Patrick Murry - Sex In The Sticks

"Okay, why not walk down to the shack with me and we'll throw something together for lunch?" he suggested. "You can think it all over and make up your mind on a full stomach. That's always the best way to make decisions."

"All right, that's a deal," Gina agreed, darting a curious look at his prick as they set out down the dim trail.

"Don't worry, I'll put on some clothes now that I've got company," Pete said with a laugh. "As long as I'm up here by myself I've gotten into the habit of doing without clothes. I guess I'm just a hedonist at heart – I like to feel the sun and wind on my bare hide. But I've got a shirt and a pair of jeans in the shack."

Gina said nothing but her mind turned anxious flip-flops. The man's prick, an uncircumcised length of meat equal to any she had ever seen, hung down like a gigantic, meaty arrow; the brown fur surrounding its base curled richly and crisply. Behind that lengthy, thick tube were suspended two balls at least as large as hen eggs; the entire equipment swung gently from side to side as they plodded along. Gina tried to force herself to think of other subjects but she could not rid her mind's eye of that unusual sight.

The calm, easy way in which Pete accepted his masculinity without blatantly parading it bothered her. Any of the other men she knew would have managed to suggest that they were nude in order to be ready to take her to bed; Pete's attitude suggested only that he found it more comfortable to be naked. As soon as they were in the shack, a neatly kept one-room cabin, he dug into a duffle bag and brought out a wrinkled pair of jeans and a battered shirt. He slipped into them quickly as he continued talking.

"Are you all alone up here?" Gina asked, seeing no sign of any other occupant.

"Sure, it's usually better that way," he said. "There isn't enough to do for more than one person. Considering most of the people I've seen, I'd rather be alone for all the company they are."

"Yeah, I can see what you mean," she said, thinking back to the scandalous way in which Pam and Ellen had exhibited themselves. "Gee, this might be a pretty good way to spend the summer."

"I haven't found anything like it," he said. "I can live up here for five months on almost nothing. The money I make is almost all pure savings and I live on it the rest of the year. I'm a painter, by the way, when I'm not a ranger. But I don't mix the two – that's why you don't see much, sign of art work around here."

They decided that a package of Gina's soup, mixed together with a slab of beef which Pete produced, would make a tasty stew. Pete diced the beef while Gina prepared the soup, then she added the cubes of meat.

"It'll be ready in ten minutes or so," she said. "Or maybe a little longer if we want to let it simmer."

"Smells good already," Pete told her. "Hey, it's almost twelve – time for me to check in. Hang on a minute."

He went over to a shelf and took down a small portable transceiver. Gina watched as he pulled out the antenna, depressed a switch and chanted into the mouthpiece. When he got no response he tried again.

"Sometimes it doesn't work so good inside," he told her, shaking the transceiver apologetically. "I'll take it outside and see if it works better."

"Go ahead, I'll check the stew," she replied.

She was dishing up their food when he returned. He had a faintly annoyed look on his face.

"That was headquarters," he said, replacing the transceiver on its shelf. "I'm supposed to check in every day at noon, just to let 'em know the trees are still here."

"And they didn't take very kindly to my being here," she guessed, motioning for him to sit down at the crude table. "Is that it? You're not allowed to entertain wandering hikers?"

"No, that's not it. In fact, I didn't even mention that you were here," he said, drawing up a crate and turning it into an impromptu chair. "The thing is, they think some bank robbers are loose in the forest somewhere."

"Bank robbers?" Gina exclaimed. "This is not a very good place to find a bank, I'd say!"

"No, they already found it. Seems they held up the bank in Two Rivers yesterday morning; that's a little burg fifty or sixty miles east of here. They shot the teller and somebody else on their way out."

"And they're hiding out here? In the forest?"

"Well, they're not sure. The cops found the car they used to split; it was parked off the highway over by Dilley Springs, out of gas. So either they had some more wheels stashed there – not too likely, since the first car was out of gas, remember – or they just ditched it and took out on foot. Either way there's a flock of cops out working the forest."

"Good heavens!" Gina exclaimed. "And they think the robbers might come here?"

"Oh, no, that's not very likely," Pete assured her. "Dilley Springs is, oh, fifteen or twenty miles from here and that's over some pretty rough country. No, what they wanted with me was to tell me to be careful when I'm out cruising the woods. All those cops out there, they might be ready to shoot anything that moves, so the guys at headquarters wanted me to watch it when I'm outside."

"Hey, that's wild!" Gina laughed. "They call you up but it's to tell you to watch out for cops, not bank robbers! Which one is supposed to be more dangerous?"

"Listen, they weren't fooling," Pete said, looking up anxiously. "These guys on the sheriff's outfit, they can get all cranked up and they just might blast away at anything they see. Hell, for a buck seventy-five an hour you don't get Dick Tracy!"

"Yeah, I can see that," Gina agreed.

"But this is liable to screw things up for you," Pete went on. "See, one of the robbers was a chick. Tall, brunette, pretty well-built, about twenty-five. See, if somebody didn't know better they might get you mixed up with her. So, if you were to go waltzing along that track, who knows?"

"Uh, that doesn't sound very good," Gina agreed. "It might be almost like going out during hunting season, right?"

"You know it! Look, if you want you can stay here till the heat's off. There's that bunk over there; you can have it if you want. Or you can sleep outside somewhere if you… well, if you don't like it indoors."

"I can sleep outside," Gina quickly decided. "It wouldn't be right, throwing you out of your own house!"

"Come on, about half the time I sleep outside anyway," he said. "And don't think I'm doing you any favors by offering you the bunk – when it rains this is like sleeping under a tree, the roof is that bad!"

"I'll still sleep outside," Gina insisted. "After all, I didn't come all the way out here to sleep inside!"

They finished their meal and cleaned up the dishes and cooking pot. Pete told her that he had to make a tour of one section of the forest assigned to him and invited her to accompany him.

"It'll be about a ten- or eleven-mile hike," he said. "Easy country and some great sights if you want to come along."

"You know, I believe I'll accept your guided tour," she said.

The afternoon hike across Pete's portion of the Big Beaver National Forest proved to be highly educational. An expert woodsman, an enthusiastic ecologist and a knowledgeable, if amateur, geologist, he constantly pointed out features of the forest and landscape which Gina had never realized before. All the while he was talking steadily and seemed capable of walking at top speed and lecturing furiously for an entire day.

"Whew, you must really be in good shape!" Gina marveled when they finally stopped for a breather. "To keep up a pace like that and talk all the while, that's really something!"

"I know, I sometimes talk too much," he admitted with a rueful smile. "And then there are other times I don't talk at all, believe it or not. Put it down to having such a nice audience!"