The River Takes, the River Gives

Edging my way into her, an inch at a time, I felt the rhythm of her finger kneading her clit, slowly, deliberately. Her breathing got deeper. Her pussy got wetter. My dick slid in farther. She started to moan. She started to gasp. I pushed harder till my cock was buried inside her slimy pussy. She clamped my hand tighter on her breast as the rhythm became more intense. I wanted to kiss her, but was it too soon? What if this was just a one-time thing? Would a kiss ruin it? I nuzzled my face into the back of her neck, my breath mingling with her hair.

"Don't stop" she whispered, "I'm almost there." As her body tensed, I felt it, the gush of liquid sloshing out of her pussy. "Oh my god," she whimpered as her body started to tremble. I held her while she orgasmed, but it was a sad, desperate orgasm, her quivering like that of a wounded bird lying broken on the ground.

Succumbing to my helpless injured victim, I came. Silently, as if Bob was right outside the tent listening, I let her twitching cunt suck long, slow spurts of cum from my cock. It was as if shooting my semen inside her could somehow save her from oblivion. It wasn't sex, it was the very sustenance of life, something I'd never felt with Sally. The fact that this was my first condom-free fuck in years might have had something to do with the intensity of the sensation, but that didn't diminish the power it had over me, and hopefully, over her too.

With the last spasm of her orgasm, her grip on my arm loosened. The rhythm of her breathing was slower now, interrupted by sporadic sighs, like after you've been crying. Finally, her grip on my forearm relaxed. In the silence, I was suddenly aware of the squawking blue jays up in the trees. They reminded me of the town I grew up in, and it made me wish I'd met Brenda 20 years ago. I was certain we would have been high school sweethearts. It made me sad that we'd wasted so much time before we'd finally gotten together, if we even were together. In that moment, I realized it was time so say "I love you,"... but I didn't.

By this time, the sun had slipped behind the mountain. "Are you cold," I asked, just as my shriveled dick slid out of her. She nodded her head, so I reached behind me, grabbed the second sleeping bag, zipped it open, and pulled it over on top of us.

All snuggled up, I felt my semen dripping out of her and onto my thigh, and I wondered about birth control. Hadn't Bob mentioned something about her going off the pill recently? But would she have had unprotected sex knowing she could get pregnant? Or was getting pregnant the whole point? And what if she did get pregnant? Isn't that what I'd always wanted? A baby conceived with the woman I loved? It certainly wasn't what Sally wanted.

My mind reeling, I was relieved to hear the hissing of her breathing slow to a steady rhythm. Sleep. I hoped in sleep she would finally be safe from the torment of her grief. I kissed her bare shoulder and gave her tender breast a fond caress. Then I eased out from under the sleeping bag and crept carefully out of the tent, grabbing my jeans and a T-shirt. I dressed outside, and then went over to Brenda and Bob's tent to find an outfit for her to wear.

As I entered their tent, it hit me: Bob was gone. Never coming back. I looked around at Bob's things: his Nikon SLR, his Raiders sweatshirt, his Blackberry, with all his work contacts stored in the memory. What a can of worms; the funeral, the insurance. Surely Bob would have had a substantial insurance policy. He was cut from the same cloth as Sally, always prepared down to the last little detail.

I spotted Brenda's duffle, which was open, revealing the usual things a women has in her bag; a bra strap was showing, some T-shirts, the sweatpants she slept in. I grabbed a flannel shirt and the sweatpants, and her sandals. As I climbed out of the tent, I snatched a puffy pink hair tie I saw laying on the floor.

I went back over to the tent, placed her things on the sleeping bag where she could find them, and then went over to the picnic table to start a fire. As I was gathering kindling from the wood box, I heard the rustle of footsteps down by the river. Instantly, I thought of Bob, somehow resurrected from the dead.I dashed down to the riverbank, only to be met by a young forest ranger.

"You okay?" the guy asked.

"I guess so," I replied, "but I think we have a casualty. My friend's husband got caught in the flood. We saw him..." That was as far as I could get before I started to choke up.

"Yeah," the ranger said, all business. "We found the body. Is everyone else in your party accounted for?"

"My wife went down to the camp store for groceries and laundry," I eeked out, almost in a whisper.

"The road's impassable but the camp store is secure. We'll have a temporary foot bridge strung up by 10 AM. Can you and the wife of the deceased hike out tomorrow morning? You can pack up your gear and leave it under the picnic table to be retrieved later."

"We can manage that," I said, relieved that at least I wouldn't have to deal with Sally for the moment.

"We'll let your wife know the situation. The Red Cross will put her up in a motel for the night."

"Thank you," I said, suddenly feeling the crush of grief and guilt. But what can you do? Survive. Take one day at a time. I watched as the ranger headed back down the river, and then I returned to the campsite. I knew from experience that, in a screwed up situation like this, I needed to stay busy. It was either that or wallow in the misery of the moment.

An hour later, I had hot dogs broiling, noodles bubbling, and a pot of water for coffee.

"Hey," Brenda's voice came from over my shoulder. I turned to see her padding towards me, her flannel shirt buttoned up to the neck, her tangled hair pulled back into a pathetic attempt at a ponytail, fastened with the pink hair tie.

"Thanks for the clothes," she said, scuffing her foot in the dirt. She sat down and popped the top on a bottle of water. "What do we do now?"

"A ranger stopped by. He said the road's washed out, so I guess we'll just hang here for the night and hike out tomorrow."

"Did they find the body?" Brenda asked in a listless monotone.

"They did."

After a long, awkward silence, she looked at me, her eyes red around the edges, the lines on her face suddenly etched deeper than I'd ever seen them before.

"Can I stay with you tonight?" she asked, almost in a whisper.

"Of course you can, Brenda." I reached over and took her limp hand.

"What about Sally?"

"Sally doesn't matter." I said, squeezing her hand. "Everything changed today."

"Are you sure?"

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

She scooted her chair closer to me, took my hand, and buried it between her legs. I leaned in so she could rest her head on my shoulder, and we sat there without speaking, listening to the sound of the river. After a few minutes, the silence was broken by Brenda's pleading voice.

"Dammit Steve. This isn't going to work."

"What do you mean," I asked, my heart sinking. It had to work. It was destiny. Either that or I was the biggest fool that ever lived.

"You and me. Out here in the cold. It's not happening. We need to go back in the tent."

Then she turned to me and we kissed. It was a long slow kiss, a kiss we would remember for the rest of their lives.