Bigfoot 1

(A special thanks to Duchess Naoko Smith for editing and flogging when needed. Any errors, omissions, unsafe sex, or my incorrigible run-on sentences are mine alone.)

*

"Fuck... me," I manage to get out. And not in a good hot and bothered way either.

Loose rock and pebbles continue to fall around me, a few unlucky ones making contact as I lie in an unorganized heap. Earthy fresh smells, crushed plant matter, but luckily no sewage odor. At least I had managed not to soil myself during the fall.

"Just brilliant, Rose..." wonderful. I am giving myself yet another self 'pep' talk after again putting my big foot in my mouth, blabbing to all my friends: "I'll meet you and everyone else up at Alpine Lake in two days. I want to hike up this time instead of drive." "I'm a self-sufficient gal, I can take care of myself." "Look everyone, I'll be fine. See? Compass, advanced first aid kit, GPS, cell phone with back-up battery stick, an emergency locator beacon, bear spray... even mace for those pesky bears needing more persuasion."

All that wonderful planning and equipment is nowhere in sight. Hell, nothing is in sight. It's freaking dark. I'm nervous about starting to move.

What seemed like moments ago, I was nearing the end of my first day's hike. I put a lot of miles behind me, moving swiftly along the trail, getting well beyond the few casual hikers I'd met going the other way. The elevation rising along with my spirits, I was getting deeper and deeper into the forest. I'd hit the water falls at the end of the first day with evening rapidly approaching. Then I made the fateful choice to reward myself.

Standing at the top of the falls looking out over the valley below, the beauty ripping through my soul, freeing me of civilized life. I stripped off my top, shed my jeans and panties, meaning to rinse off that notorious trail grime that always powders your body in the most un-dainty areas.

I hadn't even bothered to pitch the tent, I intended to experience the universe under the stars. My pack lay just up the bank holding my inhibitions and clothes.

Poets, who don't know anything, talk about the magical quiet of water rushing through nature. Bullshit. Nothing obscures noise better than moving water.

I was happily at one with nature, drip drying in the nude, looking out over the valley again, when out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of red plaid back up near the trail.

I hadn't heard anyone approach, only the sounds of the water etching through volcanic rock and basalt.

Just because I'm willing to share myself with Mother Nature doesn't mean I'm willing to share my shaved glory with some random knuckle dragger.

I scrambled for my clothes; grabbing, twisting, cursing the 'smart' decision to put my hiking boots back on when I chose to balance my way out across the rocks into the water.

Here's where things get fuzzy. I know I didn't scream, because that would've made whomever initiated this mad scramble look. I was still completely bare, trying to figure the fastest way to get everything covered. I remember one of my feet strangely starting to dangle and give way, just decided on its own to leave our little panic party. The rest of me followed, the ground slid away below me as I frantically grabbed at my pack, somehow managing to snag the strap.

I distinctly remember seeing my dark green button-up shirt flutter away into the dusky evening sky. Funny how the last clear thought you had turns out to be completely worthless when you wake lying in a heap partially covered by dirt... in the dark.

It's cold. I'm tired. So very tired. I twist, feeling for my pack. I had it in my hand, I'm sure. I feel rock, moist dirt, colder rock... nothing. I freeze. A moment of clarity putting everything together: I'm stuck out on a ledge of unknown size in the middle of nowhere.

I very slowly twist back around to my heap of dirt and rocks. When you're cold, starting to shiver, trying to keep awake because that's what you're supposed to do, and about ready to potentially die, you make all sorts of dumb conversation with yourself. "It's a warm heap of dirt." "I think I'll stay here until it gets lighter." "I'm cold, but the dirt's warm."

I'm fading in and out. I think I see a sliver of the new moon. I don't think I'm cold any more. In fact, I'm happy I don't have clothes on, because, really, it's quite warm. Maybe I'm not awake. It's a nice dream - this warm arm gently wrapping around my waist. I'm free. I float. I sleep...

...

I wake. I wake to one hell-of-an aching body. It's still dark, but I see a little glow in the sky through breaks in the trees. I seem to be looking through a silhouetted opening: a tent or shelter of some sort. I'm enveloped in warmth, snuggled with my back against a warm body. I've regained enough sense to not stir, remembering the old adage about hypothermia and using body-to-body contact for safe re-warming. I push my naked body more firmly into the life-saving heat and am rewarded with a protective arm wrapped around me.

