I was doing an article on a woman that cut herself off from the rest of the world.
The assignment was not one I wanted. I had to venture deep into the woods of Washington state. Isolation, no electric, or running water. Eating off the land, hunting, fuck that. I never hunted before, I'm not a wuss, afraid of guns, or taking life, but if I shoot a bear, how the fuck am I getting it back to the cabin? There ain't no butcher shop there where you drop the bear. And how do you carve up an animal? I have no clue.
I figured the woman I was going to interview, she's been living out there for a few years now, she could feed me for the week I was suppose to spend with her. My main worry was TV. How the fuck was I suppose to get along without TV?
I was expecting some older woman, somebody ugly enough to belong in a scary book or movie. Certainly, the guide who took me to her cabin gave me the creeps. He drove me out in a horse and wagon, bouncing my camera, pens, notebooks, clothes all over the place. I couldn't take a typewriter, no electric, you know.
The cabin is a small, creepy looking collection of mismatched wood. It belonged in a college slasher B movie for sure.
To my surprise, the woman turned out to be a beautiful blonde. Kind blue eyes, friendly smile, very pretty face. It was November when I arrived, quite cool in the day, cold in the night. If it was summer, I might have gotten a look at her body, I suspected it would be nice.
I assure you, I was back in time, deep woods surrounding her cabin. At night, the shadows kept me inside, I don't mess with mother nature on her ground. I never saw a plane fly over either.
The woman, Cindy, was very kind, showing me around, teaching me how to fish. I usually fish in a supermarket, much easier. We didn't have to hunt, she had an abundance of game already stored. The food was delicious, I never had possum before, but I'm a fan now.
Cindy came down with something on the fourth day of my visit. She was pale and sweating, I hoped it wasn't catching.
I had a cot in a small smoke house behind her cabin. It was freaky to lay in there, waiting for sleep, looking at rabbits, squirrels, possums, hanging from the low ceiling. We had fish that night, Cindy barely touching her food. She asked me to wait out on the rickety porch as she changed. Her cabin was built for her, a small area for preparing the food, a table to eat at, and a big bed for her to sleep in.
She called me back in, we were talking about her life here, my notebook next to my plate of food. I sat back down, Cindy was looking very pale, her face ghostly in the weak lights of the lanterns. She said she was going to bed, but asked me to stay. She told me she sometimes sleep walks when she gets this type of fever, one time she slept walk the two miles to the lake she fishes at. I was to gently guide her back to bed.
I took a nice look, almost wolf whistled at her very hot legs. She was wearing wooly socks, reaching almost to her knees. A sweater, thick, looking very warm, even a scarf. I suspected she, or somebody else made what she was wearing. Her sweater covered her ass, but her thighs made me hard as one of the logs burning in the fireplace.
Her back to me, her sweater pulled up as she got into her bed. Her panties were not homemade, but not thong either, I don't know women's panties. I don't collect them, study them, I certainly don't wear them, so I have no idea what kind. They are white, very white in the dancing light from the fireplace. They pulled towards her crack a bit, showing some very nice cheeks. Cindy pulled the quilt over her and the show was over.
There was no way I was able to work on the interview we had so far. My cock was dripping, I wanted to pull it out, whack off right there. Would she hear me? Even in her fever induced state? Maybe, she heard shit in the woods that my ears never heard.
I looked over, I felt a huge drop of cum slide down my cock. The quilt slid off enough to show Cindy's sweet ass. Her right hand was slowly moving over her cheek, a film of sweat on her skin. Was this a type of sleep walk? Sleep rubbing her ass? If it was, I was not complaining.
Laying on her side, her right leg moved past her left, I could see her panty in between her legs. I considered getting a closer look, knowing full well how voyeuristic that seemed. The sight of her hand, slowly rubbing, sliding over her slick skin, running down her thigh, then back to her ass, her hips moving just a bit, had my cock ready to bore a hole through the table.
Her hips were moving like a gentle tide, rising and falling like a breath. I was out of the chair, carried it over to the side of her bed, her left hand slipped in between her legs, fingers pressing down on her panties. Her pussy rubbed against her fingers-very slow her movement drawing me in, forcing me to watch, not that I minded.
I had a front row seat to pure erotic. Her right hand continued rubbing her ass, fingernails lightly scraping the skin. The sexual instinct of her body took over, movement so in sync with what her hands are doing.
My cock was steady dripping as I watched her body, lustily dancing in bed to a private inner tune.
Her right hand pulled her panties a bit to the side, pink lips, a bit swollen, soaked from sweat or her arousal, I did not know. Her middle finger slid along her lips, then dipped inside. Her other fingers rubbed her soft folds as her longest finger slid in, slid out, it was magical to watch.
Her thighs pressed together as she did her work, a labor of love really. To me, and judging by her quiet sounds, to her too.
A fast tempo change-urgent-her finger rubbed her lips, side to side, up and down, in a circle. Her right hand squeezed her ass, fingers pressing into the skin, leaving soft indentations. Her panties were partially over her lips, the material rubbing against her lips as her fingers moved in a frenzy. Were the panties in the way? In this case, yes.
Her panties came down her legs and tossed to the side. Cindy laid on her back a few moments, not moving. I was so tempted to lend a hand, then her right hand moved to her pussy, her fingers rubbed over her lips, pressing into her very sexy lips. She brought her hand to her face, her finger tips lightly touching above her eyebrows, the bridge of her nose, index and middle finger went into her mouth. She didn't suck her fingers, her fingers ran down the length of her tongue. I was squeezing my cock through my jeans like a juicer squeezes an orange, squeezing till every drop of juice came out. Her fingers rubbed her cheeks, then her chin. MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM, fucking hot.
Her left hand opened her sweater, cupping her left breast, nipple stiff, sharp against her palm. She squeezed her breast, under it, hand moving over the top, her hand loving its round shape. Her other hand went back to her pussy, fingers rubbing from mound down her lips, reaching down to her ass in a fast frenzy. She was so wet, a very audible sticky sound could be heard. It sounded like taffy being mixed, fast and hard by a wire whisk.
Her breathing was short, like she couldn't catch her breath, nor swallow. Her hands worked, rubbing her breast, rubbing her pussy, the sticky sound becoming louder. Her hand made quick swipes over her thigh, spreading her inner juice. Her body was trying to rise, but unseen hands held it down. I was watching her cum. Ladies, how intense is this for you? The closer you get, is it more urgent? I marveled as her hands adored her body.
Drops of water landed on her thighs, her lips didn't seem wet, they did look very very sticky. Faster her hands rubbed, squeezing, pressing harder. Her body trembling, begging for air as she still tried to catch her breath, swallow at the same time.
She suddenly broke free of the unseen hands. Her fingers pressed down hard on her pussy, her eyes opened, I could see how intense her pleasure is in her eyes, but I could never put into words. She closed them, a smile touching her lips as she laid back. Her fingers slow, very slowly moving up and down her lips. Bravo Cindy! Bravo ladies! Thank you for letting me watch.