Lust and Flesh in Alasa

Lust and Flesh in Alaska

3,600 words

15 minutes reading time

The cabin is small, nine feet wide, and seventeen feet long. The cabin had 'burned out many years before he bought the land it was on. A divorce followed a few years later for reasons typical in America at the time and unimportant to this experience since it was a few years before this occurred.

WD (Dale) installed cinder blocks on four-foot-deep footings so that the building could be expanded and the foundation be strong enough to bear the additional weight of the materials for the addition. WD rebuilt the floor and the roof. Also, had replaced the stumps of old trees left in place when the cabin was built. The stumps had rotted and crumbled, allowing the cabin to tilt on its axis, and when he bought it, it didn't look salvageable.

Single, he lived alone as an independent businessman, running a one-man home remodeling and repair company taking out a respectable living, and paying bills on time. He did not feel any financial pressure that altered his idea of excellence and protection of the business and personal reputation.

He allowed for one deep soul-rewarding pleasure: retreats to the cabin for world-class fishing around that part of the state. His angling success had been proven, having the salmon grand slam, the trout grand slam, and the flatfish grand slam. Dale had not completed the hunting grand slams before he had an accident while hunting Mountain Goats in the Southeast Alaska. Now he is relegated to either a mouse or caribou for the freezer.

He sat at the table for two he had purloined for the cabin. In front of him, there was a large picture window with a view to the west of the active volcano, Mt. Iliamna, across Cook Inlet. It was a smoking giant about two hundred miles, maybe less to the west.

Looking through the hunting permit application form, he selected caribou for the fall hunt, registered for the Gunsight Region east of Anchorage, folded the application, put an upside-down stamp on it, and sealed the envelope. He slipped on his Viet Nam combat boots and began the trek of three hundred yards to the Ninilchik North Bar, where there was a mail dropbox. Leaving his permit application, he sat on the bench to soak in the sun.

He had dropped his coffee cup in the gravel, shattering the handle and splashing his legs with the tepid drink. He was picking up the pieces when a voice asked, "Would you want a paper towel by chance there, mister?"

Noticing that he wasn't alone for the first time, he looked up and smiled into the sun's glare, unable to clearly see the person speaking. He replied, "Yes, if you have one, please."

A thin white hand and arm poked from the glare, and he wiped the coffee off both legs and shoes. He remembered to say, "Thank you, perfect timing."

The body moved sideways to approach his bench so that the glare released the body to reveal the side view of a fantastic female shape. The color of the body was in sharp contrast to the sunlight, and Dale thought, 'Damn, what a set of tits!' Her blouse was black, and her shorts, Duke's, were a rich, bright mango and seemed to fit tightly.

His eyes raked the image released from the glare, and when they swept upward, he could see that this body had not been exposed to very much sun because her skin was almost transparent, it was so white. The bumps of her butt and her breasts were classic, the size proportional, and her cups full.

Gerry's makeup appeared washed out and minimal; however, as Dale's pupils returned to normal after looking into the glare, he changed his opinion about that. She was heavily made up around her eyes and wore the Chinese Red lipstick that had become popular among her age group. Some had begun to call it the 'Cum Fukk Me Red' tint.

His appraisal was felt and observed, requiring some comment, but she was too stoned to think of the right comment and blurted out, "Where are you staying, mister?"

Giggling at the question, he pointed toward his cabin and replied, "Exactly as far as you would want to stagger with me after a drink. Interested in a drink? By the way, I am Dale; who might you be?"

"Gerry."

"Thanks for the paper towel. How'd you happen to have one paper towel at the moment I needed one?"

"Devine intervention, I think." She replied with a huge smile.

"I thought only people like Mother Theresa or the rich and famous were involved in the Devine."

"Well, how do you know I am neither rich nor famous?"

"In my life, you are famous; not too sure I can vouch for rich, yet."

"Dale, you are unique in an interesting way. Do you usually throw the conversation back to being about the other person?"

"Hmm, I suspect I do."

"Well then, Dale, let's get that drink you offer."

"If we were anywhere but Ninilchik, I would ask your age and then want to see proof. Your attitude is so fresh you appear to be a thirteen-year-old girl practicing being charming and alluring."

