12 comments/ 60883 views/ 19 favorites Look Ma, No Hands! By: markyoni It hadn't been the worse day I'd ever had at the hospital but it was close. And now, like a last minute reprieve from the governor, the fresh clean air of the forest was overwhelming my senses. Maybe I should explain. I'm a pediatric nurse, big hospital, well, okay, a medium sized hospital in the Pacific Northwest. Single, in my late thirties and when everything goes to hell in a handbag I go camping. Or, at least in this case on a Friday afternoon, walking in the forest since I had left all my camping gear at home. It was about two o'clock in the afternoon when I parked my car in the small, blacktop covered parking lot at the end of the one-lane, seven mile road that led up the mountain to the Ross Creek Cedars wilderness area in Northwest Montana. I'd heard about it from a friend and decided that, since it was only a couple hours away, I'd go exploring. It was early in the season so I guess I didn't expect the place to be crawling with visitors but I was surprised to see that I was the only one there. Oh, well, the trails were well marked and I was wearing a good pair of hiking shoes, jeans and a sweatshirt so I just started walking. Deep breaths. Clean air, crystal clean air. Total silence. Only the rustling of the leaves in the wind, sunlight randomly flashing down through the tops of the 100 year old cedar trees. Water everywhere. The spring run off, streams gurgling, bubbling, carrying all the cares of the world away. Washing it clean. "Just keep walking, Cat, just keep walking...this is so beautiful, so peaceful, so perfect," I whispered to myself as I moved silently through the forest. Four hours later I was completely lost and crying my eyes out. And it was starting to get dark. I'd seen a deer deep in the forest and decided to go exploring, hoping to see it again. Just a little bit off the trail system. Only a little ways. Until I looked back and couldn't see the trail anywhere. No problem. I knew what general direction I was walking. And walking. And walking. Jumping over small streams, ducking under the bushes, ignoring all the bells and whistles ringing inside my head, screaming "danger, Will Robinson, danger, turn back..." And now it was too late. My hands were covered with blisters, stinging, burning, driving me insane. I was obviously having an allergic reaction to something I'd touched and all I could do was keep them buried in the cold, bubbling water in the creek directly in front of me as I squatted there, like some insane catcher in a baseball game without a pitcher, and cried. And thought about bears. Big bears, hungry bears, black bears, bears with teeth, razor sharp and pointed, just waking up, looking for their first meal. A few berries and a nurse. Suddenly I heard it. A loud crashing noise deep in the forest behind me. I couldn't breathe I was so frightened. I knew I couldn't outrun a bear and, without the use of my hands, I couldn't climb a tree. So I just froze, completely immobilized by panic. More crashes, thundering, like an elephant smashing through the forest, demolishing it, knocking over trees, crushing streams, devouring everything in it's path as it moved straight towards me. I was it's prey. I knew I was going to die, ripped slowly apart, sharp teeth driving themselves between my ribs, crushing them, tearing my flesh from my bones, as I thrashed helplessly underneath it's jaws, dripping with blood. When I felt the first cold hard lick from it's tongue against the side of my face I closed my eyes, screamed so loud that the forest actually told me to shut-up, lost my balance and flopped over backwards into the mud. The second, third and fourth licks weren't so bad. And, by the time I realized that two tongues were licking me instead of one, I decided to open my eyes and see exactly what sort of fearsome creatures would tease their prey so mercilessly before they tore it apart. Newfies. Two big black Newfoundlands. Puppies almost. Only a year or so old. With sloppy warm tongues. So that was my fate. I was about to be eaten by dogs, two of the cutest dogs in the world who were wagging their tails furiously as they kept licking my face. Well, I guess if you have to die in the forest this was probably a pretty innocuous way to go. "Hey, where did you guys come from?" I giggled, as all the blood in my body rushed back down from my head and I started to push myself up off out of the mud. "You're so cute, stop licking my face. Oh, owww, I can't get up, damn it, I was so scared that I forgot about my hands." "Here, let me help you. I'm so sorry, I hope they didn't frighten you. They're just puppies. Are you alright?" I'd never heard a voice so beautiful, serene, almost hypnotizing. Deep, masculine, almost singing to me. I assumed I was hallucinating until I turned my head and looked up and back over my shoulder. Even upside down he was stunning. Incredible legs, covered only with a pair of loose fitting, nylon running shorts, tall, at least six and a half feet tall, muscular, wearing a white T-shirt. Sweating, sweating profusely. Him, not me. Although I could feel my skin tingling and I was starting to get a little wet. But it definitely wasn't sweat. "Hizdawg, Idunno, BACK!" he said sternly as he started moving towards me. Both dogs immediately backed up and sat down in the mud. "I'm Mark. I was running through the forest behind the dogs, suddenly they bolted off the trail, then I heard a scream, your scream apparently and well...ummmm, oh, poison oak, huh? It's brutal this time of year. That's pretty bad. C'mon, I need to take care of those hands. I bet the itching is driving you insane. I've been there. And laying in the mud on your back probably doesn't feel much better." He moved over above my head and reached down, obviously intending to put his hands behind my shoulders and pick me back up. On the surface this seemed like a simple enough task. However, I complicated things just a bit when I swallowed my tongue and lost complete control of my legs. Because as I was laying there between his feet I just happened to look up, directly up the legs of his shorts. His very loose shorts. I'd grown up on a farm. I'd seen stallions two seconds before they were about to mount a mare, completely and totally erect, throbbing, snorting, horses, horses who would blush and cower away in shame if they saw what I was looking at. I felt two things almost immediately. His hands on my back and a small series of very rapid explosions deep within my clitoris. Then I immediately forgot where I was. Until the pain in my hands reminded me. "My hands sting. Really really sting. They felt better when they were in the water..." I whispered softly, as I finally regained control of my legs and found myself standing in front of him. Mud dripping off the back of my sweatshirt. Then I glanced down and noticed my nipples. They were sticking straight out against the fabric of my sweatshirt. Reaching out towards him. Two hard little marbles bent on telling the world exactly how I felt, exposing my most secret thoughts, shouting "she's horny and aroused, she's horny and aroused" way way too loud. It always happens, doesn't it? Everytime you decide not to wear a bra you find yourself lost in the forest