Gayle Sloan watched her husband until he was out of sight in the trees and heaved a sigh of relief. She was glad that Andy was coming out of his terrible depression; his renewed interest in her, as well as his present headlong pursuit of Joan Wright, was a healthy sign that he was recovering from the devastating blow to his ego when he had been replaced by Buzz Henson as leader of this small band of aviation castaways.
She knew that Buzz was working in the plane; she had noted, after he had changed jeans, that he had gone inside the plane carrying a small kit of tools. She had expected him to go back up on the ridge, but the look of agitation on his face as he had busied himself around the crushed hulk had indicated that his present task was more important than keeping the sky-watch; additionally, of course, there were the three signal fires that had been laid out first, in the middle of the small, natural meadow where they had come down. These fires were to be lit, anyway, at the first sight or sound of any aircraft in the skies around them.
Rising, she looked through her baggage until she found a simple cotton dress. Swiftly, she stripped nude, spent a few moments in freshening up, applying a dab of make-up and running a brush, hastily through her lush chestnut hair. Satisfied with her hasty preparations, she put on the dress, buttoned the buttons down the front, prudently, leaving the two top buttons unfastened. She looked down at her body to see the effect and smiled to herself as she observed the deep cleft of her full-mounding breasts, her hands going to them to smooth and massage, the nipples coming erect against the light material of her dress; then her hands moved down over the svelte curves of her hips, molding the dress to her figure.
Without hesitation, Gayle walked across the clearing to the hulk of the airplane. She found Buzz seated in the passenger's seat just behind the pilot's seat; he had the plane's transmitter partially disassembled, parts and tools were lying on the opposite seat. He looked up as she approached the shattered door that barely hung from the opening. His face was grim.
"Oh… hello, Mrs. Sloan…" he greeted her, glumly.
"Why so down at the mouth… Buzz? Are you worried…?"
"Yes… quite frankly, I am," he answered. "I thought I'd try to get this transmitter going… to see if I can get us out of here…! It's getting too dangerous!"
She shivered. "I should say… bears and mountain lions… who knows what else…!"
"That's enough…!"
Peering inside, she noted that he had removed the two rear passenger seats and had spread a worn sleeping bag on the floor. This, she decided was where he had been sleeping, and she found herself wishing she had known it sooner; however, her husband's funky mood and avowed dislike for Buzz, had served to keep her from becoming better acquainted with the young pilot. When Andy's interest in Joan had prompted him to follow her, she knew that everything was back to normal.
"Can I watch…?" she asked. "I know I'd be no help to you… but I'll promise to stay out of your way…"
"Sure…! Be my guest…!"
Gayle held up her hands to him for help in getting in; he put the transmitter chassis aside, rose from his seat and came to the door. Grasping her hands, he hoisted her easily up to him, her dress hiking up to reveal bare legs almost to her hips; the view was not wasted on him, the startlingly white columns of her tapering thighs excited him with their perfect loveliness. When she stood before him, he looked down the valley of her magnificent breasts and knew instantly that they too were equally unfettered. He stooped to move the parts and tools from the seat opposite him to the co-pilot's seat. Wordlessly, he indicated that she could sit.
"Thank you…" she murmured as she sat down, crossing her legs carefully, an expanse of white thigh showing, provocatively below the hem of her dress.
Buzz picked up the transmitter, again, and studied it.
"I've worked this thing over pretty carefully, but I haven't been able to locate the trouble, yet… It'd help if I had some test equipment… but…" He shrugged. "Out here…!"
Seemingly impulsive, yet studiedly provocative, Gayle leaned toward him with warm interest, her voice low: "Buzz… we will get out… won't we?"
"Of course…!"
Her hand reached out to touch his knee. The electric, highly erotic shock, struck at his groin.
"I couldn't talk to you… before… My husband was somewhat peeved… with you…"
"Peeved is a mild description… He hates my guts!" Buzz supplied.
"Well… yes, but I've wanted to tell you… even though I love my husband, dearly… I think you were right…!" Her hand moved on his knee, lightly, searing him with its warmth.
Leaning over, Buzz deposited the transmitter chassis on the pilot's seat; as he half-rose to do so, her hand did not move, but his twisting, rising motion brushed her hand up his thigh. She saw the bulge in his pants and her hand swept upward, feather-touching him. His penis throbbed once as she touched him, then he sat back down. She withdrew her hand, quickly. His face was tinged with pink. He faced her.
