Mountain Man

They called them Mountain Men. Back in St. Louis where I was born and raised as an only child, I remember reading and fantasizing about them in those penny novels that I loved. All I knew was that they were big, strong, self-reliant men who chose to live alone, no women, no families, surviving on what they could find in the mountains.

It was the mid-1800s, and my folks had started talking about moving out west to Oregon. Papa was a storekeeper, who owned the general store in town but seemed to think he'd be able to make a better living for us if we made that move. Papa started saving a little bit of money each week, and after almost a year, he had enough to buy another store. Papa bought the store all right, but within six months, he died of tuberculosis. Though Mama was heart stricken, she decided to go ahead and follow Papa's dream. As far as she was concerned, there was nothing left to hold her here.

With hopes for a happier future, Mama and I set out as members of the Johnson-Lexar Wagon Train. It was a hard, long, dirty trip but as each day passed, we knew we were drawing closer to our ultimate destination and our new life. Two months into our passage, half of the train came down with what old Mrs. Franklin called Flu. The wagon train stopped with the intent of giving people time to nurse the sick and recover from the illness, delaying the trek for almost two weeks. After such a long delay, the train was now in jeopardy of being caught in the early snowfall if we didn't leave and get back on the trail as soon as possible. A vote was taken, and the decision made that those people who were still ill, should stay behind, and when they were physically able proceed to the next town and complete the journey in the spring. Enough provisions and water were left to sustain them for another week was left.

Mama had fallen ill, and I stayed to take care of her. We were two of the twelve people left behind. Most of those left were elderly and frail even before the sickness, and now it seemed every day someone else died. Mama passed away one night in her sleep, and I was left truly alone for the first time in my life.

By the middle of the second week, I was not only alone but sick. Somehow, I managed to crawl into the bed in the back of our wagon, but was able to do little else. A day or so went by, and I lay there feverish and delirious. At one point, I thought I felt the wagon moving but was too weak to lift my head or keep my eyes open as a thick, warm darkness overtook me.

"No, nooo," I whimpered when the man lifted me up and onto his horse. My head pounded as if it would explode as he climbed up behind me, his arms around me holding me upright in the saddle.

"We'll be to my cabin by tonight, and you can sleep," he said, his voice sounding muffled and far away.

"Papa? Papa" I called in a low, raspy voice before heavy lids covered my eyes and I slumped back against his chest and fell into a fitful exhausted sleep.

*****

My eyes slowly fluttered open and through a dreamy haze, I saw the man walking around the large cluttered but clean room. He came over to the big four poster bed and having already undressed me pulled back the covers.

The man stood over the bed looking down at me taking in every inch of my body. Though just having turned eighteen, of small stature, and weight, my body was unmistakably the body of a woman. I took after my mother when she was my age, thick shoulder length auburn hair that now lay in tangled disarray on the pillow, large green eyes, full inviting lips, small waist, wide hips and slim thighs.

He began washing me. The rough washcloth felt cool against my burning skin, and I instinctively sought to cover myself, weakly crying as I clutched the blanket to me; suddenly more frightened by my inability to stop staring at the growing bulge between his legs than my nakedness.

I began to tussle with him, trying to push him away.

"No! Stop fighting me girl; you'll feel better once you're clean." He said in a gruff, no-nonsense voice.

With the soapy rag, he washed my chest, his hands maneuvering across, over and under my breast only pausing a moment when he saw how my breasts and nipples had already become hard and erect from the scrutiny of his stare. He washed my arms, lifting them up and letting them rest above my head, the change in their position making my breast stand at firm, youthful attention.

The man let the cloth trail downward to my belly and continued to my mound with its light covering of soft, dark hair. He spread my thighs and with the moistened cloth washed between my legs, letting the warm water dribble over my swelling clit, running the cloth between my pussy lips and along the insides of my thighs. I moaned softly and began to squirm, unfamiliar with the vague sensations that he ignited. The man washed each leg before reluctantly covering my naked body with the blankets and a thick warm covering made of animal fur.