being rescued by some incredibly good looking hunk of a guy who immediately gets you so hot and bothered that your nipples get hard and erect and wildly sensitive. Wildly sensitive. Really really sensitive. "I'm sure they do sting," he said, trying not to stare down at my nipples as they tore their way through the front of my sweatshirt like two little convicts attempting to escape. "Maybe this will help until I get you back to my cabin." "He has a cabin? And he's taking me to it?" I almost shouted out as I watched him slip his T-shirt over his head and then reach down and dip it in the stream beside us. Screw the nipples. They were the least of my problems. Now my clit was trying to escape. Bursting out from under the little hood that protects it and climbing furiously up the lips of my vagina like an army ranger scaling a sticky, slippery cliff. This man standing in front of me looked like one of those guys in an exercise video for those stomach cruncher upper machines. Cut, buff, muscles rippling in all the right places. I felt like I wanted to lean over and just start biting him. Or at least licking him. Or at least hoping he'd start to lick me. The back of my neck was getting hot. No small trick since it was covered with mud. The muscles in my thighs were quivering and it felt like somebody had turned on a faucet down between my legs. I immediately started singing Paula Cole's Feelin' Love to myself..."you make me feel like the Amazon's running between my thiiii-iiighss." "What did you say?" he said softly as he began to wrap the cold, wet fabric around my hands. Apparently I had been singing a little louder than I thought. "I love that song. Incredibly sensual. Just like you," he said with a smile as he stared at my mouth, half open with lust. Pure lust. Suddenly realizing that my hands were useless I started to imagine my tongue, five feet long, reaching out, touching him, caressing him, wrapping it around his hips, pulling him into my mouth. Eating him. Devouring him. Then it occurred to me that I should probably be scared. Afterall, I was alone. Defenseless. Vulnerable. And I was standing in the middle of a forest with a man I didn't know. A man who was obviously starting to get an incredible erection. My nipples were on fire and smoke was billowing out through the two little holes they had dug in the front of my T-shirt. By now my clitoris had managed to crawl down my leg, slide out the bottom of my jeans and was jumping up and down behind him screaming, "touch me, touch me" while I was staring straight down at his cock, straining against the thin nylon fabric covering it. "I'm so sorry, that's incredibly inappropriate but you're really a very attractive woman. Even covered with mud. And I can't help it. But don't worry, you're perfectly safe with me. You know, I don't even know your name. I'm Mark. C'mon, my cabin's about a five minute walk away and that wet T-shirt will only numb your hands for a little bit," he said as he turned and started to walk through the forest. "I'm Cat, at least that's what all my friends call me," I gasped, as I smiled because walking behind him and staring at the back of his hips was as much fun as staring at the front of his hips. I've always loved men's butts and this guy had an incredible butt. Suddenly I realized how nervous and aroused and confused I was and just started chattering, stuttering and babbling, bleating out my entire life story, or at least as much of it as I could remember, while we hurried through the forest. "I'm a na-nurse a friend told me about this place and and I drove up here and and nobody was around but I figured that was okay so I st-started to walk down the trails and this whole place the is just incredibly beautiful I've never seen a forest so wonderful and clean and fresh and beautiful and then after awhile I saw a deer and I'm single and I decided I wanted to follow it and so I followed it and I'm not dating anybody there really aren't any men in my life and so suddenly I was just walking through trees and bushes and jumping over streams and then I touched all this green stuff with my hands and then I ended up here or actually back there now squatting down by the stream crying my hands stinging it was getting dark and I'm so glad you showed up I don't know what I would have done I knew I couldn't get back to my car because it was getting dark and I'd trip and fall or something and and then I started thinking about bears and getting scared really really scared and then I heard these noises behind me something crashing through the forest and I panicked and fell over in the mud but it was only the dogs what are their names Hizdawg and Idunno that's cute and and then I screamed and I live alone but I've always wanted to be married and suddenly the dogs actually the puppies were licking my face and I was laying in the mud and I couldn't use my hands to get up because they hurt so bad and then you showed up and you're gorgeous and so I wasn't scared but now I am a little because I don't know what's going to happen and I can't use my hands and so I'm sort of defenseless and I'm going to have to stay somewhere I don't know where all alone with you all night here in the forest together and I guess well I think I mean well I trust you but I don't know you but I trust you I think and now I guess where are we going do you live here or something and have a cabin I thought this was a wilderness area and nobody could live in it and your dogs are so cute Newfies are my favorite dog my dog died a few years ago and I have to jackhammer up my backyard before I get another one so what were you doing running or something just exercising when you found me..." By the time I finished talking we were moving through a slight clearing in the forest towards a postcard. What I was looking at couldn't possibly be real. It was too perfect. An immaculately beautiful little tiny log cabin, smoke fluffing up lazily out of the chimney, everything warm and cozy and absolutely flawless. Ten seconds after I saw it I knew I wanted to live in it for the rest of my life. "Let's get you inside and take care of those hands," he said softly as he stepped behind me and started to put his hand on my back to usher me up the stairs. But he stopped suddenly, peeked around behind me and just grinned. Too much mud I suppose. I just shook my head and walked up on the porch, totally embarrassed by the way I looked, mascara probably still smudged all over my face from my tears, hair full of dirt. I couldn't open the door because my hands were still wrapped up in his wet T-shirt so I just stood there. Like an idiot. A lost, stupid, dirty, overwhelmed idiot who should have known better than to go walking in the woods alone. "You're absolutely beautiful, do you know that?" he said suddenly as he opened the door. His eyes staring straight into mine, our faces only inches apart. Yeah, I was. I knew it. I'd always known it. Sometimes, like ten seconds ago, I just forgot. But now I had another problem. I was smiling so hard that my face hurt almost as much as my hands. "Let's take the T-shirt off your hands, mmmm...does that hurt?" he asked tenderly as he began to delicately unwrap the T-shirt from my hands. I just shook my head back and forth slowly as I stared