Cave Man's Captive

by Juliana Conners

  “Look sir, I appreciate what you trying to do in keeping my mother's wishes and memories alive, but I think that you need to just go away.”

  “I see,” said Jean, hanging his head turning to walk away.

  “One last thing,” I said. “The next time that you feel that you want to ruin your dead girlfriend's funeral, please don't.”

  I knew that my words were mean, but I didn't care. He was rude and inappropriate and what he told me wasn’t the right time or right place.

  The night that my mother left, she made me promise that I wouldn't say anything to my dad until long after she was gone. I was hesitant because I didn't want to have to be the one to tell him. But more than that, I didn't want to take any part in breaking my father's heart. I had never really seen him upset, but I'm sure that knowing that his world was being turned upside down would have been enough to upset him, at the very least.

  So, I didn't tell him. And when he cried out, asking where she had been going begging for answers, I felt so guilty. I felt like I personally had something to do with her death. No, I wasn't the person who killed her, but I had more information on what was going on than anyone. And now that her boyfriend had come forward with more details, I had even more information.

  But I would never tell him. I vowed that I would never tell him. I would just do my best to be a good daughter and hope that he will somehow come to terms with the fact that his wife was gone. Anything more and god knows what kind of strain it would put on him.

  I thought that he was going to figure it out one day because about a week after she left, he called me and asked me if I knew where their old suitcase was. “

  Why are you looking for it?”' I asked curiously.

  “Oh, I just noticed it was gone. It's been in our closet for years and it's not there anymore.”

  “I think mom donated it to Salvation Army like a week ago.” I lied. “Mom had me drop off a load and if I remember correctly, the suitcase may have been in the donation pile.”

  He paused like he was processing what I was saying.

  “You can't remember if you dropped off a huge suitcase?” he asked.

  “No, dad. It was a crazy week for me. I was trying to figure some things out with the kids that I work with, so I really wasn't focused on what she told me to donate. I just made sure that it got where she told me to take it.”

  “Ok.” he said, hanging up the phone.

  I hung up and blew out a huge breath. My heart was beating fast and my palms were sweating. I felt like I was doing something wrong to my dad, but I also felt like I had to keep my mother's memory pure and untainted. I couldn't imagine what he would feel like if he knew that my mother had been running away with her boyfriend the night that she’d been killed.

  She had been killed by a drunk driver. I wondered what she had been thinking in those final moments right before she was hit. Had she been thinking about me? Did she consider what her choice was going to mean for her only daughter? I tried to tell myself that she really had been thinking of me and not selfishly thinking of herself.

  I was awake many nights beating myself up. I felt like I should have tried harder to convince my mother not to leave, to make her stay. Then maybe she would still be alive. Maybe we wouldn't have had to bury her and say goodbye forever. Even though I had promised my mother that I wouldn't say anything, I keep thinking: should I have said something to my dad and perhaps he would have stopped her from leaving? Would he have been able to talk her out of it? Would that have caused the first argument that I would ever remember them having? There were so many different scenarios that I was working out in my mind that I was on the verge of driving myself crazy.

  Would my dad have mourned her the way that he did for the past five years if he knew that she had been unfaithful and had been planning to leave him? Not only was she planning it, she acted upon that plan and left him. Would he have felt that she got what she deserved?

  I shuddered at the thought. No, I knew that it was better for my father to believe that she was gone and that they stayed on good terms. There was nothing that could be done to change things anyway. That's why I was so eager to dismiss Jean, my mother's boyfriend who showed up to her funeral. Nothing was going to taint my mother's memory as long as I had something to say about it."

  Elijah stroked his beard, pondering on everything that I had said.

  After a while, he finally spoke.

  "Well, it seems to me that you need to have an honest conversation with your father and tell him the truth."

  I didn't expect him to say that.

  "Why tarnish my mother's memory? There's nothing that can be done about it now."

  "No nothing can be done to change the facts of what happened. But you are holding on to guilt about the situation. And both of you have been grieving so much. Sharing the information that you have with him could be a key part in helping both of you to heal."

  I thought about what he said. Maybe there was some truth to what he was saying. I would love to release the heavy load that was weighing me down. I just didn't want to do it at the risk of breaking my father's heart. Losing my mother had already done a great job of that.

  "I don't know," I admitted. "I would tell him, but I just don't want him to think I’ll of my mother."

  "It's okay," he said, reaching his arms around me in a big hug. It felt nice nestled in his arms. As he held me, I started to get turned on again. I wanted him so bad. I couldn't get enough of him. He was so sexy and he fulfilled me in ways I never thought were possible.

  I had escaped from my life with my dad to deal with my guilt. Being here with Elijah was just what I needed to be able to face my guilt and fears.

  I was both hopeful and curious about what was going to happen next with this welcoming cabin man.

