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Christmas in the Woods

By: StangStar06



 Hey folks, another year has come and gone. Merry Christmas.

* * * * * *

My name is Clinton Conners. I'm thirty-five years old and at the beginning of this story, I was confused, and pissed off. Those were, however, the only things I knew about my situation. Of course, there were other things going on in my life, but at the time I was blissfully unaware of how stupid I was. 

As I looked around the small airport terminal, I was still wondering how the hell my boss had convinced me to be there at that moment, doing what I was doing. 

It was a Fall Friday morning, the day after Thanksgiving, and everyone else who worked for our company, like most of America, had the day off. 

Yet, there I stood in that tiny terminal, waiting for an even tinier plane that would take me North into Canada. My goal was to secure a deal with a small Canadian manufacturing concern that might be able to subcontract some of our parts. 

The company, Northstar Manufacturing supposedly had extremely new, state of the art CNC and robotics manufacturing systems that were more advanced than anything we had and anything in our area. 

From what I'd been able to find out from people who dealt with them, the company had only five or six employees. I wasn't totally sure about how a company that small would be able to handle the volume of parts that we needed. But my boss was adamant that I go up and scope out their operation. 

I can still remember the conversation that had pulled me away from the holiday celebration I'd been having the evening before. In a way, I'd been happy for the distraction. The eight of us; me, my wife, Katie, my brother Chuck and his wife, Annie, my parents and Katie's parents, had just begun my mother's favorite topic of discussion. 

"So when am I going to get some grand kids out of the two of you?" she'd asked. Her question had prompted Katie's mom to join the topic in full agreement. 

Everyone looked at me. The smirk on my father's face told me that he was enjoying the sight of me squirming under my mother's relentless questioning. 

Just as I began to open my mouth to shift the blame to Katie. The phone rang. Katie, with nearly preternatural skills dove for it, taking the phone into the kitchen with her. Her supercilious grin let me know that she had purposefully abandoned me to the maternal inquisition. 

However, only a few seconds after her triumphant exit, she came back into the room, frowning. 

"It's for you, Honey," she said handing me the phone. "It's Frank." 

Frank referred to Frank Walters, my boss and the owner of the engineering firm I worked for. Only Frank would call me on a holiday, at dinner time. Frank lived, ate, and breathed work. He had probably worn his way through all of his relatives and had turned to me to continue discussing whatever project he had dreamed of next. For once I was glad he thought of me. 

"Yeah Frank. Happy Thanksgiving to you too," I said into the phone. 

"Clint, my boy, I've been thinking," he said. "Look I don't want to ruin your Turkey Day, but I need you to come to the office tomorrow morning. I have another brilliant idea." Even as I hung up the phone, I knew that I was going to hate his brilliant idea. 

But I used the phone call as a distraction. I pretended that I had to go to our home office to receive an important e-mail. In the privacy of the office, I checked my personal mail and played a few games until I heard the sounds of at least one set of parents preparing to leave. 

I came down the stairs just in time to see the door closing behind them and my parents getting ready to leave as well. 

"I can't believe he calls you on the holiday," said my dad, "What a slave driver." 

"Yeah but someday, I'll take over for him," I said. "He has no sons and his daughter has no interest in the business." 

"She'll probably marry someone who will though," said my dad. 

"Not many chances of that," I said. "She's pretty firmly on the gay side of things." 

"Well maybe her lover will be interested in the business anyway," said dad. 

"It won't matter," I countered. "Frank is as homophobic as they come. There is no way he would turn the business over to a lesbian." 

"I just hope Frank appreciates all of the dedication and commitment that you show," said my dad finally. 

Anyway, this morning I found myself in Frank's office listening as he outlined this little jaunt into Canada. Completion of this trip is going to earn me a bonus and a company-paid trip to Hawaii for Katie and me. 

One of the things I liked about Frank was the fact that he asked a lot of his employees, but he gave a lot in return. This trip, for instance. He arranged for me to fly on a small, private, business carrier. It was a first class, luxury jet that carried no more than fifteen passengers at a time. I would avoid long lines at check in. All the seating on the plane was supposedly comfortable and well appointed. And there would be no screaming children or problem passengers to avoid or deal with. 

Frank had also arranged for a first-rate hotel room with all of the amenities. He had even told me that I could take Katie along. 

Katie had looked at me sympathetically when I told her and just shook her head. "Not gonna happen, Cowboy," she smiled. "I love you to pieces, Honey. And I hate the fact that you have to do this on your break. But just remember, you're working hard now, so later, when we're older, we can have a wonderful early retirement and travel the world together. However, be that as it may, tomorrow is Black Friday. There is no way I'm missing all of the sales to go traipsing around in Canada with you. So call me frequently and get your ass back to me as soon as you can; but I am not going with you." 

Thus far the entire day had gone smoothly. It had yet to snow, which was unusual for a November in Michigan. The temperatures were in the upper forties and low fifties, so I was taking advantage of the situation and still driving my Mustang. I had enjoyed the fact that the airline offered indoor, secure parking. It made me feel confident that my Mustang would be safe and looked after while I was away. 

I was actually only going to be away for two days, but I still worried about my car. However, with that worry taken care of, all I had to concern myself with was the task ahead of me. 

The procedure for boarding the plane was different. I simply showed up at the hangar at the time the plane was supposed to take off. There was no ticket. I simply presented my driver's license as ID. A woman checked my name off of a list, and I got onto the plane. 

There were several people already on the plane. Two of them, sitting separately, were your typical dark suited business types. Both already had their heads in their laptops and scarcely looked up as I entered the cabin. 

Another pair, were obviously a business man and his secretary. It appeared they were traveling on business. However, their expressions spoke differently. 

There was a gray-haired older woman, reading a magazine. And last but not least there were a couple of guys who seemed to be some sort of technicians. 

I took a seat in the middle section of the plane, mostly because it was away from everyone else. 

A few moments after I sat down, a loud mouth older guy with two younger men, who were obviously his subordinates got on. They talked loudly about every subject that came to mind. 

Several of the other passengers looked up at them, but the older guy with them only glared back. He was obviously too rude to take any notice of the discomfort of others around him. 

Just as the woman with the list checked over it one more time and made a visual head count, another woman slipped through the doorway. Almost every head snapped around as she came in. 

She wasn't anything like Katie. She wasn't anything like any of the girls I had ever dated. Katie was taller, thinner, much more my type. Or so I thought until that moment. But within less than a second of glimpsing that woman, my opinion changed. I also felt a flash of anger. 

After seeing her, Katie suddenly seemed, unfinished ... or to frame it in third-grade mathematical concepts, my wife suddenly seemed ... Less than. 

Suddenly, Katie's firm pert breasts just weren't enough. A couple of years ago, Katie had gotten a boob job. She didn't do it to make them bigger. Most of the women in Katie's family had those deflated, upturned, flap-Jack breasts. Katie got hers rescaled to make them while not bigger, just fuller. 

She needn't have bothered. The woman who'd just gotten on the plane made all of those types and comparisons, moot. Although she was covered all the way up to her neck, there was no disguising the magnitude of the flesh under her blouse. 

Although it was clear that she was wearing a bra that had probably been designed by a structural engineer. Her ... You couldn't even call them breasts. The only word that fit was titties. There was almost something primal about them. Breasts just didn't seem applicable. Breasts are those tiny or moderate, protuberances on the front of a typical woman. 

These were like tiny planetoids. They had their own gravitational fields that drew the interest of everyone in their vicinity. Anyway, whatever contraption she wore to keep them immovable, was barely functioning. Those tits might be contained, but they would never be restrained. 

And there was far more to her than just those boobs. Every part of her body seemed to be fully realized. Below her titties, her belly teased its purpose. Again, she wasn't a waif-like and barren appearing creature. The softness of her belly hinted at its true purpose. Another flash of anger came over me as I imagined my children growing there. 

That soft tummy also said a lot about her personality as I imagined it. She seemed to me to be the type of woman who would dig in and actually eat with her man. She was clearly not one of those coltish girls who foolishly subsisted on salads and grass. This was a full-bodied woman who would not only eat with you but would have a beer or two and watch the game with you too. 

As she turned looking for a seat, all of the blood in my brain shifted in an instant towards the other head. Her ass was broad and seemed to be missing something. Sure it was plump and round to the point of appearing to be ... Juicy. But it really seemed to me that it needed to have my hands on it ... Constantly! Even as I sat there my hands clawed themselves as I imagined squeezing and caressing that ass. 

Her legs, plump and shapely, were meant for more than simple locomotion. They served as the guardians for the Promised Land. In that split second, I saw myself spreading those magnificent legs to get to what I really wanted. 

All of this bountiful pulchritude was packed into a woman who was only five foot-two, if that. However, those curves and what they promised paled before her eyes. 

Even from across the room, those eyes drew me in. I was locked in her gaze like a moth to a flame. And just as I realized that I should look away; the intimacy of our eye contact was wrong in its intensity; I realized that I had fooled myself. 

Every man on that plane and some of the women had also thought that she was looking only at them, alone. 

As I sat there dumbfounded, with growing anger, the loud-mouthed guy was already on his feet and moving towards her. His disdainful sneer had morphed into some sort of sickening grin as he approached her. But she was far faster on the uptake than anyone else in the room. 

Even as he cleared his throat to speak, she whipped that body around and placed it in the seat beside ... Me? "Is anyone sittin' here?" she asked. 

I was simply too stupefied to swear. I quickly shook my head indicating that no one was. Her voice was more musical than anything released since Motown left Detroit. Again, I felt that flash of anger. It wasn't directed at her. Nope the anger was directed at myself. 

At thirty-five years old, I had never once before that afternoon, ever considered cheating on Katie. I simply wasn't the kind of man who abandoned his commitments. But from the second she walked on that plane, all of the stupid love songs I had heard throughout my life suddenly made sense. 

Even worse was the fact that I was sure that she wasn't feeling any of the turmoil she had erected in my mind, my spirit, and my pants. The loud-mouthed guy slunk back to his minions after giving me a look that could have melted tungsten. 

