A Backwoods Awakening

"All four, please!" Patricia grunted. "I want all four fingers!"

Melissa wasn't sure about fitting them all in, but one at a time she tried. It was a tight fit, but Patricia seemed to love it. And so did Melissa, her curiosity about it all finally satisfied -- so this was how another woman felt! She had only rarely tried fingering herself and the angle had been awkward at best -- nothing like the wonderful sensations she was clearly giving Patricia now. Her grunting was quickly growing into outright yells, and Melissa wished those jerks on the bus could hear as much.

It seemed a good thing to say out loud, and so she did. "God, if Mr. Morahan and those losers could hear this!" she said.

"Make the poor bastards eat their hearts out!" Patricia agreed between moans. "And make me come! Now!"

Melissa sped up her gentle thrusting with her hand. "Like this?"

"YES! Exactly like that!"

By the time the storm passed, the sun was down. Mr. Sheridan was grateful for as much; at least the humidity wouldn't be back. He gave some thought to climbing back up to his old seat to sleep, but one step up toward the median reminded him that the stench was worse than ever. Nothing for him but to stay by his hard-won air hole, then, and try to straddle the puddle as much as he could. Most of the others appeared to have admitted defeat and were trying to sleep off the sentence, but from the sound of it few were succeeding. Shuffling and tossing abounded, and then came a noise that surprised Mr. Sheridan only because it had been so long in coming: someone towards the back of the bus throwing up.

No contest, he would stay by the air hole. The barely-perceptible outline of the trees was lovely anyway. Trying to focus on his planned appeal in the morning -- "I believe now, I see the beautiful forest and I've felt what it can do to you, and I'll never have a hand in destroying it again!" -- he managed to feel drowsy against all odds. At last, he slept.

Melissa had worked Patricia up to two orgasms, but now her hand was getting quite sore. "Sorry, I need a break," she said.

"You've certainly earned it," Patricia agreed. "Besides, I wasn't quite done with you."

"But I came," Melissa said apologetically, though now that this day had finally arrived she did not care for it to ever end.

"Only once," Patricia reminded her, as Melissa lay back in her place. Patricia pulled Melissa's legs apart. "Now you just relax and enjoy your dessert."

"Dessert?"

"Well, okay, I'm the only one who'll be eating. But I think you'll like it."

"What -- " Melissa had no time to get another word out before she felt Patricia's tongue wet and welcoming against her clit. "Ohhhhhhh!" Yet another wonderful experience none of her boyfriends had ever been willing to provide, but Melissa did not suppose their stubbly faces would feel as wonderful as Patricia's smooth cheeks against her inner thighs. She was barely aware of that, though, as Patricia went to town with her tongue and effortlessly worked Melissa back up to another peak.

Just as Melissa was about to come again, Patricia stopped and came up for air. "Hey!" Melissa whined, snapping back to reality.

"Don't worry, I'm not done," Patricia reassured her, and to prove it she began teasing Melissa's clit with her thumb. "I was just thinking before, what you said about the guys on the bus. What would you like to tell them right now?"

"Fuck 'em all," Melissa groaned.

"Mr. Morahan and his love for nothing but money?"

"Fuck em!"

"And the way he makes you dress for the guys?"

"Fuck 'em!"

"And the folks you grew up with who kept you in the closet? Dyke? Queer? Bitch? What do you want to say to them?!"

"I want to say..." before she could deliver the latest epithet, Patricia dove back between Melissa's thighs and reached her tongue as far inside as she could, while still stroking Melissa with her thumb. "Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuunnnnnnnhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" She gave up trying to articulate her scream, and was lost entirely in the pleasure. Once the wave had passed, Patricia crawled back up alongside her and put her arms around Melissa, who felt tears of joy welling in her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Thank you," Patricia replied, and soon they fell into joyously peaceful sleep in their embrace.

The dream would be of the outdoors, wouldn't it? But Mr. Sheridan was scarcely aware of his imaginary day out in the rough when a real roughness brushed against his head. In an instant he was awake and sliding hopelessly down into the filthy water, and jerking around to see Mr. Bucks coming at him with a broken bottle.

"You let me have your space by that hole and nobody gets hurt," he whispered.

"Screw you, buddy," Mr. Sheridan said, loud enough to disturb the extremely delicate sleep of at least half a dozen of the other investors, who awoke with shouts of anger at him. So fucking be it, he thought to himself.

"Sheridan, what the hell?!" "Hey, what's Bucks got there?" "Oh, Christ, we don't need to be killin' each other too, Bucks!"

