Chapter 8

The sun stood an hour above the ridge before any of the plane-wreck castaways were awake. Joan stirred in Jim's arms, sleepily; she stretched and opened her eyes to the sunbeams filtering through the branches overhead. She winced. Her head ached, slightly, from the effects of the whiskey she had consumed. Ruefully, she told herself that, in the future, she would have to ration consumption of alcohol. Last night had been a little too much for her.

She arose, stirred up the fire and put the morning coffee on to boil. After she had washed her face and combed her hair, she felt better; going back to the campfire, then, she began to prepare breakfast. Her mind was still in a whirl from the fast pace of yesterday's events. She mulled them over, trying to sort out the loose ends, putting things in their rational and logical order. She had experienced much and learned a great deal.

Soon, the savory odors of the cooking food, the distinctive aroma of campfire coffee goaded the others to wakefulness, and they came one by one to the campfire for breakfast, complimenting Joan on the tasty food.

After they had eaten, Jim volunteered to go up on the ridge on lookout duty.

"You don't have to, Jim... you've been under the weather..." Buzz began, giving him a chance to back out.

"I'm feeling better all the time... I'd like to do it!" Jim insisted.

"O.K., then... that'll give me a little more time to fuss around with that radio transmitter..."

Jim kissed his wife extra warmly and walked off up toward the ridge. Joan was worried.

"Will you be all right, Darling? Do you have your gun... ? You know... there's still that mountain lion Andy saw!"

"Don't worry about me, Joan... I'll be O.K.!" he told her as he had left.

Gayle set about the clean-up and washing of dishes.

"Joan... how can I ever thank you for cooking breakfast in my place... ? I just couldn't seem to wake up, this morning..."

"Don't try, Gayle... maybe there's something you can do for me, later on..." Joan said, amiably.

Andy, who had been relieved of his lookout duty by Jim, picked up an ax, saying that he was going to get some more firewood. Buzz agreed and Andy strode away. Gayle watched him go, turned back to Joan with a worried look on her face and remarked, "He's brooding, again... about something... I wish I knew how to help him..."

"Just worried about getting out of here," Buzz volunteered.

"No... it's something more than this... It's gone on for several months!"

"... And he's never given you an inkling of what's bothering him... ?" Joan asked.

"No... he hasn't!" Gayle said, then with a bright smile, she continued. "But, there's no reason for me to dump my problems in your laps..." She arose and went towards her lean-to where she busied herself with some minor mending.

Buzz went off to the wrecked airplane, telling Joan that he'd be there working on the transmitter, if anyone needed him for anything.

Deciding that Gayle was really more upset than she had allowed them to know, she finished up the small housekeeping chores Gayle had left undone. It took her only a few minutes. She was going to go talk to Gayle; maybe woman to woman talk was what she needed, but as she headed for the Sloan's shelter, she saw that Gayle was walking off towards the stream carrying some garments to be washed. Well, she would talk to her later. The sound of Andy's ax, then, told her that Gayle would be near her husband. She could see him, now, chopping on a fallen tree. Their girl talk, she decided would have to wait until much later. Actually, she had been hoping that she could talk with Gayle to get another woman's point of view concerning sexual things; Joan still had dim doubts lurking in the back of her mind, and she needed to get them out, examine them and reject or accept them in the light of cold reason; of course the discussion the night before had been thorough, and she and Jim had hashed several points over, afterwards; now, she needed that girls only session with Gayle.

Joan felt in need of a bath; she didn't want to go against Buzz' rule of requiring each of the women to have an escort when they left the immediate camp area, but she looked toward the stream to see that Andy would be near to her favorite bathing spot, screened by a small copse of trees. If she needed help, he would be near enough to come to her aid. Her mind made up, she gathered her soap and towel and made for the downstream stand of trees. Gayle saw her and waved, turning to say something to Andy; she didn't hear it, of course, because of the distance.

In a very few moments, she was in the water, enjoying the chill cleanliness the waters of the stream imparted. As she stripped her clothing, she flushed with the memory of yesterday, here in this spot... With Andy.

It seems almost unreal... so much has happened to me, since then! So many things have changed! I can hardly believe I'm the same person!

Andy Sloan carried the last o three armloads of wood to the campfire. He was angry and determined. Gayle had refused to leave with him. They had been arguing the point for some time, but her adamant refusal to walk out with him had galled him.

He gathered up some food and a canteen; then, going to their lean-to he packed a rucksack. In the bottom, he placed the waterproof package of currency, the food and some clean socks on top of that. On second thought, he put in a small first aid kit, a couple packs of cigarettes and some matches. The oil company road map went into his shirt pocket, a hunting knife and pistol belted around his waist and the rucksack on his back saw him ready to go.

As the architect stepped from the shelter putting the canteen over his shoulder, Buzz was just coming out of the plane; he saw Andy and shouted.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

The architect stopped, holding his ground and waiting; Buzz approached him and queried, "Well... ?"

