She might do all right if she hung back in the city. She's not a total waste of tits and ass like a lot of the women I see come up here. Women looking for men, reading articles on how easy the pickins are gonna be for em. Thinkin' they're going to find themselves some burly mountain man type find happy ever after sitting by a fire all day.
Most of those girls go right back home as soon as they can. They can't hack the dark or the cold or the light or the heat-- and nobody believes me when I try to tell em that it gets hot up here in the summer-- or the mosquitoes or the wildlife...or the men.
This place ain't a couple weeks at summer camp, it's the real deal.
My thoughts are all disjointed. Have been all day. Ever since I picked her up in Juneau. It's a long fucking time to have someone else in the Cub with me. I'm just not used to so much company, that's all it is. Been telling myself that all day.
I'd be just as worried about anyone that I was tasked with dropping off in the middle of fucking nowhere.
I try not to growl my frustration as I head back to pull her off the ground.
"You OK?" I pat her down, checking for sticks or rocks or blood or whatever, making sure she didn't bust something when she went down. Not that the ground this time of year makes for a hard landing. There was still snow on the ground when I made the run last week. The air field is a swamp right now.
She's soaked to the bone and her skin is cold from the ice water she just took a dunk in but I'm not stupid enough to believe that's the reason she's shivering as I run my hands over her.
I am just about stupid enough to think I could warm her up though.
"You got spare clothes in that bag, right?" I ask as I head toward the plane, making sure she follows me before I climb in the back and grab her duffle.
Melissa pulls out a new t-shirt and a pair of clean jeans and then gives me a cold stare, "Are you going to turn around or what?" She demands as she wiggles her finger in a circular motion.
I don't believe for a minute that she'd mind if I didn't.
I almost say what I'm really thinking, then I think better of it, "OK, OK, I put my hands up in mock surrender and turn around. I'm standing on the step rail of the strut, waiting for her to hand back her bag so I can put it right where I need it in the back to keep the load balanced.
While Mel changes on the ground behind me, I stare off through the windows of the Cub into the trees on the far side of the field.
There really is a hotel here, it's about 12 miles from here in a town of about 200 people. The place gets a fair amount of tourist hunters and there's a real sweet B&B just up the road from the general store.
It'd be a better place to spend the summer than that little hut they call a cabin up at Wolf Ridge.
Mel's an oddity. I haven't quite fingered her yet... my train of thought derails as I catch movement through the window. No. Not through the window, in the window. I can see Melissa's reflection in the grimy Plexiglas and my last thought gets stuck on repeat as I watch her bend over and pull dry jeans up her thighs.
Nope. Haven't quite fingered her-- yet. My cock doesn't want me to waste any time with fingering though. I sure as hell ain't gonna stop appreciating the view, so I have to reach down and adjust myself, making sure I give the fucker room to get get completely hard. Cause I know its gonna, I've been fighting all day to keep from scaring Melissa off with the bulge in my pants. Although, after watching the way her breathing hitched back there when I was reading over her shoulder, I'm not so sure she'd be scared.
Mel's working dry jeans over her wet skin, tugging them up a set of thighs that are full and smooth. At one point she bends forward, her ass in my direction. She's wearing a thong, not one of the ones that are supposed to be sexy, but since when is a thong of any kind not sexy? I mean, there's a strip of silky hot pink fabric disappearing between her ass cheeks and then a flash of that same hot pink covering what I'm currently imagining as the prettiest little pussy I'm likely to get this close to before she straightens up and gets the jeans over her hips with a little jump.
That jump sends her tits into motion and my cock gets harder. She's still got her bra on, something thin without any padding that's completely transparent from the water as she turns to grab the dry shirt.
She's gotta know that if she doesn't take that bra off it's just gonna soak her clean shirt right through, right? Part of me hopes she doesn't think that through and she ends up with another wet t-shirt peep show.
Part of me hopes she takes off the bra.
The thing with Mel is that she's hot. Not the sort of girl that turns heads on the red carpet hot, real girl hot. Jeans and baseball cap hot. Real woman hot. The kinda of chick that doesn't have a fucking clue how hard she makes a guy.
Right now I'm rock hard.
Just like I was when I saw the kind of filth she was reading back at the last stop. The kind of filth that's got me imagining the way she'd look if I was talking to her like that while I pulled that hot pink little thong to the side and thrust my cock into her wet little slit.
I watch her reflection in the windows and my breath catches when I see her fold her arms backwards and unhook her bra. Disappointment slams through me when she slips the new shirt over her head without me getting a peek at her naked tits but I do like the sight of them as she hands me back the duffle bag. Free under the dry shirt, her nipples poking through the fabric like a couple of hard pebbles.
About as hard as my fucking cock.
I grab the bag and put it back in its spot behind the passenger seat, making sure I get a real good look at those perfect tits again before climbing back into the cockpit.
She doesn't have a clue how fucking gorgeous she is.
I wait for her to get buckled back in and we take off for Wolf Ridge. Where I'm supposed to leave her for the summer.
Maybe I can convince her to let me stay the night, I think, just one night. It's gonna get awful lonely up there by herself, I'll give her some good memories to keep her company.
Now Available:
BUSH: A Wild Romance
by Rocklyn Ryder
About the Author
In real life I’m just your ordinary woman. At the day job 8 hours a day that often stretches to 10. Coming home to a couple of cats that didn’t notice I was gone. Sometimes I have a boyfriend. Sometimes I don’t.
Unless we're talking book boyfriends? I ALWAYS have one of those! Sometimes I juggle two or three, as long as they don't find out about each other, right? Or maybe it just gets better when they do.
I like writing steamy scenes between boys that are all hard muscle and soft hearts and the women they choose to claim as their own.
I also like writing deliriously unrealistic adventures about women who won't be claimed for long. Because sometimes we need a little balance in our fantasies.
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