"Do you want the window seat?" I asked, timidly. 

"Why, thank you, Honey," she smiled. "I always like to see where I'm going. Aren't you a nice young man." 

Before she said that I had never considered her age at all. In that instance, I began to wonder why age even mattered when it came to women. Shit, let's face it ... Hot is hot. And a woman that hot is simply beyond age. However, it did cause me to wonder how old she really was. 

Getting back to my magnanimous act; I actually gave her the window seat, so she'd be all mine for the short duration of the flight. If she had been sitting on the aisle, half of the fucking plane could have dropped by to chat with her. But this way, I had her to myself, and things would be far more cozy. 

As the plane's engines rose in volume, I looked closely at her. There were all kinds of questions running through my mind. How old was she, actually? What did she do for a living? I saw several small rings on her tiny fingers but not an actual wedding or engagement ring. 

At that moment, the ring fastened securely on my own left fourth digit suddenly became heavier and hotter. By concentrating on the ring and the image of Katie, waiting faithfully for me back home, I was able to tear myself away from the woman beside me and pull out my iPad to go over the information I had on the company I was about to visit. 

As the plane began to move down the runway, I tried really hard to concentrate on my work and not the woman next to me. I also told myself that I hadn't done anything wrong. I hadn't so much as touched the woman. I hadn't done anything to hurt Katie. All I'd done was to have a few errant thoughts. My marriage was still as secure as it had been this morning. I hadn't actually betrayed Katie. Besides, what she didn't know would never hurt her. 

* * * * * *

Katie 

What he doesn't know won't hurt him, I told myself. It was only a momentary spike of guilt. I'd had them many times over the years. So having one as Kyle rushed swiftly towards me was nothing new. Usually, I handled them by being extra loving towards Clint for the next few days. 

Most of the people I know think that Clint and I have the perfect life together. We have all of the trappings of a successful couple. We have a beautiful home. I picked it, and Clint works his ass off to make sure that I have almost everything I need. Someday soon, we'll add a couple of kids to the mix. And in the end, we'll retire rich, fat and happy. Maybe we'll travel and see some of those exotic places everyone always talks about. Or perhaps we'll just continue doing whatever it takes to make us happy. 

Most of the people I know would be appalled at what I've been doing. The thought of me having affairs or even one affair would paint me as some sort of scarlet woman. Okay, let's face it; they'd declare me the worst whore to hit our town in this millennium. But in the real world, all of my female friends would almost immediately go after my husband. The single ones would be trying to get into his bed before my smell even left the sheets. The married ones would take just a little bit longer. Most of my male friends would be angling to be the next one to screw me if they could do it without anyone knowing about it. None, would want to marry me, but they'd all want to fuck the slut, just for variety.

Most of the people I know are sheep. They go through life with blinders on. They want all of the things that everyone else wants. There isn't an original thought among them. They live their lives like some old saying. Happy wife, happy life, and all of that bullshit. The problem was that I wasn't fucking happy. Not at all. 

I married Clint with the best of expectations. However, somewhere along the lines I just got tired of being number two, shit maybe even number three in his life. Frank was number one. Maybe not even Frank, but just that God Damned job of his. 

My husband wasn't devoted to my happiness, as much as he was his job. Giving me all of the things he did was just a by-product of him being successful at his job. But after a while, things no longer made me happy. I craved attention. And if it didn't come from my husband ...? Well, if ya can't be with the one you love ...? 

Kyle ran up to me as if he had been dying without me. 

"I missed you so badly," he said. 

"Oh God, Kyle," I smiled. "You act like I have the only pussy on the planet sometimes. 

"As far as I'm concerned, you do," he said. "At least it's the only one I'm interested in. How long do we have?" 

"Two days at least," I said, "Possibly three." 

We ran up the stairs, with him grabbing at me with every step. When we got to the top, he followed me into the bedroom. We both began shedding clothing with abandon. 

He pushed me down onto the bed and penetrated my vagina in one stroke. His brutality stemmed from his overwhelming lust. Kyle was too young to be a skillful lover. But what he lacked in technique, he made up for in strength and stamina. 

He drove himself into me over and over until I screamed for release. When we were done, I did the one thing that experience should have taught me against. 

I let him talk. 

"So is it in the garage?" he asked. All at once, my orgasmic bliss faded, and anger took over. 

"No it's not," I snapped. "He drove it to the airport. Does it disappoint you?" 

"Well, no," he said. Disappointment colored his words. 

"And to think I thought my pussy was what you were after," I said. "But I'm beginning to think you really want to get your hands on my husband's car."

"No," he said quickly. "It would just be a hoot. You know how you keep telling me that he never lets anyone drive it. It would just be one more thing that he's sharing with me without him knowing it."

The phone ringing prevented further conversation. 

I snatched my phone off of the table beside the bed. After a brief conversation, I turned to him and told him to get out. 

"I thought I was staying for a couple of days," he whined. 

"Both my mother and my mother are on their way over," I said. "And neither one of them is stupid. I'll call you when I get back. We're going shopping." 

He dressed and left without another word. I spent the afternoon spending Clint's money and listening to two old women talking about how much Clint loved me. My guilt seemed to grow with every statement. 

I ended up having dinner in town with the moms after our shopping was done. As usual, my guilt drove me to buy more Christmas presents for Clint than I had intended. And I wondered, not for the first time, about our future together. 

I guess I really didn't know what I wanted. I had no idea, whether or not I still loved Clint. All I knew was that I loved the lifestyle his job gave us. And whether or not I loved him, I was not ready to give that up. I was very fond of Clint, and I wouldn't hurt him for the world. I wondered again if maybe divorcing him was the kindest thing I could do. 

I decided again that divorcing him would be stupid. Neither of us wanted that. Clint loved me with all of his heart. A divorce would only hurt him. And it would hurt me. At thirty five, I was no longer a spring chicken. I had seen how badly most of the women I knew fared during a divorce. 

Most of them ended up losing in more ways than one. They ended up being some guy's booty call and losing most of their dignity. They also went from having control of 100% of a man's income, to having control of maybe 40% if they were lucky. And most of them ended up losing their homes and having to get a job. 


Christmas in the Woods



I felt extremely sorry for the ones who remarried. They usually ended up having to eat a lot of shit just to keep a man who was never as good as their first husband. The only reason they did it was because it was better than being alone. 

The ones who never remarried were the worst though. They ended up pathetic, lonely old women with a house full of cats, who dreamed of spending a night babysitting their grand kids. 

And even if I did divorce Clint, besides misery, what was in it for me? Kyle? Shit, I'm not that stupid. First off, I didn't love Kyle. I just loved the attention he spent on me. Kyle even at twenty-seven years old, he wasn't fit to carry my husband's jock strap. 

Kyle had no job, no prospects and had never gone to college. There was no way he would ever be able to support me. Kyle had aspirations of being the next successful white rapper. I had heard him rap, and he was terrible. I don't know shit about hip hop music, but I know that he sucked. If I was pressed, I could probably beat Kyle in a rap battle. 

The second thing to consider is the fact that I'm not stupid. I know that despite his protests, the main reason Kyle is with me is for the money I give him. Sure pussy is pussy, and he takes it, since I give it to him. But Kyle no more loves me than I love him. 

I'd been lost in my thoughts for so long that I didn't notice the passing of time. So it came as a surprise when my mother mentioned how late it was getting. 

"We'd better get you home, so you can be there when Clint calls you, Honey," she said. My mother agreed. Actually, Clint could have and should have called me on my cell phone by then. Even if it was just a quick call to let me know that he'd arrived. 

By the time I got home, he still hadn't called me. I began to worry. I went over everything in my mind. We hadn't been arguing. And he had kissed me as if he hadn't wanted us to be apart that morning. He'd even asked me again to go with him. 

As far as I knew he wasn't angry with me, so why hadn't he called? 

My cell phone rang at that moment, and I answered it quickly. 

"Honey, why did it take so long for you to call me? I was worried sick!" I said into the phone. 

"You told me not to call you," said Kyle stupidly. "I'm outside freezing my ass off. Can I come back in?" 

Clint had never gone this long without talking to me. Especially not if he was out of town. I tried to think of reasons for him not calling me. But I couldn't come up with any. It wasn't like Canada was a third world country without phone service. Had he perhaps found out about Kyle? 

I didn't think that was it. Clint was a straight shooter. If he had found out about Kyle, he'd have been destroyed. He would have confronted me, and all hell would have broken loose. He simply loved me too much to play games. The only thing I could think of was that he had immediately gone to meetings with the new client, and they were wining and dining the shit out of him, and he had lost track of time. 

I opened the door and called out to Kyle, who was hiding in the bushes outside, shivering and cold. Just as he slipped inside of the door, I noticed my next-door neighbor, Ethel, watching me like a hawk. I would have to think up a good excuse for what she had seen before Clint got back. 

Kyle came right into the house and started taking off his clothes. I decided to put away my worries about Clint until the following day. However, somehow, I couldn't manage to enjoy sex with Kyle. In the back of my mind, I knew that something was wrong. 

After a while, Kyle gave up and started talking. "So did your husband think that you were upset about him leaving?" he laughed. 

"Yep," I said, trying to keep the conversation to a minimum. 

"What a sucker," said Kyle. 

"Yeah," I echoed. "What a sucker. To think that idiot loves me so much that he hates leaving me. He even begged me to go with him. How stupid does he have to be to love someone like me?" 

"Pretty stupid," agreed Kyle, not recognizing the fact that I'd been sarcastic. "He doesn't even realize that you love me, not him. I laugh every time I think of him busting his ass, working all of those hours to buy you stuff and give you money, just so you can give it to me. It's like he pays me to fuck you." 

I was so quiet after he said that, that even Kyle knew he had fucked up. "Of course, I'd fuck you for free," he said, trying and failing miserably to fix his screw up. 

"Uhm. I'd even pay money to fuck you," he blurted out. "If I had any." 

I think both of us knew that was a lie. 

"So let me get this straight," I said. "You think; I'm the kind of woman who would take money for having sex? So you think I'm a whore?" 