The man was right, I did feel better and was dozing off when I felt him climb into the bed next to me and press his naked body next to mine, giving me his warmth. Initially surprised, I tried to move away from him, but he let his arm encircle my waist and his long, leg rest on top of mine holding me in front of him. Still too weak to struggle, I relaxed in his embrace and finally slept without dreaming for the first time in a long time.

*****

Most nights I would fall asleep well before he came to bed and some nights I would have nightmares, my sleep filled with restless tossing and turning. If he became aware of my fitfulness, he would get into the bed and turn me gently onto my back, positioning my head on his shoulder. Stretching out next to me, he would softly, slowly rub the little pink nub between my legs until my body quivered with release, my agitation would calm, and I would snuggle in his arms and sleep. On a subconscious level, I don't think I was afraid of him and welcomed his affection, his touch and the safety of him being near.

As my strength began to return, I became more and more aware of how kind and caring he had been toward me.

"How are you feeling? Are you hungry?"

"You've been here almost a week, and I don't even know your name, I can't keep calling you Girl," he said.

"Elizabeth, Elizabeth Holloway," I told him.

"I'm Josh, Joshua Reynolds," he said and smiled.

Perhaps in his fifties, Joshua was tall, strong, muscular from years of living, surviving in the mountains. His once dark brown hair was flecked with gray, as was the grizzled beard that covered his face. He had piercing blue eyes and a long scar on the left side of his face that ran from below his ear to the corner of his mouth.

"You look tired. You haven't eaten anything; I'll get you a bowl of the soup I made, you can eat and go back to sleep."

By the time he had warmed the soup and come back into the room, I was just beginning to doze off.

"Liz, here Liz just a few mouthfuls and you can sleep."

"Okay," I sleepily said as he spoon-fed me until I finally brushed his hand away. After helping me into one of his big shirts to sleep in, I rolled onto my side and was quickly asleep.

*****

After another week of bed rest, Joshua fell back into his regular routine of rising while it was still dark outside and heading out to check his traps and lines in the woods before returning mid afternoon. Things continued like this with me becoming stronger each passing day. When I was finally able to be up and around, I would straighten up the cabin, get water and firewood, and begin the evening meal by the time he returned. One night Joshua sat watching me as I brushed and braided my hair in front of the fireplace. Gathering my nerves, I broached the subject of it being time I left and returned to St. Louis. Though Mama and Papa were gone, I did have a few relatives still in St Louis who would be happy to give me a place to live.

I think Joshua was surprised, but reluctantly agreed that my returning to St Louis would probably be a good decision. Joshua said because it was so late in the season, perhaps it would be best to wait until spring so that we would not be in jeopardy of being caught in an early snow fall when he started the trek to take me down the mountain and home.

I was disappointed, but understanding the reasoning behind our waiting, I said okay.

The sadness that I had felt whenever I thought of Mama and Papa remarkably seemed not to hurt as much, and my attentions were drawn more and more to helping Joshua get ready for the first snowfall. Smoking the meats that he had trapped, canning and drying fruits and vegetables that we had raised in the little garden behind the cabin and chopping enough firewood to get us through the winter. These tasks took up most of our days for several weeks until one morning we awoke to the beautiful sight of pristine snow flocking the ground and trees surrounding the cabin.

Joshua was a kind and thoughtful man. I felt secure with Joshua and had only my gratitude to give him in return for all that he had done for me. I was alone, sick and frightened when he found me and took care of me. When he began to show his interest in small ways, I was flattered. Despite his gruffness, I sensed Joshua would not hurt me and my trust in him only grew, and my willingness to accept his attentions, to please him, to learn from him grew as well.

I enjoyed our sharing a bed and would snuggle next to Joshua at night before falling asleep. At some point, he would pull me closer to him in his sleep, and I would often wake during the night to him spooning behind me, his long semi-erect cock nestled tightly between the length of my ass cheeks. I had never known a man, or about a man's needs or a woman's needs for that matter. Over that long winter, Joshua taught me what it was like to feel a man inside me, to feel the hot flush of sexual release, and enjoy the pleasure of a man's mouth and tongue between my legs. Joshua was a grown man, way older than my Papa had been, but I gave myself to him gladly, not ashamed or regretful for anything we shared.