  Chapter 16

  Elijah

  "Thank you for telling me your story," I said, truly grateful that Michelle felt like she could open up to me. I know that it couldn't have been easy to share something so sensitive to her about her mother. Seeing her tears and hearing her shaking voice told me that she still had strong emotions about what had happened.

  "You're welcome. Thank you for letting me get it all out. I don't think that I've ever shared that with anyone else."

  "Sometimes you need share these things so that people can get a better understanding of you and what you've been through."

  "I agree," she said, raising an eyebrow, her eyes fixated on me. I knew instinctively it was a hint that she wanted me to share more of my story so that she could understand me a little better. But I really didn't want to share my story with her just yet. Even though we were trapped out in the cave together, we'd been having a pretty good time. I would hate to turn it into a depressing experience by sharing my sad story.

  "You know what?" I said. "I think that we've had enough serious talk for one night. Let's save my story for another night."

  "Why? You were nice enough to listen to me share. I want you to share with me so that I can listen to you and get to know you better."

  "I know." I said, squeezing her in my arms. "And we will have plenty of time to do that later. But for now, let's just enjoy being in each other's company."

  She was silent for a few minutes and finally said, "Okay." I nestled my face in her thick, black crop of hair. Her hair smelled like wildflowers. She was so warm and soft in my arms. I felt like I could have laid there with her for eternity. Even though it was storming badly, part of me wished the brutal weather would go on forever.

  As much as I was enjoying lying there with Michelle, a small part of me felt sad, wishing I would have the courage to open up to her. It had been a long time since I had experienced feeling close to someone like this. And she was such an attentive listener. I wished that I could open up to her and share my story, to have someone listen who truly cared and would try to understand. But I quickly dismissed the thought and settled myself with the thought of holding her for the rest of the night. But it seemed like
she had other plans. She started to grind her butt into me, moaning softly. After a few minutes of this she sighed dejectedly.

  "You okay?" I asked her.

  "Yes. No. I don't know."

  "What's wrong?" I asked.

  She sat up and turned to face me.

  "I want you to make love to me."

  I looked at her a little bit confused, but then told her, "Okay."

  "No, I want you to make such good love to me that I don't remember any of my parents’ tragedy. I don't want to think about my mother dying or my father… or anything. I want my mother to be the woman that my father mourns, his loving and doting wife. A woman who is faithful and devoted to her husband. Not this woman who was hell-bent on leaving her husband and her only child behind. I wish that I could wake up and it could all be a dream."

  She had high hopes that I wasn’t sure I could fulfill. But I would do my best to make her memories happy ones, ones that would last well beyond our time in the cave.

  I start by kissing her face. All of it. Her skin was warm and soft. She reached her hand down and rubbed on my dick, making it instantly hard. I leaned my head down and kissed her chest. Freeing a breast from her confining bra, I lapped up her nipple with my tongue, sucking on it until it stood at full attention. She held my face there, her breath quickening. I was intoxicated by this woman---every bit of her. The more that I kissed and sucked on her plump breast, the more turned on I got.

  When I couldn't wait until longer, I pulled my dick out, and sheathed it with a condom. I then pulled her pants all the way off and worked my dick into her already wet and tight hole. She moaned loudly as I pushed it into her deeper and deeper. I was rock hard. She winced, letting me know that she was still a bit sore from the rough sex that we had earlier.

  "Don't worry," I told her. "I'll be gentle."

  She seemed to relax when I told her that. Her pussy was sore because I had given her all that I had, and some more I used my fingers to stroke her clit using the softest touch I could muster. I watched her dripping wetness easily glide over my fingers and down my hand. I slowly edged my dick toward her pussy and held the globular head near her entrance... making sure to enter slowly so as to feel her luscious pussy lips on contact… then slowly going further down and savoring the tightness that was binding like a vice around my cock. I went deep inside then slowly pulled out. I repeated this maneuver several times making sure I was pleasing her. I could tell she was loving the care I was taking as I did not want to make her soreness any worse than it was. I continued in the same method, feeling her pussy tightening with each penetration. Slowly and gently in and out.

  When her pussy clamped shut and her eyes widened, I knew she was about to cum. But, this time it was more dramatic, slower than the other ones. It was like a calm had washed over her. She didn't make a sound. She lay there completely still, letting the sensations envelop her total being. She gripped my arms with her hands like she would never let go. I knew right then that I had succeeded in my mission. This time was soft and sweet, just as she wanted it. When she finished cumming, she lay lifeless in my arms. I held her and she held me back.

  This time I pleasured myself. It wasn’t long before, my cock was sputtering as cum shot out hard, splashing violently in sharp bursts and landing onto my chest. I didn't think I had that much left in me after all of the sex that we had… but it turns out I did.

  I wiped myself clean and we fell fast asleep in each other's arms, the pattering of the rain and crackling of the fire serenading us as we laid huddled up in a corner of the now lovers cave. I could see myself getting use to this.