"No, baby. That is not where I was going," he sputtered. 

"So where were you going, Kyle?" I asked with the growing realization that I was a fool. 

"As soon as I get a record deal, I'm gonna take you away from all of this," he said. "It'll be you and me against the world, baby." 

I think it was then that I realized how big a fool we both were. I knew for a fact that if Kyle ever got more than ten dollars to his name, he would immediately spend it on some twenty-year-old black girl without a second to spare. He was a fool for not realizing that I knew him better than he knew himself. At the same time, I was a fool too. I had everything I had ever dreamed of, yet I risked it all every time I let that fool between my legs. In that second, there in the darkness, with this emotionally stunted, permanent man-child in my husband's bed, I finally realized how broken I was. 

I finally realized why there was a Kyle. Kyle was only a means for me to get revenge on Clint for not putting me first in his life. 

I was too much of a coward to actually confront Clint about it. I didn't want him to quit his job and take another one that would give him more time to spend with me. Especially since it might not pay as well and might end up with me having to get a job myself to help out. Nope, it was far less courageous, but much easier to simply vent my frustration by letting someone else have what Clint thought was his alone. 

* * * * * *

Delilah 

As the plane took off, fear grabbed me. I had never been on a plane this small before. I usually preferred to drive. I hate flying. And when I absolutely have to fly, it's usually on a large commercial airliner. However, this time it couldn't be helped. I had gone home to visit my last remaining relative, my Aunt Alice. I spent Thanksgiving with her in her retirement home. She didn't look very good. Perhaps I should consider moving her back to Michigan. 

My Aunt Alice was also the only one of my relatives who hadn't looked down on me when she found out what I do for a living. My job or career or whatever you want to call it was what had gotten my ass on this tiny plane. I was headed for Toronto for a side gig. For me side gigs were very rare. 

I pretty much catered to what I considered a niche market. No one was more shocked than I was that I was able to make a living at it. I guess there's just no accounting for taste, especially in the modern era. Twenty years ago, I'd have had no shot. However, today everyone seemed to not only permit, but to indulge their inner freak. 

The plane seemed to shudder and vibrate as it left the ground. There was also a not so subtle metallic clanking sound as we tried to gain altitude. Was that normal? I didn't think so but no one else seemed to notice it. It reminded me of a sound my car made just before it died on me. As my fear ramped up, I grabbed for a life preserver. 

I was used to the reaction my body got. It was one of the reasons that I tried very hard not to call attention to myself. 

They say that we live in an enlightened age. Women have far more rights than ever. Women can own businesses. And we are very close to making equal pay with men in most industries. In some, we actually make more. 

If a woman works for a company and is exposed to leering or any lewd behavior ... Really anything that makes her feel uncomfortable, she can make a report to human resources and charge the company or an individual with sexual harassment. 

The funny thing though is that although a woman is safer in the workplace, she can still be accosted and insulted walking down the street in public. 

The second I had gotten on the plane, I was under scrutiny. Most of the men there and even a few of the women, stared openly at me. I was used to it from the men, but the women made my skin crawl. 

It's been said that women have a sort of radar about their bodies and which parts are being ogled. It seemed like there was at least a dozen small insects crawling over my boobs. 

And off to the left, I could feel it. I turned my head and looked into the eyes of a predator. I had met lots of men like him during my lifetime. He was clearly the kind of man who would try to use me like a piece of meat and nothing more. I looked around and found just the opposite. 

Directly ahead of me, I looked into the softest, kindest brown eyes I had ever seen. He was staring at me too. But his stare was different. Although it was obvious that he appreciated my body, he felt guilty about it. And there was something else in that stare. It actually felt not only warm, but caring. He was clearly not the kind of man to force himself on me or anyone else. 

Even as the predator leapt to his feet, headed in my direction, I moved towards safety and dropped down next to him. Up close, his eyes were even more welcoming. And what he did next couldn't have been better if I'd written the script myself. 

He offered me the window seat and put his own body between me and the wolf. I felt as if I was wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and protection. 

However, as quickly as it began, it ended. It almost seemed as if he was engaged in some sort of inner turmoil. Or maybe he was just shy and didn't want to invade my privacy. I wonder if that was just his style, the errant knight doing drive by rescues and then fleeing. I did have things to think about though, so I let it go. 

That lasted all of four seconds before the plane took off, and I heard that clank. I grabbed for his arm, for all I was worth. I wrapped my arm around his. It trapped my arm between his muscular arm and his very toned chest. Unfortunately, it was a ... Tit for tat situation, because his muscular arm was trapped between my soft, fleshy upper arm and my even softer breast. 

He realized instantly where his arm was and went stock still. I almost thought his eyes were going to roll back in his head. I was also pretty sure that he got a hard on, and I am somewhat of an expert on that subject. 

"I'm scared," I said through chattering teeth. What he did then was amazing. He un-entwined our arms but he took a hold of my hand. His grip was gentle but firm. 

"You don't have to be afraid," he said. He had the biggest smile. I was sure that if given the chance, I could get lost in those eyes. But what the hell do I know. At forty-seven years old, I had only been in love once. And he had two left feet. 

"Flying is the safest way to travel," he said. 

"If that's true, then why is it that when a car crashes, only one or two vehicles are damaged, and most of the people walk away from it?" I asked. "But when a plane crashes everyone on board looks like their bodies went through a coffee grinder, and the damage is spread over three counties!" 

"You're exaggerating," he smiled. "Besides we're not going to crash. I think we just hit a few air pockets. It's usually only rough during take-offs and landings. The rest of the flight will be so smooth you won't even realize that ..." 

"That we're moving through the air at over three hundred miles per hour in a beer can with wings!" I spat. "This thing is made of aluminum. Remember twenty years ago when beer cans were made of steel? Back then you had to be a very strong man to crush a can. Now even little girls can crush one. Why the fuck would they make airplanes out of something that fragile?" 

I was so worked up that as I spoke I was allowing my arms to move all over the place. That started my boobs to jiggling and within a few moments every guy around us, especially the wolf and his cubs were staring at me. 

"I'm Clint," he said softly. "I promise I won't let anything happen to you." 

"Delilah," I said returning his smile. "I'm gonna hold you to that promise." 

He told me about his trip and what he was doing on the flight. He talked about his business and unfortunately ... his wife. As we sat there holding hands while the plane cut through the air like an aluminum missile, all of my fears evaporated. I was no longer afraid, but there was also no way I was about to let go of his hand. 

I was living in the moment and there was no way I was going to let him go. Despite what I did for a living, I had always been a really good girl. However, I was prepared to chuck all of that aside. If this man asked me to join the mile high club, I was ready. I didn't care about him being married or anything else. 

For more than an hour, I was content just to listen to him talk. He made me laugh, and he made me feel special. But more than anything else, for the first time that I could remember, a man made me feel like more than just a pair of big tits. 

The surprising thing was that after we started talking, his eyes never left mine. He mentioned my blue-green eyes several times during the conversation and every time he did I felt a tingle between my legs. I was almost pissed when the stewardess or whatever she called herself, interrupted us to tell us that we were on schedule and should be landing in about another hour. 

She told us that there was a storm moving in and even though the plane was flying fast enough to stay ahead of the storm, we'd probably need cold-weather gear during our time in Canada. 

I noticed that during the whole time that she spoke to us, her eyes were constantly flitting back and forth between my breasts and his eyes. The whore obviously didn't know whether she wanted to fuck him or me. Shit, maybe she wanted us both. 

I dismissed her with one of those rude little hand gestures. It wasn't something that I would normally have done, but I wanted to savor every moment with Clint. Even the air seemed sparkly. It was one of those perfect moments that fate only gives us one or two of in a lifetime. I didn't want to waste it on a flying skank. 

And just as she stepped away angrily, the wolf came back. 

"Hey, babe, you should check out the view from the other side of the plane," he said. 

"Why?" I asked. "Isn't this side of the plane flying over the same ground?" 

"Well, uhm, yeah," he said. "But maybe the company would be better." 

"I doubt it," I said. "Did you know that my eyes are up here ...? I'm built kind of funny. My eyes are above my neck on my face ... Go figure! Or better yet. Just go back to your seat!" 

"She must be a fuckin' lesbian," he spat, to no one on particular. 

"Oh good," chirped the stewardess, happily. She winked at me. Before I could express my disgust, there was another one of those clanks that I had heard before. Only this time it was loud enough that everyone heard it. Suddenly, the plane veered radically to the left and dropped a long way before righting itself. But even as the plane struggled to regain its correct attitude and altitude, we heard more pops and bangs, and we noticed out the window that flames were engulfing the jet engine attached to the left wing. 

Everything went haywire then. I could barely concentrate on my own thoughts because some silly bitch was screaming at the top of her lungs. It took Clint putting his hands over my mouth for me to realize that it was me, screaming. I climbed over the armrest that separated us until I was in his lap, pressing myself against him for all I was worth. I couldn't help noticing how good he felt. 

The plane started to pitch one way and then another and it was clear that we were going down and going down quickly. 

I was still screaming my head off, and Clint had stopped listening to me. He was staring at everything around us. He grabbed my hand in what felt like an iron grip and dragged me forward two rows. 

"Please sir, sit down," yelled the air skank. 

Clint pushed us into the row of seats that he had been staring at. He snatched a couple of pillows from somewhere and bent me forward. "Keep your head down, Delilah," he said calmly. He squeezed my hand and smiled at me. I was terrified. I was about to start screaming again, but he did something that shocked me even more than the fact that I was about to die. He kissed me, and somehow, amid all of the turmoil of rapidly approaching death, my mind locked on that kiss. 

Before I could process it though, he threw my head down violently and threw his body on top of mine. The plane hit something and there was a sound like a thousand explosions all wrapped into one. There was also the sound of metal tearing or being ripped apart. The world around us tilted on its axis and the floor was suddenly the ceiling, and then it was the floor again. The seats in front of us were crushed both from the pressure of the impact, and from the pressure of the seats behind us being propelled forward by inertia. 