... I wake again to much better light, but the shelter must have been a quick survival construction, because I just seem to be in a natural hollow, loose moss hanging down from the entrance. The warm arm has remained wrapped around me, firm calloused hand on my shoulder, forearm tenderly bowing across my chest, firm elbow pushed just oh-so-right across my bare mound with the boney tip just above my... now hold on, there, Rose. Sexy thoughts?

Yes! Suddenly I feel needs and wants percolating up through me. I had a brush with death, I have the gift of life. I'm a torrent of emotion. I need to celebrate.

The gamey, yet somewhat musky smell is enticing. My ass is pushed against a soft, furry patch. There is a not-so-subtle bulge from behind pressed to my thighs. An involuntary hip rocking on my part brings it into, ahem, firmer evidence.

Angling my bottom higher and gently spreading my thighs, I manage to get that pleasant bulge to cross my opening, aiming for a head-to-head meet. I get pressure from my ass to clit, a throbbing soft pulse providing tingling sensations and coursing up through me.

The hand slides down from my arm, cupping the side of my breast, fingers gently squeeze into my armpit. Doesn't sound sexy, but it was. The lower position put that elbow in the perfect spot for downward pressure to the bare kitty, sensitive clitoral tip now mashed exquisitely into that still growing firmness below.

He's now awake or awakening. I can feel his purring breath through his chest into my back.

He's still getting bigger, almost lifting my thigh on his own accord. I'll worry about that later, because the pressure across my needs from below, the musky, sexy scents, his purring vibration, soft furry head nuzzling my neck, snuffing deeply my own sexy scent of need...

Purring? Snuffing? Furry fucking head? A penis that feels like my forearm? (Well, that last one maybe isn't a bad thing.)

I twist around in his one arm embrace, my head lifting off his other arm which I'd been using as a pillow... and I'm promptly three feet away, banging my head painfully on the low ceiling staring at... at... what the fuck?

His eyes are as wide as my own, a surprised look on his face, he seems almost as alarmed about me as I am of him.

Long arms, wide upper torso, patchy mountain-man scruff and fur on most of the body, somewhat squat legs, ending in feet just too big for the legs, and between the legs was a third leg... no, wait, that was his... Oh. My. God. I'm in love.

No I'm not! Fuck! It's a human orang-utang. Somewhat larger than the orangs I'd seen in the zoo, and that... thing, well, that was certainly much larger than anything seen in the zoo, except maybe the elephant.

I'm still too freaked out to scream. His mouth is open, making a breathy noise, but I don't hear anything from him either. I'm hyperventilating. He still has that: "I almost slept with

that

?" look on his face... Fuck! What am I, chopped ham?

Bigger problems - a new smell; a "not good" smell. I mean, he and I are having that musky, sexy scent between us with just a bit of gaminess, but this stench was bad.

I recognized that snort-huff far too well from the only time I'd ever actually used my pepper-spray while hiking. You don't forget a bear encounter. The hair on the back of my neck is so stiff, maybe I'll be able to use a porcupine defense, because my protective spray is still clipped to a belt loop on my missing pants.

Our new dance partner seems to fill the entrance to our little shallow cavern. Now this warrants an involuntary scream, followed by my attempt to rise up and yell "Bad Bear!" which comes out more as "Bah Bah-ah!" My head hits the top once again, flashing streaks filling my vision.

Bear responds with a convincing bellow that says I've gone out of the frying pan and firmly hit the coals. He stands to his full eight foot height, somehow even larger than before, the light blocked by his hulking body.

The dim light makes events difficult to see, but long arms reach up toward the cavern lip and with an odd whistle/hoot, both my bed buddy's feet shoot forward disappearing into bear body with a resounding oomph. And let there be light.

An arm shoots back into our hollow as he pushes himself out toward the bear, a chunk of tree limb follows gripped in his large hand.

I go to the entrance and there is a bear leaping toward me from the grip of my partner. Another scream and I shrink back, cornered again. Only to see the bear flip sideways after one of those big hairy arms rips around his body, flinging him away. Crunching and crashing sounds through the forest marks the bear's retreat away from us.

