by Stormy Adams
Pat was back to ‘horrified’.
“Four days?” she asked.
“If they have a clue what direction he was traveling,” Brian said, “but I don’t hold up much hope for that, there’s one hell of a lot of small plane traffic over this area. If I were you, I’d get my mind set for a long walk through some pretty nasty terrain. There are some beautiful places in here, but there’s mostly just dirty old swamp.” Pat looked stricken, but Brian reassured her. He asked her if she had any more practical clothing in her baggage, and she responded that she had some jeans and tennis shoes in her suitcase. He asked her for a description of her suitcase and started digging in his duffle bag again.
Brian took out the single pair of camouflage ripstop fatigues he had rolled for reporting in to the Kennedy Special Warfare Center at Fort Bragg, the home of Special Forces. He stripped off his tattered uniform shirt and tee shirt and then glanced up at Pat, embarrassed. “Uh,” he mumbled, “you might want to look the other way ma’am, there’s no place for me to hide and change.” Pat giggled and covered her eyes with her hands. She heard the sound of his trousers sliding down and of course, she peeked. Hard pressed not to gasp at his physical perfection, her eyes were drawn magnetically to the bulge at the front of his white briefs. In spite of the horrific circumstances, and the fact that she was a happily married woman, Pat felt a surge of unholy heat between her thighs. It was not a feeling she was familiar with, or comfortable with. It had been many years since she had been attracted to a man this way…other than her husband, of course. The fact that her husband hadn’t gotten to her this badly in ages was a fact she chose to ignore.
Brian slipped on the fatigue trousers quickly, and zipped them up. He dipped the white tee shirt he had been wearing in the clear dark water and wiped the mud and smears off his upper body before putting on a dark tee shirt. Sitting down on the blanket next to Pat, he began to slip on some heavy wool socks and some boots. A large and wicked looking sheath knife was attached to his belt.
Pat reached for the first aid kit and motioned for Brian to lay his head in her lap. “We need to take care of that before it gets infected,” she said briskly. She had to stifle another gasp as her breast pressed into his face as she captured the First Aid kit and another surge of blatantly sexual heat rushed through her. She desperately hoped that Brian didn’t notice that her nipples were rigid inside her bra, and she didn’t dare look down to see if they were noticeable. He didn’t say anything, but the rising bulge in the front of his clean trousers told her he had noticed something. For a long moment she was intensely flattered, and she had to force herself to attend to the gash on his forehead.
He returned an hour later, lugging her heavy suitcase back through the sometimes knee deep water, and set it down on the hummock. The hummock itself was perhaps sixty by eighty feet, and it was well above the surrounding water level. Brian dropped her suitcase beside her, and she noticed he had a blue plastic tarp under his arm.
“We’ll need shelter if we’re going to tough out the three days. I’d love to check around for a better spot, but we really don’t want to get too far away from the wreckage. By the time Pat had located her jeans and a tee shirt, Brian had a rough shelter set up with a flat roof and a slanted back. She walked around behind the shelter, but there was no place she could change without Brian being able to see her. Blushing, she asked him to look away. Obligingly, he covered his face with his hands and turned away.
Pat took her time, removing her wet dress and deliberately removing her bra before searching slowly through the suitcase for another. The only one she located was one she had worn the day before. When she glanced up, she noticed that Brian still had his eyes covered and was turned away from her. Perversely, she wanted him to look at her.
He was a handsome and virile man, full of confidence…and if he had any doubts about their ability to survive this, they didn’t show. Pat, however, wasn’t sure they were going to survive at all…and she was feeling an overpowering desire to do something life affirming. It had been a very long time since she had wanted a man this way. Sighing, she stripped off the wet panties, stretching while fully nude and giving him one more chance to see her naked. When he failed to look, she tugged the low rise jeans to her hips without putting on yesterday’s panties, and then slipped on the middy tee shirt without putting on the dirty bra. The smoky fire was doing a tremendous job of keeping the mosquitoes off them, so she curled up on the dry blanket with her tennis shoes beside her. “All done,” she sang out, lifting the hairbrush from inside her suitcase and raising her arms above her head to unsnarl her tangled blonde wavy hair.
