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Click hereDee suddenly couldn't make eye contact. She was hiding something. I looked at her curiously. "Dee?"
"I...." She looked guilty. "I can .... Sometimes, I can ... see Willie. I can go to her. And I can take Brenda with me. When I'm dreaming, it's easy."
I shook my head. "Oh, Dee. That's just ... crazy."
"It's true, Freddy," my wife stated. "In the dreams, Dee and I are just ... there. We're not really participating. We're just there, watching Willie."
I couldn't think of anything to say. There was some sort of mental unbalance at work here. Had the hypnosis contributed to this?
"Please, Freddy. Please don't look at us like that. We're not going crazy. It really happened!"
"Okay," I said softly, perhaps a bit too sadly. What was I going to do? What sort of psychosis was this? I've never had any experience with mental disorder. I decided to humor them. "What were these dreams about?"
"Well," Brenda said, "in the first one, she was just sitting there, in some sort of strange room. It had funny green wallpaper, with wooden strips running down the walls. And there was a couch that was sort of built into one wall."
"And a bed that took up nearly the whole bedroom, past the open door," Dee chimed in. "The kitchen was part of the room she was in, but the whole house looked ..."
"Small," Brenda continued. "And Willie was just sitting there. And that's all she did."
"That's all she EVER does," Dee said, almost crying from the remembered emotion. "That's all she does all day long. She just sits there. Nothing to do. Nowhere to go. No one to talk to. Oh, Master, she's so horribly, terribly SAD!" Maxine, sensing the emotion, put her head in Dee's lap and whined softly.
"And then she looked at us," Brenda continued. "And she said: 'What are you doing here?' And I ... we ... woke up."
I could only gawk at them. Brenda, fearing a comment from me, hurried on. "And the next time we slept together, we had another dream. We were in the same place, the same room in the same little house. And Willie was sitting at a table playing a game of solitaire with a strange deck of cards. The cards were ...."
"Too big," Dee went on. "And they didn't have numbers, though I couldn't see them very clearly. I didn't recognize the game ...." She glanced at Brenda, who shook her head. "And she picked them all up, all the cards that she'd dealt, and she laid out some more, and she leaned over and put her eyes just inches from them, as if she couldn't see them properly any other way, and suddenly she gasped, and then she ...."
"Started crying," Brenda continued. "And she cried and cried. But then she saw us, standing there watching her, and she said 'You again!' and we woke up.
"We have to help her!" Dee sobbed.
This was worse than I thought. My psychiatrist fishing buddy on campus sprang to mind. Maybe I could take the girls to him. I might as well get the whole story, though. "And last night?" I asked. "What was your dream last night?"
They exchanged one of their "looks" before Brenda turned back to me and took a deep breath. "We were in Willie's dream," she began. "She was asleep, and she was dreaming; And we were IN her dream. It was a terrible! It was about ... a tree."
A tree? My mind immediately went to my own dream last night. This stuff couldn't be real. Things like this just didn't happen.
And suddenly, thunder boomed loudly. We all turned toward the west, and I beheld one of the most impressive meteorological sights I've ever seen in my life.
The sky had been darkening for some time now, both with the coming of the storm and with the late evening sun setting behind the towering clouds. This campsite was on a clearing that extended all the way to the lake, and so we had an unobstructed view of western sky. Massive nimbus extended to spectacular heights over our heads, and the last few rays of sunlight streaked their tops. But down low, along the far shore of the lake, a long, black, roiling, ominous roll cloud stretched from the northern horizon to the southern, as far as the eye could see. It was, by far, of the most powerful gust front I've ever set eyes on. It looked like a massive steam roller barreling directly toward us. As we looked, the trees on the opposite lake shore were lost from view in the inky blackness of the churning horizontal cylindrical cloud. Maxine started barking.
Dee grabbed Brenda's arm with both hands. "It's happening, Brenda! Now! We have to do it now!"
I stood, mesmerized at the sight of the approaching storm. I glanced at them curiously. "Do what?"
Brenda tore her eyes from the spectacular sight, turned to me, and stripped her t-shirt over her head. "We have to make love, Freddy."