"Do you always play games…?" he asked her.
"I love them!"
"Swinging games…?"
"… And perform and do…!"
"Both of you?" he queried.
"Yes!"
"Is that why he went stalking Joan a while ago…?"
"Yes…! He saw you and Joan… on the ridge, this afternoon…!" she smiled.
"… And you're… stalking me…?" He raised his eyebrows.
"Do you object…?" she countered.
"Hell no!" he assured her. "I just wanted to know the ground rules…"
He reached out to the remaining buttons, still fastened, of her dress and dexterously undid them, liberating the full, round orbs of her satin-smooth breasts to his gaze and touch. He cupped them in his hands, kneading and massaging their magnificent fleshy firmness and rolling the hardening nipples between his fingers.
Gayle came off her seat, sinking to her knees between his legs, her face upturned for his kiss. His mouth came down on her lips, hard, his tongue stabbing into her throat, and she sucked and nipped at it, as it explored her mouth.
His hands were busy. He pulled the dress down off her shoulders, she helping, shrugging the garment from her until she was nude from the waist up, the cooling air of late afternoon washing over her and she shivered with the delightful sensations.
Now, her hands were equally, busily employed. She reached, found, zipped, his fly coming open; then, her hand dipped, found and liberated, bringing his hardened cock out to feel and fondle. She gasped against his voracious mouth, unbelieving, as she felt the girth and length of the rounded rod of near steel she caressed. Her hands caused it to throb to greater hardness as her slim fingers explored, her nails gently scratching up and down its length; then a hand reached to cup his testicles and she used her nails, again, to titillate and taunt. It was his turn to gasp, and his prick jerked, involuntarily, expanding and growing rock-hard in her light-fingered grasp. Suddenly, she squeezed hard, using both hands, and began to twist and wring, her hands going in opposite directions as though she were wringing water from a rinsed garment. The excruciating, erotic sensations swarming through his member brought yet another short, sharp intake of breath and a moan was wrung from deep in his throat. He broke the kiss and rose suddenly to his feet.
Gayle had to release his cock as he stood to his feet, but she quickly recovered it, her mouth following her hands. She milked back the loose fold of the foreskin to reveal the red, blood-engorged head, her lips sought it to kiss and lave, her tongue working, savoring and teasing, while, above her, Buzz stripped off his shirt and undershirt, flinging them into the pilot's seat beside him. He looked down to see her pink tongue licking him almost as a cat licks its fur.
"Suck it!" he breathed, and her lips quickly encircled the smooth, rubbery head, her tongue beginning to run in circles around the raised ridges, then flattening to suck like a nursing infant; finally the sinuous tip of her teasing lingual member tried to enter the slit in the crown of the gently throbbing head. Buzz' hips moved gently, undulating back and forth, and she began to absorb more and more of him, her lips sliding down, down, over him, until more than half of his throbbing penis had been wetly sheathed in the warm wet confines of her working mouth and throat; the delicious sensations cascading over him were wild in the extreme, and, God! He had to have this wild little bitch… drive his cock into her squirming pussy… now!
"God! That's enough!" he groaned, reaching down to hoist her up to him, she reluctantly forced to release his cock from her avid mouth. Quickly, he stripped the dress down over her hips, tossing it carelessly onto the sleeping bag, his arms encircling her lush, full hips, fingers digging into the twin, globoid buttocks, smooth and fully rounding under his salacious hands. Pulling her hard into him, he slipped his hardened rod between her legs into the soft curls of pubic hair lining her cunt-slit and moved it there, feeling the smooth, lubricious moistness and the palpitating warmth she generated. The spiky hardness of her nipples thrust into his chest as her arms went around him, her hands smoothing across the muscularity of his broad back, then dropping to the waistband, trying to slide her hands down over his trim, flat buttocks. Now, her hands were busy as she unbuckled and shoved his jeans down to entangle his legs about the knees, her hands returning to slide down the waist band of his shorts to grasp his slim buttocks to pull in hard until their pubes were in contact and the head of his cock nestled solidly all the way between her legs and back against the tiny, tight aperture of her anus.