CAMPING
Brian’s eyes widened as he turned to see his companion. He had spent two days in the nursing home with his father, and he had left for Fort Bragg. He hadn’t been assigned to an area where there were many women, either military or civilian…and he had been a very, very long time without a woman. He was very much afraid that he was going to have to retreat into the swamps and commit the sin of Onan before much longer. Married or not, this woman was seething with repressed sexuality. Forcing himself to look away from the enticing movement of her unfettered breasts beneath the thin tee shirt, Brian set about building up their meager store of firewood.
Pat slipped on her tennis shoes and went to help him…she was no helpless shrinking violet. They spent the rest of the afternoon making their ‘campsite’ better, as much to occupy their minds as for comfort. Brian had gone back to the wreckage one last time to see if he had missed anything useful, and he had draped jackets over the dead. His search turned up a twenty two caliber nine shot top break revolver and a box of ammunition beneath the pilot’s seat in a small carryon bag. Brian smiled to himself…he had just assured their food supply for a couple of weeks, if necessary.
The light was beginning to dim when he took Pat out into the swamp, showing her which plants were edible. He had taken the pistol and holster, attaching them to the webbed belt of his trousers, but he hadn’t needed them. A sharpened stick had enabled him to spear a few very large bluegills, along with a handful of large bullfrogs. Pat looked on with alarm as he prepared the bullfrog legs, but the smell of the roasting fish that Brian had enclosed in a cover of foil along with wild onions, wild carrots, and the roots of some palmetto that Brian had laboriously dug from the ground with the survival axe from the plane was damned appetizing. He spitted the frog legs and stuck the sticks in the ground near the fire.
When he removed the cover from the fish, careful not to tear the foil so that they could reuse it, Brian showed Pat why it was important to save all the condiments from the M.R.E.s. The fish was delicious, as were the wild vegetables. Pat couldn’t remember a meal she had enjoyed this much, despite the miserable circumstances.
As soon as the sun dropped behind the horizon, the temperature began to drop. By the time the frog legs were ready (they smelled so good that Pat mastered her revulsion and tasted one…which was so good that she ate four more) clouds had obscured the moon and rain was virtually assured. Brian quickly cut a shallow trench around the shelter, and then laid a military poncho from inside his duffel bag onto the ground atop a pile of ferns as a ground cover. They hung the blanket up to air out before the rain started.
As the rain started to fall, the two of them found themselves very close together under the shelter. Brian produced a waterproof bag from his duffel, emptying it of its contents. He explained its purpose to Pat apologetically. “Stuff your clothes into this bag for the night. If you try to sleep in them, water from your body and from the damp air will collect in them. You’ll be cold and miserable long before you’re ready to wake up, and before the sun dries you out in the morning.”
”But I’m not wearing…” Pat shut her mouth abruptly.
Brian laughed. “It’s okay Pat, I can sit up out here, and you go ahead and wrap up in the blanket.” He had suffered through much worse than this, and if he got really tired, he could catch up on his sleep in the daytime. He lay down
beside her after she had removed her tee shirt and jeans. She put them in the waterproof bag and slipped the bag under her head as a pillow. Guilt kept her from talking to him, so she rolled over and backed up to the solidity of his body.
THE DECISION
Sometime in the night she awakened, cold in spite of all the precautions. Rain was pouring down outside the shelter, but the trench Brian had dug was keeping the water from coming inside. He was facing away from her, and he was shivering from the cold. “Fuck it,” she said aloud, tossing the blanket back and sitting up, began to tug at his clothes. Even in the dark he could see she was naked.
“But…”
“Shut up Brian, give me your clothes and get under the damned blanket.” He did as he was told. When he climbed anxiously under the blanket, trying not to touch her, Pat threw her arm and leg over his shivering body and pulled him close. She felt the hardness of him under her thigh, and she felt him tense up. In a very few seconds she felt his manhood jump against her heated skin and felt the warm wetness seep through his briefs.
