Wet Encounters Ch. 13

INTRODUCTION TO READERS

WET ENCOUNTERS is a novel-length story of love, lust and betrayal that takes place on a tropical Pacific island during the second half of the twentieth century.

It's seventeen chapters pivot around a single event that takes place when two people are forced to take refuge in an abandoned cabin when they are cut off by rising floodwaters.

During the three nights they spend together, they discover things about themselves and the regular occupants of the cottage that will destroy their previously stable lives.

The big question is, can anything be saved from the wreckage that remains after the floodwaters recede?

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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I had no idea what time it was that Juanita had woken me during the night but it was well past daylight when I next opened my eyes. A quick glance at my watch told me that it was almost eight o'clock.

'All this fucking is taking its toll,' I thought as I rolled away from Juanita and worked my way under the mosquito net and out of bed. 'I never sleep this late; even on Sundays. Still, it's not as if I've missed getting the labour line off to work. Even if I were at home, they wouldn't be working; not with half the plantation under water.'

With an uncomfortably full bladder, I made a beeline for the front door, planning to relieve myself from the front steps.

"Holy fucking shit!" I yelled in surprise as I opened to door to find a twelve-foot saltwater crocodile relaxing on the verandah. It didn't seem so much in an eating mood as it was annoyed at being disturbed. As I came through the door, it lifted its head, opened its jaws and let out a loud, deep hissing sound. That sound immediately had the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.

I quickly back-peddled into the house, slamming the door closed behind me. As I turned to head towards the bathroom, I bumped into Juanita. She'd heard my exclamation and had come to see what had caused all the excitement.

"I went out to have a leak," I said, "and discovered that we have a visitor resting on our front verandah. I'd suggest that if you want to see what I'm talking about, you have a look out the window, rather than opening the front door."

"I must say that I agree with your assessment of the situation," she said as she turned to join me on my way to the bathroom. "'Holy fucking shit' is just about how I would describe it, too.

"How are you going to get rid of him?" she asked.

"How am I going to get rid of him?" I said. "Shouldn't that have been, 'how are we going to get rid of him'? I thought we were together in this little adventure - tupela wantaim; one for all and both of us pulling together - that sort of thing.

"It appears, however, that our relationship isn't going to be built on such idealistic foundations. Rather, it looks like it's going to be one of, 'when the going gets tough, I get going'.

"Maybe if I'd know that right at the beginning, I might have elected to get you to safety, then crossed back to the other side of the swollen, crocodile-infested water to return to my lovely but adulterous wife and my adoring children.

"Of course, I wouldn't have known that she was an adulterous wife if I hadn't stayed and allowed myself to be seduced by my lovely South American neighbour, so I suppose there's a positive side to the situation.

"And I've been able to fuck the shit out of the woman who I have fantasised over since I first met her; another positive point to add to my scorecard."

"It is just that last point you raised that explains why I would be of little help to you in your quest to slay the dragon-like creature that has taken up residence on our front verandah," Juanita said. "After your brutal attack on me during the night, I am finding it difficult to walk in a manner other than that used by vaqueros who have spent years on horseback.

"Ordinarily, I would stand by your side and help you in your quest. But I'm not as agile as I was a day or so ago and feel that I might hinder you rather than help you.

"Despite my lack of flexibility and my walking difficulties, however, I must say that my neck is feeling much better.

"It appears that your manipulative technique has accomplished the desired effect."

"I thought it would," I said as I steered her towards the bathroom.

"I need to pee," I said. "Then I'll leave you alone to perform your own ablutions. With the amount of cum I pumped into you, I think you might want to do more than just pee. When you've finished have a shower; it'll have to be a quick one as I don't know how much water is left in the header tank.

"In the meantime, I'll get the stove fired up so it'll be ready for you to cook breakfast while I'm getting myself cleaned up."

"After what you did to me during the night, you still expect me to cook breakfast?" Juanita protested. "You've turned me into a spread-legged invalid and you still expect me to cook for you. What sort of fiend are you?

