Look Ma No Hands

It hadn't been the worse day I'd ever had at the hospital but it was close. And now, like a last minute reprieve from the governor, the fresh clean air of the forest was overwhelming my senses.

Maybe I should explain. I'm a pediatric nurse, big hospital, well, okay, a medium sized hospital in the Pacific Northwest. Single, in my late thirties and when everything goes to hell in a handbag I go camping.

Or, at least in this case on a Friday afternoon, walking in the forest since I had left all my camping gear at home.

It was about two o'clock in the afternoon when I parked my car in the small, blacktop covered parking lot at the end of the one-lane, seven mile road that led up the mountain to the Ross Creek Cedars wilderness area in Northwest Montana. I'd heard about it from a friend and decided that, since it was only a couple hours away, I'd go exploring. It was early in the season so I guess I didn't expect the place to be crawling with visitors but I was surprised to see that I was the only one there.

Oh, well, the trails were well marked and I was wearing a good pair of hiking shoes, jeans and a sweatshirt so I just started walking.

Deep breaths. Clean air, crystal clean air. Total silence. Only the rustling of the leaves in the wind, sunlight randomly flashing down through the tops of the 100 year old cedar trees. Water everywhere. The spring run off, streams gurgling, bubbling, carrying all the cares of the world away. Washing it clean.

"Just keep walking, Cat, just keep walking...this is so beautiful, so peaceful, so perfect," I whispered to myself as I moved silently through the forest.

Four hours later I was completely lost and crying my eyes out.

And it was starting to get dark.

I'd seen a deer deep in the forest and decided to go exploring, hoping to see it again. Just a little bit off the trail system. Only a little ways. Until I looked back and couldn't see the trail anywhere. No problem. I knew what general direction I was walking. And walking. And walking. Jumping over small streams, ducking under the bushes, ignoring all the bells and whistles ringing inside my head, screaming "danger, Will Robinson, danger, turn back..."

And now it was too late. My hands were covered with blisters, stinging, burning, driving me insane. I was obviously having an allergic reaction to something I'd touched and all I could do was keep them buried in the cold, bubbling water in the creek directly in front of me as I squatted there, like some insane catcher in a baseball game without a pitcher, and cried.

And thought about bears. Big bears, hungry bears, black bears, bears with teeth, razor sharp and pointed, just waking up, looking for their first meal. A few berries and a nurse.

Suddenly I heard it.

A loud crashing noise deep in the forest behind me. I couldn't breathe I was so frightened. I knew I couldn't outrun a bear and, without the use of my hands, I couldn't climb a tree. So I just froze, completely immobilized by panic. More crashes, thundering, like an elephant smashing through the forest, demolishing it, knocking over trees, crushing streams, devouring everything in it's path as it moved straight towards me. I was it's prey. I knew I was going to die, ripped slowly apart, sharp teeth driving themselves between my ribs, crushing them, tearing my flesh from my bones, as I thrashed helplessly underneath it's jaws, dripping with blood.

When I felt the first cold hard lick from it's tongue against the side of my face I closed my eyes, screamed so loud that the forest actually told me to shut-up, lost my balance and flopped over backwards into the mud. The second, third and fourth licks weren't so bad. And, by the time I realized that two tongues were licking me instead of one, I decided to open my eyes and see exactly what sort of fearsome creatures would tease their prey so mercilessly before they tore it apart.

Newfies.

Two big black Newfoundlands. Puppies almost. Only a year or so old. With sloppy warm tongues.

So that was my fate.

I was about to be eaten by dogs, two of the cutest dogs in the world who were wagging their tails furiously as they kept licking my face. Well, I guess if you have to die in the forest this was probably a pretty innocuous way to go.

"Hey, where did you guys come from?" I giggled, as all the blood in my body rushed back down from my head and I started to push myself up off out of the mud. "You're so cute, stop licking my face. Oh, owww, I can't get up, damn it, I was so scared that I forgot about my hands."

"Here, let me help you. I'm so sorry, I hope they didn't frighten you. They're just puppies. Are you alright?"

I'd never heard a voice so beautiful, serene, almost hypnotizing. Deep, masculine, almost singing to me. I assumed I was hallucinating until I turned my head and looked up and back over my shoulder.