“Jesus Pat, I’m so sorry…” she could sense his embarrassment in the darkness.
“Shhhh,” she whispered, reaching to remove the damp briefs, “they’ll dry out. It’s not like I’ve never made a man cum before.” She giggled to herself, pleased that she had gotten such a reaction from him. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, it’s a natural thing.” She lifted the wet briefs from under the blanket after using them to dry him off, flinging them to the edge of the poncho. Neither of them was shivering anymore. Deliberately, she laid her thigh right where it had been before the ‘accident’. He was still hard. Pleased with herself, Pat pressed her breasts against his bare skin, breathed deeply of the man smell of his skin, and promptly fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.
He had tried to hold back as best he could, but Brian had another emission about an hour after the first one. Pat had stirred at the feel of it, but she refused to wake up, she had simply curled her hand around his throbbing stiffness and cuddled closer.
Pat awakened before Brian did, astounded and then thrilled as she realized where she was and why. It had not felt unusual at all to wake up nude with a man’s penis in her hands, it was how she woke up with her husband every morning. It took every ounce of her self-restraint to keep from climbing on top of this gorgeous soldier and waking him up the way she used to wake Paul up…providing Paul was in the mood. It had been a very long time since she had awakened this hard in her hand. Instead of pulling her hand away like she should have, she squeezed him. In seconds, she was asleep again and breathing deeply, a wide smile on her pretty face.
Brian awakened and groaned at the ache in his groin. He could feel her hand on him and the urgency of his need made him slip out from under the blanket and head for the edge of the hummock. It was cold and damp, and a thick fog lay over the swamp. He grabbed himself and managed to stroke only twice before he spilled into the dark waters. Relieved, he stood a moment longer and emptied his bladder into the water.
He crept back to the bed and stared down at the beautiful tousled hair of Pat’s head before lifting the waterproof bag containing their clothes. They were a tad damp, but not like they would have been if they’d worn them to bed. In no time at all he was dressed and tending the fire, digging deep beneath the wet embers on top for the living coals at the base of the fire. Soon, he had a merry flame going, with some of the bottled water boiling for instant coffee from the M.R.E.s.
Pat smelled the instant coffee through the morning mist and sat up, the blanket puddling around her waist. She shook her hair out and ran her fingers through the tangled strands, catching Brian’s stare out of the corner of her eye. “Good morning hotshot,” she said teasingly. When she got the expected blush, she patted the blanket next to her. “Come here Brian,” she said, “I’m afraid we need to talk…and besides, I want a sip of that coffee, it smells good.”
It was good, in spite of its strength. Brian was no longer even pretending not to look at her bare breasts. “Look Brian,” she said, handing him the tin canteen cup of coffee back to him and leaning back on her hands, “we’re going to be in close quarters for the next few days. I’m not going to turn my head every time you have to pee and I don’t expect you to do it for me. This little piece of dirt is not very big, and I’m not fond of or used to the critters hanging out in this dark water. Yes, I’m married, and yes, in spite of that you make me horny as a teenager. I don’t know where this is going, but I want you to know right this minute…no matter what happens, I won’t be blaming you.”
It was a long speech for her, and she was amazed that she got it out without choking. Pat Ames loved her husband, and she had no intention of leaving him…but she knew deep inside herself that she had no intention of leaving this swamp without making love to this handsome soldier. There was no way to explain why she felt the way she did, it just was.
Brian simply stared at her in amazement. Pat gave him a few minutes to absorb what she had told him, and then she leaned forward and she kissed him. It was not the hard passionate kiss of a lover, nor was it the quick affectionate peck of a wife. It was the deep, soulful kiss of a woman who knew what she wanted and was determined to have it. It left Brian breathless as Pat got up and walked casually to the edge of the hummock to relieve herself into the water.
