Wilderness Paradise Pt. 01

She moaned into my mouth pressing her hips upwards against me. I could feel her fingers digging into my back as we lay still basking in the thrill of penetration, her pussy gulping at my cockhead, squeezing me with her cuntal muscles. I couldn't believe how hot she was; how hot and slippery and tight, or the extraordinary feeling of her vulva sucking me into her.

I pushed in gently, acutely aware of the smallness of her vaginal passage, and not wanting to hurt her. She felt inordinately tight for a big girl but the slickness of our juices allowed me to slide in, a little bit at a time, until I was halfway into her. I stopped waiting for her to adjust to fleshy hardness tearing at her virginal canal.

"More ... don't stop, baby, keep going," she whispered her breath scorching against my ear.

I pushed harder and felt Rachael tense under me as my cock ploughed into her, spreading her open. She let out a muffled cry and then sucked passionately on my tongue. I had deflowered my sister and for reasons I still cannot fathom, I felt an overwhelming sense of satisfaction. I could feel the steely hardness of my cock throbbing inside her and her muscles clamping around me, milking me into the irriguous cauldron of her virginal hole.

I pulled back out, pausing for a moment, and then plunged in with greater force and felt her opening up, a lotus with petals unfolding, until I was buried all the way to the pubic bone. I was now inside her, completely, with the tip of my penis pulsing at the entrance of her uterus. It felt so incredibly intense that I wanted this feeling to last forever, to never end. She was hot and slippery and so exquisitely tight that I knew we were meant for each other; that our bodies were matched perfectly. The fleshy, turgid rod of my passion was predestined to be buried inside her cunt and this moment had been ordained the day she was born.

We lay holding each other, whispering sweet-nothings, promising eternal love and exchanging deep, soulful kisses. I could feel my dick twitching inside her belly singularly aware of the tightness of her and the sensation of her cunt as it constricted around me, squeezing my shaft with her velvety, slick muscles and draining me into her. There is no way for me to explain the feelings that were coursing through me, especially this incredible sensation of being totally and completely fused to my sister. We had coalesced without boundary; merging together like threads of wispy smoke, joined at the mouth and at our sex in a perpetual conduit of passion where our bodies felt like one. It was unclear where she began or where I ended leaving only a sweaty, woven synthesis of us.

Rachael whispered in my ear, "Fuck me ... please, baby, just fuck me!"

She spread her legs wider; raising her knees to brace for support and began thrusting her hips upwards against me. I could feel her crotch pressing into mine, the hardness of her pubis pushing against my own. She was holding me by my haunches pulling me into her so that my cock sank even deeper into her belly. I growled into her mouth and began fucking her. I started slowly, sawing in and out of her delicate, little hole being as careful as I could so as not to hurt her.

At first my sister was still, her thighs squeezing thickly against my sides, her arms wrapped around me, moaning in time to my thrusts but gradually I felt a change, I felt her body undulating, her hips moving up and down in a synchronized concert. She was matching me, stroke for stroke, thrust for thrust until our bodies were slapping against each other. And soon we were fucking in earnest with a fervor that was nasty and hot, making animal sex in the middle of my bed. I could feel her pussy juices leaking out from her, running down the crack of her butt, wetting the sheets under us.

Every stroke sent jolts of pleasure emanating from the ridge of my glans, racing down my shaft through the network of nerves until they synapsed in my brain, flooding me with sexual opiate. I could feel my cum churning at the base of my root, within the depths of my balls as the tingling sensations at my cockhead intensified. I was nearing the edge of the precipice, heading towards the point of no return. I knew that Rachael was experiencing the same incredible things that I was. She was moaning through her nose, sucking my mouth with avid ferocity, bucking her hips under me as hard as I was thrusting into her. I knew that she had already climaxed a few times by the way her body had tensed and quivered to the accompanying urgency of her whimpers and moans. I had felt her cunt pulsing rapidly before going all wet, her pussy juices gushing all over me while her legs trembled and twitched. Her back would arch and she would stiffen, then a few more spastic jerks and her body would go limp. She would lie languidly kissing me while I continued to pound into her. Then slowly she would resuscitate herself, work her way back up pulling me into her, fucking me back again. And now as I drew near to my own orgasm, she was on the threshold of another.