"However, I have a daughter, so I feel radically different about your innocence than if I was thinking of my daughter the way I am thinking of and seeing you."

"I am twenty-three, single, rich, famous, and looking forward to the drink, Dale. Let's get the day started. Yeah, I want a Salty Dog, a double, maybe two doubles if it is happy hour. Okay?"

"A lady ready to party, Gerry?"

"A lady that was busy too late last night to party, so I am behind in maintaining my antifreeze."

When the two were inside, Gerry called their order across the bar to the bartender, "Four Salty Dogs, doubles, with two Alaska Amber back."

The drinks arrived at their table with a tray of peanuts and a bar food menu. Gerry asked, "Did you just roll out, or have you been up a while?"

"Up a while, getting my hunting applications in the mail. That's why I was up here instead of down at the cabin. How about you?"

"I was up about five o'clock, and after cleaning up the mess there, I threw the two old men out, changed the bed, and then had a shower. Christ knows I needed one. Those two guys went at me for four hours. Their attentions were good, but their performance was inhibited by their conservative lives and distrust of my eagerness for their cocks and cum." Aren't there any of you guys who just like to eat and fuck cunt?"

Gerry was getting heated up and beginning to talk louder than I was comfortable with while in that little bar. There were exactly eight chairs and four stools. The space was too small for a third table, but there was a giant older Wurlitzer jukebox. The music covered their conversation enough to prevent anyone from knowing what they were saying, but Dale was nervous about the two men on stools.

He waved for the check, paid, and said to Gerry, "I am leaving for the cabin; I am nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. You're welcome for some conversation, a little more private if you want to come. Can you walk that far in those 'Jellies?'"

"Of course I can, silly. I am looking forward to an extension of the conversation, although that is the first I have heard it called 'an extension.' My ex called it makeup sex."

"Makeup sex? No one needs make-up sex around me. I know how to nip any need for such lightweight sex. If we ever need make-up sex, you tell me, okay?" Gerry laughed as she unfolded from her chair and stood. "Well, Dale, come on. If we are going to have more privacy, let's get to it." She headed out the door, turned left, and stepped down the trail through the timber, never looking back.

Dale finished the details of the barkeep's tip and receipt and then hurried out the door, where he saw the flash of bare skin filtering into the shadows of the trees and brush on the trail toward his cabin. He had a twelve-pack under one arm and a 1.75-liter bottle of VO in the other hand. Not dilly-dallying around, he caught up with her as she had stopped at his picnic table along the trail.

Looking closely, he couldn't see her shorts as she sat on the end with her feet on the tabletop beside her hips. She was facing away at an oblique, so he was nearly behind her. He placed the VO on the table and wrestled two beers from the twelve-pack, offerings one to her.

She reached for it and held it while he flipped the tab. He opened his own and proposed, "Over the lips and past the gums, waiting to feel it, looking forward to the fun."

"Here's looking you in the eye, Gerry. It might be the last of my eyes you see for a while." He said after he noticed her shorts lying on the bench beside the tabletop.

When he saw that she had a matching patch of light blonde pubic hair, he couldn't stop looking at the fluorescent pink, inch-wide strip of her inner labis peeking through the filter of blonde hair. Shiny and bright, it almost caused him to develop a long stare. He instead kneeled and applied mouth resuscitation to her labia as it filtered through his teeth and her pubic hair. When he pulled back to look again, he picked a few light blonde cunt hairs out of his teeth. He swooped back onto her and then stood, pulled her top up, slathered his tongue on her nipples, and kissed her mouth as she licked his face and his mouth of her essence.

He said, "Are you going to fuck me, Gerry?"

"Well, Dale, I intend to. Can you get that sucker hard enough to fuck?"

"You have, Gerry. The cabin is close; we can be there without the bug bites and the dirt. I changed my sheets this morning, so we will not share the stains and wetness."

When they were in the cabin, Gerry asked, "Who else is here? Or apt to be here today?"

Dale replied, "No one."

Dale had filed a wilderness travel plan for the Upper Kenai Mountains from tomorrow through a week and five days later for recovery. The recovery was on top of Split Ridge. No one expects me to be here now. What's up?"