Even upside down he was stunning. Incredible legs, covered only with a pair of loose fitting, nylon running shorts, tall, at least six and a half feet tall, muscular, wearing a white T-shirt. Sweating, sweating profusely. Him, not me. Although I could feel my skin tingling and I was starting to get a little wet. But it definitely wasn't sweat.

"Hizdawg, Idunno, BACK!" he said sternly as he started moving towards me.

Both dogs immediately backed up and sat down in the mud.

"I'm Mark. I was running through the forest behind the dogs, suddenly they bolted off the trail, then I heard a scream, your scream apparently and well...ummmm, oh, poison oak, huh? It's brutal this time of year. That's pretty bad. C'mon, I need to take care of those hands. I bet the itching is driving you insane. I've been there. And laying in the mud on your back probably doesn't feel much better."

He moved over above my head and reached down, obviously intending to put his hands behind my shoulders and pick me back up. On the surface this seemed like a simple enough task. However, I complicated things just a bit when I swallowed my tongue and lost complete control of my legs. Because as I was laying there between his feet I just happened to look up, directly up the legs of his shorts. His very loose shorts. I'd grown up on a farm. I'd seen stallions two seconds before they were about to mount a mare, completely and totally erect, throbbing, snorting, horses, horses who would blush and cower away in shame if they saw what I was looking at.

I felt two things almost immediately. His hands on my back and a small series of very rapid explosions deep within my clitoris. Then I immediately forgot where I was.

Until the pain in my hands reminded me.

"My hands sting. Really really sting. They felt better when they were in the water..." I whispered softly, as I finally regained control of my legs and found myself standing in front of him. Mud dripping off the back of my sweatshirt.

Then I glanced down and noticed my nipples.

They were sticking straight out against the fabric of my sweatshirt. Reaching out towards him. Two hard little marbles bent on telling the world exactly how I felt, exposing my most secret thoughts, shouting "she's horny and aroused, she's horny and aroused" way way too loud.

It always happens, doesn't it?

Everytime you decide not to wear a bra you find yourself lost in the forest being rescued by some incredibly good looking hunk of a guy who immediately gets you so hot and bothered that your nipples get hard and erect and wildly sensitive. Wildly sensitive. Really really sensitive.

"I'm sure they do sting," he said, trying not to stare down at my nipples as they tore their way through the front of my sweatshirt like two little convicts attempting to escape. "Maybe this will help until I get you back to my cabin."

"He has a cabin? And he's taking me to it?" I almost shouted out as I watched him slip his T-shirt over his head and then reach down and dip it in the stream beside us.

Screw the nipples. They were the least of my problems. Now my clit was trying to escape. Bursting out from under the little hood that protects it and climbing furiously up the lips of my vagina like an army ranger scaling a sticky, slippery cliff. This man standing in front of me looked like one of those guys in an exercise video for those stomach cruncher upper machines. Cut, buff, muscles rippling in all the right places. I felt like I wanted to lean over and just start biting him. Or at least licking him. Or at least hoping he'd start to lick me. The back of my neck was getting hot. No small trick since it was covered with mud. The muscles in my thighs were quivering and it felt like somebody had turned on a faucet down between my legs. I immediately started singing Paula Cole's Feelin' Love to myself..."you make me feel like the Amazon's running between my thiiii-iiighss."

"What did you say?" he said softly as he began to wrap the cold, wet fabric around my hands.

Apparently I had been singing a little louder than I thought.

"I love that song. Incredibly sensual. Just like you," he said with a smile as he stared at my mouth, half open with lust.

Pure lust.

Suddenly realizing that my hands were useless I started to imagine my tongue, five feet long, reaching out, touching him, caressing him, wrapping it around his hips, pulling him into my mouth.

Eating him.

Devouring him.

Then it occurred to me that I should probably be scared. Afterall, I was alone. Defenseless. Vulnerable. And I was standing in the middle of a forest with a man I didn't know. A man who was obviously starting to get an incredible erection. My nipples were on fire and smoke was billowing out through the two little holes they had dug in the front of my T-shirt. By now my clitoris had managed to crawl down my leg, slide out the bottom of my jeans and was jumping up and down behind him screaming, "touch me, touch me" while I was staring straight down at his cock, straining against the thin nylon fabric covering it.

