Swamp Dreaming

Looking more like a drowned rat in the rain than a sleek fox, the small animal paused on the crushed shell shoulder of the bayou road and raised its nose in the downpour in search of a dinner scent. All it received was a bath of half salt half rainwater thrown from under the tires of a small sports car it neither smelled, heard nor saw. It sputtered, sneezed and slipped back into the reeds at the edge of the canal. It paid no heed to the source of the shower and it could get neither fed nor wetter in the downpour.

***

The driver of the vehicle was totally unaware that he had bathed and nearly drowned the fox. In fact, his concentration was tunneled on trying to discern where road edge ended and shoulder began. In the rain, no painted lines were visible; on the center or on the side; if, indeed, they existed at all on this back-country road. The only sounds were the hiss of rain on the car, the swish of standing water being planed from under the wheels (the source of the fox'es shower) and the rhythmic slap of the wipers as they struggled to keep the windshield of the two-seater clear.

The road curved gently as it followed the meander of the Louisiana Bayou. The car curved with it. The driver, intent on keeping his small car on the road, had only time to talk with himself. So intent was he on the road that he hadn't heard the scratchy country western station on the car radio for nearly an hour. "Damn! I can't see anything but rain. I know there's a road here somewhere, but there sure isn't any shoulder to pull off on." His forehead was shiny and his shirt wet, not from rain, but from the exertion of driving. Twenty miles back he had nearly become a floating island as a sugar cane truck took both sides of the road on a curve. Now, he occasionally had only the feel of tires crunching seashells to tell him that he had drifted from the road. But, the rain, the road and the car all melted into the flat light of the bayou dusk.

***

Dark had fallen on the Louisiana road. At least the rain had slackened to a steady but undriven drizzle and he could see to drive. His headlights, projecting yellow-white cones ahead of him, were bejeweled by the reflection of the falling rain drops toward which he sped. As he drove the tiny low car through a tight and blind left curve the lights glanced off an object unnatural to the bayou night.

"What the sam hill? That was a person. How the hell?" A brief glance in the mirror showed nothing in the dark and taking his eyes off the road nearly put him in the bayou. He slowed the car to a stop and having seen no lights in his rear view mirror for the last ten minutes, he began to back up slowly, ready to shift and move over at any sign of traffic. As the car rounded the curve his backup lights illuminated the shape of a totally sodden person wrapped in a sleeping bag. Face, age and sex were indeterminate under a ball cap from the bill of which cascaded a small waterfall.

He wound the passenger window down and yelled out, "Are you Okay?"

A haunted face appeared from under the ball cap. "I'm c-c-cold." The face was young, but the voice shivered so much that sex could still not be determined.

"Do you need help?"

The biggest brown eyes he had ever seen just looked at him and repeated, "I'm c-c-cold."

"Did your car break down?" 'No, I didn't see any cars stopped, ' he though to himself "Do you need a ride somewhere?" The eyes just looked into the dry car. "Come on ... get in, quick before all that water gets in the car. You got any baggage?"

The young face shrugged the sleeping bag from shoulders, opened the car door and more fell than entered the tiny cab. The sudden infusion of warm moisture immediately fogged the windows. "What about your sleeping bag?" The eyes just looked at him. "Okay ... it's your bag." He put the car into gear and picked up speed deeper into the bayou.

***

"Th-thanks for picking me up, mister." The voice, at last, under control from its earlier shivering fit, was husky, but feminine.

"What were you doing out there, miss. I hadn't passed anything for 10 minutes. You must have been 5 miles from the nearest anything. I'm Mike ... and you?

"Wilhelmina Lafourche ... but you can call me Billie L, nearly everybody else does. Can you take me into Houma? I want to catch a bus." Mike chanced a look at the face behind the voice. It still resembled a soggy swamp animal, but the tired eyes were wide and fearful. In the dark, he couldn't determine the color of the matted and wet hair, but the complexion was clear and the face showed signs of being attractive, if dirty. Below the face was a soggy oversize T shirt. His eyes paused too long on the erect nipples behind the shirt and the sound of crunching shell returned his gaze to the road.

"Well, I would, but we're headed the wrong way and it's too late for you to catch a bus, anyway. If I can read this map right, I can't even U-turn for 13 miles till we come to ... uh, Bayou Petite, I think. I've got a room there and they've never been full yet, so we'll put you up there. I've got to go to the office in Houma, tomorrow. If you still want to go in, I'll take you then.

"I can't register at the motel, mister. They know me there. They'd call my uncle."

