Where it happened: Logging Camp
Langauge: English
Sex: Male
Rating: 10
Category: Straight
I was 19 years old and working in a logging camp. I had been doing high rigging, some falling, and equipment maintenance. One Saturday afternoon the cook started her car. It was running absolutely terrible. I check it out for her and told her if she purchased a carburetor kit, ignition points, and spark plugs, I would tune up the engine. She returned early on Sunday afternoon. I spent the rest of the day tuning her car. It run like a new one. She was very happy.
Monday, the next day, I was in an accident. The end result of which was that I had some broken ribs. Since I was doing a rather risky think for the boss, he told me that he would keep me on the payroll until I was to leave in about three weeks for university. He then asked if I could help the cook? I told the boss that I would do what ever he asked. Him keeping me on the payroll was a good gesture. These days, you do not see the power-money-crazed yuppies being generous to injured employees.
I settled into the small bull-cook’s room adjacent to the cook’s shack. I soon found out that the boss put me there because, although independent, I need some nursing care. I had to sleep sitting in a chair. It hurt to breath, and just going to the outhouse was tough. As I was able, I stared helping the cook by pealing potatoes, carrots, turnips, etc. By the end of the second week, I could help wash dishes.
The tape on my rib cage was driving me wild. The itch was unbelievable. The cook declared that it was time for the tape to come off. It hurt when she grabbed it and gave it a yank. After she took off the tape, she washed my chest and put a soothing ointment on it.
I was able to help as a gopher in the maintenance yard during the day, and wash dishes and peel vegetables for the cook. Being the end of summer, the boss started shutting down the logging show on Friday afternoon. It was just the maintenance crew on Saturday, and they generally worked until noon. Being over a 1,000 miles from home, I would work all day on Saturday and take Sunday off.
The cook also generally stayed in camp. One Saturday afternoon, her daughter, who was my age, came to camp to introduce the cook to her new husband. The cook was shook over what she considered to be a rash act by her daughter.
I visited with the cook and found that she had three children. She was married at 17 and gave birth to her first a year later at age 18. She had three children with the youngest being a boy. Her son and husband had been killed in a car accident. The tragedy had occurred a number of years before and she was still saddened by it. I think her daughter’s “spare of the moment” marriage caused some flashbacks.
A week before I was to leave, the cook and I were the only ones in camp. She suggested that we go down to the lake and catch some fish and fry them by the lake for supper. This was on a Saturday afternoon. It sounded great to me. I had a hard time throwing out my fishing line. The cook, who was a woman of about 48, helped. She was a small woman with breasts that were large for her size. We were fishing off the dead fall in the water. As she would pass me on the log, her breasts would rub across my back. We fried the fish; I was amazed at the meal the cook prepared with just a few items that I had carried in the sack. As the sun went down, the mosquitoes were wild.
We went back to camp. The cook went inside her cabin and came out with her photo album. The cook had been beautiful teen when she was married. There were a few polite but candid pictures of her with her husband. She had a wonderful marriage. As the mosquitoes settle on us, she invited me into her one room shack.
She had a table and chairs, an old love seat, and a bed. Since the kerosine light was over the davenport, we sat there by the window and finished looking at her pictures. The next think I knew, it was dark outside and it was raining hard. We went over to kitchen and had apple pie for desert. The cook asked me if I would walk with her to the outhouse. On the way, she took my hand and I helped her to cross across a short log bridge. I went a short way and did my toilet on a tree. She came back and took my hand to cross the bridge. She held my hand and took me into her shack. She found another picture album; this one of her youth. As we fishised the book, I told her that she was a beautiful woman. She pulled me to her and gave me a kiss.
I do not remember how long we sat and kissed. I do know that my ribs were starting to hurt. She sensed this and said that we could lie on the bed. We lay on the bed and kissed. This was the first woman I had ever kissed. It was conformable for me to lay with my sore ribs lying against her. I put my hand on her breasts. She snuggled against my hand. After a while, she got up, lit a scented candle, and turned off the stinking kerosine lamp (camp lamps burned a kerosine that was more like diesel fuel than lamp oil).
She told me that she was cool and needs to be under the covers. There were to be no dirty camp cloths under the covers in her bed. I knew that I should not have been lying on top of the bed with my dirty cloths. As I slowly got up, I noticed that she had taken off her shirt and jeans. I did the same. She then took off her bra. As she turned towards me, she put her arms around me and pulled me close to her breasts. I have seen the breasts of women when they were nursing babies. (In my home area, nursing women were allowed to expose their breast and feed babies.) But, I had never seen both breasts let alone have them against my chest. The cook was about 4′ 11″ and I am 6′. As she held me close to her, she pulled my shorts down over my buttocks. She then told me that she needed to cover up before she froze. Cold air had moved in with the rainstorm. As she turned to get into bed, she took her panties off.
I took off my shorts, but by the time I was able to climb into bed, she had covered up and I had to climb over her. I pulled back the covers and moved close to her. The kisses were now laced with lust. She pulls my head down and pushed her breast up. I sucked on it and she started to moan and nibble my ear. She moved me to the other breast. Then she pushed her pelvis under mine. I moved on top of her. She said “be careful, don’t hurt me or your ribs”. She directed my penis into her. My penis was not completely inside her when I came. It felt like I was going to ejaculate forever. Then my penis went limp. She got up and found a box of paper wipes. She cleaned herself off and then me. We kissed and she played with me. In about 10 minutes I was ready, and I entered her again. It felt different this time. I pushed deep into her. She raised her legs, grabbed her knees and pulled her legs up to her chest. I assumed that she wanted me all the way in. I pushed tight against her. She said “O’ my god”. I thought m that I was hurting her and pulled back. She said, “that was feeling good”. I kept it deep in her as she had climax after climax. She moved her pelvis around and I in turn did the same. (I had never had sex before, for that matter had never read a dirty magazine.) I could feel the pressure building inside myself. I thrusted deeper into her and ejaculated. I have never felt an ejaculation as good as that one.
We made love long into the night. The thunder awoke us, and we made love again. The next morning she asked me if it was my first time. I told her that it was. She kissed me. I asked her if she would get pregnant. She told me that it would take a miracle for a sweating woman to get pregnant.
We kept in touch. I went back to university. The war started, and I was rushed through university on an advanced schedule. After graduation, I served as an officer. The cook remarried and they had a large vegetable farm. I found out later that one of her daughters was married to the boss’s son. Her younger daughter’s husband became a very successful lawyer, and they have a very happy marriage. The cook lived to be 94. I will always cherish the memories of this loving and caring woman.
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