As the weather began to grow colder, Joshua would build a big fire in the hearth to heat the cabin, and we would huddle under the blankets and fur covers talking before we fell asleep at night. Contrary to first impressions, by no means, was Joshua an uneducated, backwoods hermit; Joshua hadn't always lived in the mountains. He grew up in Baltimore, Maryland to a well to do family, and while in his late teens traveled to St. Louis where he went to school, graduated, practiced law for a short period and met his wife. They were married for almost five years before she died in childbirth and inconsolable, he mounted his horse one day and headed west.

He began trapping, hunting, and trading furs in the high snow-shrouded mountains. One day he discovered a beautiful secluded valley and after claiming a few acres of land built himself a cabin. He made a new life for himself, a solitary life, not needing, caring or wanting the companionship of anyone until he came across me on the trail half dead and alone.

"Thank you, Joshua, " I said as I lay my head on his chest and drifted off to sleep, "Thank you for not leaving me that day."

*****

Though not a very talkative man, Joshua would often talk in his sleep, and become aggressively sexual with me. Mumbling under his breath sometimes saying my name, but obviously dreaming, he would poke and probe for entry inside me. I would awaken and manage to squirm away from him and getting up I would sleep across the foot of the bed, hesitant to lie next to him. At the time, I didn't know or understand what was happening or why he would forcefully try to put his thing inside me. Joshua was a big man, and when excited his member would become very long and thick . . . I think I was afraid he would hurt me if he put it inside me.

At other times, I might awaken to him holding me and gently masturbating me as he worked his cock between my thighs. In that position he would begin thrusting until he finally came in a groaning, oozing eruption before drifting back to sleep, his balls having been emptied. I think he would feel ashamed in the morning for what he had done that night, and he would want me to open my legs and let him wash away his dried cum.

"Joshua, you don't need to do that," I would protest, but he would insist, becoming aroused and hard as he cleaned me. Soon putting aside the cloth and massaging me with his fingers until I came on his hand, no longer embarrassed by his attentions or my reaction to them. I loved those mornings; they left me feeling satisfied and happy.

*****

Looking out of the window one morning, Joshua discovered that during the night a large tree limb had broken off and falling onto the side of one of the smaller outbuildings. It was important that the building be repaired before the next snow, which he thought was most likely to hit that night. It took us most of the day, but we got it done and were finally able to drag ourselves into the cabin, freezing and exhausted. While I got dinner together, Josh began boiling water and filling up the copper wash tub so that I could take a real bath.

After dinner, I walked to the far side of the hot woodstove where Joshua had placed the tub and unhurriedly began to disrobe. Standing naked with my back to Joshua I pinned up my hair and carefully stepped into the steaming water. I closed my eyes and sank back relaxing into the water as it covered my shoulders and breasts, allowing only the nipples to break the surface of the water. I didn't hear him approaching the tub, but my eyes fluttered open when I felt his large, calloused hands tenderly cup my breasts and his thumbs teasingly rub my nipples until hard and tingly. He slipped into the large tub behind me, and I reclined back between his legs reveling in the feel of his hand trailing down my stomach to my clit.

"Ohhhhh, Joshua," I moaned as he began fondling me down there. I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled when he brought me to a soft orgasm that spread through me in waves.

After drying off, I sat on the long bench closest to the hearth and began to brush my hair. Joshua standing naked behind me took the brush from my hand and slowly brushed my hair until it was dry, with each stroke my auburn hair fell in a feathery cascade over his growing erection. Feeling his erection press against my shoulder, I turned and lowered my mouth onto his throbbing shaft. He held my face closer to him and quickly came hard and deep into my mouth. As I milked his cock with my mouth being careful to lick his cock clean afterward, I remembered the first time he wanted me to do this for him. I smiled to myself thinking how repulsed I had been by what I thought was a wrinkly, veiny old man cock. Little did I know then how much pleasure that wrinkly, veiny beautiful old man cock would eventually give me and how I would beg to have it inside me.