"I told Noan that you had a streak of cruelty in you. But I didn't expect that it would be directed at me. If I didn't know you loved me, I would get myself dressed and leave. But I can't even do that because we have a crocodile on our front verandah.

"I'm beginning to suspect that you might have arranged that, too; just to keep me here."

I was standing over the toilet bowl trying to empty my bladder but couldn't because I was laughing too much at Juanita's attempt at displaying righteous indignation while standing naked beside me.

She was undoubtedly right about one thing, though. She really did look like a cowboy - well a cowgirl, anyway - standing there with her legs spread wide to keep the pressure off her well-reamed, no-longer-virgin back door.

"Here," she said, seeing that I was having difficulty letting my urine down while laughing at her discomfort, "let me help with that."

She reached across and took hold of my flaccid cock and aimed it at the bowl. Not content with merely holding it, however, she began sliding her hand backwards and forwards along its length. It was never going to remain flaccid for long while she did that and, true to form, my soldier started rising and stretching.

"I'm not going to be able to piss into the bowl if you keep that up," I said, voicing my objections but doing nothing to prevent her from playing with my growing manhood.

My protestations didn't deter her actions, however, and she kept pumping. The more she pumped, the harder it became. And the harder it became, the harder I tried to hold my bladder in check. I knew that if I let go now, it would miss the bowl by a mile. I also knew that if I became any harder, I wouldn't be able to piss at all.

'Fuck it,' I thought. 'It's now or never.' I reached down and attempted to steer my penis towards the bowl as l released the leg-crossing hold on my bladder. Thinking that Juanita was following my lead, I let go of her hands, giving her complete directional control.

As my urine started to flow, however, she didn't point it towards the bowl. Instead, she turned the nozzle towards herself, playing the powerful stream onto her engorged tits. In her erotically generated excitement, her nipples had swollen to twice their normal size. And by the sounds she was making, I knew she was headed towards an orgasm. I just hoped that now the show had started, I could keep pumping my piss out until she reached that goal.

It seemed that when I had brought her to a climax by playing with her breasts and manipulating her nipples a little over thirty-six hours ago, I had been rubbing a magic Aladdin's lamp and had released her repressed sexual desires and fantasies.

Little did I know then, that I had woken a sleeping Genie (or should that be Jeannie?). There didn't appear to be any limit to the number of wishes that this Genie was prepared to grant, however. Juanita just kept on surprising me with the things she would do to take her erotic pleasure-seeking to the next level.

I recognised the signs of impending orgasm and just as she threw her head back to let out her jungle-awakening scream, I flipped the toilet seat down and spun her so she could collapse onto it. After what she'd had pumped into her body during the night, I suspected that this orgasm was going to be like nothing she had ever experienced.

My suspicions were confirmed when the stimulation of her nipples brought her to her crescendo and she started coming. As she started shaking, I lowered her to the seat, where she fell into a long series of convulsions. Not only did she squirt and ejaculate as she so often did, but the semen that I'd pumped into her bowels acted as an enema. At the same time as she released her vaginal juices and fluids, she expelled both semen and faecal matter from her anus.

"My God! ...My Go-od! ...My Go-o-od!" she cried as she kept spasming, her eyes wide in surprise. "I'm... coming... from... both... ends..." She was having trouble catching her breath so she gave up trying to speak.

Even though my urine flow had reduced to a mere dribble, Juanita maintained her grip on my cock. Without the need to pee, it succumbed to her stimulation and had grown to its fully erect size.

With all the stimulation it had received and was continuing to receive - Juanita was keeping up a masturbatory rhythm that matched her own climactic pulses - it was no surprise that I was quickly approaching my own climax.

I didn't even try to hold off. Juanita was still experiencing her own spasms as I felt my testicles tighten, followed by the exquisite pre-orgasmic sensation of feeling my seed working its way up through my penis. The first shot took her by surprise as it exploded out through the nozzle and a long string of pearl-white sperm hit her in the middle of her face. I watched as some of it slid down the slope of her nose. It dripped off the point to be caught by her tongue.