"You want it… don't you?" he rasped through a dry throat. "You want me… to fuck you…?"
"Oh, God… yes! I've got to have that wonderful cock!" she groaned. "Fuck me… quick…! Before I go out of my mind!"
He released her and she stumbled to the sleeping bag on the floor, lowering herself to it to lie on her back, her hands going to her breasts to smooth and fondle, then sliding down over the firm whiteness of her belly and thighs; meanwhile, Buzz flung off his jeans and shorts to stand completely nude, his hardened sex rod standing out at an acute angle. Her eyes locked on it with a lewd smile of anticipation.
"I don't believe it…!" she gasped.
"You will… when you get it in you!" he grinned in anticipation.
Gayle held up her arms, invitingly, to him, and Buzz lowered himself down on top of her. The moment his flesh touched her she shivered with sensual delight, her limbs trembling with delicious anticipation, and he gritted out between his teeth: "I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk! You cheating little bitch!"
"Please… lover! That's the way I want it… wild and hard!"
Their mouths locked, tongues probed and savored and she rubbed her undulant body against him, her hands reaching down to between them, stroking his hard cock as it throbbed and jerked in her hand.
His mouth left her lips and moved on, voraciously, down over her neck and shoulders to the magnificent hemispheres of her smooth, milk-white breasts, their coral nipples hard and erect where he sucked and nipped, bringing gasps of mixed pleasure and pain from her lips; then his mouth moved down and away, and he slid down over her body, his hands replacing his mouth on the full mounded orbs, kneading and massaging, his strong-fingered digging bringing her a mass of electric, erotic, sensations. Now his lips were on her ribs, below the breasts, on down to her firm, flat belly, his tongue teasing and exploring her navel, briefly, then moving away, following the line of down, straight down, until they came to the triangle of reddish hair mounding there. He slid his hands under her smooth buttocks and lifted them to him, his tongue reaching out, now, to explore the inner softness of her thighs, her loins a veritable whirlpool of rapturous expectation as she anticipated the exquisite sensation of his tongue on and in her searing cunt.
… And, suddenly, his tongue shot into her, darting snake-like into the liquid depths of her vaginal opening, sending a sharp, shivering spasm of uncontrolled delight up her spine to meld into her fiery loins with the fury of a desert lightning storm.
"OOooh! Wonderful…! Magnificent!" she moaned.
He licked and sucked, drawing her clitoris up into his mouth, it coming to full erectness under his sensuously searching tongue. Gayle wanted him inside her; she wanted his huge cock drubbing into her, turning her cunt inside out… destroying her with its massive power… subduing and subjugating her… and she wanted it, now… with all her being. She pulled at his hair, her eyes closed, the ecstasy of the moment overpowering her.
"Put it in! Oh, God… put that big cock of yours in my fucking cunt… and fuck me! Fuck me… to death with it!"
She felt as if she were nothing but cunt, throbbing and aching for fulfillment. Nothing mattered but sex… cock and cunt! There was only the lovely, whirling, exultantly exhilarating sensations of her vibrant, pulsating vagina. She was cunt; he was cock; and that's all that existed.
His lean body slithered up her, wedging her thighs wide apart. She was wet, flowered wide open to his entrance. Her cunt was like a moist, yawning cavern ready to be stuffed to overflowing with cock and more cock.
Smoothly, he came into her, the great hardened rod bursting through the resilient, moist portal, suddenly, shatteringly, spreading the coraline walls as it raced ahead, plunging far up to the seat of her being, flicking past her uterus to crash against the back wall of her warm, moist vaginal passage, bringing her instantaneous pleasure-pain and she screamed a long scream of sensual ecstasy, her mouth open, eyes glazed, thighs quivering as she received him to the fullest, his pubic bone smacking loudly, painfully into hers; below, his balls swung up hard to smack into the smoothly rounded protuberances of her anal crevice. He began to move it in her, in and out, back and forth, never stopping, always probing, to the sides, up and down, farther, ever farther into her, pressing her downward, pinning her to the sleeping bag, the great cock skewering her, screwing and fucking into her cunt like a demon from the underworld released upon the earth to feed and gorge upon her.