I looked at her dumbfounded. As I did so, to my utter and abject amazement, Dee pulled her shirt over her head as well. The wind was picking up, and it was raising goose flesh on their exposed skin. Brenda began fumbling with her bra strap behind her back. This was so incredibly UNLIKE them that it took me a long moment to react. Normally, they were both painfully shy. It was just part of their nature (and perhaps one that I kept at the fore of their psyches through hypnotic reinforcement because I found it sexually stimulating). I glanced around, nervously. There were a couple other people within our viewing, but I doubted if they could see us in the gathering gloom. And they all seemed to be gawking at the rapidly approaching gust front, which would be upon us in just a few minutes. I grabbed Brenda's discarded t-shirt and held it out to her.
"Brenda, for God's sake, put this back on. We need to get in the truck. There's a storm coming!"
She popped the catch on the bra strap and pulled it off. "No, Freddy, in the tent! I need you! WE need you! We need to do it now!"
Dee, topless now as well, unzipped the front flap on the tent, stepped inside, sat on the air mattress and began taking off her shorts. "Hurry!" she urged.
Brenda reacted by pressing herself against me, nibbling on my ear, and then whispering provocatively into it. "Please, Freddy! Now! We need you!"
"What in the world?!"
She gripped my hand, the one holding the discarded t-shirt, and pulled me toward the tent.
"Tell me what's going on!" I demanded.
"Later. Please. Please, Freddy!"
Maxine jumped through the door into the tent just before us and lay down next to the mattress, her assigned sleeping spot for the night. I turned and sat heavily on the air mattress as Brenda turned to zip the tent's door back up from the inside and Dee attacked my belt buckle and the snap on my jeans.
"This is crazy," I told them. "All hell's about to break loose out there. I'm not sure this tent is going to be adequate." In resignation, I began unbuttoning my shirt, but Dee reached up and put a hand on my chest, stopping me.
"Let us do that, Master. Lie back. Let us do the work. Please." She managed to work my pants and underwear down over my hips, and then pushed me backward. I lay on my back. Brenda, completely naked now, stood over me, watching, as Dee lowered her face and took my manhood into her sucking mouth.
"At least let me take my shoes off," I moaned, but then gave in entirely to the overzealous pregnant lady sucking my cock. They ignored me. I couldn't figure it out. They'd both seemed so ... sane ... this morning when I went to work. What in the world had gotten into them?
The walls of the tent began rippling in the growing wind. Thunder boomed. It was growing very dark. Brenda produced a glow-stick from somewhere and broke it, shaking it a few times, and the interior of the tent was suddenly bathed in an eerie green light. The sucking mouth left my cock, and as if it were choreographed, Brenda lowered her cunt to my fleshy pole. She was extremely wet, and she slid all the way to the base in one easy motion, groaning loudly. Then she just sat there, unmoving, eyes closed, seemingly lost in the sensation.
Dee curled herself next to me, pressing her swollen breasts and baby-laden belly into my side. She gently but firmly took my hand and guided it between her legs, then lewdly began humping my fingers. She'd never done anything like that before, and it took me completely by surprise. "Please!" she begged, and when I stiffened my fingers and began probing her slit, she groaned loudly. As a reward, she reached out with her right hand and cupped my balls, squeezing them gently, massaging them with her fingers and palm. My turn to groan. Brenda still refused to move at all. She leaned forward, the palms of her hands flat on my chest. She was panting heavily.
"I want to move," she said.
"Not yet," Dee urged, and moaned again as my fingers worked naturally into her moist crack. "Almost time ... but ... not yet."
"What ... what ...." I panted. Brenda's cunt was contracting around my cock, though she still refused to begin pumping herself on it, and Dee's fingers were squeezing more persistently. "What ...."
In response, Brenda leaned forward and pressed her lips to my ear. "Think about her, Freddy. Think about her now." Then she sat upright again. I was incredibly deep, up inside of her. I didn't have to ask who she was talking about. The very suggestion caused the image of the girl with the white hair to leap unbidden into my mind's eye. The wind howled with amazing volume. The tent was really shaking now. It started a strange undulation, like a balloon inflating and deflating. When I'd purchased it, the box had boasted that it was safe in a 75 MPH wind. Was it going to make it through this?
"... want to move!" Brenda moaned above the wind.
"Wait!" Dee answered loudly, and groaned again herself. "Almost time. Almost ...."
"What ...." I gasped. The wind was deafening. Maxine started whining.