Two girly screams had been all I had managed, and now insult to injury, the emotion is too much and I cry like a, well, a girl. Not a confident I-can-hike-by-myself woman. I am a scared little girl. I am heartbroken; to be driven down to this level, it's unbearable. I just sob uncontrollably.

Those massive arms wrap around me. He protectively envelopes me in his grasp and I just melt into his hard chest. A now gentle hand strokes the back of my head and neck. He makes soothing hoots to me. My hands press softly on his chest, I bury my head into his neck.

My hands trace the lines of muscle across his chest, I allow my finger tips to play gently over his nipples and soft skin. I push him backward. A curious expression comes over his face as I assert my will.

His body follows my directions, lying back onto the matted moss bedding. I continue to rub his upper body, his neck, jaw line, down his belly. Wow, those abs! I straddle his waist while I tease his torso, moving my bottom back toward his groin, eventually pushing my legs down so I am sitting on his thighs.

I pull the foreskin back from his growing interest. My first ever uncut male, go figure. I quickly come to a new problem. With those short legs of his, I run out of room where to sit, so I swing my legs up around him, planting my fanny on his chest. My sex pushes close to his gentle warm breath. I kiss up and down his third leg, and, unbelievable, I put my mouth around his penis. I am giving Sasquatch head. Well, I at least manage to get the tip in my mouth. I run my tongue and lips up and down his shaft, the veins bulging, a slow pulsing throb along it, down to the base.

With his growing enthusiasm, I keep working him over. I'm pushing myself further and further up his chest, until I am planted on his chin; my feminine scent and obvious wetness cutting through any questions about my own needs. I feel my moist lips gaping open as I spread across him.

Two huge hands cover my gently thrusting bottom, my involuntary rubbing of my swollen lips across his soft, furry chin. The next time I lift my bottom up to get a better angle for my clit, a moist tongue slides along my opening, hitting the sensitive tip. My clitoris throbs and aches; there is wonderful tongue action across it, sliding around the hard tip, back up my own little sheath. Soft suction across the whole area while that marvelous tongue keeps it up.

I give a virtual torrent of appreciation. I try to keep up with his pleasure below, but I'm getting lost in my own sensations and just involuntarily hold onto his impressiveness with occasional hand action. Sixty-nine is only good if you can consciously enjoy it, meaning you have to take turns. Fuck it, now is my turn.

I lift up to give him better access to me, but I probably didn't have to. With his massive soft hands, he shifts me so he has access to every bit of my sex.

I feel myself being entered, spread much wider than ever before for just a tongue, yet the soft, moist, yielding feeling couldn't be anything but... ooo... and, speaking of butt, apparently my wild-man has no qualms about that either, giving everything down below quality attention.

Each dip inside me seems to allow him to go deeper. Tantalizing my depths before drawing out to circle my clit, tracing my length to my upper folds, back down the clit to the sensitive nub, partial entrance trip across my wet opening, circle my bottom, back up, exploring everything along the way, before plunging deeper each time back into me.

I push back as his massive tongue dances across my sex and between my lips. Now I'm just a hungry pussy eating him as far as he can go. I feel the hardness of his chin across my shaved flat. His lower lip traps my clitoris in the perfect position and the tip of his tongue somehow brushes into my g-spot. Those massive hands holding my ass spread me wider, finger tips playing across my other opening. No mistaking it, that tongue is on That Spot.

My ass muscles clench and hips drive forward. Deep spasms spread outward, now his chin is far too firm on my pulsing clit, involuntary thrusts subside as I finish fucking his soft, moist lips and retreating tongue.

I collapse back on him, breathing hard.

His own needs are still standing tall before me. Amazing... it takes me a misadventure in the woods to find someone who believes in "Ladies First" as a rule to live by.

I once again direct my attention back to him, although I know there's no way I'll ever get it into my mouth to completely satisfy him. What the hell, I'm possibly wet enough. Let's see if this boy can rock.

I swing my legs back over him, again straddling the monster below. His hands go softly on my hips, tracing my lines and curves while I work his pulsing head around my wet opening. Luckily that tongue has done a good job loosening everything up.

Leaning forward, I place my hand on his shaft and I rub that wonderful hard, yet soft tip all up and down my slit. I gently tease my opening with it before working his pulsating wonder back up to give my clit a little love. Each sweep, I rock my hips, pushing him just a bit further into me. My pussy yields to his slow push upward.