She pinned back her thighs, mashing them to her breasts, exposing the feast-set table of her loins to the feeding monster of his foraging cock. Her buttocks wriggled, undulantly, moving in counterpoint to him; together they composed a great fugue with one central blazing theme as they moved closer and closer to the final smashing stretto.
Her loins blazed, the flames obliterating all thought, except those of joyous rapture, and she was aware of only the wet, noisy coupling below. She was, vaguely, aware of his hands, running over her like licking flames over a hearth-log, of his lips on her mouth, his tongue in her throat then on her breasts, sucking and biting… biting until tiny rivulets of blood sprang from the coraline nipples, the masochistic pleasure of it heightening the overall soaring ecstasy in her heat-seared cunt and his body covered her, the hot friction of him delicious as he swarmed against her, his lean young body straining and laboring to bury his huge prick in her to the very hilt on every downward plunging thrust.
They both heard it… the far-away throb of powerful airplane engines! Rescue… release from their entrapment in the Lion's Paw Mountains was there, flying overhead, but neither paid attention… nor did they care. Nothing mattered but this flaming, soul destroying passion that caught them up in a boiling cauldron, melding their flesh, blending it into one flaming rapture of imminent release. He filled her, filled her and fulfilled her, completely, as though his cock was a missing piece of herself, and she wished that she could go on and on, forever and even with his wonderful prick in her. If she could have that one thing, she would be happy for the rest of her days, wanting nothing… needing nothing else in this world. Someone else would have to light the signal fires!
She gasped, words coming out, almost incoherently, as she panted, reaching out for her orgasm… the sweet release from the agony of her searing, sensate cunt.
"Screw me… Buzz! Fuck me forever and ever! Oh! OOh! That's wonderful… beautiful! All the way… Buzz! Shove it in… hard! Deep! That's it! OOOoooh! I'm just about ready… to cum…! Oh! I am… I'm cuuuummmiiinnngggg! AAAAAaaaaaAAAAaaaaggggghhhh!"
Gayle writhed and panted her release under him. She heard his wailing breath. He was going to cum right behind her. His cock was a punishing cudgel as it rampaged in and out of her, relentlessly, making her tingle through her whole body, from the tips of her toes to the back of her skull. Suddenly, his hurtling body stiffened with one final, slamming plunge into the viscid moistness of her cunt and he was spewing his sperm far, far up into her, his cock jetting and pumping wildly while delicious sensations of relaxing euphoria swept over him. He grunted with satisfaction as his prick continued to spasm for a few moments; then, he dropped his full weight on her, collapsing, after that final, frantic effort.
It was a dream, a heavenly vision… to have such exquisite happiness… to have it reside in your own body… to be able to share it with another person, and Gayle reflected on how unbelievably glorious it wax to thus enjoy sex to its fullest.
How wonderful – she thought – we're the King and Queen of Sex, for this moment… for this space in time; we reign supreme… the Queen of Cunt and the King of Cock!
They were quiet for the space of several moments. Experimentally, Gayle contracted the muscles of her vagina, squeezing the length of him with an exquisite, sensuous sensation.
He moaned: "Great! That's great! Do it again!"
She did, and he became hard and ready, again.
"Do you want me to fuck you, again… little girl?"
"Oh, God… yes! Don't stop! Don't ever stop!" she gasped.
… And, together, they began to explore each other's bodies, to learn, to know, giving and taking, their pleasure coming in waves of sensation to their tinglingly sensual beings.
Jim Wright watched Gayle Sloan as she walked to the crashed airplane, was aware of the murmur of voices as she talked to Buzz Henson. He was feeling much better, as a matter of fact, he was feeling better than he was letting Joan know. Surreptitiously, he had been sitting up, even standing up a little, exercising to regain muscle tone, knowing that he still had a job to do and must do it soon. He didn't like to deceive Joan; he would have willingly told her all, but he had been pledged to absolute secrecy in the matter. Now, he realized that this was the first time, since he had been fully conscious, that the Sloan's shelter was completely unoccupied. This was his chance!
Rising to his feet, he stretched, finding that he was a little weak; his head hurt, but the codeine tablets was keeping the pain under control. Perhaps, tomorrow, he would try to dispense with taking them as often, then the following day, try to cut them out all together. Under no circumstances, did he want to become in any way dependent upon them.
