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Lost Lake

BY: R/Dave (C) 1999

Glen had been saving all of his emotions for this day, as he stepped out of his wagon after the long drive from town. It was a beautiful day, with a warm sun and the air filled with birds and bugs. He donned his pre-packed backpack, secured his car, and headed for the trail into the mountains. The forest urged him on, until he was almost running from the joy of freedom he felt. Critters scurried from the trail as he headed upwards to Lost Lake; his objective still five miles distant. The fishing was great there, the privacy was unparalleled, and the peace was heaven sent. Since his first trip last year, all he could think about was his next adventure; but work priorities had always forced him to cancel at the last moment. One day, ready to burst from the stress and the city, he dropped his work, stormed into the foremans' office, and begged for a week off. His boss gave him two, and a bonus for his devotion. Glen used this bonus to buy his equipment, and get his car in top shape. With nary a thought of the world he was leaving behind, he continued his ascent to the crystal clear lake near the summit of Lost Mountain.

Lost Mountain had received its' rather distinctive name from the number of hikers and climbers that had been lost there. Although it rose majestically between two other like peaks, the series of valleys and overhangs made it difficult to survey and search. Many of the forests inhabitants made their homes there, unafraid of human invasion. They would openly frolick in the peaceful pastures and sleep undisturbed by the myriad of creeks that descended from the glaciated peak. Beneath the lush coating of moss and ferns, the forest floor revealed another secret of minerals, known only to two inhabitants; one recently deceased. The survivor lived in seclusion in a primative cabin not far from Lost Lake. She was stunningly beautiful, and with the death of her Father, she, alone, would be responsible for her survival. She felt the initial pangs of hunger, and knew she would need to eat soon. Her instincts became keen now, and she sensed movements from below. Clad only in animals skins, she strolled down to the waters edge, where she paused to sniff the scents in the wind. With unhurried motions, she shed her moccasins and furs, and waded into the waters calm radiance. She could feel the cool waters bathe every pore, and could feel an occasional trout brush past her in an embrace of welcome. One of the cubs from the bear family that shared the lake with her sat and watched her bathe while nonchalantly knawing on a huckleberry branch. It was a naturists dream.

Glen continued his journey, still excited about setting up his site amoung the towering firs. He knew there would be enough time for dreams and philosophies by the campfire; as for now, he purely enjoyed the winds' rustle, and the peaceful trickle of the creek that ran adjacent to his path. Occasionally, he would see a squirrel, or catch a glimpse of a fawn in the brush, undisturbed by his presence. The smell of fresh pine was almost overwhelming. Several times he stopped just to revel in the natural beauty around him. It took him over three hours to ascend to the basin of the glaciated Lost Lake as some of the trail had been lost during a recent storm triggered avalanche. Glen didn't care if it took him all day, as the fulfillment of the hike was more than he could ask for; he only hoped he could set-up camp before darkness as the equipment was new, and he was somewhat unsure of its' use. Once at the basin, the trail abruptly stopped, and he was forced to make his own trail through the underbrush. It was tiring work, but he hardly felt the exhaustion through the exhilaration of "conquering the wild." Within 15-minutes he found the clearing where he had camped before, unchanged from the way he left it. He was back in paradise.

She continued to bathe peacefully, smoothing the crystal clear elixer of the lake over her weathered skin. She was a little over five foot tall without an ounce of fat. Her skin was a golden brown except for a brief patch of white near her nippled and around her pubis. She had tiny feet, small breasts, long legs, and a perfect curve in her hips. She carried herself with the grace of a doe, her dark brown eyes rivaled a hawks' in their effectiveness. She had the agility of a mountain goat and the tenacity of a burro. She sensed his presence, and with the dexterity of a trout, swam submerged towards his campsite. She saw his hook dangling in the water void of bait, and watched him intently as he washed his socks and lay them carefully on the rocks to dry. She would wait until it was dark. . .

Darkness comes quickly to the forests; the trees act as natural blinds, and as Glen reeled in his line for the last time, he was glad he had brought some freeze-dried rations just in case his fishing attempts failed. From the darkness just beyonds the campfires' glow, she continued to watch him, with all of her senses alive to the forest about her. As Glen reclined with his head on a log by the fire, he began to doze amidst the tranquil sounds of the lake lapping at his feet. She crept out from her hiding place with the stealth of a cat and over to the remaining items in his pack. Sniffing them cautiously, she found some freeze-dried spaghetti and some instant orange juice. Fleeing back into the safety of the woods she ripped open the packets with her teeth. It was so dry she gagged, and in disgust threw both opened packets into the water. As she turned to search for some other food source, she confronted Glen. In terror she tried to flee, but he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her feet off the ground. She shrieked, and bit down on his arm drawing blood. He released his grip in agony, and she fled in the forest to hide in a small cavern for the remainder of the night. Glen returned to camp full of questions, a slightly wounded ego, and a more severely wounded arm. He washed his wound in the lake and with a field dressing from his first-aid kit, he was able to return to his former activities. Soon the camp was secured, and he fell asleep, dreaming of the wild woman with dark flowing hair.

