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The trick," I said, scraping my knife briskly against the flint, "is to make sure you have your larger twigs and pieces of wood near you once you get the tinder ignited. It's a little embarrassing to get your fire started and then remember you still need fuel to keep it going!"
"And voila," I said, "man makes fire. Now, it's your turn."
Just to get here we'd had to hike over 10 miles. As everyone in my group was already in fairly good shape (it's a survival school, not a fat farm) and had left with full bellies, the hike had been quite pleasant. But now, several hours in, they'd had little food and few breaks. They would soon be in full survival mode, but this was what they'd paid for, so spirits were still somewhat high. It would be interesting to see how they digested their share of the large rattle snake I'd trapped, killed and skinned for dinner this evening. All of our meals on this trek were going to be only from what nature could provide. By the end of this journey we would each burning upwards of 4000 calories per day yet ingesting little more than 500. If they knew what was good for them, they'd enjoy—or at least appreciate—their snake supper.
I asked her, "Where's David?" Her husband.
"Who the fuck cares?" she replied.
I looked at her, surprised. She was a cute girl, about five-and-a-half feet tall, short brown hair, brown eyes, nice teeth. Though slightly chunky, Karin had a nice round ass and full, milky breasts, which I'd noticed right away. But she'd come here with her husband. Kind of hard to hit on a girl in a situation like this.
Catching my stare Karin said, "Oh, he's just over there, near the edge of the lake. He's okay."
"Good," I said. The safety of these six people was my absolute priority.
"It's just," she said in a whisper, "he can be such an asshole sometimes!"
"Sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to vent."
"No worries."
She looked at me up and down. She said, "You're pretty easy-going, aren't you, Cal?"
"I suppose."
We locked eyes. Something connected there, I was sure. Admittedly, however, I was the first to look away. Having spent a lot of time often alone in the wilderness these last few years, I'd pretty much lost the ability to flirt or seduce. My "people skills" were very rusty. If something was going to happen here, I was shying away from it like a novice.
"Well," she said at last, "I'd better get back to my little shelter. You said we were moving on at dawn, right?"
I managed to glance back to her face. "Yeah."
She said, "We'd better get some sleep." Giving me a strange look.
"Yes." All I could stammer out.
She moved off and I watched her full round ass, trying to determine if she was wearing a thong despite being in the wild. I hoped so. Then again, what did it matter? She'd be settling down with her asshole husband, I'd be bedding down alone, as usual, as always....
* * *
"There you go," I heard a soft whispering voice say. "That's my hard mountain man."
"Karin..."
"Shh, Cal, shh," she cooed softly. "No words, baby, just enjoy it."
"But..."
"It's okay. He went to go sleep down by the lake. We're still mad at each other."
Eventually, Karin got my shorts and underwear undone and pulled down to my knees. Her stroking was smooth and steady, experienced.
"You've got a nice big cock, baby," she whispered. "Gonna be a nice tight fit."
As Karin slid her body on top of mine, I began to feel her up more aggressively. She still had a tank top on, but she'd removed her bra, and now her huge tits squished and swelled in my hungry grip. Her nipples were rock hard. Lower down, I felt her stomach brush against mine, and there was a further smoothness...she was fully shaved down there! Her baby-smooth pussy was now rubbing against my throbbing cock. How she had planned on keeping that thing shaved so nicely over the course of a hike through the wilderness was neither here nor there at the moment. What mattered is that it was smooth now, and it was grinding against my cock. She let the moisture of her slit lube my shaft as she slid up and down, letting out little quiet gasps as our privates heated with sexual friction against each other.
"Try not to cum too soon," she whispered in my ear.
Thumping.
Thumping. Louder. Thump, thump, thump...
We both cocked our heads. What the hell was that? We could feel it in the ground, in the air. It wasn't a stampede, there were no elk or horses or cattle around these parts. It wasn't someone running; it was too heavy and all-encompassing.
Thumping became chopping, became loud, very distinctive chopping.
"Oh no," I uttered.
"What is it?" she asked.
Our answer was given in the form of a blast of wind and sound and light. But not from any natural phenomenon. It was a helicopter, which burst upon the scene with a hideous thumping and chopping noise as it came up over a nearby mountain and into the little valley where we were camping. It's search light was piercing the darkness, its strobes were winking, and of course the sound of the chopper blades cut through the peaceful night. As it approached, the search light became more precise in its arching back and forth, until it found our camp, until it found me.
"Oh fuck!" Karin gasped.