around the room. We were standing in front of an old sink in a kitchen area. Small but functional. There was a wood stove in one corner with a big log bed just a few feet away. All covered with quilts. The cabin was only about twenty feet wide and thirty feet long. Snowshoes and horseshoes and everything western and foresty and rustic you could think of just covered the place. But I could also see a bathroom through an open door. It was modern, with a toilet and what looked like a huge shower at the very end of it. Of course, the puppies had followed us inside like they owned the place. This was definitely a man's cabin. It just reeked of testosterone. Which, of course, is a very very good thing if you're a woman. Especially a woman who loves men. Especially an aroused woman who loves men. Testosterone just drives it's way into your body like a telephone pole tossed in a hurricane when you're around it, overwhelmed by it. Especially when you're standing next to someone like this and he's taking care of you. "Okay, let's get your sweatshirt off. I'm going to put a whole lot of special mud on your hands, Cat, and then wrap them in a lot of gauze and after I do, you won't be able to move your fingers, it will look like you have oven mitts on and you won't be able to take your sweatshirt off because the sleeves won't fit over your wrists. Besides, it's covered in mud," he said matter-of-factly as he reached down and put his hands on the bottom of my sweatshirt and started to lift up. "I'm not wearing a bra, Mark," I stuttered. "Yeah, I'd figured that out when your nipples almost jumped out and climbed on top of me earlier, Cat," he said with a sly grin, "but don't worry, I'm a gentleman, I'll close my eyes. Or, if it will make you feel more comfortable, you can just close your eyes. I guess, at least for tonight, my fingers will have to be your fingers." I was so stunned by what he had just said about his fingers being my fingers and so overwhelmed by all the intensely sensual implications of that marvelous predicament that I couldn't figure out what to say next. And by the time I did it was too late anyway. He had closed his eyes just like he promised and just kept lifting up my sweatshirt until I was standing there like a topless dancer at a rodeo. Then he just turned around, with his eyes still closed, and faced the sink as he said, "just move behind me and put your hands around my waist and over the sink and I'll take care of them." Apparently he'd done this before. Or else he was so good at thinking on his feet that I just realized I ought to quit resisting his suggestions and give in. So I just carefully moved around behind him, wrapped my arms awkwardly around his waist and sighed as I looked down and measured the distance between my nipples and his back. About three inches. A safe distance since I figured that, even as aroused as I was, my nipples couldn't suddenly shoot out that far. His touch felt wonderful. Soft, gentle, caring as he spread some sort of muddy gooey paste all over my fingers and hands. I've always loved having my hands massaged. And I was discovering that I loved it even more when he was doing it. Especially since, the more he touched me, the less my hands stung. After four or five minutes I was having trouble standing up because it was such a relief not to feel pain anymore so I just sort of closed my eyes and leaned forward. Oooops. Now what was I going to do. I could stand back up, ramrod straight, and make it obvious that my nipples had just been pressing in against his back or I could just ignore it, pretend that either I didn't know it was happening (yeah, right?) or that I felt perfectly comfortable doing this. "Let's see..." I whispered quietly to myself. "Do I want him to think I'm a prude or a slut. Choices, choices, choices...maybe I should flip a coin." His back felt so warm, his skin so soft against me that I just forgot about trying to find a coin and relaxed even more. Probably a little too much actually since I muttered, "hmmm, that feels so good, Mark, so good..." Then it occurred to me that he probably didn't know whether I was talking about his fingers on my hands or the slight tickling sensations I was sure he was feeling as I rocked my shoulders back and forth gently, dragging my nipples back and forth against his back. But it really didn't matter anyway because he shocked me out of my little sensual daydream by saying, "there, all done. Now let's get you out of the rest of those dirty clothes. I'm going to turn around again, Cat. Ummm, you might want to back up a few inches and close your eyes." I was still so lost in the the warm bath of sensations rushing over my body from my nipples that I actually did it. I backed up, held my arms up over my head (which, of course, made my breasts float magically up into the air) and just closed my eyes. When I suddenly felt his hands on my stomach I opened my eyes with a gasp and stared at him. He was fumbling around, trying to undo my jeans but, true to his word, his eyes were tightly closed. I just smiled at him and whispered, "there are two buttons, Mark, and a clasp. And two ropes, a couple Velcro straps, a small chain, six padlocks, a weld going right up the middle of the stainless steel chastity belt and a bear trap just at the bottom of my zipper. My Dad didn't let me date much." Look Ma, No Hands! I got an interesting bit of feedback from a reader the other day: "Great story, but you can't call it a blowjob if she uses her hands. If the hands are involved, it's called a handjob - that's cheating! Blowjobs are all mouth and nothing but the mouth..." Huh! Really? Who knew? And how come no one ever told me about this rule? I certainly didn't know about it the first time I took a cock into my mouth—I remember using my hand to keep a little control, to prevent myself from gagging on the length. It's rather scary to have a rigid press of flesh in your mouth for the first time that way, slowly turning a man you thought you knew into someone all low growl and furious drive. Of course, over time, a girl gets used to sucking cock. Some of us grow to like it... love it... even crave it. Perhaps "need" wouldn't be too strong a word, here... for some of us, anyway. Once you're used to the throb and thrust of a cock, once you've learned how it behaves in your mouth, you don't necessarily need that barrier of a hand wrapped around the base anymore. But it can still be fun... After its initial safety use, does the hand lose its utility? I mean, without the hand (and more specifically opposable thumbs) we wouldn't have much of an advantage over the animal kingdom, right? Those opposable thumbs allowed us to make tools - so why not utilize that skill to work, well... his tool? Doesn't that make sense? In fact, from what I understand, changing things up, at least near the beginning of a blowjob, is a plus. Guys seem to like the different sensations of a warm, wet mouth, the flick of a tongue, the squeeze and tug and even twist of a hand, the slap against a cheek or a breast... it's all good, right? Granted, when he gets closer to the finish line, a consistent motion serves to take him quicker to the finale, but don't guys enjoy the tease for a while before this point? Well, according to at least