"Now!" Dee yelled, and she started putting even more pressure on my balls as she grabbed my wrist with her left hand and began frigging herself in earnest with my fingers. Brenda raised herself immediately on my pole and slammed her body back down on my own. Using her hands as leverage, her hips and lower body became a well lubed piston, driving relentlessly toward our mutual orgasm.
"BANG!" And, though I've never been very good at sit-ups, I jerked myself into an immediate, stiff sitting position, my chest pressed into Brenda's, completely alert and very, very scared. I knew that sound. There was not another like it on earth. It was the sound of impending death.
"What ... What was ... Aaahhh! .... Aaahhh! ... What was tha ... Aaahh! ... Aaahhhhh!" Brenda was coming hard on my cock, and due to her contractions and Dee's vice-like grip on my balls, I was coming, too.
But my mind was elsewhere. Because another sound would soon be coming. And all I could do was wait for it.
And now, dear reader, we must leave that frantic scene for a moment while I utilize just about the only literary device left in my repertoire. You knew it had to come sooner or later: the flashback.
It was eight or nine years earlier. I had just made E-5 (Sergeant), and my Information Support Detachment had been deployed out of CONUS for nine months. I had more than 60 days leave on the books, and I had to "use it or lose it," as they say; but with no family or close friends around, and with my funds tight, there weren't many options. A close buddy, Jimmy Johannes, had invited me to go home with him, and I gratefully accepted. He lived in a small town on the Olympic Peninsula in Washington State. His dad was a logger. His granddad was a logger. When he got out of the Army, he would be a logger, too. Everyone in the community made their living in the forest. Destroying the forest. But hey, it's a living.
And an interesting living it is, too. After lazing around for several days, it was time to go to work with everybody else. It was an opportunity for me to make an extra thousand bucks or so, and to learn about a way of life very foreign to most people. I learned about various saws and how to use them. I learned about hard work, and about trusting the guys on your crew, and about the old ways of logging, and about the new. But most of all, I learned to respect a tree. It can stand there, unmoving, for a thousand years. And in a few seconds, it can kill you.
There is a time in the life of a tree, a fraction of a second long, when its heart fails and gravity - that inevitable, powerful force - takes over. The saw works and works and works, until only a littlewood at its center is left, and then, in that split second, the tree makes a sound. It is, scientifically, the sound of thousands of wood fibers breaking simultaneously under extreme pressure. But I've always thought of it as the instant the tree dies. A romantic sort, ain't I? But romance or no, the sound is one that every logger knows. A crack. A bang. A loud fucking noise, at any rate. And, as I've said, it's like no other sound in the world. When he hears it, the logger will always stop whatever he's doing and look up. Because most of the time, a tree will fall right where the professionals want it to fall. But sometimes ... well, sometimes, people die.
And now, back to our story. Shall I refresh your memory? The wind. The whining dog. The two humping girls acting insane.
BANG! "What ... What was ... Aaahhh! .... Aaahhh! ... What was tha ... Aaahh! ... Aaahhhhh!"
Wait for it ... wait for it .... And off in the distance - but no, not too far away; a few hundred feet, maybe - the sound started. The sound of hundreds of small branches scraping against each other, moving through the air, picking up speed, falling, falling. Loud enough to be heard above the howling wind. Too far away to be a threat to us, but close. Pray there's no one under it! Pray!
The ground shook when it hit.
"Aaahhh! ... What ... Aaaahhh!"
With strength I didn't know I possessed, I grabbed Brenda around the waist, lifted her off of my engorged rod, and threw her to my left. Curled up on my right, Dee was bent around her large midriff, lost in the throes of her own orgasm. "Willie," she intoned, then she moaned loudly as another spasm of pleasure washed over her. "Willie ...."
To my utter humiliation, a long, white, ropy string of semen shot up from my prick, hung suspended in mid-air for a long moment, and then landed with a sickly plop on the front of my shirt. Well, shit! No time to think about that now! I unzipped the tent flap and staggered outside, fastening my jeans.
It was absolutely pouring. I needn't have felt embarrassed by a cum stain. I was immediately drenched to the bone. The wind had died down somewhat, but the rain made it impossible to see more than fifty feet or so. It was now very dark, a combination of the setting sun and the thick, towering clouds overhead. I reached back into the tent and found my trusty three-cell Mag-light, and with a drenched little dog at my side, I made my way forward through the blinding rain. There was the tree! It was the same campsite we'd been at last week. The same massive oak. The wind had caused a twist-fracture about twenty feet up. And my worst fears were realized as I saw something under it. I couldn't make it out, but there was definitely a tent or something there. There must have been ten tons of tree on top of it. If there was someone in there, they were gone.