Between the flight crew, the flight attendants and the passengers there were probably twenty people aboard the plane. They all seemed to be screaming at the same time. The final impact was so big that it knocked the breath out of me. And then everything went black. 

* * * * * *

Katie 

I woke up in the middle of the night. The room was completely dark. There was a loud noise in the room. It was coming from right next to me. As I threw off the sluggishness and mental fog of sleep, I realized that it was Kyle. He was snoring louder than a lawn mower. 

His snoring would have been funny if I didn't have to try to sleep through it. I also realized something else. It has been said that body language is everything. Our involuntary habits and movements are the windows to our true feelings. They are supposedly a better barometer of what we think and feel than what we say and sometimes even more accurate than what we think. 

While asleep, Kyle had rolled as far away from me as possible, and I had turned my back to him as well. Clint always seemed to end up with his arms wrapped around me. Even when we were arguing or not speaking to each other, we somehow ended up sleeping in each other's arms. I always felt so safe and so warm when we slept together. No matter what we argued about, it never seemed to be as important after a night of sleeping together. 

At that moment, I realized that I felt alone, and worried. Why the hell should I feel like I was alone with this six-foot tall lump of beef beside me? Maybe it was a message from my subconscious that Kyle meant nothing to me. 

I sat there in the darkness trying to figure out what I wanted and where my life had gone wrong. 

When Clint and I got married, I was sure that I was in love with him. And I think that, deep down inside; I still am. I just hate playing second fiddle to that God Damned job of his. I know that he thinks that he has to work as hard as he does, so we can have all of the things we want. He also has to make sure that we have enough money and resources to retire comfortably on. However, to be truthful, I'd rather have him work less or take a job that gives him more free time, so we'd have more time together. If he could do that there'd be no more Kyles. 

Another thing that I had to consider was the fact that truthfully, I had been less than fair to Clint. I had no trouble telling him when I wanted him to buy me something or take me somewhere, but I had never once told him how I feel about his job. 

I guess it was because, to a certain extent, men seem to identify with their jobs. A man's job has a lot to do with how he sees himself. Women tend to identify more with their marriages and families. So maybe I was afraid that if I told Clint, he had to choose between me and Frank, I might not like the answer. 




Christmas in the Woods



I also wondered if I was really being fair. Clint spent every free moment that he had with me. I have lots of activities to fill my time. I have a lot of friends and things that I do for fun. Outside of work, poor Clint has only two interests. I'm number one, and his Mustang is a close second. Clint loves that car. He never lets anyone touch it. 

A tear rolled down my cheek in the darkness. He loves that stupid car so much. He worked hard to earn the money to buy it, but he didn't even think about buying it until he'd bought me the car I wanted. It had been his choice, and he chose to buy my car first. No matter what his job was that stupid man loved me. 

Okay, maybe he liked his job a bit too much, but he loved me more than anything else in the world. Why hadn't I seen that? Was I really just a spoiled little girl like my parents often claimed? And I had been all too ready to turn the keys to Clint's prized Mustang over to Kyle. 

That would have been a huge mistake. Clint can sense a piece of lint falling on that car from five miles away. I think he would have known the second he saw it that someone had been in that car. He probably knew the exact mileage on the car's odometer too. Letting Kyle drive that car would have ended my marriage. Is that what I wanted? I don't think even subconsciously that I wanted Clint out of my life. 

I had started fucking Kyle to get revenge on Clint for choosing his job against me. It just seemed stupid and childish now. It seemed more like the action of a teenaged girl who was angry at her parents. She gets a tattoo because her parents hate tattoos. But the large ugly tattoo doesn't really hurt her parents. She's the one who has to go through life hiding it. 

As I sat there in the darkened room crying silently, I once more wondered where Clint was and why he hadn't called me. This had never happened before, and I wondered again if he had somehow found out about Kyle. 

I reached out in the darkened room and slapped the shit out of Kyle. He woke up sputtering and confused. 

"Go sleep on the sofa," I said. "Your God Damned snoring is keeping me awake!" 

"I don't snore!" he said. 

"The fuck you don't!" I said. "It sounded like a construction zone in here." 

"Well, sleeping makes me horny," he said. "I can't help it." 

I decided right then that Kyle had to go. I may as well make our last night together memorable. 

"Well Kyle, I can help you with that," I cooed. 

* * * * * *

Clint

I woke to a nightmare. At first, I was confused. I had no idea where I was or how I got there. It was very cold, and it seemed to be snowing. Something underneath me was very warm and very soft. 

I tried to straighten up but there was something on top of me preventing me from doing so. It seemed to be very heavy, and it made noise as I moved it. I think I could lift it, but it seemed smarter to move out from under it. I tried to wriggle free and realized that the warm soft thing under me was a person. 

Suddenly, I remembered everything. The jet had gone down. I remained calm. I was still alive and still able to make conscious thoughts. I tried to remember in detail everything that had happened and found that I could. That was a good sign. It meant that there was probably no brain damage and no concussion. 

I tentatively moved and flexed both arms, starting at the shoulders and then moving down to the elbows, wrists and finally the hands and fingers. Except for a few cuts and scrapes, I felt no pain in my arms and had full function. 

Then I did the same with my legs and feet. Everything seemed to be intact. I did a more thorough inventory and found that my biggest complaint was that I had an awful ache in my upper back. I could still move the muscles there, and as I said before I still had full function of all of my limbs. It had to be a big cut or a bruise from whatever had fallen on me. 

I remembered throwing myself over Delilah as the plane went down. The bulky structure of the overhead luggage compartment had fallen on top of me. I wriggled free of it and turned to Delilah. 

I shook her awake. "Delilah, are you Okay?" I asked. 

"Think, so," she said, groggily. "M' cold and my leg hurts really bad." 

"I'm so sorry, Honey," I said. "I'll get you out of there as soon as I make sure we're safe." 

I stood up and looked around. It was dark and my eyes slowly adjusted to the absence of light. Several small fires helped with that. I noticed that the plane had broken into multiple sections either on impact or during the violent gyrations that followed. 

I remembered moving both Delilah and myself several rows forward of where we were sitting. I was glad now that I had. I had read somewhere about the safest places to be during a plane crash. I had moved us to one of those places. It had paid off. The section of the plane that we were in was pretty much intact. However, everything ahead of us had pretty much been accordioned by the impact. 

In cars, they call it a crumple zone. It's a section of the front of a car that is designed to fold in order to absorb the impact of a crash and protect the passengers. The plane wasn't designed that way, but the front section of the plane and everyone in it had died to protect us from the crash. 

Nothing moved in that section of unbelievable destruction. All I saw was twisted and torn metal. I could barely make out a few dismembered body parts among the carnage. And then I saw ... Her. 

It was the stewardess who had told Delilah, and I that we'd be landing in about an hour. Her body was severely twisted and crushed. Her face was split open and through all of that horror, one eye made contact with mine. Her mouth moved as if she was trying to say something ... And then the gleam left that eye. It stared without focus, into oblivion. Her pain was obviously over. 

The shell of the plane had split open to the elements, and snow was falling thickly inside of the plane. I smelled something else. It was acrid and familiar. It smelled like gas. Shit, it was probably jet fuel. With the fires that were burning it was very likely just a matter of time before the pieces of the plane started to burn up or explode. 

I looked back at Delilah. "Dee, we have to get out of here," I said. 

"I like it better when you called me, Honey," she said. 

I grabbed her arm and tried to pull her out from under the luggage compartment and heard her scream. 

"Clint, stop," she yelled. "My leg is caught." 

I dropped to my knees and started at the top of her left leg. I felt my way down from her thigh to her left foot. It was free all the way. 

"That isn't the leg that hurts, but you can do that again any time you like," she said. "I have all kinds of body parts you can feel on." 

"Sorry," I said. "I was only trying to find out what's going on. And to be truthful you didn't tell me which leg it was, so I started with the closest one." 

Despite her pain, she just smiled at me. I started on the other leg and found out that her lower leg from the knee to the ankle was pinned between the seat we were in and the seat ahead of us. There was no way to free it without moving that seat or cutting her leg off. 

At the same time, the smell of the volatile jet fuel was getting stronger and stronger. It was only a matter of time before the section we were in went up. 

"Fuck!" I yelled. 

"I think you should get my leg free first," she smirked. "That way, we'd enjoy it more." 

"Ha ha," I laughed. "What a sense of humor." 

"Who's joking?" she said. 

I looked around us to see if there was anything I could use. There had to be a tool kit around here somewhere, for emergencies. 

I found nothing. And then I noticed one of the shattered seats. The frame of it was made from fairly sturdy steel tubes. I kicked one of them loose and went back to Delilah. I forced the end of it between the seats and applied pressure, forcing the two seats apart. 

It was working and just in time too. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the side opposite us was beginning to smolder, and small flames were licking at the wall coverings. 

"We have to get out of here," I said. I put more muscle into forcing the seats apart and suddenly. The pole in my hand bent under the strain and the two sections fell back. Delilah's sudden intake of air let me know that it hurt. 

I ran back to the shattered seat. This time I grabbed two of the poles. 

"Delilah, this is it," I said. "I know your leg hurts. We don't know if it's sprained or even broken. But you have to move it no matter how much it hurts. This plane is going to be in flames in minutes and we either get you out of there, or we burn up with it. So as soon as I get this thing to budge you have to get your leg out of there." 

"If I can't get it out, you can still get out of here," she said, sadly. 

"Not an option," I said. "I promised you that I wouldn't let anything happen to you. And I meant it. Now get ready to move that leg." 

This time I jammed both poles into the gap. I threw my weight into it, and the gap between the seats gaped open. With a huge scream, Delilah pulled her leg out just as one of the poles snapped and the other bent. 

"Come on Dee. We have to go!" I yelled as the flames drew closer to us. 

She could barely put any weight on the leg. So I got down in front of her and piggybacked her towards the open end of the plane. The section of the plane was sitting ten feet at least above the ground, and the gaping hole that we were going to use as an exit had no smooth surfaces, only jagged sheets of metal. 