one reader... not so much. (Okay, yes, I'm going from a database of one, here, but if you take statistics into account--isn't there a law that says if one person sends you feedback, there are at least 100 others out there who feel the same... or something like that?) But why? What is it about a woman not using her hands during a blowjob that's so appealing to some men, then, I wonder? I can understand that the mouth feels good—better, even, than a hand. Having been on the receiving end of both in the realm of my own (albeit differently formed!) genitals, I can say that I do prefer the press of a tongue to the rub of fingers. However, I don't object to fingers, not in the least. In fact, I enjoy both of them working together down there, rubbing and licking, licking and rubbing... it's a deliciously wonderful combination. So why the objection to a hand in the realm of the cock? Isn't there a saying—two hands are better than one? So two hands and a mouth should be... nirvana! No? I admit, when I got this feedback, I was initially bewildered... befuddled... bemused... Why the rejection of the hand? The fascination with just the mouth? And then it occurred to me! (Coincidentally—or maybe not so—I had a cock in my mouth at the time, lathering it with all sorts of cock-loving attention, when the light bulb went off over my head...) Perhaps it's just that men are so used to women not liking or wanting to perform oral sex, that when they do finally get a blowjob, they want the whole mouth and nothing but the mouth. A woman using her hand seems like cheating because... well, a handjob is really little more than masturbation with someone else's hand. Am I onto something? I think I might be. As a fellatio enthusiast myself, I can't imagine not wanting to use my mouth during a blowjob, or in fact, using my hand to minimize the amount of time a cock spends in that particular orifice. I love the taste, the feel, the hard thrust and final white-hot culmination—I love it all. But what would it be like, I wondered, for a woman who didn't appreciate what I do about the cock? I tried to put myself in her place... it wasn't easy, but I managed... and suddenly, it all made sense. I could now understand how a woman who really didn't like having a cock in her mouth might use the hand to keep the beast at bay—how she might just keep up that consistent handjob motion to bring him off a little faster while she occasionally licked and sucked at the head. And, of course, she'd be able to avoid the coming-in-the-mouth issue altogether if she wasn't balls-deep when the moment arrived... Then I looked at it from another perspective. On the receiving end of oral, I definitely wouldn't appreciate a whole lot of rubbing and just an occasional lick. I could definitely see how that would feel "unfair" or like "cheating." Fortunately for me, most of the men I've been with have been oral sex enthusiasts and wouldn't think about not primarily using the tongue. Statistically, though, I think there are more men who truly enjoy cunnilingus than women who feel reciprocally the same about fellatio. Which is a shame, really. And while now I totally "get" the feedback that was sent to me about a woman "cheating" when she uses her hand -- I would like to point out that this "rule," across the board, doesn't always apply. Don't forget, some women really love sucking cock, and for those of us who do, using our hands allows us to play with our favorite toy with much more vigor and enthusiasm. Would you give a girl an ice cream cone and then tie her hands behind her back? Well, maybe that's not the best example... because that image is rather hot! But you understand what I mean, right? A woman who hates ice cream (I can't fathom that any more than I can fathom a woman not loving cock, but whatever!) will bolt that thing down as fast as possible. (And probably go throw it up later! Ugh.) But a woman who loves cock ice cream? She's going to use all her senses to enjoy the experience. Hands aren't bad, not when they're used with the best of intentions. In fact, they can be a great asset for those of us who truly enjoy orally worshipping at the Altar of Cock Ice Cream. So if you're lucky enough to find a woman who enthusiastically loves cock, let her use her hands, her mouth, her breasts, her feet, her... whatever! Because for that woman, using her hands isn't "cheating" - it's a bonus! And if you happen to be with a woman who you suspect doesn't really enjoy her time down there with the cock... then maybe you should find another woman consider asking her for something a little more reciprocal in the oral sex department? I don't blame you for feeling cheated by a woman who is more interested in getting a blowjob over with than appreciating it, who uses her hand more than her mouth to keep the experience at arms length... but please, don't punish those of us who are cock-lovers with some blanket "Look Ma, No Hands!" rule because of the slights of those out there who aren't... ----- >^,,^ ----- If you enjoyed this, remember to leave some feedback and don't forget to vote! Also, if you want to get more of me faster when you come to Lit (*grin*) don't forget to add me to your favorites! Thanks for reading, XOXO ~*~*Selena*~*~ Look Ma, No Hands! He laughed. I laughed. But something was wrong. Seriously wrong. I never make jokes. And I never make jokes with a man. And I never make jokes with sexual overtones, especially with a man who is trying to take my pants off when we'd just met and were all alone in the woods. I figured something had to be wrong to relax me this much. Or magic. That's it. I'd read Melody's Bad Day Fairy and now I'd actually found one, all for myself. But I knew it was a lot more likely that I was probably just back in my car, sitting in the parking lot, dreaming all this. I'd fallen asleep when I was putting on my hiking boots. Well, so much for that theory. The cold flash of air rushing almost directly over my vagina, my very very wet vagina as my jeans and panties slipped down over my thighs woke me up quickly. "Okay, time to think about this, Cat," I thought to myself as his hands began to untie my hiking boots and take them off. "Less than half an hour ago you were sitting by a stream, crying your eyes out, hopelessly lost and in pain because your hands were on fire. Now you're standing in a warm log cabin with an incredibly gorgeous man who is taking all your clothes off. Your hands don't hurt at all any more but now your whole body's on fire. Damn, I love camping!!!" By the time I felt him slide my panties over my bare feet I was so aroused that I was almost delirious. In fact, I probably was delirious. Because I had to go to the bathroom so bad. "Ummm, Mark, I have to use the bathroom, could you keep your eyes closed for a bit longer?" I didn't even wait for an answer since I was already standing there with my legs almost crossed. But as I was walking towards the bathroom I distinctly hear him say, "nice butt". I knew what he was doing. I was sure of it. Absolutely sure of it. He was teasing me. I was going to turn around and he was going to be standing there with his hands held theatrically over his eyes and this great big stupid grin on his face. All men were alike. But I wasn't going to fall for