I’m going to have to break it. I can’t get the door open.” His voice was nearly drowned by the wind, but I understood enough to crawl over the middle console.
My joints hurt and my flesh was cold, but I started rapidly pushing stuff back into my bag, everything that I could grab. A hard thud hit the window, followed by another one, and then the window shattered. It stuck in place, not falling immediately.
My savior tapped it several times until it fell inside the car, almost like a perfect sheet of shattered glass. The ice that had built up held it together, even though he had scraped some of it off. He reached a hand through and I pushed my bag into his hand. He pulled it out the window and tossed it on the ground, reaching inside for me again.
So cold...
I grabbed onto a strong, rugged arm that hauled me towards the window with a quick heave. He carefully pulled me through the remains of the shattered glass and tossed me over his shoulder like a caveman. I was a bit taken aback by it, but I was so happy to be rescued I didn’t care. My joints were stiff and sore, resisting every bend that my body received.
He leaned over slightly, picked up my bag, and threw it over the opposite shoulder. I looked around and I saw just how bad the situation was. My car was almost completely covered in snow. It definitely was more than a regular, or even moderate storm. It looked like the beginnings of a blizzard.
Small Town Seven: Reverse Harem Romance Page 13