"Come again?"

"Well, I mean, he tells everybody he's my uncle. He's got a bayou shack back off the road where you picked me up. My pa left me with him when I was 13. Pa ain't been back for years and Uncle Jake, well he was s'posed to raise me till my ma came back. Least ways that's what pa said. Folks is always farmin' out kids 'round here cause of the times they're out fishin'."

"Uh, he doesn't know you were out hitching a ride?"

"Uh, uh. I run off."

The thought of being picked up for kidnapping or of being pursued by a backcountry set of irate relatives interrupted the concentration of driving. "Uh, why? I mean, I don't want to get in any trouble down here."

"He was doin things I know he ain't s'posed to. To me, I mean. Ma told me 'bout men and such. And I had a beau once and we used to, well you know. Then, 'bout a year ago, Uncle Jake found out and run Jimmy off. 'Bout then he came into my room one night and started touchin me whilst I was asleep. Told me pa had said it was alright. I was scairt, cuz he's bigger'n me and ma always told me to obey my elders." Her voice dropped into an embarrassed whisper. " 'Sides, I like to do it. Makes me all tingly." Now, her voice returned to normal. "But, last night he said he was gonna take me on his fishin boat, so's his crew would stay aboard. Well, I knew that wasn't right, cuz I only like to do it with men I want to. So, I took his money and lit out."

"Can't you tell the sheriff, or whatever? I mean, if what you say is even half-true, it's against the law. Even Louisiana has laws against incest."

"Naah, he knows the sheriff and all. Anyway, what's in...cist?

"That's having a physical relationship with anyone in your family."

"Hell, mister. I told you uncle Jake ain't no real kin. 'Sides, cuzzins is always marryin, or at least livin with, cuzzins down here. We're all related somehow. And, anyhow, we all likes doin it, like I said. Nah, I just want to get to Houma and catch a bus to Atlanta. That's where Ma was last time she wrote me."

"Okay, I guess I can take you to the bus station, but I don't know what to do with you tonight, if you won't get a room."

"Can I sleep on your couch? I figure if you stopped in the rain for a stranger, I can probably trust you. Please? I don't want to go back there. Jake'll never let me be again. 'Sides, I took his money and he'll be real mad."

"Billie, you've obviously never been in that motel. A couch is not in the furnishing plan. I'm lucky there's a chair and a bed, but I've got a sleeping bag and air mattress in the trunk. We'll figure something out." A sudden cold thought ran through his mind as he glanced at the rise and fall of the young girl's chest. "Uh, Billie? How old are you?"

"Nineteen, I think. Least, if I count it right. Ma says I was born same year as Jimmy and he was 18 when Jake ran him off."

"Thanks." The thought of statutory rape fled from his reeling mind only to be replaced by other, equally lecherous, thoughts.

***

"Billie? You done in the shower? I'm still wet and I need to get warmed up and dry."

"Uh huh. I'm dryin my hair. Be right out. Uh, thanks for the loan of the shirt, but ..."

"Well, there wasn't much choice. You had no clothes with you. How'n hell were you going to get to Atlanta with no luggage or clothes?"

The door opened with a puff of steam, followed closely by the biggest surprise Mike would have for some years to come. The drowned rat had become a beautiful young woman with a thick, if unruly, mane of auburn hair surrounding a scrubbed clean face. The shirt in question was nowhere to be seen, but a creamy and voluptuous body was covered only with a smallish bath towel. "I dunno, I just up and left. I didn't figure on the rain. Oh", she started with a sheepish look, "the shirt was too small across here. It rubbed against my nipples. I usually don't wear nuthin to bed anyway. Is that okay?

It was hard to take his eyes (and imagination) off the expanse of beauty standing in the doorway. His cock began to harden, involuntarily. He knew he shouldn't let his imagination go, but ... "Uh, whatever. I'll turn off the light. When I go in the bathroom, you can get into the sleeping bag." His tongue ran around his lips and his eyes lingered just too long on the top and bottom edges of the towel. "You're really a very attractive girl, Billie. Good night." He, reluctantly, took his clothes and toilet kit into the bathroom and closed the door.

"Thanks, Mike. Jimmy used to say I could make 'how much is 2+2?' hard. Good night."

Shrouded within the privacy of the bathroom, Mike stripped off his shirt and pants. A tremendous erection was pressing against his briefs. Mike could only look down at the obvious effect left by the young girl. He thought, "Wow! What a set of tits and legs! They would make an ad man pant. No wonder her 'uncle' couldn't keep his pants up or his hands off. Wow!" And he stepped into the shower and reluctantly turned on the cold water, first. "Wow!" It was going to be a tough night for dreams.