*****

It had snowed almost every day for the last week, and when it did finally stop, Joshua immediately left to check on his traps saying he'd return sometime the next day. Joshua had been away for almost two days. The snow had not resumed, but I was increasingly alarmed when he hadn't come home and grown even more fearful of being alone for so long.

I crawled into bed that night inhaling his scent that clung to his side of the bed and fell into a restless sleep. I thought I had been dreaming when I woke in the middle of the night feeling a weight on my chest, I couldn't seem to take a deep breath. With a start, I realized there was someone on top of me, and I began to scream.

"Shhhh, shhhh . . . Liz . . . Elizabeth, it's me girl."

"Joshua, Joshua? What are you doing?" I asked, my terror being replaced by my happiness and relief at having him home.

He said nothing, but lowered his mouth and kissed me, sliding his tongue between my lips exploring the shape and contours of my mouth. As he kissed me, he spread my legs with his knees, and positioned his cock at my opening and began to press his engorged cock inside me. Though we had been together for several months, touching, fondling, caressing each other . . . I had not let him put it inside me, and now as I lay trapped under him, I could feel the fear begin to raise when I realized what he was about to do. He pressed into me, and I felt my opening being stretched around his cockhead as he penetrated me for the first time.

"Joshua, Don't. Don't Joshua," I cried out as a searing pain sizzled through me. I struggled against him, but it was pointless. I lay there not moving or fighting anymore as the tears of hurt and betrayal streamed down my cheeks soaking the pillow beneath my head.

Inhaling deeply, Joshua pushed his cock inch by inch into me, and when he was half way in, he withdrew it, leaving only the crown inside and stopped. Joshua held his breath and thrust his hips forward, pushing the entire length of his cock inside me. With his weight on me, he pinned me to the bed and maneuvered himself into a better position for satisfying himself.

"Don't cry Lizzie, don't cry," he whispered into my ear, and even as he tried to console me, he began again to stroke into me. In and pull out, and then back in and pull out, each inward stroke going deeper until he was buried as far as he could go, the tip of his huge cockhead, kissing the mouth of my cervix. He stopped thrusting and began to grind his pelvis against mine with increasing pressure. Opening my slim, pale legs wider he began to stroke again, gradually increasing his speed and depth until growling like one of the wolves he hunted, his body stiffened and with one hard deep thrust spewed hot, thick semen inside me.

"Oh my God," I whimpered, as he slumped on top of me, his breathing labored against my cheek.

When he finally rolled off me, I scampered away from him like a freighted doe cowering in the corner of the bedroom.

Joshua got off the bed, his manhood now less threatening as it hung long and soft between his legs. Joshua came towards me extending his hand, "Come here Elizabeth . . . come here."

"No, I said in a shaky voice, go away."

He came closer and putting his arms around me pulled me to him and held me tight.

"I didn't want to hurt you," he said.

The tears that I had been holding back began to brim over and fall onto my naked, heaving breasts.

"I didn't want to hurt you," he repeated, lifting my chin and kissing me.

"I didn't mean to frighten you, Lizzie. All I thought about the whole time I was gone, was you and how it would feel to be with you in that way, and at the same time afraid I could die out there and never be with you. When I got home and saw you in our bed, I . . . I . . . I'm sorry, forgive me."

I clung to him, crying. He held me tight, my nipples pressing into his broad chest, his hard, muscular thigh between my legs, rubbing against my clit. I felt him getting bigger, his cock pulsing against my stomach.

He picked me up and carried me back to his bed, rolling me onto my stomach. Reaching under my hips, he raised them so that my head and chest rested on the bed and my behind was up in the air. Joshua extended his hand and began fondling my clit, rubbing until I felt ready to burst. Joshua moved behind me and gently started to press his thick cock inside me again, his cum serving to ease his entry into my still tight hole. Massaging my clit again, he felt my body relaxing and opening for him, and he slowly began humping me.

"It won't hurt this time, Lizzie," he said in a low, husky voice. I believed him and pressed back against him. I orgasmed as he thrust into me deeper and faster spewing a large load inside me that overflowed the sides of his cock, and leaked down the inside of my thighs onto the bed.