Panic Ch. 03

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"Must we?"

"C'mon, Esmé, you'll like it."

"Wanna bet?"

His breath was warm and tickly in my ear. "I can make it good for you. It won't hurt. I know how."

"Jesse," I said. "You've been fucking me all weekend. I'm familiar with your style. I like it, but I know it won't work as back-door action. Anyway, this just isn't the place. If I'm going to do it at all, I insist on having soap and running water nearby. And santorum in my sleeping bag? Forget it. Just For. Get. It."

"We've got all the running water we need," Jesse said. "Down by the creek. We can go back to that place where we were before. We'll take the soap and the lube with us. C'mon, give it a try."

And the next thing I knew, I was putting the bottle of liquid soap and the lube in a mesh bag. Suddenly, it had seemed like not so bad an idea. I knew why, of course; as I crawled out of the tent and Jesse followed me I wondered, despite the fact that I knew he was a supernatural being, how the forest god could run so many things at once. We had not bothered with getting dressed, except for putting on t-shirts; the party in the clearing was still going full blast and nobody paid any attention to us. Kymilla and Terri had moved to an old fashioned chaise, the tubular kind with webbing, where they lay close together, breast to breast, top leg akimbo; each gliding her fingers up and down the grooves of the other's slippery cunt. As I watched, Kymilla panted and shuddered through an orgasm, her legs stiffening and toes curling. In a few seconds, Terri came after her. The Morrisette twins had remained with the forest god. Danielle lay half-reclined, her legs parted; Chloe, lying with her head pillowed on one of her sister's thighs, was giving her pussy a slow, careful, languorous Frenching. Chloe was being pleasured in her turn by our supernatural visitor, who, spooned behind her, was doing things to her with his cock that most cocks are not built to do. Not human ones, anyway.

The Settle brothers' truck was parked on the other side of the clearing, where Cornell had brought it around to power the compressor. Two men were pressed up to the tailgate. At first I thought the older and bigger one was Cornell, but I had seen him and his wife Marissa heading for their tent when the wild time had begun. No, this was his younger brother, Verdell, with a similar bear-like appearance, but lighter in build. I wondered who the young dude was that he had trapped nicely between him and the rear of the truck, bent forward, legs spread wide, hands gripping the top of the tailgate. Verdell was holding onto the top of the tailgate, too, but his other arm was wrapped around the young man's torso, presumably giving him a reach-around. The firelight illuminated Verdell's hairy body, and the flexing of his big square ass; he was really whaling it into the fellow, whoever he was. I could hear the little pants and grunts and slaps of flesh upon flesh. When Jesse and I went around the truck, we could then see who the younger man was. There were similar expressions of pleasurable strain on their faces. "Damn, it's BobEarl," I said.

"Esmé!" Jesse said.

"Hey, if they didn't want me to look, they could have gone into a tent," I said. "Heh. Pagan goings-on, indeed." I wondered if BobEarl ordinarily had these tastes, or if he was taking a side trip into unfamiliar territory, as so many of us seemed to be doing; and if the former, if Earle and Mindy knew.

As we scrambled down the bank, I heard a few ascending, staccato cries, followed closely by a bull-like bellow, and figured that Verdell and BobEarl had concluded their business. I was a little embarrassed, but a lot aroused. The moon made the water look like a rippling silver sheet. We stepped into the cold stream and walked up to the sandbar, as I had done twice before—once with Jesse, as I was doing now, and once by myself, to plead with the forest god. The half-submerged tree was dark against the bone-white sand, but pale as a ghost where the moon shone on it. As if in a trance, I took my t-shirt off and mounted the trunk as I had earlier—had it been only today? The tree's barkless skin was cold and a little sandy under my palms. Jesse stood behind me; I couldn't hear the gurgle of the lube in the bottle because of the water, but when the tip of one of his fingers glided between my ass cheeks, I could tell he had applied it liberally. I tried to relax. He pushed the finger in, little by little. I had admired his long fingers when I'd first shaken hands with him. Now I got to admire them from another angle...He began slowly and gently finger-fucking me, getting a little further in with each stroke. This isn't so bad, I thought. Presently I could tell he had the finger all the way in. I thrust back at him. I wouldn't have minded if that finger were just a little longer...he pulled it almost all the way out, and then I felt two fingers coming in.