In exquisite slow motion, I spread around his head, the tip sliding up inside me. The tightness is just on this edge of painful. I feel myself close around his notched head, some of the pressure releases, and it's all pleasure now. The need to be completely filled to the brim pushes me onward.

I work my juices up and down his shaft. I'm getting up the courage to put more than just the head of his penis into my hungry depths when a huge surging pulse travels up the body of his penis and into me.

His immenseness softens with the flood of release. In his slightly softened state, I slowly get him deeper into me. Stretching. Filling. Fullness.

Our combined luscious wetness with just-that-little-off-the-top of his erection and I had him most of the way in me. Hungry for it all, I lean back... and in a quick slide, he gives a slow, deliberate thrust; and I'm rewarded with soft balls pushed tightly against my ass opening.

I continue rocking my hips, my pussy pulled tight, lips stretched so far out, my usually concealed clit lays exposed upon his shaft; my little button red and pulsing in the brightening day light coming through the cavern opening.

I just miss a second orgasm, but then so does he. It doesn't make it feel any less amazing. Stuffed to the point of leaking, I revel in having him fill me completely up. I lay forward across his chest, my sensitive clit trapped between his body and softening shaft... I can't even wiggle otherwise I'll start climbing back up to climax; and really, all I want to do now is snuggle and remain close.

I awake with him still partly inside. With all that lubrication below, everything was slipping around even with little shifts in my body. His hands are still tracing along my lines, exploring my ins and outs.

I consider seeing if he's going to be up for another trip into me, when I feel a huge rumbling from below my body. He grabs his sides and looks somehow embarrassed.

My own stomach gives an answering growl, and he smiles. Some things are universal: a smile. Involuntarily, I lean up and kiss-bite him on the lip, and I am treated with a quick little surge from below starting to fill me again.

"Sorry, big boy, we're both hungry, and to be honest, I have to pee something awful," I say to him.

He just turns his head sideways and gives a questioning hoot and a click of the tongue.

I force myself to pull off him, that huge hunk of joy slips from my entrance, my opening gaping from use. My usual embarrassment in this situation is nowhere to be found, I again straddle his chest, sitting back on my knees.

My used pussy is puffy along the edges, my clit finally back to a safe resting zone out of sight, a lazy drip from me stretches toward his skin. The view is so sexy, I can only stare. He seems mesmerized as well.

Those wonderful hands grip my tender ass, pulling me forward, lifting me toward him. Oh, my goodness, even for me that's a little gro...

Retake: Oh. My. Holy. Goodness. That's so fucking beyond arousing. I'm back to being taken orally. Completely. Tongue diving into my madly thrusting pussy, it's taken on a mind of its own. The wet sounds should be disgusting, but I'm too busy gettin' busy to notice.

Another butt clenching, bite my lower lip from screaming, pussy clamping, heat pulsing, chest flushing, clit throbbing orgasm. When it dissipates, I feel my muscles aching from the huge wracking contractions that seemed to go on forever.

I fall back beside him. I swear his 'hoot hoot' is like some high school boy's high five bragging how he's shot her to the moon twice in a couple hours, but I'm smiling at him anyway. Fuck, eat me out like that and I figure you can do whatever victory dance you want. Combine that with a mind blowing, pussy filling penis like his, he can hoot to every one of his friends and I wouldn't give a rat's behind.

"Hoot away, my friend," I coo.

His goofy smile almost makes me think he understands me.

Instead he pantomimes mouth opening-closing while taking his hands to his mouth - international sign for 'eat'?

I smile, "Yes, I figure I probably wasn't too filling. We should get some real nutrition."

He rises agilely, scooping me up and placing me on my feet before I can even stretch.

Oh, not good; bladder big... Big big bladder. Pee very soon!

He's pawing around through some recess in the back of the cavern, I grab my crotch and do the potty dance hoping that's also an international sign.

He sniffs deeply, turns to see me wide eyed, tears forming from being so full, doing my little dance, and pulls me out into the forest. After a short trip, he grabs a wide stick and throws two digs over exposing a shallow hole for me. I squat over the hole, my lips spread wide as the trickle rapidly goes to Niagra setting. Odd that I don't even think twice that he's squatting in front of me intently watching. I don't think I've ever peed for a guy before, at least not with him just a foot from the action. It still feels natural, like being completely without clothes.