My Sons Best Friend Ch 12

The morning found us early again, and Jonah built a fire. We repeated yesterday's ritual of hot drinks and oatmeal, and then engaged the river.

By mid-morning, the sun was beating down, and we were ready to go in it, and not just watch it. I waded in carefully, feeling my way with tender feet to tentative footholds. Jonah ran through it like a deer, splashing across the stones with abandon.

We found a swimming hole that was pretty deep. Jonah threw his shorts to the edge and dove into it, immersing himself, while I held my dress up and squealed my way in inch by inch. I pulled it off over my head and gasped when the water reached my belly. He laughed at me, but he didn't splash me - that might have been a deal breaker!

There were tiny fish swimming in the water, and they put their little sucker mouths on our skin. It tickled, and I squealed again. I was being very girly, but I was having fun.

After a while, we swam to the other side, where there were large rock formations, and we climbed up on a big flat one. We let the sun dry our naked skin, then found some shade so we wouldn't get burned.

The cold water and the hot sun made me feel lazy, like one of the little green plants nodding their heads by the river. I scooted near Jonah and put my head in the hollow between his shoulder and his chest. He curved his arm around me, and we stared up at the canopy arched over us, watching the intricate and incessant rearrangement of the leaves against the sky.

The birds were having their usual discussions and disentions, and the river added its opinions at regular intervals. But it was all congenial, and no one meant anything by it.

I knew from his even breathing that Jonah was dozing. I propped myself up on my elbow and watched his eyes darting underneath his eyelids. It was strange to look at him so close up and from so many angles. Sometimes I felt like I knew him intensely, and sometimes I felt like I didn't know him at all, and sometimes I felt both those things at once.

I lay my head back and closed my eyes, and let my mind wander into the place where my thoughts all turned into wisps of smoke and disappeared into the void.

* * * *

When I woke, Jonah was nowhere to be seen. I sat up and wrapped my arms around my bent legs, squinting up at the hill behind me that was almost a cliff. I heard a thin whistling sound. I pursed my lips and blew an unsteady note. A louder, clearer whistle answered.

Peering in the direction I thought it was from, I saw a distant figure waving his arms at me. Then I saw him start to make his descent. It wasn't long before he joined me again on the rock.

He offered me some strange looking yellow things, and I looked up at him a little warily.

"What are those?"

"Wild fruit. I found a bunch up the hill. Try some."

I took one and bit into it. It was sweet and really juicy.

"Wow! That's good." I spit out the seeds.

He nodded.

"There's other stuff around here too. Some amaranth we can cook with dinner, and some edible flowers, and a couple tubers I dug up."

He sat down, lustily sucking the skin of one of the larger ones. Then he stood up abruptly and took my hand.

"C'mon."

He jumped into the water below us, and I followed, squealing but happy. We swam to the other side, put our clothes over our wet skin, and headed back to our camp.

When we got there, Jonah went rummaging through his backpack and raised his knife as a trophy when he found it. He disappeared into some bushes for a few minutes, then reappeared carrying a flexible stick. He sat down by the fire pit and started to whittle one end into a sharp point.

I watched, fascinated.

"You gonna make a bow and play cowboys and Indians with that?"

He just kept whittling. I munched on more of the yellow fruit and made some sandwiches.

I got out a paperback to read after lunch, and Jonah said he'd be back in a little while. I guessed the cowboys were waiting for him.

Hours later, I looked up from the climax of my story to see Jonah rustling through the bushes, holding something limp and bloody by the hind legs in one hand, and a mess of something green in the other.

"Whoa!" I blurted.

Jonah was intent on his task, building a fire, skinning and washing the thing and weaving it onto a skewer to hold over the fire. He propped it up and put the other things into a pot with water, then balanced it on some rocks he arranged in the middle of the fire.

The vegetables bubbled and boiled and the meat sizzled, and the smells were really enticing after a while. I scooted closer, entranced by the sight and scent. Jonah squatted, tending the food and fire, and I squatted next to him.

He reached his arm out to me, folding me close almost mindlessly, and in that moment I knew I was his satellite - that his movements and mine were intertwined and dependent, even when the cords weren't obvious or identifiable.

I had never felt more at home than I felt right now, and if it hadn't felt so comfortable, I would have been in awe. But I didn't think. I just smiled and gave a little sigh of contentment.

Soon the food was done, and Jonah took it off the heat. He put the meat into the pot with the vegetables. Then he sat in the dirt, with the pan on a nearby flat, if slightly tipped, stone.

I lay my head on his shoulder while we waited for the food to cool.

When it was ready, he took out his knife and scraped little pieces of the meat off into long strips. I opened my mouth, and he dropped one into it. Then he popped in some green things and a white medallion he had sliced from the pan.

I chewed slowly. The flavors were interesting. Different from anything I had eaten before. They tasted very earthy and nourishing. The meat was tough, but satisfying.

He threaded some into his own mouth and chewed heartily.

He looked down at me and leaned to kiss me, mingling the savory juices with the movements of our lips as they mashed together. Mmmm.