***

Mike floated. He floated in an absolutely neutral space. There was no wind, no gravity, no light and no sound. There was nothing but a warm velvet smooth blanket covering his chest. The ultra soft and yielding blanket began to expand, first to his neck and then toward his legs. He felt enveloped by the warmth. It was soft. Yes, that's what it was ... soft. It was like the soft light flannel sheet blankets his mother used to put on his bed. Mike moaned and let the softness caress and surround him. He drifted away.

When the dream drifted back, it had changed. He was still warm, but now a thousand fingers were caressing his chest, neck and ear lobes. A thousand tiny colored lights danced about him. The fingers gently rubbed, barely touching. The lights teased his dreams. He moaned and stretched, seeking more. His arms and legs spread to let the tiny fingers madden his skin. As he drifted away again, his hands clenched and unclenched involuntarily, moving seeking to find and guide the caressing hands. His hands ran across his chest. They slid to his legs. They slid to the sensitive sack and skin of his balls and cock, where they often rested as he dreamt. As they slid to his center, the dream drifted away.

The dream returned; changed again. This time he was sliding down ... something. The dream didn't know what. He felt as if he was sliding around the inside of a funnel, slowly picking up speed. He felt bent at the waist ... pulled toward the center. No, not toward the center, but TO the center. His being felt pulled toward HIS center. His dream centered, again, upon his manhood. The pull was so great that he gently pushed upward to meet its pull. He thrust again and the pull increased. Mmmm, nice. Again, a thrust this time ... a pause ... another gently thrust. Yes, oh yes. Now, he wasn't thrusting. He was BEING thrust upon. Oh, god! Oh... Oh... The stretch and pull of approaching climax began in the small of his back as his dream edged toward awakening. His orgasm intruded upon his sleep and his eyes clenched as he thrust involuntarily in a shuddering climax to a wet dream. Again and again he came, filling the hot moist encompassing void of the dream.

The dream dissolved into the dreamy wakefulness that follows sexual release. Gradually, his surroundings became real. First, the smell of perfume, then the feel of warmth on his chest and a cat-rough tongue at his ear. Then, as his eyes opened, the pressure of a moist grasping and releasing of his quickly softening prick.

"Wha?"

"Hi, Mike." Her throaty whisper replaced the tongue and teeth alternately massaging and nibbling at his ear. "That was nice. Mmmm."

"Billie? How did you ..? Did I ...?" Wow, he thought, as his heart rate returned to normal. That was no wet dream. This girl fucked me awake. And what a fuck. Wow.

"The air mattress leaked out and the floor was hard, so I got in bed. And, well, it's a small bed so I had to be real close to you and, well, I guess we just sort of got together. Is that Okay? I mean, it felt good. I came same time's you. Mmm, nice."

Fully conscious now, Mike had to think. "I didn't make you do that did I? I mean, it was great. I thought it was a dream. Did I hurt you?"

"No, I guess I sort of MADE you do it. When I got in bed I snuggled up against you. Pretty soon your thing got hard and I reached down and held your balls. Then I pumped you a little, and, well, you sort of sounded like it was okay, so I climbed over you and I put it in me. It's big, Mike. and it sure was hard. Naw, it didn't hurt. Mmmm, I sure liked it, though when you pumped your stuff into me. Jimmy never'd leave it in me when he was done. Said he didn't want no babies and, well, uncle Jake always made me put his thing in my mouth, thank goodness." She rolled off his now flaccid cock and reached for the towel that had covered her after the shower. She wiped away the evidence that had smeared around his belly and the remains that was seeping from her bush. Then she snuggled up close to him, tangled her fingers in the hair on his chest and settled her face in the crook of his neck; her perfume becoming the air he breathed.

"Wow!" was all he could say. He allowed it all to happen, settled down with her against him and allowed his free hand to stroke her breast. Her nipple stood stiff as he caressed the firm mound. Billie moaned, or perhaps purred, softly and snuggled. Her hand slid from his chest to his belly and cradled his cock and balls. His hand slid from her tit to her ass and grasped a firm cheek. Thus entangled, they slept.

***

The gray light of dawn was seeping through the thin curtains when Mike awoke next. In the easy restfulness of those last moments of sleep he remembered what had gone on in the midst of the night. As wakefulness spread to his limbs, he sought ... and found ... the warm softness of the partner in his dream. During the remainder of the night, she had moved imperceptibly away and he was able to see the beautiful young woman who had made love to him so unabashedly and with such wild abandon.