I felt her body racing towards the pinnacle and heard her whisper into my ear, "Fuck me, baby, fuck me ... fuck your sister ... harder, Luke, harder ... oh, please ... oh God ... what is happening to me?"

That did it. I tumbled, freefalling in the most intense of orgasms, shooting stringy ropes of my incestuous juices into my baby sister.

I could feel my cock expand and contract, spitting my sperm deep into her belly and with each pearly spasm, the whispers of my conscience that had hummed in the back of my mind now turned into choleric shouts of alarm: she could get pregnant; you could father your own nephew. What would Mom and Dad say?

But I couldn't pull out of her. I just kept pumping into her long after I had spewed it all and had been sucked dry by her hungry, convulsing cunt. Surprisingly my cock remained hard for a lot longer than I had expected until finally I lay on top of her sweaty and spent. We lay unmoving until my penis softened and eased out of her vagina, freeing itself with a slippery, whispered plop.

After a while, I rolled off of her, filled with remorse at the sight of my cum glistening in her ravaged hole. I had just deflowered my sister. I had committed incest with her and should have known better. What was even more perplexing to me was how I could have wanted her so much one moment and then want her to be gone the next: gone as far from me as possible.

"You had better go ..." I said, "Mom might make the rounds ... you know how she is!"

It was weak and her face reflected the hurt but she didn't argue. It's possible she was feeling the same remorse as I was but I doubt it. She picked up her panties and her dress and walked away leaving me to struggle with the demons that weaved around the bloody stain on my sheets, the symbolic wound signifying that I would forever be her first.

I was riddled by regret and guilt and to some extent, a sense of revulsion, not for her but for what I had done to her. I had shred the forbidden serape and laid bare the rawness of our intimacy, steeped in dogma that had opened my eyes to a new awareness akin to a subliminal realization – it was as though every aspect of our union was now colored in doubt. I felt like I had lost my sister forever. I mean, how could she be a sister to me, after I had just fucked her?

I lay in bed tossing and turning avoiding the dampness of our indiscretion and wondering how I was going to face her tomorrow.

*****

Hunlen Falls – back to the present

He watched them through the brush, camouflaged and silent, moving with leopard stealth as he sized up his prey. He kept his eyes on the tall, blond girl at point ignoring the man who was a few steps behind her. He liked her assured stride and the languid ease of her movements. He watched her for a while before transferring his attention to the two women in the rear making mental notes as he studied them. Pretty girls in a row ... just the kind he was looking for.

Josh Woodard was emotionless. These were intruders on his territory. He had lived off the land, undetected, for years. It had been ten long years since his escape from the madness that was Afghanistan. He had returned filled with disillusionment and antipathy that had boiled deep within him and still remained dormant ready to be ignited. After an intense stint with the reconnaissance team, made-up of the best that the Special Forces had to offer, he never went back. Most of his friends had died there and with them, his sense of duty. He went AWOL and then contrary to his psychological profile, he disappeared. They tried to find him but it was tantamount to chasing the elusive Northern winds that blew down from Canada. He had submerged himself in the hills of the Adirondacks and had slowly made his way into Canada, crossing the border with the animals that held no regard for manmade boundaries. He wandered across the vast expanse, hopping trains and thumbing rides until he had reached his secluded haven in the Rainbow Mountains.

Like all predators he was opportunistic. He had noticed them while tracking a deer he had shot with his bow. As soon as he saw the women he forgot about the wounded stag. His innate predilection for blondes had him eying Rachael and then Kyla but his analytical mind warned him of the danger; both were big girls who were physically fit and capable of extreme resistance. Susan was smaller, softer and less likely to create problems and made for an easier target. He discounted Andy without a second thought – he knew he could take him out in a heartbeat. He had been tracking them for over a day now and was waiting for the right moment to strike and tonight, after they turned in, he would take the small one. He needed a woman. His mind wandered back to Dora Mayer, that dark, buxom climber he had lured into his cabin ...

*****

"What are you looking at, Rachael?" Susan asked as she poured more coffee into her cup, "That's the second time now ... you're making me nervous."

"I get this uneasy feeling that we are being watched!" Rachael answered as she continued to scrutinize the outlying bushes and trees.