We swallowed and kissed deeper, our tongues meshing and twisting with hunger. I leaned closer to him, feeling this earthy passion rise up in me that seemed to come from the dirt, the trees, the meat, the fire, everything surrounding us.

I climbed over his legs and sat in his lap, kissing stronger and harder. He put his large hands around my sides, so big they partially covered my breasts. He held me firmly, kissing back.

We stopped, catching our breath, and he put more meat and vegetables into our mouths. We chewed and kissed, mouths touching, tasting, sucking, meeting, retreating, smiling, laughing. Mmmm...delicious.

More meat, more greens, more lips, more roots, more chewing, more kissing, more groping, more grinding, more flesh, more skin, more sucking, more slurping...

Jonah leaned back, planting his head in the dirt, and I lay on top of him, feasting on him. The pot was empty, and I was ready for dessert. So I wriggled and squirmed over him, sucking his skin, his nipples, his belly.

He pulled his shorts off, and I captured his pole between my legs, undulating like a seal or a fish, swimming through him, gliding into his veins, easing myself over him and engulfing him; rocking, rocking, rocking.

I loved the feel of our skin touching in so many places. I could feel it all up and down the front of my body: my cheek crushed against his cheek, my breasts pressed against his chest, my arms around him, our bellies breathing against each-other, our thighs pushed together, our feet playing over each-other.

Then the joy-waves were flowing outward in circles from the pebble, their wake extending further and further out to the shores of the universe.

"Jonah," I muttered, and I knew who he was.

"Jonah," I said, and I knew who I was.

"Jonah," I repeated, and I knew we were right.

"Jonah," I panted, and I knew it would last.

"Jonah!" I cried, and I knew everything.

"Jonah!" I screamed...

and there was nothing left to know.

* * * *

We climbed into the sleeping bags as soon as it was dark, and immediately went to sleep. Right before I closed my eyes, I saw that the moon was a tiny sliver in the west.

I woke in the darkness, and Jonah was wrapped around me, his leg thrown over mine, moving against me. He was hard again.

I turned toward him and opened my legs wide, and he pressed inside, the juices from our earlier coupling dripping down my crack, making this one an easy slide. I was sleepy and languid, and I threw my arms up above my head, just letting him move as far into me as he wanted.

His movements got more tense, more determined. I could feel the shimmering moving through me, and I just let it flow. I took a deep breath and breathed out. The more I relaxed, the more the shimmering snaked in all directions.

His grip on me was tight, and he was driving, but I was limp, and the sparkles were popping, and he was going right through me to the other side. His body contracted, and he groaned loudly, thrusting all the way to the nadir. He whined and shuddered, eking out the last drop. Then he collapsed.

His breathing was almost immediately heavy and even, and he was practically snoring. He slept on top of me, and I went back to sleep. Eventually, he slid to the side, still holding me, his body heavy on mine, but comforting.

* * * *

When the morning light woke us, I looked at his eyes, watching them stretch and blink awake.

"That was interesting last night," I murmured.

"What?" he seemed puzzled. "Dinner?"

"Well, yeah, that was interesting too, but I was talking about what happened in the middle of the night."

He frowned, and I could see the wheels were turning slowly this morning, creaking with effort. His look was somewhat blank.

"Do you remember making love to me in the middle of the night?"

Still blank; then he breathed, "Hmmm..."

"You don't remember?"

"Well, what I remember was this amazing dream I had. It was incredible. I was, like, doing something - something really important that was going to save the world, and there was this woman there, this amazing beautiful goddess-woman who was making love to me, and we were going to save the world..."

He suddenly heard his own words in his ears, and chortled.

"It made sense in the dream..."

He paused, remembering. Then he tried again.

"It wasn't so much the idea. It was the feeling. The feelings were incredible. Like, everywhere she touched me, I was brought to life - like, more alive than I've ever been...

"It's hard to describe."

He put his arm around me and drew me close, putting my ear to rest on his heart. I could hear it pumping and feel it beating.

"I can still feel some of the feeling," he said, closing his eyes and stroking my arm softly.

Then I felt it too, and it was sweet and peaceful.

* * * *

When we got up, I got out the breakfast food, feeling a little sheepish when I remembered my worry about having enough. After last night's dinner, I could see that Jonah was well able to contribute to the food supply. As with most things, he did it in his own way.

I thought about his dream through the day. Part of me wanted to get angry and jealous, and say, "You made love to me, and you don't even remember!" and get all huffy and hurt.

But that was kind of silly. He had experienced a wonderful dream - which he certainly didn't have control over - and I had experienced a lovely time, too, so what did I have to complain about? Was I going to be jealous of a dream lover?

I'd had dreams before. Some of them were really intense, and I would wake up with this powerful arousal, more powerful than anything that had ever originated in the waking state. There was something about the relaxation of sleep that seemed to unearth things not easily found when awake.

And the experience I had had last night was the same sort of thing. I had been sleepy, and the sensations I had felt were stronger because of it. They seemed to have a life of their own: something I didn't have to make happen, but just let happen.

I looked at Jonah, going about his business, doing the things he did, and I felt really close to him, almost in awe of him...very in love with him.