it. I just kept walking. "Nice birthmark, too..." I spun around like I was a top. Glared at him and instantly started shaking my head back and forth slowly. I was such an idiot. He was just standing there with his hands over his face, wearing a big grin. And an extraordinarily sexy pair of nylon running shorts. That looked like a small circus tent. "I don't have a birthmark back there," I muttered, bending my head back and glancing down just to make sure. "Hmmm, it must have just been mud then, I guess." Okay, I had a choice now. I could turn around and walk back over to him, pull down his running shorts and get even for all this by just taking a great big bite out of the end of that fabulously erect cock of his or I could just ignore him and keep walking towards the bathroom. It was four against one. My vagina, clitoris and both nipples were yelling "door number one, pick door number one, go bite him," but my bladder was telling me to keep walking. Walking won. I slid into the bathroom, pushed the door almost all the way closed with my foot, bent down and flipped on a light switch and a fan with my tongue and sat down on the toilet. Five minutes later I was still sitting there. I'd managed to flush with my elbow but it, other than that, I was stuck. "Ummm, Mark, I've ahhh, got a little problem," I bleated through the door as I stared at the toilet paper, trying furiously to make it move just with the power of my mind alone. No dice. "Ummmm, Mark, can you hear me, I'm sort of stuck...I mean...oh, crap, this is embarrassing..." I yelled a little louder towards the door. Suddenly the door opened up and I spun my head around like a deer caught in the headlights. "Oh, thank God, his eyes are still closed," I whispered to myself as I sniffed the air. And then sniffed again. All clear. "I was thinking about that as you were sitting in here, Cat, and, well, you'll have to tell me if you object but, it seems to me that the only way to solve this problem is to give you a shower. I mean you need one anyway because your hair is full of mud and you can't use your own hands and so I'll have to let you borrow mine and, umm, I mean, it's probably a better alternative, well, at least less embarrassing than, umm, you know, the one we're facing now and..." His voice just trailed off as I stared at him. He was absolutely magnificent. Tall, handsome, muscular, kind, gentle, caring, intelligent, sensitive, apparently single and loved dogs. So now I had to figure out whether I was going to let this man that I'd only known for a few minutes, run his warm soapy hands all over my body while I was completely naked, touching me in the most intimate places high up between my legs. "Okay!!" I almost screamed as I stood up and quickly stepped into the shower. "Sounds like a plan to me." Maybe I should have been a little more discreet. You know, pouted a bit, worried, put up a show about not wanting to be touched, molested, fondled, caressed, brushed up against, manipulated, licked, stroked and generally aroused by this man but I really didn't care anymore. My clitoris had crawled up my stomach, climbed over my breasts and up my neck to my head and now it was bitch-slapping my brain back and forth as I heard it scream, "shut the fuck up and let me run the show for once." "I know this is difficult for you, Cat, and embarrassing but I'll keep my eyes closed," he said as he stepped into the shower and turned on the water. I immediately put my wrists up on his shoulders and spread my legs apart. Way apart because by now I didn't care if he kept his eyes closed or not. I was already all the way through the showering part of this little erotic adventure in my mind and was now daydreaming about having this man slam me up against the back of the shower wall, driving his cock deep into my pussy as I wrapped my legs around him, growled and chewed little chunks of flesh out of the side of his neck. The warm water felt wonderful cascading over my back. He was facing me, holding one of those hand-held showers in his right hand and I was moaning softly three seconds after the water hit my shoulders, rushed across my back, over my butt and down my legs. Until I realized that I could feel the distinct massage of thumping water against my back. Apparently he had flipped the little switch that moves it from the 'gentle rain' setting to the 'grind your clit down against it hard and swallow your tongue' setting and he was heading down the middle of my back with the head of the shower. Closer and closer to my butt. Oh-oh. The only thing I could do that had any hope at all of keeping me from letting out this long low groan and pushing my hips forward against his erection was to just close my eyes. But I didn't really want to close my eyes because, standing the way I was standing with my wrists on his shoulders, it was more fun to just stare down at his now completely and rigidly erect penis. Especially since the wet nylon fabric of his running shorts was sticking to it like a second skin. Did I mention that water makes nylon almost transparent? Hmmm, well it does. It definitely does! This combination, the water and the view, was just too erotic. I started to almost immediately shift my hips around, trying to direct the spray everywhere and nowhere in particular at once. Then everything started to happen in slow motion. I watched him reach over with his left hand, still with his eyes closed, and push down on a pump on top of a bottle of body soap. Filling his hand with the smooth clean gel. Then sliding it slowly between my legs as I stopped breathing. I've never felt anything so erotic in my life. The palm of his hand rubbing back and forth over my vagina as his fingertips massaged my anus delicately, mixing the soap with the streaming, thumping, pulsating blasts of water smashing against it. After thirty seconds of this exquisite caress, I knew I was gasping and groaning even though I was trying not to. By the time I realized that I was rocking my hips back and forth so intensely that he had actually just stopped moving his hand at all, I knew I was in deep deep trouble. This man just drove me wild. He had flicked some sort of sexual switch deep inside me and now I was a ravenous animal. Searching for meat. And I could see the exact and precise piece of meat that I was searching for just in front of my belly-button. I'm not even sure what he did for the next ten minutes. I was in a trance. All I knew was that I could feel his hands all over my body, scrubbing and touching and caressing and massaging and making me all clean and new again. Even washing my hair. Suddenly it was all over. Way, way too soon. And he was trying to lead me out of the shower, across the room and over towards a huge towel hanging by the wood stove. Both of us dripping wet. But he was obviously struggling so I finally kissed him on the side of the neck and whispered, "I can't tell you how much I appreciate the fact that you're keeping your eyes closed, Mark. But it's okay. I mean, you've already felt everything there is to see, wow, have you felt it, so it's not like I've got anything to hide. I won't die of embarrassment if you open your eyes." I expected him to open his eyes. On the other hand, I hadn't counted on having him open his eyes, put his