Chapter Five
I woke when the breeze got cooler.
As I started to roll over his hand caught me, cat-quick, making me squeal a little and try to jerk away. But he's strong and I surrendered, giggling.
We rolled together, off of the blanket and onto the lush flower garden that was this meadow. He slipped inside of me and I locked my legs with his. This was somewhere between plain fucking and gently making love. We were both so damn horny, it was passionate but there was an underlying layer of tenderness.
We rolled again and I was on top, covering his face with kisses while my hips thrust with a life of their own. I nipped at the column of his neck hard enough that he yelped and rolled us again so he was on top. We were grinning at each other when suddenly my back was on fire.
I screamed. I pushed. He was grinning down at me.
"Wes, God, NO, LET ME UP!!!!!!!!" I screamed.
He got the message, pulled out, and stood. I JUMPED to my feet and turned.
"WHAT'S ON MY BACK?!!?!?" I screamed.
"Oh shit," he said and started slapping my back.
When I moved away he grabbed my hair, holding me, and yelled, "ANTS!" as he kept at my back.
I tried to hold still but my body flinched from each bite, and there were dozens, maybe hundreds of bites.
The worst passed and he walked me back to the blanket.
"Any more," he said and I screamed as a sharp bite hit between my legs where I was already sensitive.
I got bit four more times, low on my pussy, before he dug the little monster out of my pubic hair and then I rolled over and spread my ass cheeks as he got another one that was trying to eat his way in through that opening.
"Any more," he said again, his eyes holding mine.
"SUSAN!" he snapped, "ANY MORE?!"
I was feeling a little woozy and having trouble catching my breath. All I could do was shake my head.
"Oh fuck," he said and ran back to the ATV, jerked the trunk open, grabbed something, and ran back.
"Hold still," he said, holding my leg and hitting it with the thing in his hand.
"An EpiPen," he said, "you're having an anaphylactic reaction."
I knew I was in trouble since I couldn't seem to draw a breath.
He wrapped me in his arms, holding me, talking to me, calming me.
"Easy, now," he said, "try to relax, you're okay, Wes has you," and I tried to giggle as I flashed back to that first night we had met.
"Easy," he said, "don't struggle, go ahead, breathe now."
And I could. That first breath sort of whistled through my swollen trachea, but it eased pretty quickly.
He held me, calming me, while my breathing got back to normal.
"What the fuck?" I asked, well, I sort of groaned, my back and ass and pussy were still on fire.
"They're called fire ants for a reason," he said, "and you are in for a very uncomfortable ride home."
He kissed me.
"But you're okay, Susan," he said, "and I have things at the house to help."
He offered the wineskin and I sucked at it greedily, hoping for some relief. But soon I was just a little drunk and still in pain. I watched as he packed up quickly and efficiently, as he did everything. Soon he had his basket loaded and packed into the trunk.
He wasn't kidding.
It was a GODDAM painful ride back. Every bounce of the ATV drove a spike into my skin. Sitting sidesaddle only meant all of the pain was concentrated. I couldn't stop crying. Christ, I was being burned alive.
The road ride back was hardly better. Every expansion joint was a separate agony. Every dip was exquisite pain. I had him pull over twice so I could throw up, thinking, ruefully, "what a waste of a good picnic."
We finally made it back home, and it hit me, not for the first time, that I was thinking of it as "home" now.
I was still crying a little as he started undressing me. All I could do was stand there, helpless, trembling a little.
"Okay, beautiful Susan," he said when I was naked, "let's get you fixed up."
He stripped quickly and started the shower running. When it was warm, not hot but warm, we stepped in and he started washing my back and ass very VERY gently. Even that light touch was agony, but I stood it, knowing he was helping me.
When the shower was done he patted me dry, gently, carefully, but still causing me to cry out.
He got a pillow off the bed and put it on one of the kitchen chairs so I sat, very gingerly.
"Now," he said, smiling, "let uncle Wes fix up his magic potion."
As I watched he took a dozen aspirin pills (Bayer if it matters) and started crushing them on a plate with the back of a spoon. When he had them down to a fine white powder he opened a couple of capsules and added the pale brown contents to the small pile of powder. Next, he added a couple of spoonfuls of plain Arm and Hammer baking powder, continuously slowly stirring the mixture. He used an eyedropper to add water and milk, a couple of drops at a time, until he had a thick paste.
"Okay, beautiful," he said, and he always made me smile when he called me beautiful, "let's get you fixed up."
He led me to the bedroom and closed the door. Then he used a hand mirror so I could see my back in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. Jesus, there must have been a hundred bright red bumps from my shoulders down to my ass.
"You, my dear," he said, chuckling deep in his throat, "are a mess."
He had me lay face down on the bed and started dabbing, each touch of the cold wet paste a separate little bit of relief. He finished with that bite deep in the cleft of my ass, almost at my anus, and then the last little spot of agony even lower, touching my taint (you know the old joke, that place between a woman's asshole and her pussy where "t'aint ass and t'aint pussy") with the paste.
"Thank you," I said, able to relax for the first time since that first bite.
"No problem," he said, smiling, "always happy for a chance to look at this beautiful ass."
I giggled, a little drunk and giddy with relief.