"My thoughts exactly," Mr. Sheridan grumbled as Mr. Bucks took his eyes away for a moment to answer his critics. Mr. Sheridan took advantage of the distraction and kicked Mr. Bucks in the balls; the older man dropped the weapon and it shattered harmlessly on the floor. Mr. Bucks was not so harmless; he roared back with a punch in Mr. Sheridan's right eye, but Mr. Sheridan grabbed at his fist just afterward with both hands and twisted it as hard as he could.

Before either man could do any further harm, two of Mr. Bucks' cohorts came and pulled him back. "Won't do any good to fight him," one of them said. "Besides, what if you get hurt? We can't even call an ambulance in here."

"Gonna get you soon enough, Sheridan," Mr. Bucks growled. "Just wait until we get out of here."

"If you do get out of here," Mr. Sheridan shot back. He rather suspected Mr. Bucks had just given him his ticket to freedom. With that comforting thought now doing battle with his newly dampened pants, Mr. Sheridan did his best to get back to sleep.

He never quite succeeded, and he was awake at dawn when Melissa and Patricia emerged from the house for their morning bath. He watched just long enough to determine that both women were naked, and respectfully turned his gaze back to the bus' ceiling, giving no indication of what he had seen.

Word got out around the bus soon enough without his help, but by then most of the men were too far gone to be titillated. A croaky "those two bitches better get here soon" was the most verbose response Mr. Sheridan heard.

Patricia had gone down on Melissa again as soon as they were both awake that morning, and so Melissa was positively giddy with energy as they splashed around in the pond. The beautiful sunrise over the trees behind the bus only added to her contentment. "Heavens, Patricia, this is so beautiful!" she said as they soaped one another up. "I could never get tired of living out here!"

"Oh, but you would," Patricia reassured her. "The woods are not for everyone. Besides, girl, you've got your whole life to live now. You're free at last."

Melissa felt a touch of melancholy for the first time since she'd woken up in Patricia's arms. "What makes you think I want to be free?"

"Melissa, listen to me," Patricia said, pausing with the washing to put her hands on Melissa's shoulders. "You're a lovely young woman, but you just don't belong here like I do, and like Valerie did. And I'll tell you very frankly, you can never take the place of my Valerie. No one ever can, girl. I'm sorry." Melissa was visibly close to bittersweet tears, so Patricia gave her a soapy hug. "You owe it to yourself to live your own life, girl, not mine. Okay?"

Melissa nodded. "Okay."

"And there are so many lovely ladies out there for you, too, wherever you decide to go! But you've got to go find your own special place."

"That makes sense," Melissa admitted. "And the special place is far from here, isn't it?"

"You got that right," Patricia said. Then, pointing toward the bus, she added, "We do have some unfinished business, don't we? But first I'm going to make you some breakfast and give you a change of clothes."

They both looked toward the bank, where Melissa's business suit and underwear lay wrought with rainwater. "How appropriate," Melissa said.

"Now you've got it right!" Patricia reassured her.

"Christ, they're even dressing alike now!" Mr. Jameson grumbled half an hour later, after Patricia and Melissa had enjoyed a quiet breakfast and Patricia had found a change of clothes in her size. They were indeed both attired in green t-shirts and blue jeans, but it was perfectly coincidental. "I'm sure you've guessed by now I've had my share of other women in and out of here," Patricia had explained. "So I have clothes of every size, but not very many of them."

"I...see," Melissa had said, as only at that moment did it hit her that she was not Patricia's first guest with benefits since she had lost Valerie.

Patricia had already settled on her favorite green shirt for the big confrontation, and a similar one proved to be all she had in Melissa's size. "And I'm afraid you're going to have to go without a bra," she had said.

"All too fitting for this, don't you think?" Melissa had replied. And as she strode braless across the meadow, hand in hand with Patricia, she still felt every inch that way. Self-consciousness was a bad memory now, nothing more.

Melissa had expected a rush for the door as soon as Patricia lifted the bar off the bus door. Instead, most of the men were too sick and weak to bother with such things, as Melissa could tell by the stink alone as they stepped into the bus.

"Oooh! This place smells horrible!" she proclaimed, secretly pleased that it did although it made her feel almost nauseated.

"No shit, little lady," rasped Mr. Morahan, who still had not moved from his spot. "Now, you're fired, but I'm sure you had that figured out. You want to get arrested too, or are you gonna let us out?"

"We're gonna let y'all out, all right," Patricia said. "But what happens after that remains to be seen. Anyone got anything to say for himself?"

"I do," said Mr. Sheridan, who had managed to get to his feet.

"Yes, Mister..."

"Sheridan," Melissa told her.

"Sheridan," Patricia repeated. "What happened to your eye, first of all?"

"He kicks like a girl, that's what!" called out Mr. Bucks from his own lair near the rear wheelwells.

"Yeah, I kicked him when he came after me for my air hole," Mr. Sheridan admitted, pointing up at his beloved hole. "So he hit me. But I kept my hole, dammit."