"There, how do you like that?"

"It's ok," I said cautiously.

Jesse laughed. "Ok? Just ok? You're backing up to me like an animal in heat."

I was one. Not only was I enjoying the sensation of Jesse's fingers stroking in and out of my ass, my pussy was swelling and aching with renewed excitement. I would have been just as happy if Jesse would just fuck me there, but I knew he was determined to have my ass and I was beginning to believe what he said about making it good for me.

"Jesse," I said, "Fuck me somewhere!"

"One more finger," Jesse said. He withdrew his two fingers, and when he entered me again, there was a third one. He moved them within me; I gasped and heard an animalistic sound come out of my throat. "You're ready." He pulled his fingers out and grabbed my hips; the digits that had been in me startlingly warm against my cold skin. Then the head of his well-lubed cock pushed against my freshly opened rear passage. I put my head down and once again tried to relax as he slowly shoved it into me. I felt like there was at least a foot of hard flesh entering me, although I knew this was impossible. At last his wiry body hair nestled against the skin of my ass.

"Be gentle with me," I said, trying for lightness.

He was. Each stroke seemed to take a long time going in and a long time coming out. The friction produced by that long thick cock was stimulating nerves I didn't know I had. I felt he could go on for a long time. Only one thing was lacking. The point of entry I was used to also needed attention. Having Jesse pull out and enter me there, however, was a non-starter—it was just asking for a course of antibiotics and yogurt for lunch every day for two weeks. I moved my left hand to a more central position so my right hand would be free...

At that moment I realized, in the sudden shift in perception that one gets in dreams, that it was no longer the barkless surface of the tree under my hand. It felt like warm skin over heavily muscled flesh. And the insides of my legs were rubbing against hairy male ones. I opened my eyes and looked down. The forest god's smile flashed white in the moonlight. It was only later that it occurred to me to wonder how he could lie back on that tree trunk and fit between my legs and Jesse's as well. But there he was. And I knew, in the same way one knows in dreams that he had not left the party up on the bank to its own devices; he was up there and here too.

Well, of course.

When I reached down to take his cock and guide it into me, he intercepted my hand and placed it on his chest next to the other one. His cock seemed to have found me of its own accord, rising up from his thickly furred groin like a cobra; I could feel its warm blunt tip bumping against the insides of my upper thighs, finding its way between my labia, stroking my clit. How in hell was it—he—able to do that?

"Jesse," I said, "stop a moment." He did. "Do you see what's happening?" We stood there frozen into our position while the end of the forest god's cock slid up and down the center of my cunt. "Unhhhhhhh..." I said as its tip—lubricated with precut—stroked my clit. And then it slid into me, following the bend of my vagina all the way to the end, nestling against my spot as it did so. "This is fucking unbelievable. It's like it's prehensile or something..."

"Shit, I can feel it!" Jesse said. "He—it's—stroking me as well as you. Don't make me stand still any more—I've got to move—" The woods god lifted his big hands to my flanks to steady me, and Jesse began to thrust, moving me back and forth on the god's versatile tool. I was being touched in every deep place I had, at once. There was no problem with lubrication; I was still impossibly slippery. And somehow, my clit was getting stroked—by something. I wasn't even going to try to look or to feel so as to find out what it was. Every thrust of Jesse's cock, every movement of my cunt on the fantastic tool that impaled it, was a stroke toward ecstasy. Each one moved me closer and closer; I could feel an orgasm gathering like a mighty crack of thunder, in my pussy and ass both. The pleasure ratcheted up, and up, to the point of no return. Through the seismic event that overtook my body, I could hear myself roaring and shouting as I never had before, and every sound I made enhanced what was happening to me. When it had finished with me, I could hear the echo of the formless cries, the obscenities—I said fuck a lot—reverberating through the woods. I had forgotten that there was sometimes an echo out here. How far had my voice carried anyway? I began to giggle.

From up on the bank, Verdell called down: "Esmé, are you OK?"

"She's having as much fun as you were!" Jesse replied, slowing his stroke down.

"Esmé, say something!"

"Something," I said. Corny as that comeback is, I never can resist it. "I'm ok. I just got off—couldn't you tell?"

"Just wanted to make sure. You outdid yourself."