hands on my hips and back me up to the wood stove while he stared up and down the entire length of my body and whisper, "you really are the most beautiful woman in the world, Cat." By the time I felt him wrap the soft warm towel completely around me I was blushing so hard that I felt like I was on fire and my own lubrication was pumping out of me so hard I thought a dam had burst somewhere up inside me. "Just stand there for a few minutes and get warm, Cat," he said as he gave me a soft kiss on the side of the cheek and then moved back towards the bathroom. "I've got to get clean, too, I know I was sweating like a pig while I was running and I'm embarrassed to be around you. I'll be back in a minute and finish drying your hair." I watched him walk over to the bathroom and step inside. Only he didn't close the door. Then I heard the shower come back on and suddenly he was singing. His voice was incredible. Almost hypnotizing. I looked around the room, winked at the dogs and started walking, as discreetly as possible towards the bathroom door, holding the towel against my body with my arms. I knew what I was doing was wrong. After all, he'd been a perfect gentleman the whole time. But I couldn't resist. I peeked around the edge of the door slowly, gasped and immediately dropped my towel. Right on the floor by the bathroom door. Then I immediately panicked and tried to pick it up as I kept staring at the glass doors on the shower. There was soap everywhere, there was man everywhere, wonderful, erotic, long, stiff, erect man parts everywhere. Then the water went off. Now I didn't know what to do. Frantic, I stared down at the towel on the floor and then rushed over to the big log bed, slid the top quilt back with my elbows and crawled under it, pulling it up over me with my teeth. Laying there, panting, with one foot still sticking out and one eye closed, peeking at him, as he walked out of the bathroom. Completely naked. He looked down at the towel by the bathroom door and then immediately looked up at me. I felt so guilty that I quickly closed my eye as I heard him laugh slightly and say, "it's okay, Cat, I've seen you naked so it's okay if you see me naked, too, I guess. Fair's fair. Here, I'll tuck you in. How do your hands feel?" I wanted to open my eyes and look at him but, for some stupid reason, I couldn't. So I just blurted out, "what hands? Oh, those hands, my hands, well, ummm, they feel great, Mark," I gasped as I laid rigid on my back, blowing at my wet hair with short, sharp puffs as it lay in strands over my face. "You know, there are some flannel sheets under the quilts, Cat, wouldn't you be more comfortable like that. It gets pretty cold in here at night when the fire in the woodstove goes out." I just opened my eyes and stared up at him, determined not to look down at his erection, and nodded as I got up and stood by the side of the bed. Then he just pulled the quilts back until I was staring down at some warm looking flannel sheets, all covered with bear and moose. Now all women know that there's an art to getting out of sports car if a man's around. Especially if you're wearing a short skirt. Thighs together, knees together as you slide your legs out, bent just at the perfect angle. But what I was facing now was nearly impossible. How to gracefully get back into a bed in front of a man when you're naked and can't use your hands. Just jumping up like a ten year old girl and crashing down onto it didn't seem appropriate and I was aroused enough by the whole situation that I just didn't want to sit down on it softly with my legs demurely together and then, in one mystifying spin, end up on my back. So I simply sat down on the edge of the bed and dropped down onto my back, positioning my hands on the bed like I was being robbed and just laying there with my legs spread slightly apart. Staring at him. I loved it! His jaw must have dropped six feet. His eyes got big and then he gulped and, finally, recovered enough to reach down and lift my legs up, spin me around and tuck me in as I closed my eyes and just whispered, "goodnight, Mark". I've always loved to tease men. I'd read all the stories on Literotica and I knew he was going to climb into bed with me and that we were going to make mad, passionate love all night long. We had to. We were both single, beautiful, he had rescued me in a forest for God's sake and we had even showered together. Naked! Well, I was naked and he was almost naked. Unless this story was headed for the Non-Erotic category it was inevitable. We had to make love. Probably all night long. But it was still fun to play with him. Until he said, "goodnight, Cat" and headed for the couch. I just lay there for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling, before I figured it out. He was pulling my leg. He had to be, right? Right?!! But I didn't want him pulling on my leg. I wanted him pulling and caressing and stroking and massaging and stimulating everything that was between my legs. High up between my legs. Something was going horrible wrong. Oh, no! I really was in one of those stories that was going in the Non-Erotic category. This was going to be the end. I'd just lay here all night, so horny and aroused, so hot and bothered, so out of my mind with lust and desire that I'd go crazy. I had to do something. "I know, the Toys category...at least that's better than Non-Erotic. I'll lay here and masturbate," I whispered to myself desperately. "Okay, let's see, what do I need, vagina, check, aroused clit, check, whew, no problem there...lots of moisture, check, check, check, a toy of some sort, a toy, a toy, ummmm, errrr, okay forget about that for a minute, I'll just start with my fingers...ummm, errrr...oh, damn, I can't use my fingers...NOW I'LL NEVER GET TO SLEEP!!!" "Oh, I'm sorry, Cat, what did you say, I was falling asleep." Oh sure, I might be aroused and a little bit crazy with desire but I could still see perfectly well. He was laying on his back on the couch with an erection. His eyes were closed by there was no way he could be sleeping. "On the other hand, what if he can fall asleep like that?" I thought to myself as I felt a shiver rush up and down my back and explode over my clitoris. "Hmmm, a man who could keep an erection all night long while you slept on top of him. This story is definitely headed for the Erotic Couplings category if I have to drag it there, kicking and screaming, all by myself." "I can't sleep, Mark," I said with as suggestive a tone in my voice as possible. "I'm, ummm, well, a little bit, you know, on edge from all the touching in the shower and I, ummm, can't get to sleep. Normally that wouldn't be a problem because I'd just lay here and well, you know, but..." "But your fingers are useless..." he said softly as he got up and started to walk towards me. "And that's my fault and, after all, I did say that my fingers are your fingers. Okay, turn over on your right side." Now we were making some progress! Goodbye Non-Erotic category, hello wild one-on-one consensual sex!! I felt my heart beating wildly in my chest as I rolled over on my right side with my arms sticking straight out above my head. I wasn't really sure what he had in mind but I didn't care. I just knew it was better to have him laying