Chapter 686

Dessie and Phillip at The Waterfall Campsite

...”I’ll keep plenty of wood the right size near to hand,” he promised her.

“Good. For now, come stand with me while I wash off in the lake. No way am I going to get under the cold water of the falls this early in the day.”

“Can I bathe with you?” he asked with just that tone of voice.

“You want more after last night and this morning?” she asked incredulously.

“With that body and beautiful face, I will always want more,” he said with sincerity.

“I’ll be glad to give you a blowjob while we’re bathing,” she responded while blushing, “but my pussy is sore for now. Maybe she’ll be well enough by tonight, though.”

“You didn’t seem to have any problem with those three guys,” he blurted before he could stop himself.

Dessie sighed and looked at her husband just as he began to apologize. After motioning for him to be quiet, she looked him in the eye and said, “The swap parties were different. The guys were excited and more into the ‘three humps and a beardown,’ as the old expression goes. You fucked me for a solid hour before you gave up and came last night. Some of them could go for a while after taking Viagra. They weren’t there to please me, though, but just to get their rocks off. And yes, I had fun, but I suppose it was more of me being excited because they wanted me so much and also because of the forbidden thrill of fucking another man outside my marriage. With you, no matter how long we fuck, or make love, I know that you will stop in an instant if you even think you are hurting me. True, some were hunks, but I was just a pussy to fill and tits to fondle. No telling how many times I jilled off after they were done with me. They pumped up my ego, but in all sincerity, my Husband, as far as pleasing me is concerned, they never came close to what you did on your worst time.”

“My ‘worst time?” he questioned with a frown.

“Bad choice of words. So please don’t take that literally. Darnit, you know what I mean. You never fail to satisfy me — never.” After a moment, she continued, “Baby, are we going to have this conversation every time I misspeak? I love you, and I’m so glad you took me back. I will never do anything like that again — never.”

He reached over and touched her cheek. “I suppose it’s my ego, or lack thereof, speaking. Sorry. The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. Shall we go take that bath so I can admire that great bod of yours?”

A few minutes after finishing her husband while kneeling in front of him in the shallows, she again wondered at the difference a blowjob could make. She washed his cock and kissed the head before coming to her feet to see the lopsided grin on his face.

As she looked down at the gravel-covered bottom in the shallows, she said, “I brought the pouches from our breakfast. Why don’t we rinse them, sling all the water out that we can, and load them with the river gravel for our slingshots — if that blowjob hasn’t made you too weak to shoot a slingshot, that is?”

In moments they were scrambling through the shallows for the best smooth river gravel. “When we use all the good ones that we can find in the shallows, there are tons of them lining the lake, but we’ll have to rinse the sand and dirt off them.”

Dessie smiled up at him as she dumped a handful of stones into the dinner pouch. “Since we haven’t shot our slingshots in so long, our arms will probably tire long before we run out of ammunition.”

“True,” he said as he put his overflowing breakfast pouch down so he could put his clothes back on.

When his eyes focused on her breasts just before she pulled her top over them, she laughed and teased him by wiggling her body, which caused her boobs to jiggle. “Later, Big Boy, later.”

They walked back to the campsite hand-in-hand, and Phillip reached into the tangle of tree limbs to retrieve their slingshots. Back near the lake, he anchored a leaf to the rough surface of a big boulder near where they had bathed. After stepping off fifteen full steps back toward their campsite, he drew a line in the dirt with his boot.

After loading one of the rocks into the pouch of his slingshot, he stretched the bands back into firing position, hesitated and let go.

The projectile hit with a “splat,” a foot to the left and an inch or so high. Dessie chortled and teased him about having forgotten how to shoot a slingshot.

“It slipped. I didn’t mean to let it go.” Still grumbling, he loaded the slingshot with another stone, drew back and immediately let the projectile go, seemingly without aiming. The little rock hit with another splat, but this time the leaf exploded with its remains falling to the ground.

“Luck,” she said, laughing as she pushed him aside to take his place.

“Hey, there’s plenty of room,” he mock indignantly complained.

“I want to stand exactly where you were standing when I shoot, so I can show you how it’s done,” she teasingly bragged. “Now, put another leaf up for me, please.”

“But I hit it dead center with the second shot,” Phillip grumbled as he stuck two more leaves to the rock, this time with spit, before returning.

“Yep, but that means that you missed with your first shot,” she said even as she casually exploded a leaf with her first shot. Her next shot was only seconds behind, and it destroyed the other leaf as well.

“How about that, Mister?”

“Hey, I was the one who taught you to shoot.”

“And you — obviously — did a great job,” she teased. “We’re too close. The targets are too easy to hit. Let’s back up to twenty yards and use slightly larger stones.”

By the time their pouches were empty of ammo, both could feel unused muscles beginning to complain.

“We should give our arms a little rest, maybe do something else for a while,” Dessie said as she rubbed her right forearm.