In the morning, Glen explored part of the area surrounding his camp. There was nary a trace of the girl he'd encountered the night before, and with the exception of his wound, no evidence she even existed. He returned to camp and washed up, then baited his line in hopes of some early morning action. Hardly had the line hit the water, when he felt the tug of breakfast. With glee, he laughed aloud and reeled in his prize. Before long, the surrounding woods were awash with the scent of pan fried trout and freeze-dried eggs.

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She appeared before him as he was about to savor his first bite. Sensing her fear, he stepped away from the fire where the remainder of the fish lay. Slowly, ever so slowly, with one tentative step, then another, she crept towards fire, eyeing him continually. He watched her, and even though he was quite curious, he was more interested in enjoying his feast on the plate. As she reached the remaining food he had prepared, she lept on the frying pan grabbing it with both hands and buried her face into the fish carcass. A second later, she screamed as the heat reached her hands and face. Glen struggled to hide his laughter, and quickly turned in a different direction when she glared at him.

Realizing her need now, he set down his plate and slowly approached her with his arms oustretched and his palms up. At first she quivered and stepped away, but as he drew closer, she focused on his inquisitive eyes and sensed she had nothing to fear. When he reached the campfire, he scraped the remainder of his feast onto the skillet lid, and ever so slowly extended it to her. Like a timid animal, she withdrew a couple of steps before edging forward and at the last moment she grabbed the tin and scampered into the forest. Glen shrugged, and returned to his half eaten breakfast, convinced that he would need more fish for the evening meal. It tasted great; and he felt wonderfully alive and hopeful that he would again encounter the woman of the woods. For the remainder of the day he would wait for her return. It wasn't until that night when he relieved himself by a nearby tree that she returned, and slid the lid down next to the tents' opening filled with berries and agates, beautiful rocks with traces of gold in them. Before she scampered back into the woods, she grabbed the fish he was cooking.

The night was filled with the sounds of the nocturnal critters; it sounded as if an owl had perched directly over his head. He was restless, and kept turning to examine the gems next to his head. Shortly after midnight, a thunderstorm crested over the peaks with blinding flashes of light and resounding thunder. Soon torrents of rain pounded his camp site, sending him scurrying about to salvage his equipment from the storms fury. As he returned to the shelter of his tent and dropped the rain flap, he tripped backwards over her trembling body. Fumbling for and finally finding his flashlight, he turned the beam on the corner of the tent where she huddled. Fearful of this pale stranger, yet even more fearful of the storm, she sought refuge near the only human she knew. Glen reached out to her. At first she cringed, but another peal of thunder sent her full force into his chest. They toppled over backwards onto the cot with the force of her leap. He held her trembling body there until the fury of the storm passed and with its' passing; so too, did her fear of him. With gentle coaxing, he guided her into his sleeping bag, and soon she was nuzzling his neck. He held her securely with his nose buried in the musky fur, and was soon asleep.

He awoke aroused. She had been stroking his chest and abdomen. He pretended not to notice and turned so his back was facing her now naked body. She persisted, and began to stimulate his buttocks and thighs. So much for being a gentleman, he thought, and he turned to kiss her. She withdrew her face, and it was evident she had never experienced this form of embrace. Her strokes to his thighs and abdomen increased in intensity until she encirled his throbbing organ with the gentle embrace of her fingers and began to caress its length. Glen was lost in passion, and let his hands wander at will across her well-muscled frame. When his lips found her nipple she gasped and with his gentle suction she melted into his body. Soon she was rubbing her pubis against his thighs with ever increasing fury until her felt her spasm, and a trickle of her dew run down his thigh. Her breaths slowed only momentarily, and before Glen could move, she threw the sleeping bag off and began to stroke his thigh again, only now, the hand not supporting her grasped his manhood in a vice-like grip. She bucked her hips in wild abondon, throwing her head to and fro with her mouth agape and her eyes squeezed tightly shut. Her hair flew about as if tossed in a tempest and her breasts heaved in wild circles as she continued to rake his thigh with her pubis. He didn't know how many times she had climaxed, but his thigh was saturated and sore from the pounding, and his glans was purple from her grip securing his blood flow. With one final breathy squeek, she collapsed on top of him, panting from her exertions. Working carefully to restore the sleeping bag without disturbing her exhausted form, Glen could only doze as the weight of her body would not allow him to fully relax.