Quietly, he moved across the grassy space between his shelter and the Sloan's, keeping a wary eye and his ear cocked for the approach of anyone. Carefully, he searched through the various items of luggage belonging to Andy Sloan, his boss. Finally, he found it, a bulky waterproof package; he opened it only enough to reveal the contents to his disbelieving eyes. Roughly, he estimated the amount at between forty and fifty thousand dollars. Whistling softly to himself, he re-wrapped the package precisely as he had found it, placed all the other items of clothing back on top and walked back to his own shelter, sitting down to think through what he must do.
There has to be a reason! A man like Andy doesn't take chances like this… with his career and reputation… unless there's a pretty strong motive. God! I wouldn't have thought he would do something like that!
He remembered the day almost two months before when he had been summoned to the private office of Mr. Kitchen. Frank Winfield Kitchen, one of the senior partners in the firm. As he entered the sumptuous office he found Henry Knox Wilson, the other third of the company, present; however, Andy Sloan was not there. He was in Los Angeles for the day, attending to some company business. After some small talk, the solution to a minor problem was solved for Jim, and he prepared to leave, assuming that his business with the two architects was completed. Frank Kitchen stabbed him with an arresting look from his ice-blue eyes beneath white shaggy eyebrows. His craggy face was grim.
"Jimmy… Hank… that is, Mr. Wilson and I have a problem we want you to help solve!" he said, bluntly.
"Of course, Sir… if I'm able…" Jim began.
"It's not concerned with architecture!" Henry Wilson added.
"I'm afraid I don't understand…"
Frank Kitchen continued: "We think we can trust you! We're going to lay the cards on the table… then you can make the decision, for yourself, whether you want to play… or not!"
The two men told him they were suspicious of Andy Sloan. There were funds unaccounted for, everybody had been checked out, and everything pointed to Andy. They wanted him to cultivate Sloan, try to find out what he was doing with the money, report to them what he found out; they would handle it from there. It was only a matter of time before the accountants would begin to ask embarrassing questions. They wanted to be ready for that day. Would Jim help them? He made the decision on the spot and was pledged to absolute secrecy.
Thus it was that Jim began to be included in golf dates with Andy… invited to his home for cocktails and dinners, and finally, was invited on this camping and fishing trip to northern Montana. The suggestion that they swap wives was surprising and monstrous to him, but he agreed to it, reluctantly, knowing that he would never go through with it. Before, that time ever arrived, he hoped to have definite proof of the man's perfidy. Of course, he had not had told Joan any of this; he had to be constantly on the alert not to say anything to her that would reveal any of the situation to her.
The rending crash of the airplane in this wilderness had left him injured and unable to function, until now. The slight concussion, with its debilitating pain, had put him out of circulation for two or was it three days… he couldn't remember exactly. Events had swirled around him, dimly, and he had been aware of very little until this afternoon.
He wondered where Joan could be. Buzz and Gayle were in the plane. Andy and Joan were unaccounted for, and he felt some irritation and a foreboding; he was uneasy.
I just hope to hell that Andy hasn't tried to take advantage of Joan, somehow! He's a real lecher… if I ever saw one…!
Suddenly, the sound of airplane engines throbbed down from the sky. He stood to his feet and surveyed the blue. Nothing! Looking toward the wrecked plane, he expected Buzz and Gayle to come out excitedly to help him light the signal fires. When there was no stir in the crashed hulk, he reached into his pocket for cigarette lighter, flicked it to make sure it worked and began walking toward the three piles of brush Buzz had stacked in the middle of the glade. Glancing back over his shoulder, he still saw no activity in the plane on the part of Buzz and Gayle.
What a hell of a time to be having a party!
Jim knew he should be running to get to the signal fires, but he still felt weak; it was frustrating. He called over his shoulder.
"Buzz! Buzz! There's a plane! A plane in the sky!"
It seemed to him forever, that long walk across the glade, but he made it! Swiftly, he knelt to light the tinder, going to each of the three piles of brush; soon, he stepped back to watch them burn, giving off three columns of smoke, an international distress signal. Anxiously, he scanned the sky, trying to spot the plane whose engines still rumbled down to him.
Probably a military transport… older piston job! But, flying pretty high!
Joan had entered the stream, again, to bathe. Somehow, she felt she must… to wash away some of the shame, if not from her soul, at least, from her body.
