Author's Note:
I wasn't sure which category this story should have fallen into, so I chose Group Sex because there are three people involved. Like most of my stories, it starts a bit slowly with setting the scene. As always, comments and especially voting are appreciated. They are how I see how I'm doing entertaining you, the reader. Please enjoy...
Home Sweet Cave
Weird Fallout from Being a Good Samaritan
I was sitting in my cave, looking out over the treetops of the valley getting hammered by the thunderstorm and in the flashes of lightning, watching the two miserable, bedraggled human forms trying to scale my cliff.
I call it "my cave" and "my cliff", although in fact, it belongs to the Great Smokey Mountains National Park, and hence to the Federal Government via the National Park Service. But my ancestors were hunting and making 'shine in these hills long before the land was set aside in 1934. I'm not interested in any government entanglements, so I'm not going to tell you exactly where it is.
What it is, though, is comfortable. It's been my retreat, my refresh-my-soul getaway since my Old Man showed it to me when I was about three. It isn't easy to get to, so most tourists and the Feds leave it alone. It's got a narrow triangular "front porch" in the side of a cliff and the main room extends about thirty feet back into the mountain. After you clear the entrance, the ceiling is about ten feet up with a gentle arch to it and a couple of fissures that run to the outside and carry out the smoke from my fire. The natural drafts help with that.
I've fabricated a screen from pine boughs, camouflage netting and rope that I can lower over the entrance to hide it from sight, if I want to. Normally, in a storm like this, I'd have the fire up and the screen down and be roasty-toasty warm. The wind could howl, the thunder boom and the lightning rip the sky with blinding flashes and I'd be wrapped in the Stillness of Nature -- no annoying human interruptions. Just the sounds of the most powerful force on Earth.
But in this case, I had the screen up, knowing my firelight was visible to the valley, watching those two wretched souls trying to find shelter from the torrential downpour. They had spotted my fire and were headed my way -- and I let them come. I wasn't worried about a couple of greenhorn backpackers who'd screwed up in my forest and now needed rescuing. They were learning a valuable lesson. And besides, I believe in armed self-defense, and no city-slicker tourist was going to be a problem for me.
I figured if they made it to my cave, I'd help them warm up and dry off, and give them some shelter for the night... and impress on them that if I ever saw them again, I'd shoot first. Same for if they opened their mouths about my little hidey hole and it got back to me, in any form, visits from the Feds included.
So I was watching with a certain amount of curiosity and amusement as they struggled up the face of the cliff. I guess they must have lost most of their gear, or were really stupid day-hikers, because all they had on were soaking wet jeans and hooded sweatshirts and some kind of utility belt, each. They'd gotten to a ledge about twenty feet or so below my front door when I decided to be kind. I tossed down a knotted climbing rope of one-and-a-half inch twisted sisal. It'd hold both their weights, no problem -- even if they were big, burly men, which they didn't look much like. Then I stood back in the shadows at the rear of the cave and waited.
The first one made it to my front porch and came slowly, cautiously, crawling over the edge, easing to the side and waiting for her companion to make it up.
Yes, "her". The first one in was definitely female. She looked like a drowned cat, her soaking wet clothes plastered to her and her hair all messed up and in her face. But even before she pushed the hair aside to look around, I could see she was female. Men don't have curves like that.
And then her companion eased over the threshold and guess what? It was another she. And they were both shaking like crazy as they looked around the inside of my cave. I put my 1911 back in its holster.
"Come on in, into the firelight," I directed them. They both jumped like they'd bumped into the electric fence. "Nobody's gonna hurt you," I told them, "although you have no reason to believe me." I stepped out so they could see me and their eyes went wide like the proverbial saucers. I think mostly they were looking at my sidearm, because I know I'm not pretty enough to warrant that kind of staring. "C'mon," I went on, pointing to the fire. "Over here."
I've got to hand it to them. They may have been scared shitless, but they did manage to follow directions. They eased along the far side of the cave wall until they were opposite the fire. I left them there while I walked to my front door and closed the screen, shutting out the storm and helping the temperature in the cave come up rapidly. Then I turned around and came back, standing opposite them on the other side of the fire.
"You're going to need to strip out of those wet clothes," I told them. "I don't want any hypothermia on my watch. Pick a couple of things that'll dry quickly, like panties and a T-shirt or something, and set 'em aside. Everything else goes in a separate pile." I didn't wait to see if they were going to do as I told them. I went back to my "bedroom" and dug out a couple of dry towels. My bedroom is actually a small alcove off the main room where I've built up a nest of furs and padding I call my bed.
I went back to take them the towels and discovered they hadn't moved.
"I'm serious, ladies," I told them, holding out the towels. "That wet stuff needs to come off and then dry off with these. I'll rig up your clothes so they'll dry. But you need to get close to the fire and get warmed up. Unless, of course, you want to come down with something like pneumonia."
The Alpha of the pair, I guess, was the one to move first. She got a kind of determined look on her face and slowly got to her feet.
"Thanks," she told me, putting on a brazen attitude as she started stripping off her boots and socks, sweatshirt, cargo pants and a flannel shirt. Those she dropped in a pile at her feet. Then she took a deep breath and looking me square in the eye, pulled off her tank top and stepped out of her undies, dropping them in a different pile and holding out her hand for the towel.
Which I gave her, without comment. In my head, of course, I was thinking
damn nice body!
, but I wasn't going to voice anything crude. Not with the attitude she was wearing. She began toweling off and moving nearer the fire.
"C'mon, Chrissie," she told her companion, with just a bit of sarcasm. "Do what the nice man told you." She wrapped the towel around her and sat down on one of my makeshift chairs near the fire.
"Chrissie" got up slowly and did pretty much the same thing as the Alpha Bitch, but without the attitude. She looked a lot more subdued and scared, but she did lose the wet clothes and I handed her the towel. She went to join her friend at the fire.
"You drink coffee?" I asked as I went over to my "kitchen" -- another small alcove where I kept my larder, fresh water and cooking supplies.
"Oh, God, yes!" Chrissie exclaimed, then suddenly looked surprised that anything had come out of her mouth.
"Okay, that's a fresh pot on the fire -- you'll have to use the hot-mitt next to my chair," I told them. "And here's cups, sugar and fake cream, if you want it," I added, walking over to them and giving them a couple of mugs and a box of packets. "I'll start workin' on your clothes."
I was studiously avoiding staring. I wanted to stare, sure -- I mean, I'm a red-blooded American guy with the same testosterone poisoning the rest of us have -- and these two were lookers.
They were young. At least to me. Early to mid-twenties to my jaded eyes. One blonde, the submissive, with blue eyes and one brunette, the Alpha, with green eyes. Both were close to 34-24-36 at a guess, and around 120 to 130 lbs., a lot of which was muscle. Cup size was probably C or D. Certain parts of my nethers were definitely taking notice, but I knew I needed to concentrate on business. I mean, I had decided to be the nice guy, you know?
I went and retrieved the mesh grille I used for drying out my own wet clothes and put their shirts and panties on it, then put it over the fire. Five minutes on a side and in ten, they'd be dry. The girls watched me with a mix of apprehension and curiosity while staying huddled near the fire with the towels wrapped around them, sucking on coffee. Which was fine by me. No matter how horny I was, I had decided to be the Good Samaritan.