I grabbed a section of carpeting and pulled it to the hole. "Sit on that," I yelled. "I'm going to jump. Then you slide out, and I'll catch you to help you land. Try not to let the bad foot touch the ground." 

I didn't give her a chance to reply. I dropped into the darkness. There were small fires all over the ground too. We were in an area of deep woods, and I could see large chunks of the plane scattered all over the area. 

As soon as I landed, I reached up for her. She slid to the edge and then dropped into my arms. The strain was pretty bad. She was not a tiny girl. I grabbed her around the waist and got a face full of big soft titties for my trouble. 

"Clint, if you wanted to lick my boobs, all you had to do was ask," she smirked. 

"Does that go for me too," asked a voice from behind us. 

"God must look out for assholes," whispered Delilah. 

Just as I put Delilah on her feet ... Well the good one anyway. The section of the plane we had just been on erupted in flames. 

I grabbed Delilah and practically dragged her to one side of the plane until we were a safe distance away. 

"What's wrong with her," asked the loud-mouthed guy. 

"It's her leg," I said. "She can't walk on it." 

"Damn, that sucks," he said. "It's a shame to lose titties like those." 

"You can't lose something that you never HAD; and were NEVER going to have," spat Delilah. 

He just shrugged his shoulders and turned away from us. "We'll make do," he said. He walked over to another section of the plane where one of his minions, and a couple of other people waited. There were two other men standing and one woman, another of the stewardesses was tending to another man who seemed to be injured. 

I noticed that they'd had time to ransack their section of the plane. The only thing I didn't see was the tail section of the plane. I figured that when the plane hit the ground and split, it landed nose first and the rear of the plane was catapulted farther away. 

I noticed that there were several bodies lying on the ground and that the small group of survivors had stripped them and were wearing their clothing for extra layers of protection from the elements. 

One of the men went back inside the section of the plane they'd come from. He called from the doorway of the plane and one of the other men followed him inside. He had obviously found something else they could use. 

"Clint!" I heard the sound of Delilah calling me. I turned and noticed the loudmouthed guy was near her again. 

I headed back for them. They seemed to be having a heated conversation. 

"Hey buddy," said the man, with a big grin. "Did you get a chance to talk to my people? Are you thinking about going with us?" 

"Stop lying you asshole," snapped Delilah. "He wants you to go with them, because you're strong and can probably make it. He thinks I should stay here with that crippled guy on the ground since neither of us can walk as far as he thinks it's going to be. He also wants me to have sex with him before you go." 

"I was just being logical," said loudmouth. "Those of us, who are fit, should walk that way," the direction the plane was going in. 

"And just leave them here?" I said. 

"Face it buddy, this is Canada. Anyone who stays here will freeze to death long before anyone comes to rescue us. We were on a small private plane. The pilot was the owner of the company. One of the stewardesses was his wife. Everyone who worked for the company was on the plane. No one is looking for us. 

"We're also stuck in the wilderness. There's no cell service here. We can't call anyone to come and get us. As you heard on the plane, there's a major winter storm headed this way. The plane was flying at about three hundred miles per hour so it stayed ahead of the storm. Any minute now the snow is going to get heavier. If we don't start moving, we're all going to die. 

The people that can't keep up will only slow us all down. It's nature; survival of the fittest and all of that." 

"What does that have to do with you wanting to screw me," asked Delilah. 

"I just thought that ..." he sputtered. "Shit, look at her. Do you even know who she is?" 

"We'll be fine by ourselves," I said. 

"Suit yourself," he said, just as an explosion rocked the section of the plane that his friends had gone inside of only moments later. We all turned as we heard screams coming from inside of it. The screams abruptly died out. 

"Can we have some of those clothes you stole from the other passengers?" I asked. "Delilah is cold." 

He just laughed at me. "You guys are going to freeze to death," he said. "Why should I waste clothes that survivors could use? Besides, she ought to be used to walking around without any clothes." 

"Fuck you," spat Delilah. 

"Any time, any place," he smiled back. 

The woman and the other surviving man came over to him. "It's starting to snow," said the woman. 

"And Josh finally died," said the man. "We need to get out of here, boss." 

"See ya," he said. And the three of them started walking away without turning back. 

"You probably should have gone with them," said Delilah. "You could keep up with them easily."

"Why?" I said. "We were almost three hundred miles from our destination when the plane went down. They aren't going to walk three hundred miles. I noticed that we were passing over a group of small cottages when the plane started to drop. They can't be more than a few miles behind us." 

"Come on, we have to hurry. While I was talking to that idiot, I noticed that the tail section is over that way," I said. 

"Why do we need to go there?" she asked. 

"That's where they keep all of the supplies on the plane," I said. 

I turned my back and knelt in front of her again. I got up and piggy backed her further into the woods. It was farther than I thought, and the snow was beginning to pile up. 

Once we got there, I climbed into the tail section. Everything was all jumbled together. I kicked the inside door open because the handle had been broken during the crash. I found several shelves full of blankets. I grabbed a few and ran them outside to Delilah. That way, she could cover up while I continued to search. 

Next I found the supplies and took one of the blankets and loaded it full of first aid supplies and the frozen meals that they served on the plane. I loaded as many of those as I could carry, along with a lot of soft drinks and water bottles. I also grabbed some of those tiny bottles of liquor. I got a couple of emergency kits that had flashlights and a few tools in them too. 

I pulled the corners together and tied the blanket into a pack that I could carry and left the damaged section of the plane. I took all of that back to Delilah. 

I found a damaged section of the plane's sheet metal and was able to bend it until one end of it formed a near 90 degree angle. I looped my belt through a rivet hole in the other end. I ran it through twice to make it stronger. Then I looped one of the blankets through the belt. 

I spread a couple of the blankets over the makeshift sledge. I then had Delilah lie down on it. I wrapped her up in the rest of the blankets and put the wrapped up supplies on it with her. 

"Try to get some sleep," I told her. "Are you warmer?" she just nodded. 

I dragged her in the sledge back to where the rest of the plane was. Then I started walking in the direction the plane had come from. Delilah talked to me as I walked. The effort had kept me warm during the first part, but my hands were cold. I stuck them in the pockets of my jacket and kept walking. 

After an hour or so of walking, I was beginning to tire. Delilah had gone to sleep a short while before. She'd been exhausted by all that we had experienced. The last thing she told me before she drifted off was to thank me for everything I'd done for her. 

I felt like taking a break. It was odd. I usually went out for runs every day. I could normally run for five or six miles without much effort. However, dragging the sledge seemed to have sapped my strength before we had even gone two miles. 

I knew that if I sat down and took a break for even a few moments, I would never get up again. If I died there in the snow, no one would ever know what had happened to me. What would happen to Delilah? What would happen to Katie and my family back home? 

The worries about my family kept my legs moving long after I was ready to give up. I finally saw them; a group of small cabins about a half-mile from where I was walking. They were off to my left, and it made me think that I had veered towards the right as I walked. If I had walked in a straight line, I would probably have already reached them. If I had veered much further right, I'd almost certainly have never seen them. 

In the distance, I heard some sort of animal screeching. I headed towards the cabins. When I finally reached them, there was a fence surrounding the complex. There were two gates. A larger one for automobiles to go through was padlocked. However, the smaller one that was only large enough for foot traffic could be opened by just flipping the latch. I dragged the sledge through the gate and over to the first cabin I came to. 

The place appeared to be some sort of hunting lodge that had gone out of business. 

The cabin I picked wasn't the largest, but it seemed to be the most complete. The front door was locked. I went back to the biggest of the buildings. It seemed to be some sort of office. I kicked the door in; the rotting wood made it easy. Behind the desk, as I had hoped there was a peg board with the keys to all of the cabins. I grabbed the keys to cabin 6 and went back. 

I opened the door and dragged Delilah inside. The cabin had a fireplace, but there was no wood. I ran to the other cabins and found only a few small pieces. But behind the main cabin, I found a large wood pile. The wood on top of the pile was already wet. 

I grabbed as much wood as I could carry and took it back to cabin six. I piled the wood in the fireplace and unpacked the blanket that I had loaded our supplies in. In one of the emergency kits, I found several packs of matches. I found some old newspapers in the cabin and mixed them in layers with the wood. I lit the paper and soon had a good fire going. I dragged Delilah over closer to the fire. There was a sofa there. I dragged it closer to the fire. I put one of the blankets on the sofa and put Delilah on the sofa. 




Christmas in the Woods



In the light of one of the flashlights, I examined her ankle. It was swollen. I gently felt the ankle and didn't feel any major differences between it and the undamaged one. I wrapped the ankle with an ace bandage from one of the medical kits. Then I pulled her legs apart so I could check out her knee. 

"I was wondering when you'd get around to that," she said. "Do you want me to take my skirt off to make it easier?" 

"I was trying to see if your knee was as bad as your ankle," I said. 

"So you don't like my legs?" she smirked. 

"Of course I do ... I mean no ... I ... I ... Your legs are fine. I just wanted to see if your knee was injured," I stammered. 

Her face was smiling at me. As she shook her head. "Where are we? Where did we get all of this stuff? I'm still a little chilly but not freezing anymore. Clint, you're a life saver," she said. 

I had her hold the flashlight while I examined her knee. Unlike her ankle, the knee wasn't swollen; it was only bruised. Judging from sprains that I'd had while running and doing other sports, I estimated that the knee would be better in three to four days. The ankle would need a week before she could put any weight on it. 

Delilah was yawning and had slipped out of her jacket. Seeing her in only the blouse, reminded me of just how well endowed she was. 

I gave her a can of juice, and she began to sip it as I added another log to the fire. I estimated that we'd need a few more during the night if we wanted to stay warm, so I set my watch to alarm in three hours. 

"I just wish we had a little something to put in this juice," she said. "After what we've been through, we deserve it." 

I went back to the pack and put it all outside on the front porch. The food was wrapped in plastic packs so even if any animals could get over the fence I didn't think they could smell it. I took a small liquor bottle in with me. 

I walked over to the sofa and took Delilah's can of orange juice. I poured the vodka into it and handed it back. Then I took off my shoes, grabbing a blanket from the pile and stretched out in front of the fire. 