"Dale, I need to learn what a man thinks when a woman does different things. Can you observe your feelings and explain them to me so in the future I can expect them instead of being surprised? It seems petty, but it is a mystery I want to solve. I will be a wild woman, I will warn you; but I want to know enough to submit myself to you in any way you want."

"I am willing to give you my all," Dale said solemnly. "I do suggest we get in the cabin first."

"Finish licking my cunt; I want to do one thing before we go in the cabin, okay?"

"I can't imagine you wanting mosquitoes biting your clitoris or labia. Itches, itches! Let's see." He said, "I wonder what is so difficult that you wanted to do this."

"The excitement I anticipate in having you teaching me, and right now, has resulted in my cunt seeping are the reasons. I want you to suck my cunt dry and then snowball with me. Can you tell me what you think of me for telling you that, and by using the word 'CUNT'?"

"Two thoughts raced through my head. First, I thought, 'Fucking A,' this is fun. Second thought, I realized the word CUNT when said by a woman referring to her cunt is much more vulgar than when I refer to a particular cunt. However, when I hear a woman say CUNT about another woman, I think, 'Ooh, Catfight.'"

"I was once accused of being a male chauvinist, and I had to look it up. I do not think it was that kind of reaction to a good lusty, aroused brain or mouth expressing sexual desire and raunchiness that I think of when you said CUNT."

"Well, Dale, what do you picture when I say CUNT referring to my vagina? Is that different from someone else calling a woman 'A CUNT?"

"Yes! Very different. It is as though from opposite ends of some sort of scale assessing the whole circumstance."

"Do you think men usually like me more saying the word CUNT rather than pussy, vagina, or any other vanilla word?"

"Always!"

"Would you suggest using CUNT more?"

"Look, Gerry, this is a subject as flexible as your nipples. Be vulgar when it refers to future possibilities and be reserved when there is doubt in your mind about where the conversation is leading you."

"I think the use of the word is where its sexual power exists. That power is diluted if incorrectly used. You will be fine if you keep that in mind as a good little cunt. If you use it and the power seems tamped down, back it up with support and action."

"Okay, Dale. Off to the CUNT Shack. I can hardly wait to get some practice. By the time we conclude this day, I bet you will have eaten, fingered, toyed with, inserted unusual objects, and licked my CUNT and asshole. I am counting on you to have sucked on my tongue, tasted my urine-stained urethra, chewed on my BCH (blonde CUNT hair), and come in my hair, eyes, ears, and on my tits. You will have milked my dry udders and left hickeys from the bottoms of my feet to the bottom of my upper arms inside my stubbly armpits."

"I will have sucked your cock a lot and frequently, rimmed your asshole, eaten your cum and precum, and licked your toes and armpits. I will have insulted politeness, political correctness, and your sense of decency. I will enjoy the difference between this, Dale, and the one I see when we finally quit for the midnight snack that you will have to prepare since we are at your house."

"Now, tell me what a man thinks of that soliloquy, the woman who delivered it, and her promise of sex."

"Fully in agreement with getting her through her content, and I look forward to eagerly fulfilling the list. I anticipate all of the above shopping lists of a debauched woman wanting to scrub all of her itches with a wire brush. I see, and actually, in real life can smell her nastiness as carried in her pheromones. I want to continue from where I left off at the picnic table among the mosquitoes. I won't miss the mosquitoes, that is for sure. With confidence, this male has been aroused by the conversation with this lusty female. She expressed words that any red-blooded male would want to hear. I can sense, see, and feel a difference in myself, more accepting and harder."

"I like it when a woman allows it to come out, to use and be used for her pleasure."

WD offered a V O and beer with ice and a small piece of adult brownies. They sat, nibbled chocolate, sipped the V O at first, and then he found himself playing hurry-up to drink alongside her.

When she saw he was hurrying, she also began to hurry. The third time she refilled their Red Cups, he had to pass. The first Red Cup had a shot or maybe two in it, and when she crumpled the Red Cup, she remarked, "Dale, you got a lot of these Red Cups on hand? Or do you want me to reuse them? I usually line them up starting after work on Friday afternoon and count them Sunday night as I go to bed. Surprising how much I drink!"

"No, help yourself; I have an adequate supply."