"Your hole," Patricia said, noting the window. "Why'd you do that, Mr. Sheridan?"

"For the fresh air," he told her. "Wouldn't you?"

"Probably," Patricia admitted. "So what were you going to tell me?"

"That I loved the rainstorm last night."

"I'll bet you did," Melissa said with a wicked grin, but Patricia gave her a firm look, silencing her.

"Of course I did," Mr. Sheridan continued. "Quite a force of nature it was, and watching it so close up was breathtaking. I can't remember the last time I took the time to notice a thing like that. The way it wet the trees, and how they swayed in the wind. Beautiful. Made me think of when I was a boy, watching a thunderstorm from safe and sound in my room with the window shut but the curtains open. I remember now how I loved that."

"Would you deprive anyone else of that beauty, Mr. Sheridan?" Patricia asked.

"Never again." Mr. Sheridan said nothing more; he guessed -- correctly -- that he had done all he could.

"Well said, Mr. Sheridan," Patricia said. "Anyone else want to share?"

"There's a lot I'd like to share with you bitches!" Mr. Morahan roared. "And just you wait until I do! I'm a-gonna --"

"Donny, shut up!" came a voice from back by Mr. Bucks. Mr. Sheridan looked to see it was one of the guys who had held Bucks back from him last night. "Ladies, I'm sorry Donny's been such a pig here. I can't say I like what you did to us, but I can see what you were tryin' to do, anyhow, and for him to keep mouthin' off at you now, it ain't right. I see that now. I'm sorry."

"You goddam..." Mr. Morahan began, but before he could continue, Mr. Sheridan produced a wad of paper napkins from his coat pocket and dove in at Mr. Morahan, who tried to fight him off but was too weak to do so. Mr. Sheridan stuffed the napkins in Mr. Morahan's mouth, and sat atop him with his hands clamped over his wriggling but weak arms. A weak but encouraging round of applause followed.

"Thank you, Mr. Sheridan," Patricia said, managing to keep a straight face. She gestured at the man who had apologized, and then at Mr. Sheridan. "Okay, the two of you, come with me." She turned and guided them both off the bus, Mr. Morahan resuming his barely coherent epithets as soon as Mr. Sheridan was off him; and Melissa stood guard over the others before anyone could make any move to escape.

Melissa stood proudly, ignoring her former boss' furious blather and pleasantly aware that all the other men were doing the same, and watched out of the corner of her eye as Patricia directed her two chosen ones up the dirt road towards her friends with the waiting ride, as she had done with Rusty yesterday. As soon as Patricia had seen them off and returned to the bus, Melissa asked her, "How do you know they weren't faking?"

"I don't," Patricia admitted. "But they spoke up and nobody else did, so at least there's a chance they weren't. With a bus full of losers like this, I'll take a slim chance over no chance."

"Good thinking," Melissa agreed, now aware that the entire bus -- even Mr. Morahan -- was silent and waiting for the women's next move. Melissa was wondering too.

"Now then," Patricia declared. "I am going to give Melissa here a ride back into town on my bike. I don't suspect she will be in town much longer, but while she is there I expect y'all to leave her be. Don't think I won't know if you don't; I do have friends in town. After all, how'd you think I knew who y'all were? Anyhow, the bus door is open and y'all are free to walk back. I believe you know the way.

"Walk?" chimed in Mr. Jameson. "All the way back there lookin' and smellin' like this?"

"Enjoy the fresh air," Melissa encouraged him. "And think about how you would have spoiled it with your new development out here if you could've."

"Well said," Patricia agreed, and she ducked down into the driver's seat to clear the way off the bus. "Y'all are free to go, I told you! Get out of this hellhole while you can, that's what I'd do if I were you!"

One by one, all the investors heeded her advice. Slowly at first, with just one of the younger guys making for the door warily, as if it might disappear; then when he fell into the clean air, others followed his lead. Melissa was pleased to note that none of them even gave her a stray look as they made their way past her and Patricia -- after all, who knew what Patricia might do to them if they acted out of line now?! Tired and sick but happy to be free, the men walked off without a single look back at the bus or at their captors.

Soon they were all filing off as quickly as they could, and staggering off towards the highway. All except Mr. Morahan, who still couldn't get unstuck from his wedge between the seats. Try as he might, he couldn't move an inch. "You bitches gonna help me out or what?" he demanded.

"Or what," Melissa said fearlessly, as Patricia followed the last of the other men off the bus and bade her follow. "You're free to go as soon as you can."

"That's right," Patricia added. "Come on, Melissa, the bike's in the barn."

"Are you really sayin' you're leavin' me here to stew in this filth by myself?!" Mr. Morahan shrieked at the women.

"Yes sir, we are," Patricia declared, shutting the bus door behind her.