Her hair lay fanned out on the pillow. Her naked body, the sheet covering only her legs from thighs down, nearly glowed in the dawn light. Even on her back her breasts did not sag; nipples still erect and inviting. Her belly was flat and her waist trim. A neat mound of reddish brown hair triangled at the junction of her legs. It was streaked with the dried remnants of their encounter. God, she was beautiful.

As unable to stop himself now, as she had been unable to stop herself in the dead of night, his hands stretched to caress the skin of her belly, sides and breasts. As he cupped a breast and teased a nipple, she purred softly and pushed against his hand. His hand slid from breast to belly and pushed gently against the mound of fur. She shifted and her legs fell apart. His fingers explored the outer edges of her.

"Mornin, Mike", she sighed softly. "If you want, we can do it again. I want to." Her hand reached and grasped his rapidly stiffening cock to confirm the suggestion.

"Hi, honey. God, you're beautiful and yes, I'd like to fuck you again."

"That's such an ugly word. Uncle Jake always used it. Just do me. Uh, Mike? You ever done it with your tongue?"

"Mm-hmm. Is that what you want?"

"I'll do you too. Stretch out."

Still abashed at the unbelievable free spirit sharing his bed (and body), Mike untangled from her, shed the sheet and lay on the bed, his stiff cock pointing skyward. Billie turned about and straddled his face. As she lowered her bush toward him she took his balls in her hand and the tip of his rod between her lips, sucking gently.

"Jesus ... oh Jesus" was all he could say before he grasped the firm orbs of her ass, pulled her down and began to lick the sides and slit presented to him. The smell of their encounter increased the pleasure as he lavished her slit with his tongue.

She lifted her lips long enough to say, "I like that Mike. Can you find the spot I tickle when I do myself? She took his rod in her mouth again and engulfed its entire length, face fucking him. From the movement of her cunt muscles and the attention she was lavishing upon his cock, Mike knew this girl was a totally free spirit; a sex machine.

His tongue found her clit and drew it to his teeth. Blanketing his teeth with his lips he gently chewed on the pleasure button, rolling it around as his fingers played with her slit, and two slipping within its moist depth.

That must have been the spot. She all but swallowed his cock and grasped his balls, nearly painfully, stroking as hard as she could, up and down. Then, as he released her clit and thrust his tongue into her slit, she lifted her head and ground her loins against his face. "Oh, yeah ... yeah ... yeah. Oh, Mike, that's nice."

"Billy, get off me, quick! I want to 'do' you" he said remembering her sensitivity to the word of his pending deed. She rolled off and he pulled her ass toward him as he knelt on the bed. She saw what he was doing and pulled momentarily away.

"No, Mike. Uncle Jake put it in there once and it hurt too much."

"Easy, Billie. I'm putting it where it belongs, just a different way." And with that he caressed her pussy lips with his fingers, spreading them slightly and easing his throbbing cock in. When she felt his manhood within her pussy, she relaxed and leaned back to accept his thrust.

He leaned over her as he thrust, grasping first a now swaying tit and, with the other hand, tickling her supersensitive clit as he felt his own cock thrusting deep into her seething seeping hole. He knew he couldn't do this very long, but he wanted to give her another orgasm, so he slowed his stroke, but made them longer; pulling nearly all the way out and pausing with just the head at the gates, before sliding slowly back in.

Her response was nearly immediate and strong. "Oh... do me ... do me! Oh Mike ... aw damn ... damn ... damn. Oh Mike! There ... now ... oh FUCK! Fuck me, Mike.", and she thrust back to meet him as he arched in to fill her belly, once again, with cum. This time he knew he was coming and where. He felt every nerve ending and jolt as his cock pumped liquid into his beautiful and willing lover. As his cock took control of his muscles he grabbed both sides of her waist and held her tight against him. Her belly took every jet of his come. All he could say was "Wow ... oh wow!"

After a moment to recover, Mike withdrew turned Billie and held her close. Somewhat breathless, he could only say, "I've never had a woman like you Billie. Wow!"

She giggled. "You sure do like that word. Almost as much as I like to ... 'fuck'. I guess that sure is what we just did, isn't it. That word don't seem so bad no more, somehow." She snuggled against him briefly, then pulled back. "Come on, I need to wash up 'fore I catch a bus and so ought you. Long as we're at it, we may's well wash each other off." She grinned at him and tugged him off the bed.