Andy had watched her as she dressed. She was silent, uncommunicative. When she was finished dressing, she simply walked away up the stream, heading back to camp.
"Hey! Wait up! I'll walk with you…" Andy called.
She turned. "I'd prefer to go back… alone… Mr. Sloan!"
"Oh, so it's Mater Sloan… now? That's mighty uppity from a little bitch whose just had the shit fucked out of her by her husband's boss," he sneered.
"Yes!" she grimaced at his lewd remark. "And it will remain that way!"
He arose and walked toward her.
"Don't come near me!" she warned.
They both heard it! The sound of airplane engines.
Joan's mouth was wreathed in an instant smile.
"Thank God! It's an airplane!"
Swiftly, she turned and ran toward the signal fires. As she burst from the trees into the glade, she saw that the fires had been lit, and a man stood near them gazing skyward. She couldn't believe her eyes.
It's Jimmy! Jimmy lit the fires…! But, where is Buzz?
She ran!
Breathlessly, she called: "Jim! Oh, Jim! You're up…!"
Suddenly, she was in his arms, her heart pounding.
"You lit the fires…?"
"Of course…!"
"But where's Buzz…?"
"Busy… I guess. I just happened to get here… first!"
Together, they scanned the sky. Suddenly, Joan screamed: "Look! I think I see something!" She pointed to the Southwest.
Jim looked, saw the glint of sunshine on bright metal.
"You're right Joan! There it is… but he's a long ways from here and up pretty high! The chances of his seeing us are one in a thousand!"
"Then… there's no hope…?"
"I wouldn't say that… If they see the smoke, they might make a report on it… but as high as they are… I…"
He stopped dead in mid-sentence, his eyes focused over his wife's shoulder.
"My God!" he exclaimed.
Giving Joan a slight shove, Jim ordered: "Get on the other side of the fires!"
She looked where he pointed. Andy Sloan trotted toward them across the meadow, unknowing, unaware that behind him and gaining on him was the Grizzly Bear.
Joan screamed.
Her husband shoved her, roughly, rasping out at her: "Move!"
Numbly, she obeyed.
Jim yelled: "Andy! Behind you! The bear…!"
Andy glanced over his shoulder and began to run toward them and the safety of the fires. Jim remembered the pistol tucked into the waistband of his trousers; he deployed, running to the side about thirty feet. He saw that Andy was still safe, keeping ahead of the bear. With the big pistol in his hand he estimated the distance at eighty yards; he considered it risky… out of range for a hand gun.
Suddenly, the older man tripped and fell. He was about fifty yards away. He lay stunned, gasping for breath.
Jim sat down, braced his elbows between his knees, held the revolver in a steady two-hand grip, aimed and fired, trying to place his shot in the body. The bear was hit. Suddenly, it reared to its hind feet and charged upon the fallen man, and Jim saw that he had wounded the animal in the left front leg. Now the bear presented a larger target and Jim put two more bullets into the body. The bear still charged, seemingly unbothered by his wounds, intent only upon the man on the ground.
Jim's next shot blended with the high, heavy report of a high-powered rifle in the hands of Buzz Henson. The bear crashed to the ground a bare five feet from Andy Sloan.
Dumbly, he looked from the bear, quivering and dying to where Jim Wright sat and was finally aware of Buzz Henson when he arrived, breathless, to finish the bear with a shot in the head. Jim walked over to the carcass. He was still trembling from the excitement.
Andy arose from the ground. He looked at the two men and said: "Jim… Buzz… words fail me… I-I can only say… thanks…"
"Just lucky…!" Jim said.
"I was betting on you… until you fell," Buzz added, jokingly.
The three men examined the dead bear. It was a young boar.
"Well… we sure as hell won't starve, now!" Buzz said. "We'll have bear steaks for dinner!"
Gayle had now joined Joan. The two women started toward the group of men, but Buzz warned them back.
"It's not a very pretty sight!" he told them.
True to his word, Buzz brought steaks from the bear for the evening meal, but somehow, it was only he and Gayle who ate, ravenously, of them. Andy tried it, but didn't like the flavor. Jim ate a small portion, but Joan could only bring herself to taste it. She found it strong… and definitely male!