"I'm so sorry, that's incredibly inappropriate but you're really a very attractive woman. Even covered with mud. And I can't help it. But don't worry, you're perfectly safe with me. You know, I don't even know your name. I'm Mark. C'mon, my cabin's about a five minute walk away and that wet T-shirt will only numb your hands for a little bit," he said as he turned and started to walk through the forest.

"I'm Cat, at least that's what all my friends call me," I gasped, as I smiled because walking behind him and staring at the back of his hips was as much fun as staring at the front of his hips. I've always loved men's butts and this guy had an incredible butt.

Suddenly I realized how nervous and aroused and confused I was and just started chattering, stuttering and babbling, bleating out my entire life story, or at least as much of it as I could remember, while we hurried through the forest.

"I'm a na-nurse a friend told me about this place and and I drove up here and and nobody was around but I figured that was okay so I st-started to walk down the trails and this whole place the is just incredibly beautiful I've never seen a forest so wonderful and clean and fresh and beautiful and then after awhile I saw a deer and I'm single and I decided I wanted to follow it and so I followed it and I'm not dating anybody there really aren't any men in my life and so suddenly I was just walking through trees and bushes and jumping over streams and then I touched all this green stuff with my hands and then I ended up here or actually back there now squatting down by the stream crying my hands stinging it was getting dark and I'm so glad you showed up I don't know what I would have done I knew I couldn't get back to my car because it was getting dark and I'd trip and fall or something and and then I started thinking about bears and getting scared really really scared and then I heard these noises behind me something crashing through the forest and I panicked and fell over in the mud but it was only the dogs what are their names Hizdawg and Idunno that's cute and and then I screamed and I live alone but I've always wanted to be married and suddenly the dogs actually the puppies were licking my face and I was laying in the mud and I couldn't use my hands to get up because they hurt so bad and then you showed up and you're gorgeous and so I wasn't scared but now I am a little because I don't know what's going to happen and I can't use my hands and so I'm sort of defenseless and I'm going to have to stay somewhere I don't know where all alone with you all night here in the forest together and I guess well I think I mean well I trust you but I don't know you but I trust you I think and now I guess where are we going do you live here or something and have a cabin I thought this was a wilderness area and nobody could live in it and your dogs are so cute Newfies are my favorite dog my dog died a few years ago and I have to jackhammer up my backyard before I get another one so what were you doing running or something just exercising when you found me..."

By the time I finished talking we were moving through a slight clearing in the forest towards a postcard. What I was looking at couldn't possibly be real. It was too perfect. An immaculately beautiful little tiny log cabin, smoke fluffing up lazily out of the chimney, everything warm and cozy and absolutely flawless. Ten seconds after I saw it I knew I wanted to live in it for the rest of my life.

"Let's get you inside and take care of those hands," he said softly as he stepped behind me and started to put his hand on my back to usher me up the stairs. But he stopped suddenly, peeked around behind me and just grinned. Too much mud I suppose. I just shook my head and walked up on the porch, totally embarrassed by the way I looked, mascara probably still smudged all over my face from my tears, hair full of dirt. I couldn't open the door because my hands were still wrapped up in his wet T-shirt so I just stood there. Like an idiot. A lost, stupid, dirty, overwhelmed idiot who should have known better than to go walking in the woods alone.

"You're absolutely beautiful, do you know that?" he said suddenly as he opened the door. His eyes staring straight into mine, our faces only inches apart.

Yeah, I was. I knew it. I'd always known it. Sometimes, like ten seconds ago, I just forgot.

But now I had another problem.

I was smiling so hard that my face hurt almost as much as my hands.

"Let's take the T-shirt off your hands, mmmm...does that hurt?" he asked tenderly as he began to delicately unwrap the T-shirt from my hands.