here in bed with me than over there, laying on that stupid couch. I could feel his weight on the bed behind me as he slid under the covers with me and began to gently massage my back with his left hand. I looked back over my shoulder and could see him laying behind me with his head propped up on his right hand, elbow resting on the bed. His touch felt wonderful, caressing my back softly for a few minutes and then sliding up to my side, down my side to my hip and onto my left thigh. My skin was tingling and I was starting to take long, deep breaths. Then I gasped as I felt him slide his hand around the back of my left thigh and push it between my legs. And then lift up. Suddenly my left leg was in the air and I could feel him shifting around behind me. I almost passed out when I felt the thick shaft of his cock pressing up against my vagina. Then he just lowered my leg back down, trapping his magnificent erection high up between my thighs. Then he just calmly rolled over onto his back. Pulling me up with him until I was laying on top of him, with my back pressing down against his stomach and chest and my arms stretched out above my head, resting on some pillows. This position was so incredibly erotic that I just let out this huge, long gasp, dropped my head down against his shoulder, bent my knees and spread my legs apart until I could press down on the flannel sheet beneath us with the bottom of my feet. I could feel the top of the shaft of his completely erect penis pressing up hard against my vagina. "Okay, what do you normally do first," he said softly as he moved his arms under my shoulders and began to caress the soft, sensitive skin on my stomach with the tips of all ten of his fingers. If I hadn't have been so aroused I would have laughed because I'm sure we looked like one of those comedy acts where one guy stands behind another guy and the guy in the back does stupid things to the guy in the front with his hands. But in this case, the guy in the back definitely wasn't going to do anything stupid to the girl in the front, I mean to the girl on top. "Ummm, what you're doing right now feels good, that's good, really really good..." I whispered breathlessly as I suddenly realized what was about to happen to me. "After about two or three hours of that I...ummmm, ohhh, Mark, you're going to drive me insane..." Before I even got to finish my sentence he had slid his hands up to my breasts and was gently caressing my nipples. Holding each one between his thumbs and first fingers and massaging them tenderly. Squeezing lightly, caressing, sliding his fingers up and down against them, coaxing them to grow even harder and more erect. "Maybe it would be better if you just laid here, Cat, and let me try to read your mind," he whispered as I started to instinctively press down with my feet on the bed and slide my clit up and down directly over the beautifully smooth ridge on the head of his penis. "Okay, ookaaay, mmmmm, that feels good, Mark, that feels so good," I barely managed to grunt out breathlessly as I felt his hands slide off my breasts and down across my stomach to my pussy. Then he took the first two fingers of each hand and began gently running the tips of each fingers up and down the outer lips of my vagina as I continued to rock my hips slowly up and down against the head of his penis. Flooding my clit with stimulation as I smothered it with the hard, strong caress of his cock. Look Ma, No Hands! After five or ten minutes of this wildly erotic combination of touch I was almost hysterical I was so aroused. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't see and this loud buzzing sound was pounding all through my head. Suddenly everything went black and then bright white. A loud crashing sound like my brain bursting through my skull overwhelmed me as my body started to tremble uncontrollably. Somebody covered my toes with gasoline as they were curling back spontaneously and then lit a match and a fire ignited in them, exploded across my feet and raced up the inside of my thighs as I started to scream, "oh, Mark, ohmygod, Mark, I'm cumming, I'm cumming." Then right in the middle of all this sensual confusion I did something every Olympic gymnast who has ever performed on a balance beam would envy. I bucked my hips up in the air so hard and at such a perfect angle that when I came down I drove his cock completely up inside me. Now it was his turn to start moving as he began to rock his hips back and forth under me. Driving his warm, hard cock back and forth, up and down, all the way up and down inside my pussy. And then out again. And then all the way in again. Over and over. But things got worse. Or better. Depending on your perspective because as he was doing this he slid his fingers off the lips of my vagina and began to rub the first two fingers of each hand up and down the sides of my wildly engorged clit. I just started screaming. I knew we were alone in the forest and I didn't care. Every tiny hair on my whole body was ripping itself out of my flesh because this combination of touches was so intense. After a couple minutes I'd gotten so used to seeing stars that I started pretending I was an astronaut. The first woman ever to reach space purely on the power of her orgasms alone. The second one hit me harder than the first and the third one piled right on top of it five minutes later. I'd never had more than one orgasm before while I was masturbating. But then, I'd never masturbated with a real man under me either, inside of me, touching me, rubbing the tips of his fingers alternately back and forth over the tip of my clit. Circling the base of it, sliding up and down the sides of it, pinching it softly. It felt like it was an inch long and my whole body was curling up and crawling inside it just to get closer to the magically wonderful shivers flowing over it. Suddenly and without warning a series of very small, very short, incredibly intense orgasms hit me. Bang, bang, bang, like bullets flying out of a sexual machine gun as I felt his hips bucking up underneath me. Apparently I wasn't the only one losing control. Right in the middle of all this sensual confusion, I felt him pushing on my shoulders, propping me up. I immediately brought my feet back until they were by his hips and began rocking up and down wildly, sliding my pussy up and down completely over his cock. Impaling myself five times, ten times, a hundred times with that incredibly sensual and throbbing, real live dildo, shouting his name into the warm air as he grunted mine and we both came simultaneously. Then, like the Leaning Tower of Pisa falling slowly over, I collapsed backwards onto him with a soft thud. His still throbbing cock buried inside me, my legs curled up under me. I couldn't talk. All I could do was pant. And I couldn't even help him reposition me as I felt him slip his wet slick cock out of me and then shove my limp body around until I was laying on the flannel sheet on my back with my useless hands and arms still stretched out above my head. He was kneeling above me. Kissing me softly on my face. Kissing me softly on my lips. Kissing me softly on my ears, and eyes and nose. On my cheeks, sliding his tongue down into my mouth, reviving me with his touch. Arousing me again