  Chapter 17

  Elijah

  That night, I dreamt I was flying. I was a helicopter. In fact, I was the helicopter that had flown my ex-SEAL buddies on that fateful day. I felt them step inside of me and I was flying them in the air.

  "Shots fired! Shots fired!" Harlow yelled. I felt the bullets hit my metal body, piercing me. It burned. I could feel myself falling from the sky. The whole time that I was falling, I kept asking myself, why was this happening?. When my body crashed against the ground I caught fire. I felt like I was in hell.

  I woke up with a start, covered in sweat. It took me a minute to realize that I was still in the cave with Michelle.

  "What is it?" she asked. I must have startled her when I woke up because she had a wild look in her piercing, blue eyes. She looked very concerned.

  "Nothing. It's okay. It was just a dream," I said, hugging her tight and patting her back. Her body was tense and she tried to pull away from my firm grip to look in my eyes. I didn't want her to see the fear that I was struggling to dismiss. I could feel my heart beating out of my chest. I hoped that she didn't feel it, too.

  "What was your dream about?" she asked quietly. I debated whether or not to tell her, but finally decided against it.

  "Maybe I'll tell you another time. The storm has stopped. We should get going now."

  She turned to face the opening of the cave and saw that the rain had stopped and the sun was beginning to peek out.

  "I guess you're right," she said, in a dejected voice. She sighed and rolled over so that she could sit up. She grabbed her coat and pulled it on and picked up her purse. She perched herself on the small ledge on the side of the cave and waited for me to gather my things.

  "You know, Elijah, I just want to thank you for being so brave," she said.

  Her compliment hit me right between the eyes. I should have felt flattered, but it made me feel guiltier. Brave was the last word that I would use to describe myself. And I refused to take credit for something that I was not. I was well aware of who I was. And I wanted her to accept me for who I was, not who I was pretending to be.

  I decided that it was time to tell her the truth about me.

  "Michelle, I am not brave."

  She looked at me, somewhat bewildered.

  "What do you mean?"

  Here it goes I thought, taking in a deep breath and blowing it out.

  "When we were in the SEALS, something happened. There was an accident. And if it weren't for me being a coward, the accident probably wouldn't have happened. It was all my fault."

  She shook her head in disbelief.

  "I don't understand. You have to explain what you mean."

  "The day before we were to go up in the air, we had been drilling hard all day. Everyone was tired and we wanted to go into a town that was nearby so we could eat some of the local food. It was actually delicious… and filling. But the next day I woke puking my guts out. I couldn't drink water without getting sick. As the day went on, I found myself getting worse, not better. I felt that if I went up in the air and flew the helicopter, I would be putting everyone at risk. So I told my commanding officer how I was feeling and that I didn't think it would be a good idea for me to go up in the air.”.

  “’'No problem, son’," he told me. 'We can let the rookie go up this time and you can do the next flight out.'”

  “I agreed, grateful not to go in the air. But looking back, I wonder if it wasn't food poisoning. I wondered if it was just fear, or if I had some sort of feeling something bad was going to happen.”

  “Anyway, I remember telling the Junior Pilot that he had a big responsibility on his hands. I feel stupid now giving him that advice. He didn't make it. I feel like I might have made things worse, making him feel nervous. Then when everything happened, he probably froze up and didn’t feel as confident as he should have been.”

  “My stomach queasiness was only part of what was going on with me that day. To be completely honest, I was scared shitless of going on that mission. I told my commanding officer days before that I was really worried about it, but he told me to keep quiet and do as I was told. I didn't want to cause any more trouble or get him upset, so I just left it alone. But I couldn't shake this gnawing feeling that something bad was going to happen."

  Talking to her about what happened took me right back there, like it was happening all over again.
/>   “I still remember when the call came in about the crash. Everyone was rushing around the barracks.”

  "They've been hit! They've been hit!" a voice yelled over the intercom.”

  "What's been hit? Who?!" Yelled our commanding officer, throwing the communications etiquette meant for the intercom out of the window. He was frantic to get information. His eyes bounced off his head as he tried to find a connection or something that would give him the answers he was not getting over the intercom.”

  "Helicopter...shot down..." came the voice intermittently through static.

  “I knew what had happened.” I immediately felt nauseous and sunk to my knees on the cold concrete floor.

  “I had a sinking feeling of regret… that I let my squad down. I could feel the eyes from the other SEALS, from men who were strangers to me. I felt like they looked at me like I had betrayed my brothers. Hell, I felt like I did, too. My commanding officer couldn't even make eye contact with me.”

  “When it finally sunk in that something tragic had happened, my commanding officer sat down on the ground, staring at the wall. He looked so sad, so hurt. I didn't know what to say.”

  "Sir, the impact of the helicopter on the ground was so severe that it caused an explosion and a fire started. There is a very low chance of survival for anyone who was inside," came the report from a SEAL in another division.”