For Brian, the view was spectacular. He wondered if the trauma of the plane crash and the death of the others had affected her somehow, but he was no psychologist. Other than her decision to tantalize him with her nudity and to sleep with him the same way, she seemed totally normal. He shrugged. It could be a lot worse.
She put on her tennis shoes and the wispy panties when the sun came up. The temperature rose dramatically so she crawled out of their makeshift bed and hung the ground cloth and blanket across a simple rack Brian made for her. She went about a simple housekeeping routine while Brian went into the swamp for their morning meal.
He brought back dewberries and some other late season fruits, as well as a pair of rabbits he had shot with the pistol on another hummock some distance away. Pat took the fruits and washed them off with water from the bottled water that was left. Pat started to throw the bottles into the fire when Brian stopped her. “We need to gather up all the bottles after we eat. I’ve got a surprise for you.” He refused to tell her any more. Pat was like a child guessing at her birthday present, and Brian seemed to be enjoying every minute of it. No matter how much she wheedled and pleaded, he wouldn’t tell her what the surprise was.
The rabbit was delicious, roasted to a golden brown over the coals, and then basted with a mixture of the Tabasco sauce from tiny bottles in the M.R.E.s and salt and pepper from the remaining condiment packs. The fruit was tart and refreshing and Pat thought she had never had such an interesting breakfast.
After breakfast, she slipped her tee shirt on to help protect her a bit from the mosquitoes that seemed much less in evidence in the cool air and daylight, and followed Brian into the swamps. He had emptied the duffle bag of his belongings and stuffed the plastic bottles inside it. The two straps affixed to the outside of the duffel bag enabled him to carry it like a backpack, and they soon arrived at a much larger dry spot a couple of hundred yards wide and perhaps a quarter of a mile long. There were giant water oaks in a grove at the center, and there was evidence of deer, rabbit, opossum, squirrel, and what could have been fox tracks. There was an artesian spring surrounded by moss near the north end of the huge hummock, and the water was clear and cold. Brian knelt and drank straight from the spring, the taste of the water clean and good. Pat knelt beside him and took one of the bottles from the green duffel bag, filling it first and drinking from it. Water had never tasted so good.
“It’s gorgeous Brian,” Pat said, “couldn’t we stay here and wait instead of on our little hummock? It was much less crowded, and there was fresh water and trees…
Brian grinned. “Yeah, we can,” he said, “I thought it was too far away but I was disoriented�
�we’re almost as close as we were at the other spot.” He pointed.”If you look through those trees right there you can just see the tip of the tail section.” Pat moved closer to him to try to follow his point and found that she was so close she could see the details of his long eyelashes. The eyes beneath the lashes were an odd hazel that seemed to change with the light, and Pat was suddenly lost in their depths.
They stood, face to face in the depths of the Okefenokee, neither of them able to speak. In that moment, Pat knew she would never be able to explain the way she felt about this man to anyone…she wasn’t sure she understood it herself. Whatever it was, it was earth moving, and it shattered her conceptions of fidelity, of honor, and even of pride. Nothing on earth was going to stop her from reaching out for this moment in time. At this instant, he was hers and hers alone. Her hand trembled as she reached out for his face and drew him to hers. His lips were full and soft, mating with hers in a ritual as old as man himself.
She felt the ineffable sweetness of him as he trembled against her, not with fear or intimidation, but with desire restrained by his own sense of honor. It would not save him this time. Pat drew his hands to her exposed belly, and started them on their journey up beneath her tee shirt. She wriggled as they explored her body, soft, but demanding. When she was sure he was committed to what she desired more than anything else in the world at this moment in time, she began an exploration of her own. Her hands, remembering his hardness from the night before, returned to his heat, his manhood straining towards her grasp. Somehow their clothes were gone and it was just the two of them, reclining on the incredible softness of the green moss surrounding the spring. She opened herself to him, guiding him with soft whimpers of approval and hurried movements of her delicate hands until he began to fill her. His entry was excruciatingly slow, her eyes widening as the passion built in both of them.