He awoke in the morning to a shrill scream. Apparently, as she was leaving the tent, she tripped over one of the tie-downs and fell headlong into the mud. Again, he could barely surpress his laughter only this time she responded by tackling his bare leg, and dragging him headlong into the goo. For the first time, he heard the music of her laughter, and burst into laughter of his own. They embraced in the mud, laughing and frolicking until they were both unrecognizable. With the grace of a dove she arched into the air and crashed into the once pristine lake; and he dove in after her, grabbing her tiny feet as she tried to swim away. Her agility and strength were too much for him, and she easily escaped his attempts to capture her, until exhausted, he headed for the shore. She swam up under him, realizing his fraility, and used her bouyancy to help keep him afloat until they reached the shoreline. She lay beside him in the shallows, their naked bodies feeling the warmth of the rising sun through the cool of the waters' gentle message. He started to doze, and she used the reprive to study his features, and touch his pale skin. She left him there, gathered her furs, and with a slight pause to view his motionless figure she scampered into the woods

The poachers found her cabin. It was almost empty with just a small wooden counter, and two mats stuffed with pine needles. In the center of the room was the hearth, and there were a few tools hanging from the far wall. The real treasure lay behind the cabin, where a tall pile of cured furs lay; awaiting their trip to the local store miles away. Hurridly they opened their packs, and dumped all but the bare necessities, and then stuffed them with the furs. Content with their booty, they paused to fix a quick meal before descending back to civilization. In their haste to leave, they discarded a smoldering cigarrette that would soon ignite the dried pine needles near the hearth.

Aware that others were nearby, she dismissed the warning of her intuition and returned from her foraging to find him cleaning the camp with his fishing line in the water. She curiously watched his mannerisms and smiled discreetly at his foreign ways. Finally she stepped from the woods with her bounty of berries just as he snared another prize trout. She approached him and their eyes met in a mutual embrace. Within minutes his trophy was sizzling over the warm coals, and she was nestled next to him on the log nibbling at the berries. As they downed their meal, they quickly became less and less interested in the food, and more and more interested in each other. Soon they were rolling naked in the underbrush, feeling each others passions build. She loved to play with his manhood, and she found the taste quite pleasing as she drew his glans deeper and deeper into her velvet throat. He, in turn, loved the sweet taste of her womanhood; as clean and fresh as the lake by which they played, and her orgasms would flood his probing tongue with the sweetest wine he had ever tasted. It wasn't until he approached his orgasm that they paused to change positions, and she allowed this soft stranger to capture her virginity. Although quite moist from her previous orgasms, she was still extremely tight, and her hymen was nearly as strong as leather. It took several forceful thrusts to open her flower fully, and amidst the pain, she forcefully clung to his torso, aiding his thrusts with her own. Finally, he broke through, and his glans brushed up briefly against her womb. They lay in each others embrace for a time to allow themselve to experience the complete sensation of being one with each other. He felt her muscles relax, and began slow gentle thrusts, being careful not to hurt her any more than he already had. Her gentle squeezes of encouragement brought him to a quick climax, and although he tried to wait for her, the stimulation was too great, and he shot his essence deep into her quivering womb. She felt his organ enlarge to make room for his semen, and, combined with his gentle strokes and the continued pressure to her clitoris she climaxed, locking her legs about him to draw his manhood fully within her. Her contractions triggered a flood of juice down the length of his organ and out onto his ballsack, where the mixture of erotic fluids dripped down to the soft green forest floor.

As they lay together in peaceful resolution, she reached for her furs, and from a hidden pocket, withdrew a handful of gold nuggets and placed them in his open palm. Sensing the danger first, and without ceremony, she leapt to her feet and darted towards the campsite. He was soon to follow, but by the time he reached a vantage point to see the smoke lazily drifting towards the heavens, she was gone. Bolting through the underbrush like a frightened gazelle, she ran full stride towards the fully engulfed cabin, unaware of the scratches to her still naked body. She broke through into the cabins' clearing so forcefully that the poachers feared for their lives and raised the weapons in self-protection. Glen heard the report and froze. His knees buckled in fear and his mouth went instantly dry. He couldn't move for an eternity, as tears welled into his eyes.

For the next three days he would search for her, until he was finally forced to conclude she was forever lost. Although he found two backpacks and the spent cartridge that would seal her fate, he would never find her, for she had crawled to the secret place where her Father lay before she expired. Sitting by the campfire, he fumbled with the golden treasure she had given him, then, one by one, he threw them into the lake sending concentric spirals across its surface. Never again would Glen return to Lost Lake, and the bear family would erase any traces that anyone had ever been there.





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