with his touch. Flooding my body with desire. Kissing me furiously, consuming my lips with his touch. Biting my tongue, teasing me. I started to return his touch. Biting at his lips playfully as they raced over my mouth, trying to capture them but not really wanting to capture them, not really wanting him to stop kissing me. Kissing me on the side of my neck where I was so incredibly sensitive. Nibbling at me, licking me, daring me to respond. Kissing me on my chest, sliding his tongue down over my breasts, across my nipples, biting and sucking gently on them as my basic motor functions began to return and my back arched in response to his touch. I could feel the mud cracking around my fingers as I stretched them out like a cat clawing the air. Moaning as his mouth slid down even further, over my stomach, to the wet, swollen, still slick shaved lips of my pussy. "You're going to kill me if you do that right now, Mark, I'm too sensitive, my clit is too sensitive, I can feel it sticking completely out from under...unnn, from under, it's...it's...hmmm, ohhhh, that feels wonderful...don't stop..." I could feel him very lightly touching my clit with the tip of his tongue. Extremely lightly. Delicately. Just holding it there. Holding it there and waiting. I could feel his warm breath on my pussy. Teasing me. Taunting me. Daring me to explore uncharted waters. Daring me to cum again. I'd already had so many orgasms I thought I was unconscious. But apparently I wasn't because once again I could feel the heat building up in my legs, that warm, drunk feeling of pleasure promised but not yet realized. A tightness, heaviness in my pussy. I was insatiable. "Ohmygod, make me cum again, Mark...make me scream," I gasped softly as I closed my eyes and tightened up all the muscles in my butt and thighs, trying to press my clit up against his tongue. In my mind I was already rocking my hips up and down wildly, already completely out of control. But in reality, I was barely moving. I didn't have the strength. I just laid there and moaned as his tongue began a series of incredibly gentle caresses. Sliding across the top of my clit, then delicately down around it to the base. Circling it. Licking at it. Teasing it. Tempting it, begging it to get even larger. Even more sensitive. Pushing his lips down against my lips, covering my pussy with his mouth, threatening to suck up, to suck my wildly sensitive clit up into my mouth and devour me. Now I wanted him t devour me. I wanted to feel my back arching again, feel the quick bullets of pleasure tear through me but he had his own ideas. His own timetable. My timetable had always been fast. Masturbate and cum. Masturbate and cum. Never teasing myself. Never forcing myself to lay there and wait, wait for my own hand to touch me. I wanted it now. I wanted to cum now, furiously, wildly, out of control but he wouldn't let me. I'd heard about this before. Arousal, stop just before the woman cums, relax, more arousal, once again stopping just before all the synapse in my brain started firing wildly, relax again, over and over, bringing me to a point where I honestly did know if I could survive one more plateau. But he was doing it. Five minutes, ten minutes, what seemed like an hour. I didn't know it was possible to even feel the way I was feeling. At my wildest, at my most sensitive when I was masturbating alone I never felt even remotely this aroused. He'd touch me and I'd start begging, pleading with him to let me cum, almost crying I was so excited, panting and thrashing my head back and forth, running my tongue furiously around the outside of my lips, but lost in this forest, this sensual blizzard he had created. Time stopped. My breathing stopped. Even my heart stopped. The only thing that existed for me in the world was my clit. And his tongue sliding over it. I didn't care about war, famine, starving little children or all the puppies in dog pounds anymore. I didn't care about people who were sad, lonely, ill or rotting behind bars in some Algerian prison. All I cared about was my clit. And at what precise second I would get to feel it explode. Suddenly he wasn't touching me anymore. All I could hear was his voice, soft, loud, crashing through my brain, shouting, whispering, "Cat, I'm going to suck your clit up into my mouth in a few seconds and flick my tongue back and forth over it very slowly, then a little faster and a little faster, harder, driving you over the edge, pushing you until..." He didn't even get to finish his sentence. Just telling me what he was going to do was enough. I gasped and screamed. Then tightened up all the muscles in my entire body. My orgasm hit me so hard that I started to bounce up and down like a couple of guys in white coats had just yelled "clear" and I'd been shocked with defibrillator paddles. I'd never experienced anything like this. I felt both my feet fall off and then my legs started whipping around like propellers on an airplane with two engines. While I was looking down at my legs in amazement my nipples shot straight up into the air like two little rockets on the 4th of July, dragging a trail of blue smoke behind them as I glanced up and watched both of them fly across the room and slam into the wall. Then I went completely blind. Exactly one tenth of a second after my head exploded. Martians looking down with their telescopes at that very moment and seeing me would have assumed that the average earth woman's body consisted of one huge, throbbing clit connected to a torso that had no nipples or head and was propelled through the air by footless legs that spun around furiously. Good. That thought alone ought to keep the creepy little bastards away from us for another two thousand centuries. Besides, it didn't matter. We had our own problems to deal with down here on earth. For one thing, my clit was so swollen that it was blocking the sun and most of the animals that lived in the forests of Montana were cowering in fear and gnawing off their feet because they thought it was the end of the world. "Are your orgasms usually this intense, Cat?" I suddenly heard him say. I had to think about that for a minute. If I said "yes" that meant one thing. If I said "no" it meant another. But all that adrenaline rushing though my brain had apparently altered my IQ. That old E equals MC squared thing suddenly made sense. And so did the two formulas that followed it including that until now perpetually undetectable error that Einstein had made in his calculations. While I was working out the precise value of pi, I whispered, "actually, yes and no, Mark. My most intense orgasms occur when a man, a gorgeous, sensual, erotic man, is on top of me while I'm on my back, very slowly shoving his cock in and out of my pussy for hours, back and forth, back and forth, rocking up and down with me while my legs are wrapped around him and we're locked together inside a perfect log cabin with two wonderful dogs in the most intimate possible embrace. Hmmm, that's it, yes, push it in slowly, gently, tenderly, I want to feel all of you inside me...hmmmm, yeah, that's what I meant, exactly like that, Mark, ohhhh, exactly like that. Back and forth. In and out, in and out, very slowly, exactly like that. Exactly like that until forever..."