In a clearing about fifty yards away, the chopper set down and someone jumped out, immediately jogging directly in my direction. Before he said anything, I knew it was my business partner and fellow survivalist, Kevin.
"Hi, Cal," he shouted cheerfully over the sound of the chopper. He glanced toward the camp, then back to me, grinning. "Who was that?"
"No one," I grumbled. "What the hell—"
"Sorry, dude," Kevin shouted. "You got an emergency call, but I couldn't reach you on the SP."
I shouted, "What the hell could be so important that it can't wait a few days?"
"Your sister," Kevin replied. "She's been trying to reach you urgently since shortly after you started out with this group."
Kevin put a hand on my shoulder. "I'll take over here. Joe will fly you back." He jerked the thumb of his free hand toward the waiting helicopter.
Kevin said, "Don't worry. I'll explain the situation and take good care of them." I nodded, shrugged a sort of apology to my group, then began trotting over to the helicopter, leaving my gear behind for Kevin's use.
I could just hear Kevin's parting words following me as I headed away, "Did you save any of the whisky?"
* * *
Inside this building, there was no relief from the blast of heat and humidity that had pummeled me upon egress from the plane. It felt like about 90 degrees with easily 99% humidity. Pretty damned sticky after the more comfortable dry heat of the Sierra Nevada mountains.
"I'm sorry to do this to you, but I'm desperate," she had said last night—well, a day ago. Her soft voice had sounded stressed over the crackling of the satellite phones we had been using.
In the "terminal," I dropped by duffle bag on the floor and stretched. After spending most of the last 23 hours in a seated position, I was happy to stretch to my full six feet and let the legs learn how to walk again. There were only a couple of other people here: an old Asian-looking man sleeping in a chair, his bag between his knees, and a middle-aged woman with a brown walnut-shaped face at the counter of what appeared to be a snack bar. I frowned. I only had American currency and I doubted a place like this would take credit cards. Nevertheless, I was hungry, having had little more than peanuts (and some snake) in the past day. Certainly she'd accept dollars, though I'd probably have to pay five times the normal asking price as an "exchange" rate. The next trick would be how to talk with her, since other than English I could get by tolerably well in Spanish but that was it.
"Calvin!"
"Hey, kid!" I said as we embraced. At five-nine, she did pretty well in keeping up with my height. Nevertheless I used my joy at seeing her as an excuse to lift her bodily against me and swing her around a bit. We kissed cheeks, hugged a long time, leaned back to look at each other, then hugged some more. The lady at the counter smiled. The old man never stirred.
We finally detached and I took a good look at her. She was still the tall and slender girl I remembered, wearing khaki shorts and a white tank top. Looking me up and down as much as I was examining her, she said, "You have no idea how happy I am to see you, Cal. You have saved me!"
"But I'm no scientist," I had said through the phone static.
"You'll make up for it in other ways," she had countered. "You are an expert in survival techniques, Cal. You're used to any array of extreme conditions, and I need someone who's not afraid to go without running water and can handle getting dirty. Also, from all your excursions around the world, you've had all the necessary shots and can acclimatize to the jungle immediately, whereas anyone else would need to prepare for weeks, if not months! And you may not be an anthropologist but you have a good head on your shoulders and can still make good observations. As a former Navy SEAL—"
"I was never a SEAL," I had said quickly, my ears reddening. "I washed out in Hell Week, remember?"
"Close enough, Cal. You blew your knee out on the second to last day!"
"Well..." It was no use arguing that I hadn't been allowed to try again, my ACL reconstruction surgery having proven somewhat complicated. Instead, I finished my service in the regular Navy, resigning honorably as a lieutenant after six years. I had wanted to be a SEAL, in Special Operations, not driving a ship. If I couldn't do the former I was never going to be satisfied with the latter.
In any event, I was now here in one of the last remaining truly remote parts of Planet Earth with my sister who needed my help. Other than having to cancel future survivor school outings back home, this wasn't costing me anything. Tara's grant had covered every aspect of the amazingly expensive series of connecting flights to get me here so quickly.
She stepped back and looked at me. "You look tired, Cal, but you look good."
"You too, sis." I glanced at the snack bar, then back to her.
She smiled. "I have some food in the Jeep. Let's go."
A couple of hours later we were still speeding along a narrow muddy road, the jungle beginning to thicken around us. My lunch had consisted of a can of tuna and crackers. It was the fanciest, most Western type of meal Tara could provide from her camp supplies. She explained that she had long since switched to the native diet of the people she'd been studying, but she figured I'd want to ease myself into that unique diet slowly. I was still yet to learn about whatever that "native diet" consisted of.
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