I straightened my back. Well, hell! There's always a chance! I fished the keys out of my front pocket, raced back to the truck and started it up. I pulled it up to the campsite as close as I could, set the parking brake, and turned the headlights to bright. By the time I got out again, other people were milling around the scene.
"We need light!" I yelled loudly. "Bring your cars! We need more light!" Several men raced away. Already, another car was positioning itself, its lights blazing.
A guy was trying to start a small chain saw, but seemed to be having no luck. I walked over to him. "The kill switch is off!" I screamed over the pouring rain.
He gave me a blank look, fumbled with it for a moment, and then handed it to me. "I just bought it," he told me. "I've never used it. I don't even know how! YOU do it!"
It was a trimming saw with a fourteen-inch blade. It would have to do. I primed it, threw the kill switch, and it roared to life with the first pull. It was a new blade, and despite the hardness of the oak, it ate through the wood easily. I cut a large limb, and then killed it. "Someone pull this away!" I screamed, and a large man sprang forward to do my bidding. Other guys started lining up.
A woman ran up to me waving a cellular phone. "The fire department is on the way! Twenty minutes!"
Suddenly, for the first time in my life, other people seemed to naturally assume I was in charge. No time to dwell on my newfound leadership skills. I fired up the saw again and began lopping off limbs.
It had been one of those pop-up campers; a small trailer with a tent-like, canvas top and two shelf-beds that extended out, one on either side. The tree had hit it so hard that the wheels had splayed and broken off underneath. As I made my way beneath the limbs and debris, I saw a telltale sign of the futility of it all. A thin stream of red was mingling with the water pooling under our feet. This wasn't going to be pretty.
I killed the saw to give a couple of guys a chance to haul away some other limbs. "Holy Mother of God!" a guy next to me exclaimed. I followed his gaze and saw Brenda and Dee, huddled together thirty feet away. They were each wearing one of my t-shirts, and it was very, very easy to see that that's ALL they were wearing. The soaked, thin fabric clung to their bodies like a second skin. I didn't pause. I'd talk to them later. I started the saw again.
Only two more cuts, and I was at the tent fabric. I killed the saw once again, took out my pocket knife, and sliced the canvas. Bile rose in my throat. The man next to me promptly turned away and threw up. It was a horrible sight. The man's body had been hit with such force that it had literally exploded. Bits and pieces of him were everywhere. But the wide staring eyes were familiar, and the full black beard left little doubt. It was Mr. Wharton, our favorite wife-beater.
I snatched the nearest flashlight and shined it around the body. "Willie!" I screamed. No response. I suddenly realized (Hoped! Prayed!) that she must be in the other bed on the other side of the trailer. As if to embolden this wish, Maxine began barking frantically from that direction. I grabbed the saw, raced around the fallen tree, and began cutting again. The debris wasn't as thick on this side. Most of the tree's force seemed to have been concentrated on HIS side. Again, men lined up to carry away the limbs as I cut. I hoped beyond hope that the little saw wouldn't run out of gas.
And then I was through! Once again, I killed the saw and pulled out my knife. I sliced the fabric ... and there she was. She was lying on her back, her eyes closed, as if sleeping; her shirt was ripped so that one breast was exposed. And to my utter shame, my first thought was that her nipples were magnificent.
I heard someone gasp beside me, but I didn't turn. "Is she ... is she ...?" the guy said in awe.
I reached out and stroked her face. "Willie?"
Her eyes opened, then widened with recognition. "Frederick? You! You did this?"
"No," I stammered. "A tree fell."
"You!" she said again. She reached up and stroked my face with the palm of her hand. "You did this to me!"
"No, a tree fell ...."
I couldn't take it any more. I reached down and tugged her shirt back over the exposed nipple. She blushed. "Can you move?" I asked urgently.
Red lights were flashing. The fire department was here.
"My arm," she said matter-of-factly. "I can't move my arm. I think it's caught under something." She stroked my face again. "My husband is dead." It was said in a mild tone. She was smiling.