"I'm going to walk out of here!"

"Like hell! I told you we all stay!" Buzz ground out at him. "Now, put that stuff back.

"No! I'm leaving!"

Buzz balled his fists. "We'll see, by God... !" The pilot advanced toward Sloan, ready, alert.

Suddenly, Andy's face collapsed with fear. "No! Don't hit me! I'll do as you say... !" He turned back to the shelter, slyly pulled his pistol and whirled back around to level it at the unsuspecting pilot. "Turn around, Buzz... your hands on top of your head!"

The younger man's face turned crimson with anger. "Why you son-of-a..." he roared, obeying Sloan's orders... he got no further; there was searing pain in the back of his head, shooting stars and spectacular fireworks exploded behind his eyes, then there was nothing but blackness of unconsciousness.

Andy stood over the fallen pilot, his face a study of mixed emotions. Aloud he said, "I hated to do that... but that sort of evens our score..."

Stopping, he examined Buzz to assure himself that the younger man was not seriously injured; all he intended was to knock him out to gain time... so that he would be well beyond the pilot's reach.

God! The time's getting short! The day after tomorrow is the absolute deadline!... And, that bitch wouldn't give me a break... that's for sure! I can't let anybody stop me from getting there on time!

He left the campsite, going into the line of trees, heading in the same direction he had gone yesterday to find Joan bathing in the stream. She was there now; he had seen her go down there, but today, if she were still there, he would have to pass up the temptation of a sexual dalliance with her. There was just no time, now!... But, he could look, he promised himself.

Having finished her bath, Joan sat down on the bank on her towel and combed her hair. The sun was warm on her body, and she moved to a sunny spot, spread out the bath towel and lay down on it. She promised herself that it would be only for a few moments. Unconsciously, her hands went to the full, white, lightly blue- veined orbs of her breasts; she massaged gently to discover that the nipples were sore and irritated. Then, likewise, her fingers discovered the soreness of her vaginal opening; she blushed with the memories that came to her, but the most important thing she remembered was Jim, her husband. Last night, he had completely dominated her; she was his completely, and even though he had been masterful, there was still that certain gentleness with her... a respect... a true love that made him something special to her. True, Buzz and Andy were past masters at seducing a woman... making her want it, in spite of herself, but her husband had loved her all the way. It was a delicious, rapturous memory, and before she knew it, she felt the moistness between her legs and a slow, building warmth in her loins.

Oh! What a delicious sensation... ! I'm getting hot just thinking about Jim! Tonight, I'm going to see to it that I have him all to myself! I-l don't want to share him with anybody... for a while!

Joan closed her eyes and let her imagination wander; in her mind's eye, she visualized how her husband would hold her, kiss her, his caresses thrilling and erotic on her breasts and genitals, his tongue a searing flame on her, and finally, his big penis insides plunging to the core of her and bringing them both to soaring orgasm. Unconsciously, she allowed her thighs to open, feeling the wash of the cooling breeze on her almost inflamed slit. She'd better stop imagining such things, she told herself; she could become frustrated... and... And, suddenly, a warm, moist breath spread over her whole genital area and a wet, rough tongue lashed upward in the soft coraline flesh of her furrow, followed by another and yet another. Her loins reacted, instantaneously, the driving, sensations searing her. She thought for a moment she had dozed... that she was dreaming... that her imagination had led her to believe so strongly she could actually feel that wonderful tongue on her, but she knew that she was awake; she had only closed her eyes. No one had approached her; she would have heard them. She opened her eyes. She tried to scream, but nothing came from her throat, paralyzed with fear. Oh, God!

It was the mountain lion!

The tawny animal stood between her spread legs, his great head lowered to lap with his long fleshy tongue at her steaming cunt. She lay rooted to the spot; the fear in her too great. She couldn't move! She couldn't scream.

Oh, My Dear God in Heaven!

Now, she heard the purr, like a great motor wound up inside the huge cat. She recognized it for what it was, a glimmer of hope breathing through her.

That purring... ! He's contented... not going to attack... ! M-Maybe... if I stay quiet... don't do anything to disturb him he'll g-go away... and not heart me... Oh, God... please... ?

She tried to close her thighs, but the huge, tawny cat looked up at her with baleful yellow eyes and growled once, a warning. She froze.

As the great head dropped again to her loins and began greedily to lap at the narrow, pink furrow between her thighs, she saw that a leather collar encircled the beast's neck. This gave her yet another ray of hope. Was this huge wild animal a pet? Did he belong to someone... an animal farm... circus... zoo? Her mind sped over the possibilities, while her body lay petrified with fear and a growing sexual excitation, she could not control; then, she saw a silver plaque attached to the broad leather band. A name was engraved there. She focused on it, willing her eyes to read it upside down. The name she read was JoJo.