So surprised had she been at the suddenness of my discharge that she instinctively pointed my penis down, away from her face. The next gob of spunk hit her on her left tit, followed quickly by another, which caught her just above the nipple of her right breast. That was the one that had been the main target of my hydraulic massage and had become so sensitive that just the feel of my cream landing near her nipple sent her into another round of convulsions. She didn't notice that my next two pulses ended up in her hair and on her face.

Somehow, she became conscious of the fact that she was wasting my seed and - completely ignoring where it had been during the night - managed to get her mouth around my cock's head. By that time, however, I was no longer spurting but dribbling. Even though I continued to spasm, I don't think I was pumping out much in the way of edible product.

"My God, Matthew," Juanita said once she came down off her plateau. "I had never thought that such an orgasm was possible. I had never heard or read of anyone coming from both ends at the same time. How on earth did you manage it?

"Not only was that the most protracted climax I have ever had. It was the most pleasurable and most awe-inspiring experience of my life. The joy I was feeling from coming from my kant was enhanced each time I came from my el ojete. Both holes seemed to work together; with one feeding the other.

"It was something I certainly want to experience again. Perhaps not in bed; for obvious reasons. But I'm sure we can make appropriate arrangements. Maybe we will have an opportunity to do it again before we leave here."

"That might be arranged," I said. "Let me go and I will have a look to see how much time we might have. So that I don't have to disturb our visitor, I'll use the back door to check the water levels. In the meantime, how about you get yourself cleaned up. You still have breakfast to cook, don't forget."

It was only when I said that she should let me go, that she realised that she was still holding onto my cock. In spite of my having come just a few minutes earlier, it had only partially deflated. I didn't have the faintest idea whether it was still on the way down or whether it had been down and was on its way back up again. Either way, I didn't feel that it would take much to bring it back to attention.

"I don't know that I'm up to cooking breakfast, Matthew," Juanita whimpered, still sitting on the toilet like a queen seated upon her throne. "I'm feeling terribly exhausted. I think I should go back to bed for a while and perhaps you could bring me something to build up my strength. Just a bowl of soup would do. I wouldn't want you to go to any trouble."

It was impossible to ignore the hangdog look she was giving me; not to mention her whining tone. It was the most pitiful piece of acting I had seen in an age. She added to her dejected appearance by picking up a finger load of my cum from her breast and lifting it to her mouth. I fought to keep the smile from my face but I couldn't prevent my soldier from rising to his full height and giving a couple of twitches.

"Okay," I said. "You get yourself cleaned up and into bed and I'll bring your breakfast in to you. Do you think you'll be able to do that? Or do you want me to help you? My daughters are young enough that I still remember how to wipe a dirty bum."

"No, no. I'll manage," she replied. The uncertain look on her face told me that she probably wouldn't mind me wiping her bum for her. Maybe that was something for another role-playing session somewhere down the track.

"Good-oh," I said, turning to leave her to her ablutions. "But I think we should cut back a bit on the human thermal demonstrations. It seems to be taking too much out of you. Or maybe it's just that last demonstration that did it. I'm thinking we shouldn't do that anymore. Either way, perhaps a day of abstinence is called for. I wouldn't want you to be so weak that you couldn't help when it came time for us to swim across the creek. I might have to leave you here while I went for help if that was the case.

'Actually,' I thought to myself, 'that might not be such a bad idea. Now that we know for certain that there are crocs in the area, it would be more sensible for me to go over on my own. That way, if I were taken, Juanita would be safe.' I decided to leave that thought on the backburner for the time being and see how things panned out as the time got closer.

"Yes," Juanita said doubtfully. "You may be right. But let's not go making hasty judgements."

I smiled as I left the bathroom, closing the door behind me. The element of doubt in her voice indicated that she wasn't sure if I was serious or joking. 'It won't do any harm to keep her on her toes,' I thought.