Gerry stood, just clearing the low ceiling, and as she rose, her top went over her head, causing her to be naked.

She placed his hand between her cheeks and said, "Finger my ass."

Being much older and experienced, he asked, "What have you done so far to prepare for receiving anal sex? Have you used an enema?"

"Yes, and I did it twice."

My three fingers, feeling no resistance, were all the way in, pushing against the web between my thumb and forefinger. Gerry was moaning, gyrating, and panting. Her tits were being viscously twisted, squeezed, and pulled what seemed to be harder and more thoroughly than he would have been comfortable doing to her. She was hurting herself and leaving ugly dark red welts and scratch marks from her fingernails digging into the soft skin and fatness of her full C-cup tit.

Gerry stopped. Removing her hands from her tits, she grabbed his cock, and sucked on it with such vigor that he came immediately; well, within two minutes. Gerry pulled away when come entered her mouth so his hot come smeared her from her forehead to her nipples. By the time she'd eaten herself clean, her lust was nearly peaking.

He was watching her perform, and a performance it was, of course, flagging in his erection, but she didn't notice or care as she continued to suck him into another erection. Not a second erection, he rose again to among his finest erections in memory due to her technique and enthusiasm.

While she was sucking him larger by the second, she was scrubbing at her clitoris with the pads of her fingers like she was rolling 'worms' from clay for coil pots. Her voice began keening, and suddenly she crashed to the floor on her knees and slid to a prone position on her back. He had become disconnected, watching completely detached physically now, and automatically began to stroke his silky, slick, slimy erection.

Her actions implied he should fuck her. His cock would not fail him now since she squeezed it hard enough to cause cramps and for the muscles to block the backflow of blood. She was in an ecstatic coma or zoned out of hearing because of her keening. She was mentally flying and physically coming, dripping all over the floor, scraping her heels against the floor, trying to touch herself harder, deeper, and tighter. She forced her hips up and held them there. Her thighs were scratched from her fingernails; her tits were bruised from the force and pressure she'd applied when twisting and squeezing them.

Standing on his feet, he squatted over her hips with her ankles in his hands and her CUNT aligned, so his cock slid in almost untouched she was so slippery and so widely spread open. When she felt the tip of his cock on her lips, she stretched her lips apart, and he was at least halfway down her birth canal before he touched her again. From holding her breath, she exhaled, and her vagina collapsed into the crater she'd created, and they were fucking. She slid from one side of the cabin on her back and then back the other way until they had nearly cleaned the whole floor with her back and shoulders. Fucking, fucking, and fucking.

She finally could speak again and said, "Holy, hopped up, 'Jumping Jehoshaphat!' Dale, you have to stop. I will never be able to have sex again because I think we broke me. You know the way you would break in a new saddle horse. Wow, oh wow, man, you have got a lot of explaining what that all seemed like to you. I have wanted that kind of freedom to fuck and express myself since the first time a guy came too soon."

With nothing to say, he didn't reply.

They were there together for three weeks. They wore clothes to get food and drinks and a few necessary supplies, such as lubricants, toys, a swing, a digital, and a movie camera, extra memory sticks for both cameras.

The saloon owner brought him three messages from the telephone. Somehow they tracked him down, worried when he didn't return from the hunt; he didn't go on up on Split Ridge. Dale asked him to say yes; he was there and not taking any messages.

He was connected with pornographic movie studios, four of whom bid silently to make his movies. One of them agreed to make as many copies as he needed and to cost him the least possible. Using some of his underground connections, he had the movies accepted and combined into a feature romantic fuck film to sell.

After ten years, Gerry and Dale had each built new cabins on the property at Ninilchik. As you drive through Ninilchik, they were the first cabin south of the Ninilchik Saloon on the East side of the highway to Homer. The new cabins have greenish metal roofs. They sit back off the road but are visible from the highway.

He lost the cabin to expensive medical treatments, so he now stays at Gerry's like a housemate. She can still fuck all week, and often they do. Not often enough for either of them, however, so keep an eye on them here; they may agree to write another story from their life as rich, if not famous.

They live on pay-per-view features residuals, intellectual property royalties, sales at adult book stores, adult toy sellers commissions, and lesbian book stores worldwide.

Thanks for reading.