"I hope it's not a bear." Andy mused, taking a few steps towards where Rachael was standing near the periphery of the small clearing.

They had set-up camp off of an old unused path that cut into the heavy woods just northwest of Hunlen Falls. They had a campfire going and just finished a cold dinner of protein bars and fruit so as to avoid cooking. The smell of food was the number one reason for bear attacks.

"I don't think it's a bear. He would have charged us by now if he was hungry. Keep your Bear Repellant spray ready ... just in case," Rachael cautioned.

"You think it's those creepy guys?" Kyla asked joining her.

They had passed a group of trekkers earlier in the day and some of the men had made lewd remarks. There was one tall man in particular that Kyla recalled; he had a look in his eyes that was definitely scary.

Rachael remained quiet trying to pick out the shapes from the shadows buried in the tremulous leaves, telling herself not to let her mind play tricks. She hated those who saw ghosts in everything but at the same time she had to be careful. Luke, Luke, where are you, baby? His voice came back to her: see only what you can identify and don't let your imagination get the better of you. That was easier said than done.

"Creepy!" Susan said, "Hey, it's like those horror movies where college kids get eaten by those crazy, inbred cannibals living in the hills!"

"Not funny!" Rachael responded but they all laughed.

"I guess I'm letting things get to me! I wish Luke was here ..." Rachael said softly to Kyla.

"Maybe it is Luke," Kyla offered, "he does have a sick sense of humor!"

"No, it's not him. I just have this strange feeling ... damn! I wish he'd hurry up and get here already!"

"Hey! What does that mean? What about me? I'm a real badass when I want to be!" Andy said with playful affectation, "I'll take care of you girls ... don't you worry!"

He pulled up the sleeves of his t-shirt and struck a pose like the bodybuilders on Muscle Beach then jumped up and landed in a Karate stance.

He stood still, eyes focused before moving very slowly in a fake kata. He burst into action throwing kicks and punches in the air screaming "Eeeya ... Hai, Hai, Hai!"

Then spinning and facing them, he said with a pronounced accent, "You likee thees... me takee good care of you! Chop, chop!"

"Bruce Lee you're not!" Kyla said laughing despite herself.

"Don't listen to them, honey, you can take care of me anytime!" Susan added between peals of laughter.

She went over and tackled him and the two of them fell to the ground and rolled over together.

"You're silly!" she said kissing his cheek.

Just then there was a rustling in the bushes to their right and everything stopped. Andy and Sue sat up and Kyla took a step towards the noise.

Rachael used her flashlight to scour the brush and the trees but there was nothing. They stood staring at the bushes trembling in the light breeze.

"Must have been the wind ..." Andy offered.

"It sounded more like a small animal ... maybe a woodchuck or a squirrel." Kyla said and walked back.

"Must have been a squirrel," Andy said. "Those damn, pesky, little critters!"

"Yeah ... must be some animal." Rachael said and turned back towards the campfire.

Kyla followed her, "Let's get some sleep ... we have a long day tomorrow."

She turned towards Andy and Sue and added, "Try and keep it down, okay? Unless, of course, you want me to come in there and join you!"

"Ooooh, that be soooooo nice ... likee me a Shanghai sandwich!" Andy said hugging Susan tightly to him.

Rachael could hear their playful banter but she couldn't shake the gnawing feeling about the 'thing' in the shadows. It wasn't the breeze and unless that squirrel was 150 pounds it wasn't a rodent either. She felt for her pepper spray finding some comfort in its cold, metallic presence.

*****

The Laughing Bear

I would catch up to them, I was sure of that but right now, I needed a hot shower and something to eat – I was starving.

The large wooden sign on the façade is the first thing that catches your attention when you pull into the driveway. It had a 3D image of a smiling bear hand carved into the wood that literally jumped out at you. Under this, was engraved: "The Smiling Bear Lodge". The rest was painted in old English script -

A Christian Establishment since 1886

We Believe in Jesus and Prayer

No Shirt, No Shoes – No Service, No exceptions

Owned & Managed by Sarah & Jacob Westbridge

I smiled, appreciating the sentiment, and walked into the lobby. It was small, rectangular room that was meticulously neat and filled with the married aroma of wild flowers. The gray slate floor looked like it had just been scrubbed and behind the wide, teak counter was another sign that promised clean linens, towels and a complimentary breakfast of Eggs and Sourdough Pancakes. Under that was a blackboard with the daily rates for a single room. In the corner across from the counter was a leather sofa, creased and worn with age, and next to it was an antique faience lamp that sat on a mahogany side table.