On my way to check the floodwater level, I stoked up the fire. Irrespective of who was going to be doing the cooking, we were going to need to have the stove ready. Besides, I was hanging out for a cup of coffee.

The first thing I noticed when I opened the back door was that there was more light than there had been during the past few days. The clouds had lifted and looked to be starting to break up. I still couldn't see any blue sky but the rain had stopped. A quick look at the steps told me that the floodwater was no longer rising. But, then, neither was it falling.

I was more pleased about the absence of falling water levels than I was about the clearing sky. The longer they stayed at their present levels, the longer we would be confined to the cabin. I'd keep checking throughout the day, of course, but it looked like we might manage another night together before we had to cross back to our real lives and the dramas we were going to have to face on the other side of the creek.

In spite of my threat to put Juanita on a sex-free diet, I was looking forward to reinforcing the lessons she had learned during our time together. Besides, I knew that there was no way she was going to be able to go for twenty-four hours without fucking. That genie was way beyond ever being put back into its lamp.

If we were going to spend another night in the mill manager's bungalow, however, I knew I was going to have to fill the header tank one more time. That meant that I would have to immerse myself in waist-deep water to operate the pump. It wasn't something I wanted to do; particularly knowing that we had a twelve-foot croc sitting on our front verandah. 'Still,' I thought, 'if he's up there, I might just get away with it.'

I made a quick trip to the front room to see if our friend was still using our verandah as a place of refuge. A glance through the window confirmed that he was resting comfortably.

On my way back to the kitchen, I stopped in at the bathroom to let Juanita know what I was planning.

"Are you decent?" I asked, knocking on the bathroom door. It occurred to me just how stupid that sounded as soon as it came out of my mouth. As was Juanita's response.

"No. But come in anyway."

I opened the door to find her standing under a small stream of water coming from the showerhead, trying to wash off the layer of soap that covered her body.

"Are you standing under that dribble because you are trying to conserve water? Or is it all there is?" I asked.

"I'm conserving water," she answered, "because I don't know how much is left in the tank."

I explained to her that I'd had the same thought and that I planned on going downstairs to fill the tank. I also told her about the clearing sky and the holding water levels.

"I've checked that our visitor is still on the front verandah," I said. "I just need you to keep an eye on him while I'm pumping the water. If he starts to get a bit restless, or if he moves off the verandah, I need you to let me know. I also need you to let me know as soon as you hear the water overflowing from the overhead tank. I don't want to be down there for a second longer than I have to be. There's nothing to say he's the only croc in the vicinity."

With that, Juanita turned the tap to increase the water flow to the showerhead so she could rinse herself off more quickly. She then stepped out of the shower and, with water running down her body, headed across the dining room to the kitchen to retrieve a towel. All signs of the fun and games were gone. She was now Juanita Stewart, the no-nonsense plantation owner's wife with a job to do.

In the meantime, I had pulled on my shorts and T-shirt and was sitting on one of the chairs tying my sandshoes.

As I had done the previous day, I descended the stairs into the waist-deep, water. I was filled with trepidation because I now knew precisely what lurked in the turbid waters that flowed around me. What I didn't know was how much water remained in the header tank. I knew that we'd been reasonably careful with our water consumption but only by pumping it full again would we really know just how careful we'd been.

The last couple of times I'd pumped water, the rain had been bucketing down. That made it difficult for Juanita to hear when the overhead tank had begun to overflow. This time, there would be no rain pelting down onto the corrugated iron roof. Juanita should be able to hear the first drops hitting the roof.

One thing I did notice as I made my way through the muddy water towards the pump was that water was still flowing from the main five-thousand-gallon tank's overflow pipe. That meant that it hadn't been breached. Having maintained its integrity, the water I was pumping should be relatively pure rainwater. We'd still have to boil it. But I was confident that neither of us would come down with a dose of cholera or some other water-borne disease.