The forest god gave a low chuckle. I could feel it in my hands, up my arms, as well as hear it. "I have seldom met a mortal woman with such a capacity for pleasure," he said. "You'd make me a fit companion. Trouble is, I'd have you for two and a half days at most, and then one of those other greedy motherfuckers would make off with you..."

"Thank you, I think." I shivered a little, partly because the temperature had fallen, and partly because the god was moving his cock inside me, curling and snaking and slithering. Jesse had speeded up again. I stood braced as the two male creatures pronged me in a sort of contrapuntal rhythm. It was going to happen to me again, and this time I felt the suspense building up in every part of my body.

"So—fucking—hot—" Jesse grunted. "So fucking hot and tight inside you, Esmé...oh, man, I can't stand the way you're stroking the underside of my dick, but don't quit—oh, fuck, that feels good...I can't take it any more, I'm gonna—"

He did, and so did I. Through the roaring in my body, I could hear full-throated shouts coming from both of us. The forest god laughed again, and then I screamed some more as I felt a long, vibrating shudder come up from the base of his cock to the end, as if the earth itself were spasming inside me. The waves of ecstasy came so close together, so hard, that I could barely get my breath between cries. Another name for the orgasm is le petit mort, and for the first time I wondered if anyone had ever actually come to death. I think I must have blacked out.

And then: I could see again, breathe again, think again, though I was panting and my legs were trembling. Jesse, winded, pulled out and leaned against me. I was still open; the small breeze felt as if it were blowing right up my ass. Hot liquid had started to run down my legs; not so much from Jesse, who had come three times before, but as for the other --I remembered how the forest god's spunk had overflowed Kymilla's mouth when she'd sucked him off earlier in the day. Under my hands, once more, was the water-felled tree. But it was no longer cold, as it had been when I first touched it. It was warm, as warm as a man's skin.

"Well, you wanted to fuck me up the ass," I said. "I hope you're happy."

"Oh, God," said Jesse. "That was even better than I expected it to be. When I came I felt like the life was going out of me."

We picked up the net bag with the soap in it and waded into the creek. I had expected it to be icy cold, but somehow it felt no more than cool. We soaped ourselves well and ducked down in the water to rinse, and stayed there holding each other, until we started to recover. Eventually we felt strong enough to step ashore, dry ourselves with our t-shirts and put them back on, and climb up the bank of the creek.

The fire had died down quite a bit while we'd been gone; no one had been tending it. So had the party. I saw where there were people on the mattress still, but I couldn't tell who they were. We went right past them and into my tent, where we fell on my bed and slept like the dead.

I was awakened not, as was usual, by my bladder, but by the heat in my tent. It had to be over eighty degrees in there. I crawled past the still-slumbering Jesse, unzipped my door and looked out. The sun was shining brilliantly; according to custom, I had no watch on, so no way of knowing exactly what time it was, but from the look of the light, I thought it had to be at least 9:00, maybe even closer to 10:00. I wriggled into a pair of panties and crawled out into the campground. I was the first one up.

Kymilla lay naked on the mattress, sprawled in abandon like a doll someone had left out in the yard. Someone had thrown a blanket over her, but she had shrugged it off in the night. Her skin was laced with milky tracks of cum, as if a convention of snails had crawled over her. A flash of brightness caught my eye; between the mattress and the Settle brothers' truck lay the bottle of lube Jesse had been kind enough to lend out last night; it was less than half full. What I had seen was the sun refracting through what was left. I looked back at Kymilla. She lay perfectly still. There were more flies around than usual; we had not been as careful cleaning up after supper as we usually were. One of them landed on Kymilla's belly, delicately sampling the fluids that had dried on her skin. She did not move.

She's dead, I thought. She's dead, and we're fucked. Then she drew a breath; I saw the flesh below her sternum draw in. I nearly fainted with relief. But what in hell were we going to do with her now? For one thing, I could see that she was going to get a brutal sunburn if she didn't get out of the sun and get some clothes on. There was a pile of dirty white gauze next to the camp chair the forest god had sat in last night; that had to be her dress, or part of it, and it was obviously unfit to wear until it was washed—if then. We couldn't turn her back over to Kyle, assuming he'd stayed in Pensacola per the god's advice, or send her back to her parents, in this condition. For a fleeting moment I damned Kyle for running off with all her luggage, but under the circumstances, what could he be expected to do?