I just shook my head back and forth slowly as I stared around the room. We were standing in front of an old sink in a kitchen area. Small but functional. There was a wood stove in one corner with a big log bed just a few feet away. All covered with quilts. The cabin was only about twenty feet wide and thirty feet long. Snowshoes and horseshoes and everything western and foresty and rustic you could think of just covered the place. But I could also see a bathroom through an open door. It was modern, with a toilet and what looked like a huge shower at the very end of it. Of course, the puppies had followed us inside like they owned the place. This was definitely a man's cabin. It just reeked of testosterone. Which, of course, is a very very good thing if you're a woman. Especially a woman who loves men. Especially an aroused woman who loves men. Testosterone just drives it's way into your body like a telephone pole tossed in a hurricane when you're around it, overwhelmed by it.

Especially when you're standing next to someone like this and he's taking care of you.

"Okay, let's get your sweatshirt off. I'm going to put a whole lot of special mud on your hands, Cat, and then wrap them in a lot of gauze and after I do, you won't be able to move your fingers, it will look like you have oven mitts on and you won't be able to take your sweatshirt off because the sleeves won't fit over your wrists. Besides, it's covered in mud," he said matter-of-factly as he reached down and put his hands on the bottom of my sweatshirt and started to lift up.

"I'm not wearing a bra, Mark," I stuttered.

"Yeah, I'd figured that out when your nipples almost jumped out and climbed on top of me earlier, Cat," he said with a sly grin, "but don't worry, I'm a gentleman, I'll close my eyes. Or, if it will make you feel more comfortable, you can just close your eyes. I guess, at least for tonight, my fingers will have to be your fingers."

I was so stunned by what he had just said about his fingers being my fingers and so overwhelmed by all the intensely sensual implications of that marvelous predicament that I couldn't figure out what to say next. And by the time I did it was too late anyway. He had closed his eyes just like he promised and just kept lifting up my sweatshirt until I was standing there like a topless dancer at a rodeo.

Then he just turned around, with his eyes still closed, and faced the sink as he said, "just move behind me and put your hands around my waist and over the sink and I'll take care of them."

Apparently he'd done this before. Or else he was so good at thinking on his feet that I just realized I ought to quit resisting his suggestions and give in. So I just carefully moved around behind him, wrapped my arms awkwardly around his waist and sighed as I looked down and measured the distance between my nipples and his back. About three inches. A safe distance since I figured that, even as aroused as I was, my nipples couldn't suddenly shoot out that far.

His touch felt wonderful. Soft, gentle, caring as he spread some sort of muddy gooey paste all over my fingers and hands. I've always loved having my hands massaged. And I was discovering that I loved it even more when he was doing it. Especially since, the more he touched me, the less my hands stung. After four or five minutes I was having trouble standing up because it was such a relief not to feel pain anymore so I just sort of closed my eyes and leaned forward.

Oooops.

Now what was I going to do. I could stand back up, ramrod straight, and make it obvious that my nipples had just been pressing in against his back or I could just ignore it, pretend that either I didn't know it was happening (yeah, right?) or that I felt perfectly comfortable doing this.

"Let's see..." I whispered quietly to myself. "Do I want him to think I'm a prude or a slut. Choices, choices, choices...maybe I should flip a coin."

His back felt so warm, his skin so soft against me that I just forgot about trying to find a coin and relaxed even more. Probably a little too much actually since I muttered, "hmmm, that feels so good, Mark, so good..."

Then it occurred to me that he probably didn't know whether I was talking about his fingers on my hands or the slight tickling sensations I was sure he was feeling as I rocked my shoulders back and forth gently, dragging my nipples back and forth against his back.

But it really didn't matter anyway because he shocked me out of my little sensual daydream by saying, "there, all done. Now let's get you out of the rest of those dirty clothes. I'm going to turn around again, Cat. Ummm, you might want to back up a few inches and close your eyes."

I was still so lost in the the warm bath of sensations rushing over my body from my nipples that I actually did it. I backed up, held my arms up over my head (which, of course, made my breasts float magically up into the air) and just closed my eyes.

When I suddenly felt his hands on my stomach I opened my eyes with a gasp and stared at him. He was fumbling around, trying to undo my jeans but, true to his word, his eyes were tightly closed.

I just smiled at him and whispered, "there are two buttons, Mark, and a clasp. And two ropes, a couple Velcro straps, a small chain, six padlocks, a weld going right up the middle of the stainless steel chastity belt and a bear trap just at the bottom of my zipper. My Dad didn't let me date much."