"Uh unh, Cowboy. Get up here on this sofa with me," she said. "I promise I won't take advantage of you in your sleep. We need each other's body heat to stay warm." 

A few moments later, I was lying on the big comfy sofa with her, under a blanket, in front of a gently burning fire, while the snow piled up outside. As I drifted off to sleep due to my exhaustion, I wondered how the loud-mouthed asshole and his group were faring. 

* * * * * *

Katie 

Morning came and with it, Kyle showed back up in my room. He was naked and pointing downward at his dick. "Okay, whatever," I said. The next thing I knew he was trying to fuck me to death. As he hammered away at me, my mind was on other things. Two days after Thanksgiving meant it was near the end of the month. That meant that Kyle's rent was due. And since I hadn't given him any money, he was trying to make his rent. 

Normally, mindless, emotionless sex was what I expected from him. However, again that morning my mind was somewhere else. It was a Saturday Morning so the office was closed. But as if to show exactly how much we had in common; the phone rang. 

"Kyle get the fuck off of me," I sneered. "I have to get the phone." 

I reached over to the table beside the bed and snatched the phone just in time to prevent it from going to voicemail. 

"Hi Katie, this is Frank," he said. My heart lurched. "Have you heard from Clint?" 

"Nope," I said. "I haven't." 

"Look Katie, I hated to send him out of town on such short notice, especially during the Thanksgiving holiday, but you know I think of Clint like a son. And when a father has an idea, his son is supposed to make it happen. Someday when I leave the business to him, it'll all be worth it." I almost went into shock. 

Clint was always telling people that someday he'd be running things. But I think he thought that he would be a manager or the managing president, not that the business would be his. 

"But what about your daughter," I asked. 

"I love my daughter," he said. "I'm going to leave her all of my personal assets. She'll be very rich, but it's taken me a lifetime to build my business. Sally would just sell it. So I'm giving her my money, but I'm giving the business to someone who loves it as much as I do. Maybe one of your kids could have it next. Hopefully a son who's named after me ... that was a hint. But please don't tell Clint any of that. Anyway if he calls you, tell him to call me immediately." 

"I will Frank, but do you have any idea why the hell he hasn't called either of us?" I asked. 

"I've spoken to those Canadian guys on the phone a few times. Those guys are workaholics and our Thanksgiving isn't a holiday there. If Clint met with them yesterday as soon as he got off of the phone, they probably had meetings right through dinner and into the morning. Clint probably figured that he could get the business out of the way and come home to you sooner," he said. "With luck, he could already be flying home now. I sent him on a private business jet and ..."

"Frank, I have another call," I said interrupting him. "I'll have him call you ASAP. And the first boy will be named Frank. Shit, if it's a girl her name will be Frankie." 

As soon as I hung up the phone, I turned to Kyle. "Hit the bricks. I think Clint is on his way home," I said. 

"But what about ... " he began. 

"Kyle, do you want to have your dick sucked again or do you want your rent money," I asked. 

"Why can't I have both," he whined. "I love you so much. My new song is all about you. It's called 'Why you gots ta be so cold?" 

I burst out laughing. "Kyle, I know a lot of black people and none of them actually talk like that," I said. I wrote him a check and then gathered his clothes together and pushed him out of the door, still trying to hide my laughter. It could have been worse. He could have tried to perform it for me. 

I cleaned the house like a woman possessed. I had to wipe out any trace of Kyle's presence before Clint got home. It was just like him to try to work all night, just so he could get back to me. 

Another thing going through my mind was the fact that Frank was going to leave his business to us. We'd be millionaires. Our retirement would be spent traveling the world and living in luxury. I decided to start working on those kids as soon as Clint got back. 

Later that evening, Frank called again. I told him that I still hadn't heard from Clint. "Katie, Honey, I have some bad news for you," he said. 

"He called you?" I asked excitedly. "When is he coming home?" 

"Katie, the plane never landed," he said. "It disappeared somewhere between Detroit and Buffalo Gap." 

I was in shock. I was barely able to focus on what he was saying. 

"We don't know that anything bad has happened," he said. "If there had been an accident or the plane had crashed we'd have heard about it. We just have to be patient and wait for news." 

I called his parents and mine and told them what was going on. For the first week, I sat by the phone around the clock. Our parents, either Clint's or mine were always with me. Frank called every day. After a week, life went back to normal. I was still in contact with the American and Canadian authorities but there was no news. 

It was then that Kyle dropped by to visit. He obviously only came back because he needed more money, but I didn't care. I was tired of being alone. 

Kyle told me that he had missed me. He told me that he loved me, and a week was too long for us to be apart. He claimed to have written several more songs about me. I didn't care I was just glad to have something to focus on besides wondering where my husband was. 

Kyle was with me when they discovered the plane. The plane had broken up into three or four pieces when it hit the ground. There had been multiple fires and explosions either in the air or on the ground after the impact. 

They had been checking through the company's computer systems to find out how many passengers were on the plane that day. Due to last minute bookings, there was no actual way of knowing. Clint was one of those last minute bookings. We showed the authorities the receipt that Frank had, which had the flight info on it, as proof that Clint had been on the plane. 

The official flight list only showed thirteen passengers on it. But if the last minute fares had actually shown up and were on the plane, there could have been fifteen passengers or twenty people if you included the flight crew and two stewardesses. 

If you included the body on the ground near one of the pieces of the plane, there were fifteen bodies. The authorities were of course hoping that was it. Fifteen, official fares, fifteen bodies. That way, they could wrap it all up in a neat little package. There would still be the DNA to identify, but things would basically be over. 

I cried for three straight days. Kyle was with me the whole time. I no longer cared who saw him. 

Two days later, all hell broke loose. They found, purely by accident something that made them reopen the search. One of the crews driving in to help investigate the crash was a Canadian company north of the crash site. On their way to the sight, they stumbled on three bodies. Two of the bodies were men; the third was a woman. The woman wore a jacket with the airline's logo on it. 

From all indications, the three had survived the crash and had frozen to death trying to walk to safety. The nearest town was more than a hundred miles away. It was a stupid effort. They would never have made it. 

One of the men died with his mouth open, as if he was still talking as death took him. Frank and I drove up to the site to identify the bodies. We had already seen all of the bodies except for the ones that were horribly burned and would need DNA to identify them. 

None of the bodies were Clint's. 

That night after we had sex, Kyle asked me when we'd get the check from the insurance company. 

* * * * * *

Clint 

I awoke the next morning and realized that the fire had gone out. My arm, the one with the watch on it, was under Delilah. That explained why I hadn't heard it. 

My morning hard on was pressed into Delilah's ass. Both of my arms were around her. It was an extremely intimate position, and I felt guilty immediately. 

"Delilah, wake up," I said. 

"I'm awake," she answered cheerfully. 

"We have to get up," I said. 

"No we don't. I'm warm, and I'm comfortable. Why should I go anywhere?" She asked. She turned and looked at me. Her blue-green eyes were incredible. Our faces were so close together that it took everything I had not to kiss her. 

"Give me one reason that we need to get up?" she asked. 

"Breakfast," I said. 

"Okay ... That's a good one," she said. "Do we actually have breakfast?" 

I nodded. "And lunch and dinner too; if we're careful and eat two meals a day and have snack foods like chips or peanuts for lunches, I'd estimate that we have enough food to last for more than a week. I think your ankle will have healed by then. If no one has found us by then. We'll both walk back to the plane and get more." 

"That sounds like a plan to me," she said. "Let's eat." 

I remade the fire and used the grate that was already there to warm up the heat n serve meals. There were even a few dishes in the kitchen. 

After breakfast, I explored the cabin. There was a sleeping loft that was reachable by a ladder, but it was too far away from the fireplace to be useful. There was no other source of heat in the cabin. So it looked like we'd be sleeping in front of the fire. 

I was about to go to the other cabins to explore them, when I discovered that we were snowed in. I spent the rest of the day talking to Delilah. 

Although the conversations were purely superficial, the growing intimacy between us couldn't be denied. Delilah seemed to enjoy teasing me and testing my limits. We would be talking about the most innocent subjects, when she would just level those blue-green eyes at me and say, "You like me don't you?" 

Or just when I was telling her that I had to fight my way through the snow to bring in more firewood before we ran out, she really got to me. 

"It's freezing out there," she declared. 

"I know," I said. "But I can't let you get cold." 

"You really can't," she said innocently. "When I get cold my nipples stand straight up like bullets. They were doing that this morning too, when I was rubbing my ass against your dick before you woke up." I turned so red that she laughed at me. I plunged right out into the snow just to get away from her. 

I made several trips and stacked enough firewood just inside of our doorway to keep us warm for a couple of days. Delilah just smiled at me. 

"Are ya cold," she asked. 

"Not really," I said. 

"I guess it worked," she said. "I got you a little heated up so you wouldn't get cold while you got wood for us." Then she just started laughing for no reason. 

"What's so funny?" I asked. 

"You got wood FROM me, so you could get wood FOR me," she laughed. 

I went out on the porch and grabbed the blanket with all of our food in it. I let her look over our choices for dinner. She picked meat loaf, and I picked a chicken parmesan that looked really good on the package. 

After dinner, I took one of the bottles of water and used it to wash our dishes, using some soap I found in the kitchen under the sink. I was glad that we had the sink. It would have been so much better though if we had running water. 

"I haven't gotten off of my ass all day, except for hopping over to the back door to use that porta potty," she said. "But I'm exhausted. Are you coming to bed?" 

I hesitated. "Come on Clint," she said. "It's getting dark and we have nothing else to do. So throw a couple of logs on the fire and come get under this blanket with me." 

We had a really good talk before we fell asleep. Delilah told me her life story, and she didn't hold anything back this time. 

I was totally wrong about her. She wasn't what she seemed at all. Her father had been a store owner. He raised her to be a good girl. She married her high school sweetheart when they turned eighteen. He joined the army, and they decided to hold off on having kids until he left the service and went to college. He re-upped for another tour of duty to max out his military benefits. Things were looking good for them. They had bought a house and started to prepare for his impending return to civilian life. 