“With all the pushups I do, my arm muscles should not be feeling like this from shooting a few rocks,” he grumbled as he massaged his arm as well.

“You’re not getting any sympathy from me. I can’t believe how weak my arm feels after only shooting for thirty minutes. We used to do this for entire afternoons on the little stream back at your parents’ home.” Then with a blush, she modified her statement. “Well, minus some time out for some different fun. Not to mention the cherry you plucked that didn’t grow on a bush.”

Phillip paused. “You know, it’s a wonder my parents hadn’t caught us, but we always heard them coming when they came to check up on us.”

Dessie stared at her husband with a grin tickling her lips. “Early on, your mother, very discreetly, asked me if I were on the pill.”

“She what?” Philip hissed out, his face going red.

“A couple of years back, she told me that she and your Dad still made ‘occasional forays’ into those woods,” Dessie returned with a grin.

“Oh, shit. TMI,” he hissed out, “but that little stream will always be special to me, too, Babe.”

“After we were married, your Mom told me that she and your Dad knew we would be doing it anyway. We were sixteen, after all, and they had rather we have sex on their property where we would be safe, rather than the back seat of a car on a dark road somewhere.”

He just stood staring at his wife for a time before he quietly said, “I never thought they had a clue. So ... can we practice some cherry plucking by this stream, too?”

“Nope, you Dope. I haven’t grown another one of those as you well know. But maybe you can practice a little tonight — maybe,” Dessie corrected. “If you hadn’t been so insatiable last night and this morning, we maybe could have, but it will be tonight before I’m in shape again. And... if I don’t get those beans on to cook, lunch is going to be late.”

Phillip made sure there was plenty of wood the right size nearby so keeping the coals going wouldn’t be a problem for her. He straightened up the campsite and swept the area as clean as he could with a brush top.

They had found no signs of campers or hikers, and both wondered how long it had been since someone had visited this area. They walked around for a short while, but with the beans cooking, they couldn’t be gone too long. They did find that this level of the mountain extended out to their left as far as they could see. Much of the expanse was overgrown with bushes and brambles but had only a few smaller trees and large bushes scattered about for at least a half-mile or so.

“We need to explore this,” Phillip said. “The people who built castles through the area had to have been supported by farms. There is certainly plenty of water for irrigation. We might even find some old ruins to explore. No telling what we can find out there,” he said, motioning.

“Yeah, it will be fun to explore. Maybe later, but I don’t want my beans to burn, so we need to get back.”

Phillip dumped the last of the river pebbles out of the freeze-dried packs they had used this morning for breakfast and rinsed out the two empty packs they hadn’t yet burned from yesterday.

“What are you doing, Hon?” Dessie asked.

“I’ve been thinking about the clay bank we saw, and thought we could get some so we could try making clay shot for our slingshots. Four of these packs should give us enough clay to experiment with. Wanna go with me?”

“Sure. It’s not as if I’m behind on my housework,” she said with a giggle.

It only took a few minutes to get to where the trail overlooked the deep drop-off into the water, but they stayed as far back from the edge as they could.

“I think our best bet is down there,” he said, pointing. In a few moments, they had found a way down the steep bank to what appeared to be an approximate eighteen-inch seam of red dirt in the otherwise bank of yellowish/gray dirt. Phillip gouged out a handful and squeezed it. Even fairly dry, it still tended to cling to itself.

“Well, there certainly is enough of it, but there’s a problem,” Dessie said. “It’s mixed with gravel and rocks.”

“Yeah,” Phillip agreed, “but there seem to be several areas that are almost free of them. There’s certainly enough clay here for what we want, plus a million times more.” It only took a couple of minutes for Phillip to dig out enough of the clay, and they sat down to pick the smaller rocks out of it.

In a few minutes, they had enough clay to fill the small, plastic lunch pouches. “I wish we had a bucket. Maybe we could use...”

“You are not going to bake clay in my cookware,” Dessie broke into say.

“It will wash. It’s only dirt. We can wash the pan in the lake and sterilize it the way you do anyway.”

“Maybe. We have enough for now, though. Goodness, no telling how many clay balls this will make, anyway.”

They carefully made their way up the steep embankment and on along the trail high above the water. Ten minutes later, they were back at their campsite.

“I hope this works,” she said as she put her pouches down near their sitting log, “but it certainly doesn’t look much like the clay slingshot ammunition we buy at the sporting goods store.”

“Yeah,” he said with a grimace. “I can just imagine how we are going to look after wetting this and rolling all of it into small balls.”

“If you get it on your clothes, you’re going to be the one who does the washing. In case you haven’t noticed, we don’t have a washing machine out here, and we’re on our next-to-last set of spare clothes,” Dessie reminded.

“Didn’t the frontier people wash their clothes by rubbing them over wet rocks?” he asked.

“If they didn’t have a washboard,” she replied.