Kymilla stirred again, and sat up, blinking. Then she looked around wildly, and as swiftly as a deer, she sprang up from the mattress and ran, naked, toward the creek. "Oh, crap," I muttered to myself, and to the company at large, "Somebody get up and help me!" But I couldn't stay around to see who would; I was scrambling as fast as I could after Kymilla, who half-ran, half tumbled, down the steep bank and into the creek.

She cast herself into the deepest part that was close to her, and submerged herself. I bent down and hauled her up. She struggled. As slight as she was, she was hard to handle; slippery with the water from the creek and all the fluids that had landed on her, it was worse than trying to land a catfish. A big catfish. At least she couldn't fin me. She was completely distraught. She kept crying, "Where are you? Where are you?"

Karen appeared above me. "Come down and help me, I can't hold her much longer! Oh, and bring some soap! Hurry!" Karen was back quickly with the soap and a washrag; between us, we got the crying, shivering, hysterical young woman cleaned up. Oddly, the cold water and the no-nonsense handling we subjected her to seemed to calm her down, although I wasn't ready to release her just yet.

"Where are you?" she cried again, looking out over the sparkling stream.

"He's gone," Karen said. "And I hope he stays there." Kymilla, stooped over, started to sink into the water again. She had buried her face in her hands and was sobbing bitterly.

I sank with her, putting my arms around her; where we were, the water was no more than neck deep if you were sitting down. And it didn't matter how wet I got; what with trying to keep her from drowning, and then cleaning her up, I was completely wet anyway. "Kym, honey—you know he can't be with you all the time; he's got too much to look after. Anyway, it's not like he's gone gone. He just can't always be where you can see him and touch him. He's—he's all over the place! See here, Kym—any time you're out around nature, he can see you; you already know that. And if you do good for the earth...I think he'll be pleased." I rocked her and patted her, murmuring more comforting bullshit, and it seemed to help. At last we thought it was safe to turn her loose. The three of us came out of the water and climbed back to the campground. People were starting to get up.

Del came out of the tent, blinking against the light, scratching his groin through his ragged khaki shorts. I wondered if Melea and Leda DeCastro were still in there, or if they had gone back to their own tents. More specifically, I wondered what kind of conversation Leda'd had with Mike and Ana when she got there.

"I'm gonna have to get back to the guy sold me that weed," he said. "I had the damnedest dreams."

So that was how everybody was going to handle the morning-after scenario. Had it all been a dream? I didn't think so. After all, there had to have been a reason that Kymilla had ended up sprawled naked on a mattress in the middle of the clearing. I clenched my sphincter experimentally. No pain. In fact, I felt no different than I would have after any night of great sex. No matter what everybody else had been up to, or hadn't been up to, Jesse really had been with me. He was even now coming out of my tent with his drum. He came up to me and gave me a scratchy kiss on the cheek, and went to put the drum into the Hannitys' truck.

We'd had plenty of opportunity to notice that Kymilla and Terri were about the same size; Karen found her tent and talked her out of a pair of panties, shorts and a t-shirt. I dug around in the back of my car and found a pair of flipflops I'd bought at a beachside store and only worn once. They were too big, but they would have to do. Once we'd gotten Kymilla decent, we ate our usual last-day breakfast of store-bought pastries and coffee, and then we began to strike camp. There was still the problem of what to do with Kymilla. She had settled into a deep, breath-catching silence, but had eaten voraciously of everything we offered her. She had literally been left with nothing but the clothes on her back; she didn't even have ID. She'd left her purse in Kyle's jeep. I took out my cell and tried to call him, but naturally, out here in the woods, the call dropped before I even heard a ring. Not surprising, with not even half a bar.

We decided that once we got out of the woods and within reach of a tower, we'd try again, and if we couldn't raise Kyle, the DeCastros would take Kymilla to Tallahassee and drop her off at her parents'. As for explaining to them and replacing her ID, she was on her own.

After we'd struck camp we parted pretty much the way we always did—with hugs and assurances of meeting the following year. There might have been some constraint between some of the parties. but Jesse and I shared a long hug before he got into the truck with Karen and Del. "It was great, Esmé," he said. "You were great. If I find myself in Houston, can I look you up?"