David had always been a very gentle, yet protective man. He was funny, shy, and very committed to both her and his country. He was as clumsy as they come though and couldn't dance to save his ass. He was always tripping over something or stepping on her feet whenever they tried to dance. She wore a beautiful dress with steel-toed work shoes under it to their senior prom. And they danced or tried to the whole night long. Just before he took her home, with her parents' permission, he asked her to marry him. She had loved him with all of her heart and was sure that he felt the same. 

He'd fallen in love with her mind before her body developed. And even though her body wasn't the ideal type for people of their age, he never faltered. When she sat home wishing she was taller and thinner, he just laughed and told her how glad he was that she wasn't. 

The day before he was due to come home for good, he tripped and fell one last time. The wire he'd tripped over made sure that he never got up again. She was devastated. The chunky, happy-go-lucky girl with the world on a string, who loved planting flowers and dreamed of being a mom, never returned. She moved back in with her parents after selling the house. 

It took her almost four years to get over his death enough to function. At twenty-eight years old, she got her first job as a waitress for a local restaurant. She became a good waitress over the next few years, but she never got used to the rude comments some of the customers made about her body, especially her breasts. They had seemingly never stopped growing. 

Some of the men were all too obvious in what they wanted. They even tried tricking her. They bet her all kinds of money that her breasts weren't real. 

"How am I supposed to prove they are," she asked. 

"Let me feel them," said one man. "Once you prove they're real; I'll give you the money." 

There was a strip club down the street from the restaurant. The owner and several of the girls were customers. She was offered a chance to dance in the club for four times the money she made at the restaurant and turned it down. 

She wasn't comfortable with the idea of showing off her body. A couple of years later, the owner had a side business. He had a web site that featured a lot of his strippers. At first, the site had been a big money maker but over the last few years he'd noticed that the trend was away from the stripper type. Men had gotten bored with looking at bone thin blondes with big fake boobs. Most of the men he spoke to were more interested in seeing women who looked like the real girl next door. 

John Q. Public wanted to jack off to girls with big natural breasts and fatter more rounded asses. There was something really nasty about seeing an average looking woman taking it all off. Her supposed flaws only added to her beauty. 

If it hadn't been for the fact that her father had gotten really sick and her mom needed help with his medical bills, she never would have done it. However, she was a big success from the very beginning. 

She got a camera with a wireless remote and took all of the photos herself in the privacy of her own home. Within a few weeks, she quit the restaurant. She, for some reason, needed for me to know that she had never done boy/girl porn or had sex on camera. She had also not once done girl/girl porn. The only things she did were to post a new set of photos of herself in various stages of undress every week. 

She posted several teaser pics that anyone could see and far racier pictures that you had to buy a membership to her site to see. She made a very generous living but always expected the bottom to drop out of the market or for men to lose interest in her body type. In the past few years, she had begun doing requests. A customer could suggest poses they wanted her to see or things they wanted her to wear. She got a lot of money for those. She had also begun doing videos. Again, all of her photos and videos were solo. 

Her father passed away a few years ago, and her mother followed in a remarkably short time after. It left her with no close relatives and no relatives at all except for the aunt she had just visited. It also left her with a hole in her heart. 

Over the years, she'd met lots of men, purely for business, but she had never dated any of them. She became an expert at turning a man on. And using sexual innuendos and flirting was a big part of her arsenal. The funny thing about it was that she had only one sexual partner since David had died. Tachi took care of all of her needs. So if she got too horny after a photo session, Tachi got her off. 

She became an expert at figuring out in an instant what people wanted from her. And also in keeping herself closed off from people who only wanted to use her. 

"In a lot of ways, you remind me of David, Clint," she told me, as we snuggled together on the sofa. "You have that same shyness and that same protective nature about you. And when you talk to me, you actually look me in the eye, not in the tits. But if I look at you directly, you shy away."

"And you really do like me," she said. "I know you're married, and the boy scout in you won't let you take what I want to give you. But I want you so badly that I won't stop trying." 




Christmas in the Woods



"But Delilah, we're both nice people," I said. "And nice people don't cheat." 

"I wouldn't be cheating on anyone," she said. "Except for you, there's no one in my life." 

"But nice women don't sleep with married men, or at least, they don't have sex with them," I said. She burst out laughing again. 

"See what I mean?" she laughed. "I just told you that I make my living taking my clothes off on the Internet. I'm a net whore, and you still think I'm a nice person. Good night, Honey." 

"Good night, Delilah," I said. 

And as she pressed her soft womanly body against me, I wished that I wasn't as much of a boy scout as she thought I was. 

* * * * * *

Katie

I had no idea how I was supposed to feel. The man I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with was missing and assumed dead. On one hand Frank and Clint's family had assured me that he was still alive. In fact the entire Connors family was acting as if there was no doubt that he was alive and was just stuck somewhere with no cell service. His brother Chuck was especially adamant about it. 

He was the one who kept reminding me that Christmas dinner was at his house that year and he expected Clint and I to be there. 

On the other hand there was the insurance company. It was clear that thy didn't give a fuck about Clint or me either for that factor. They were absolutely refusing to pay out so much as a cent without confirmed proof of death. Thy wanted a confirmed DNA test that one of those bodies belonged to Clint before they would even begin to investigate a claim. 

My parents were of course more realistic. They had begun to hint around about funeral services. I finally just told everyone to leave me the hell alone. I told them that I didn't want or need any visitors or well wishers. I just needed to process things. For that I needed time alone with my thoughts. 

The reality, of course, was somewhere in the middle. I needed to figure out what I really wanted to have happen. For most of my life either my parents or Clint had supported me and had therefore controlled the purse strings. I had a quarter of a million dollar insurance policy on Clint. In the case of accidental death it would pay double. 

If they couldn't prove some sort of negligence by the flight crew, I was going to have a half a million dollars of my own money. As much as I love Clint, it was a lot of fucking money. 

Of course if Clint came back we'd be worth a lot more in a few years. But there is a pretty big difference between WE and ME. 

Kyle was another story. He smelled a big payout and he wantd to be in on it. He was being extra nice to me and constantly telling me how much he loved me. Every chance he got he was rubbing on me and trying to have sex with me. For some reason he really believed that he was going to fuck his way into some of my money. 

But I had to admit that having him around did serve as a distraction. I just wanted it all to be over, one way or another. I either wanted my husband back or a big ass check and I hadn't really made my mind up which one I wanted more. 

I decided then to keep Kyle around for two reasons. The first was because even though I didn't love him, I could control him. And I enjoyed that. My life with Clint and probably with any other man would be a series of compromises. With Kyle, I was clearly the one in charge. If I felt like making him eat my pussy all night and never gave him any satisfaction himself, he had no choice but to do what I wanted. The bitch in me loved that. 

The second reason was because again I didn't want to be alone. And when most men heard the term "widow" attached to your name it was like the kiss of death. Half of them didn't want to have anything to do with you because they figured you were bad luck. And the other half felt too sorry for you to try to fuck you. 

I was still balancing on the fence between wanting Clint back and wanting the insurance money, but I was really leaning towards wanting Clint back. The previous night while Kyle humped away at me, I imagined what my kids with him would look like or act like. 

I decided that it would be far better for me not to have any kids than to have them with Kyle. 

* * * * * *

Delilah

Delilah, Delilah, Delilah, I thought to my self. Only you could end up in a plane crash and come out of it happy. For nearly a week, I had been "trapped" in a remote cabin in the Canadian wilderness with Clint. And every day we grew closer. He was the first man I had been even vaguely interested in since ... Well in a long time. And my body was reacting to the long draught without sex in an extremely vigorous way. 

The only thing more intense than my feelings for him was my frustration that we hadn't had sex yet. If I somehow ended up wih this man I would make him the happiest man on earth. Besides all of his great characteristics and the fact that I was sure that he felt the same way about me that I felt about him, I loved the fact that he fought so hard to remain faithful to his wife. 

We had discovered a couple of days ago that we both had bricks in our jackets. A brick is what you call a cell phone with no service. His iPhone, even though it hadn't been used was almost dead. My Samsung still had a 75% charge. 

With the last remaining bit of power in his phone, he showed me a couple of pictures of his wife and one of his car. I laughed at that, but to tell you the truth I had more interest in the car. Anything he loved enough to have pictures of might be a rival for his affections. 

His wife was laughable. She was a tall, thinner, shrewish looking woman. She was the kind of woman that no one with any sense would ever trust. Even from the pictures, it was clear to me that she cared more about herself than she did him. 

I decided to lose a few pounds after seeing her though. Nothing too drastic, I liked my body and most men do too. But it wouldn't hurt me to lose a few inches around the waist. 

I really think it was more a problem for me than it was for Clint. He seemed to end up with one of his hands on my tummy every night, so it couldn't be that bad. Of course I made sure that his hands were on my boobs every morning before he woke up. 

I think my interest in losing some tummy came from seeing the pictures of his wife. It was my only weakness. Her boobs, even though fake, were far smaller than mine. They had that rock hard, "two baseballs stuck on a flat chest" look. Even the porn stars hated that look nowadays. They felt like really hard bags of saline and they didn't move like real breasts. 

Older women and women who weren't married preferred that style. The only advantage to tits like that was that they looked really firm when you were fully dressed. They also didn't move at all. But no man really liked tits like that, so score one for real tits and score two for really big real tits.

She also has no ass. It's like her lower back just continues on until it splits into two legs. That "no ass" look was popular back in the seventies, but most men prefer curves these days. Her type of ass looks really good in loose fitting clothes. But in jeans or tight skirts you can kind of tell something is missing. That kind of ass looks awful in a thong. With no rounded cheeks to hide it, you mostly pay attention to that string. It just looks uncomfortable.

Her legs are pretty long, but they're also too thin. I guess they're proportionate to her body, but I wonder what she would feel if she knew that her husband gets a vacant look in his eyes and a hard on every night when he massages my thick curvy stems. 

He massages the sore leg to help it heal faster. He does the other one ...? Why does he do the other one? I think he just likes feeling on my legs. 