"J-Jo... J-J-Jo..." she said softly, repeating it again. "J-JoJo... ? I-Is that... your n-name... ? JoJo... ?" Her voice trembled timidly.

The cougar lifted his head and looked at her... differently, now; there was intelligence in his eyes. His name had been spoken. He left her loins, his head now over her face. The great tongue came out from between those teeth that were capable of crushing a thigh bone and licked her face.

"That is your name... i-isn't it... JoJo?"

Her answer was a louder purr followed by a huffing, subdued roar deep in the animal's throat. Her eyes glanced downward and she saw that the big cat was a male. With frightened eyes she looked along the length of his belly. He was big... his body was longer and probably heavier than a large man.

Suddenly, the bizarre thought flashed through her mind; she wanted to reject it-it was an impossible idea--yet, it was there searing her brain... was it possible the big cat wanted her... sexually?

Oh, my God! I must be losing my mind... t-to even think such a thought!... Yet... the way he was licking me... almost as if he had... b-been trained...

The mountain lion backed away until his head was over the softly curling golden mound at the juncture of her thighs. She clamped her legs tightly together, real fear of a different sort pounding through her. The big cat lowered his head to her genitals, again; his tongue snaked out, but he could not wedge it down between her tightly pressed thighs. He growled, again, louder this time, and his nose went under her legs at the knee and lifted them up to expose the glistening, pink flesh of her cunt. The animal crouched there, his head under her legs, and his tongue ran wetly the full length of her slit, from the tightly puckered little anus up over the fluted pink edges of the inner lips on up to the tiny clitoris in its hidden crevice between the fleshy, hair-lined larger lips of her femaleness. The thick, rough tongue lashed the softness of the down covered pussy like a knife through soft butter.

Against her will, her thighs spread and she raised her legs a little more, bringing them back towards her belly in the classic position of sexual intercourse. Again, that feeling of helplessness came over her. There was nothing she could do to stop the animal's ravishment of her loins. The vision of what those horrible jaws were capable of doing held her in a morass of fear. She could not bring herself to move... to run away. She knew that the giant sheathed claws in his forepaws could bring her down before she had run ten steps.

The cat's long and huge tongue worked in her with agility, slaving, relentlessly between her now widespread legs, pausing now and then to lunge curlingly deep into the warm, moist walls of her vaginal passage. The sexual arousal was building in her, far beyond her ability to control it. She spasmed, jerking convulsively as she writhed under the tongue of the giant cat lapping and snuffing at the raw center of nerves between her open thighs.

What can I do... ? If he keeps licking at me... I'll come to an orgasm! I can't stand it! Oh, God... what if he wants t- to p-put it in me... his animal thing... ? Oh, Merciful Heavens! It's insane... impossible... !

Ecstasy built in her loins; she couldn't help it! The sheer torture of the erotic sensations racing in her... sensations she knew to be lewd... and wrong... sensations produced by the licking tongue of a wild animal, were crowding all reason and moral sense completely out of her mind. And somehow, in spite of her revulsion, she perversely wanted it to go on and on, now.

For she was no longer frightened. Fear had left her. She didn't care! God! She didn't care any longer... her safety, her morals... her reasoning mind meant nothing, now... ! God! she had sunk to the lowest depths of all possible degradation! Soft, gurgling mewls of delight came from her. She could contain it no longer. She had to have it! Suddenly, she was aware that her hands were stealing down, down, until they grasped the ears of the cougar, and with a deep groan emanating from deep in her chest, almost animal-like in its intensity, she flattened her thighs hard back against her breasts, spreading them even wider and tilting her pelvis up to the searing cat tongue that slaved in the furrow of her soft, palpitating cunt.

She pulled the great head in tight to her vagina, and the long, hot tongue shot out to race up the moist, pink channel, ravishing her upthrust crotch without mercy. Her hips writhed up to that horrible animal mouth, demandingly. Now, as from a great distance, through the ringing in her ears, she heard her own voice, babbling crazily to the mountain lion, pleading with him, encouraging him... wanting him.

"Oh, God! JoJo... ! Lick me! Lick me good!"

Hearing it, she couldn't believe that she had said it, but the huge cat worked, slaving away at her, below like the dumb, vicious, wild animal, he was, his primeval lust motivating him; seemingly, entranced by her voice he purred away and redoubled his efforts. She screamed with the wild rapture of her loins.

Now, the cougar raised his head and slithered to her side. With his nose under the small of her back, he rolled her to her stomach. She was powerless to resist, as she felt the powerful muscles of his neck come into play. God! She was completely at the big cat's mercy! She was enslaved by the panting beast that stood over her! That great head lowered to her smooth, white buttocks, the great tongue slithering into the exposed crevice between them, as she lay spread-eagle under him. Her hands reached back to spread the cheeks of her softly quivering buttocks to the lashing, curling tongue, and she pushed up and back toward the brute.