On the counter was a brass desk-bell, its dome covered in intricate leaf patterns, and next to it was a plain, glass vase filled with fresh flowers – yellow daffodils and lilacs. I rang the bell and waited. There seemed to be no sign of life so after an appropriate interval, I tapped the button on top twice in quick succession and wandered over to the French window on the adjacent wall. It offered a panoramic view of the mountains, the intense hues of color breaking through the morning's hazy mist. The heavy mineralization caused by years of volcanic activity had created a wide spectrum of colors which explained why the first settlers gave it its name, Rainbow Mountains. It was absolutely beautiful and I could feel the adrenalin and the excitement begin to build in anticipation – this was going to be fun. Three weeks of nothing but the pristine outdoors and ... the possibility of Rachael. I wondered if we could rekindle what had happened so long ago. But no matter what, this was paradise!

I heard the soft patter of feet and turned back to the counter in time to see a small woman with white hair part the curtains and come through the connecting door. Sarah Westbridge must have been in her mid to late-sixties. She straightened her dress and pushed back a strand of hair that had fallen across her face. Her mannerisms were quick and purposeful, reminding me of a little bird.

"I'm sorry ... I was in the kitchen." She said without preamble and then added, "How can I help you?"

She examined me carefully, taking in the bruises and the grungy appearance, her demeanor turning austere and unfriendly. But I wasn't fazed – I would win her over with the famous Meacham charm.

"Hi! You should have a room for me – my name's Luke Meacham." I said, flashing a wide smile and hoping to break the ice, "My sister, Rachael, and a few friends had stayed here."

"Oh yes, the pretty, blond girl ..." her face lit up for a second, "she had mentioned that you would be here soon."

She continued to look me over then observed rather dourly, "You don't look anything like her."

"Same mother," I joked.

I had heard this all my life. My sister looked like Dad's side and I looked like Mom's – a lot more Eurasian. My father was Welsh and my mother, part Indian. You couldn't ask for a stranger mix.

She gave me a humorless glare so I quickly added, "I'm kidding. My grandmother was Iroquois Indian. I was the lucky one; I got the looks!"

She looked at me ruefully then snorted, "Rubbish!" and then adjudicated with finality, "Your sister got the looks, in fact, she is downright beautiful! The girl should have been a model."

I couldn't argue the point. The looks in the family belonged to my sister, hands down. Not that I was an Alfred E. Neuman lookalike but I wasn't going to win any beauty contests not with Rachael around.

I watched her study the screen reading under her breath.

"They left... umm, let me see here... ah yes, here it is, they left two days ago." She uttered, almost triumphantly, happy to have found what she had been looking for.

She continued to study the screen, maneuvering the mouse and clicking erratically, muttering to herself. I could feel her frustration building as she went from page to page unable to locate my reservation.

"Rachael sent me a text message confirming my reservation," I offered, "I don't think there was a confirmation number though."

"I'm trying to find your reservation, I know it's here somewhere ..." she grumbled with obvious irritation, "I hate these things. The books were so much easier! I'm going to call Ellen."

She picked up the phone and spoke briefly into it then got up from behind the computer and looked at me, tilting her head so she could see over the top of her reading glasses. The round, silver frames made her look even more like a bird – like Tweety Bird!

"Whatever happened to you?" she quizzed, taking off her glasses.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean your face ... were you in a fight? We don't look favorably on hooligans!"

Hooligans? But before I could answer a younger woman, dressed in jeans and a white, crocheted pullover came in. She too was small and petite and except that her dark hair was bobbed short, the resemblance was uncanny - she was obviously the daughter.

"Hi, I'm Ellen," she said and smiled brightly, showing off small, perfectly even teeth, then turning to the older woman, "I'll take care of it, Ma. You go on in ... they need you in the back."

"You behave yourself, young man, we don't tolerate fighting here. Do you understand?" She asked sternly.