Anyway, unfortunately Clint was right about my ankle. I haven't told him yet but I can walk on it for a bit. It gets stronger every day, but so do my feelings for him. I am going to hate leaving here. 

You'd think that after spending nearly every second of every day with a person, you'd need some time away from them. It hasn't happened yet. And every night I get closer to getting what I want. 

Last night as we lay there on the sofa, talking, things changed. We had taken up our usual position, with him behind me. I was as usual trying to rub my ass against him on the sly. But it was different this time because he was rubbing back. Not only was he grinding that hard dick back against my ass, he was gently massaging my tummy. I was becoming really worked up. 

I was too afraid to say anything out of the fear that he would stop. I very slowly started rubbing one of his hands as it stroked my tummy and moved it upwards until it was barely touching the bottom of my breast on each stroke. 

I think that Clint was no longer thinking about what we were doing. We were just talking and rubbing each other the way we always did. Before too long, we were dry jumping each other like there was no tomorrow. I felt so good. It felt like my nipples were going to explode. I started moaning and suddenly my clothes were far too restrictive. 

I started unbuttoning my blouse and I loved the feeling of Clint's hands on my naked skin even better. I moaned at what I was sure would come next and as soon as the sound left my lips, I felt Clint's entire body stiffen behind me. 

"I am so sorry," he said. He pulled his hands away from me like I was on fire. 

"I am too," I said. "I'm sorry you stopped." 

"We both have people at home who would be hurt by what we were doing," he said. "I have Katie and you have Tachi." 

I burst out laughing again. "Clint, I don't have anyone at home," I said. "Tachi is short for Hitachi. It's supposedly the strongest most versatile vibrator they make. No one has touched my body in years. So forgive me if I was enjoying what we just did." 

I have to give him credit. Clint stepped up. "Delilah, I want you to know that if I wasn't married ... We could really have something. I do ..." he began. 

"Shut up you idiot," I said trying to keep my voice from breaking. "I knew that if he told me he loved me, I would rape him. And I knew that it would be easy because, he would let me. As hard as his dick had been when he was rubbing my tits, he wanted me as badly as I wanted him. But I also knew that if I took him, it would destroy the boyscout aspect of his personality that I found so endearing. And I couldn't do that. I was finding out all kinds of things about myself that I had never known. 

If anyone had asked me before this, if I was the kind of woman who'd have sex with a married man, I would have laughed in their face. If they asked me the same thing now, I would have to say Hell yes, and mean it. I was apparently capable of doing almost anything for the right man. Anything that is except destroy the man I love.

I was grateful when he made the first move. He pulled me back against him. And started rubbing my tummy again. My moans of pleasure were genuine. I had been very sure that he would never touch me again. It told me that as I suspected he wanted me too. There was just a certain point he was not willing to go beyond.

"So how do you celebrate Christmas?" he asked,trying to find an innocent subject. 

I told him how I usually went to visit my aunt. I exchanged a few small gifts with some of the people I worked with. There were a couple of the web designers and the sales people who worked on my website that I was friendly with. I had known them for almost fifteen years. But rarely ever saw them in person. Most of our correspondence was over the net. I really didn't have many people that I was close to. 

He tried to change the subject because he thought that I was becoming depressed. 

"So your ankle seems to be getting stronger," he said. "I think that in a couple of days, we should try walking to the plane for more food. The snow should have melted enough by then that we could make it easily." 

"Why don't you go Tomorrow?" I asked. He looked at me as if I had hit him. Even in the dark I could see his reaction. 

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to," I said. He was quiet for a while. 

"I already know the answer anyway," I continued. "You don't want to leave me either. You're trying your ass off to think of a way, any way to keep us together for just a few more days. But you don't have to. I'll stay here with you for as long as you want." 

"I want you to go because if someone has found the plane we'll both be there, so we can go home," he said. 

"if you got there and someone had found the plane, they probably have a car and you could drive back here in a matter of minutes," I told him. 

For a long time neither of us said anything. 

"Clint, can we talk about Christmas again?" I asked. 

"We can talk about anything you want," he said. 

"No, we can't," I snapped. "Because I could ask you some questions about your feelings for me and your feelings about your boney little wife that would make you really uncomfortable." 

"Christmas, it is," he said. 

"We'll do what you wanted," I said. "We'll wait a couple of more days and then we'll go to the plane for food. If someone has found the plane we'll be rescued. I'll go back to my life and you can go back to your wife and no one will ever know what happened here between us. I for one will remember this and you forever. It'll be like a very precious gem that the two of have shared and hidden away from the world. 

At least that's how I see it. Maybe it'll be something you're ashamed of, so you won't talk about it either. Anyway, neither of us know what's going to happen. Anything could happen. The weather could turn even colder. We could get a couple of feet more snow. Maybe no one has found th plane here yet and we'll be her for another two weeks. So I want you to make me a promise. "

"Okay, I promise," he said. I don't know how, but he broke my heart all over again. 

"No, dummy," I said trying not to cry. "You can't promise until you know what I'm asking. It might be something you don't want to do."

"Delilah, I really can't think of anything I wouldn't do for you," he said. And I knew that he meant it. 

"Call it a Christmas wish," I said. "But I want you to promise me that if the two of us are in this cabin on Christmas. That we'll forget about everything out there in the world and just belong to each other for a little while. We won't bring up your wife or my vibrator, or anything else. We'll just spend that one day without all of our bullshit and baggage." 

It got even quieter in the room. I was thinking that I had gone too far. I knew what I was asking. "I promise," he said. 

After that we both drifted off to sleep. We held each other just a little bit tighter then. And during the night I made a decision. I still had a full day before we went to the plane. I was going to let him know exactly how I felt. 

But a line had been crossed between us, or if not crossed maybe we were both determined to get as close to the line as we could without crossing it. 

I awoke the next morning feeling as if I was floating on a cloud. My entire body was tingling in a way I had never felt in my life. 

Clint was rubbing my boobs as if they belonged to him. He was also kissing my neck and rubbing my legs as close as my skirt would allow him to get to my pussy. I was so close to cumming that it wouldn't have taken much to drive me over the edge. The man had almost gotten me off through my clothes. As soon as he realized that I was awake, he stopped and pretended to be asleep. 

The man had no idea that he was playing with fire. He'd obviously forgotten that I teased men for a living. 

Just before we ate breakfast, I started walking around the cabin for the first time. I walked slowly and with a tiny limp but I loved the feeling of Clint's eyes on me. as he stoked the fire and warmed our food, I unbuttoned several buttons on my blouse. 

When we sat down to eat, I noticed Clint's hands shaking. Then I noticed where his eyes were. I gave him my biggest, brightest smile. 

"What cha lookin' at?" I asked batting my eyes innocently. Clint almost choked on his breakfast. My only response was to open my blouse even further, giving him an even bigger glimpse of my giant bra covered titties. 

Everything I did that day ramped up the intensity. A little while later Clint took a couple of our spare blankets and the knife from the emergency kit. 

"What are you doing?" I asked. He turned to me and noticed that I was holding my bra and panties in my hand. 

I heard his gulp from across the short distance between us. "Oh, I'm gonna use some of the water and soap to wash my undies. We've been wearing the same clothes for more than a week and my panties are always dripping wet because of someone. I'll hang them near the fire so they'll be dry by morning," I said. "Now what are you doing?" I asked again.

"We have only the light jackets that we were wearing on the plane," he said. "he held up a blanket that he had made a slit in the center of. He pulled the blanket over me pushing the slit over my head. "Instant poncho," he told me. 

For a second our eyes locked together. I was sure he was going to kiss me. "I love that beautiful red hair," he said. 

He just stood there looking at me trying to pull my long hair through the slit in the homemade poncho. I couldn't take it any more. I knew what I had to do. I needed to ramp up the sexy even more. 

I grabbed onto his hands as they gently stroked my hair. "This gives me a great idea!" I said. "Now that I have this, I can wash the rest of my clothes too." 

I pulled the poncho back over my head slowly and shook my long hair free of it. For some reason men love to see a woman shaking her hair. There are so many commercials on TV where a very average looking woman seems to be the sexiest thing on Earth because she shakes her hair, wet or dry, in slow motion. 

As I shook my hair, my boobs also jostled around unrestrained under my blouse. Clint grabbed his chest as if he was having difficulty remembering to breathe. I slowly unbuttoned my blouse and took it off. His eyes were as big as saucers. 

I slowly shimmied my hips as I worked the skirt down over my well rounded hops and down my legs. I managed to turn as I fiddled with the zipper before stepping out of the skirt. 

There was no need for me to turn, I just wanted him to see my ass jiggle as I stood up. I stayed bent over for far longer than was necessary. I get so many requests from men who want pictures of me bent over. I enjoyed showing that view to the one man on the planet who could actually take me that way, any time he wanted to. 

"You're taking your clothes off ... Right here in the middle of the room," he squeaked. 

"I wanted to give you the chance to see what you keep turning down," I smiled. "We've done this dance a time or two. And you've made it plain that you won't take me. So my virtue is in no danger. Besides, I was just about to put the poncho back on. Unless of course, you want me to leave it off." 

Clint looked as if his heads were about to explode; both of them. I laughed as I put the poncho on and went to wash my skirt and blouse. 

All that afternoon, I concentrated on bending and primping and doing my best to make sure that Clint saw my ass and my pussy from every angle that the poncho would allow. 

As it got dark, we ate our dinner, with the tension between us so thick you could cut it. As I finished the last of my meal and daintily licked it from my fingers, I smiled at him. "We've got a big day tomorrow, Honey. Let's go to bed ... Or to couch."

I took off the poncho and got onto the sofa. I raised the blanket and gestured for him to join me. He slowly walked towards me shaking his head. 

I yawned and pulled his arms around me. "There's nothing different here, baby," I said. "It's still only me. It's the same body you've been sleeping with." I placed one of his hands on my tummy. His fingers felt even better on my bare skin. Then I placed the other one firmly on my tit. I could feel hm hardening rapidly behind me. I think we both moaned at the same time.