A Simple Walk in the Woods

I had just dropped my wife Elsbeth Tipton off at the airport early on a Saturday morning. It was a bright, beautiful day, and that contributed to my mind wandering from subject to subject rather than being focused like I normally am.

The subject that occupied most of my gray matter was Elsbeth. She had recently turned 40 -- I, Blake Tipton, am only 35 -- and that seemed to have a more profound effect on her than I thought that it would. Her 40th birthday was apparently a milestone to her but she didn't seem to really enjoy the 40th birthday party that I threw for her. To me her turning 40 meant nothing (except for future kids -- I'll get to that later). I honestly believe that age is just a number; I guess if I didn't ten years ago I wouldn't have married someone five years older than me but it wasn't even the slightest concern to me.

Elsbeth was off to visit her two sisters and their families who lived more than 700 miles away. She said she needed a week after the birthday party that I threw for her to clear her head. "It isn't just turning 40, honey," she told me a few days ago, "but I need to re-examine my goals in my professional life, and I really do miss Eleanor and Eva and their families." [I guess that I don't have to point out that Elsbeth's parents love female names that start with "E."]

I had no problem with her trip and did everything in my power to facilitate it. I was a little concerned when she was wistful the few days between buying the airplane tickets and me dropping her off at the airport and was even more troubled when last night in bed she was like a blowup doll rather than the wildcat she normally is, but put it down to stress.

My mind also was concerned with some minor weight loss Elsbeth experienced in the last few months. It wasn't the type that indicated a serious illness, but concerned me nevertheless. The entire time that I knew her Elsbeth's weight was between 139 and 141 pounds; that is until the last few months when it consistently was 134 or 135. She looked better at 140.

Another thing that was causing turmoil in my brain was Elsbeth's seeming reluctance to start having a family. When we got married she was definitely on board for at least a couple of rug rats, but she had been impossible to pin down on "when," and I knew that after-forty pregnancies were normally not as easy. While driving I resolved to make her commit to "when" within days after she got back from her trip.

Most of the other things that occupied my mind were significant to me, but not to this story, so I won't bore you with them. One other thing that was significant, however, was that I didn't want to waste such a beautiful day, hadn't gone hiking in a long time, and thought that I could use a solo hike as much as Elsbeth could her trip to see her sisters. That's when I decided to take a hike in the nearby mountains.

Rangers had warned residents recently about hiking on certain trails -- especially women -- because there had been several incidents including rapes and the common perpetrator had not been caught yet. I'm too big, strong, and dumb to be scared, however -- I haven't been afraid of anything physical since I was twelve years old -- so that didn't mean anything to me.

My house was right on the way to the challenging mountain trail that I wanted to hike so I stopped off, loaded a backpack with food and three insulated metal bottles of ice water, an extra T-shirt and a long sleeve shirt, knife, and flashlight (although I intended to return home before dark), and a few other odds and ends. I fastened my hiking boots, threw the backpack in the passenger's side seat, and drove the thirty miles to the trailhead.

The parking lot had fewer cars than there normally would be on a Saturday morning in early autumn, maybe because of the warnings about the serial rapist. Anyway I took off at a brisk pace, loving the peace and quiet interrupted only by birds singing and a light breeze whishing through the treetops, and the gorgeous scenery.

After a few miles I stopped for about twenty minutes to eat some power bars and drink a liter of water, still ice cold in an insulted metal water bottle, and then continued. Rather than staying on the main trail I took a seldom used offshoot that ended in a cliff about two kilometers away and briskly hiked along.

It was about fifteen minutes after my lunch stop when I heard muffled sounds of distress coming off to my right. Always being both curious and with not enough brains to be fearful, I quickly went in the direction of the sounds. No more than fifty meters off the trail I saw two bodies on the ground; the one on top was male with a knife apparently threatening a topless female on the bottom. I didn't hesitate for even a second.

Shedding my backpack as I sprinted I was upon the guy before he saw me. He was just starting to turn his head in response to the sound of a 230 pound bull charging through the underbrush when I kicked him in his right temple. I think that my foot hit hard enough that if it was a football I could have made a sixty yard field goal. In any event he went flying off the woman and lay still where he landed several yards away. I was about to stomp him when I saw that he was "out," and since his knife was well out of reach I turned my attention to his victim.

The topless woman looked scared shitless, with her jean shorts undone but not removed and leaves in her hair. After determining once more that the rapist wasn't moving I attended to her. As I said "Are you OK," while extending a hand to her I felt like a pervert when I stared at her tits, rather than her face.

I'm normally a leg and ass man -- two qualities my wife has that were things that initially attracted me to her -- but I am a normal red-blooded heterosexual guy so I certainly appreciate nice tits as well. Plus, they were the nicest tits that I had ever seen in my life. They weren't enormous but they were beautifully shaped and positioned on her chest, with perfect long nipples.

The woman was disoriented but did accept my hand and I pulled her up. She was shaking in my arms but by talking softly to her I was able to calm her down. I swear that I didn't intend to do it but while I was holding her shoulders and calming her down I couldn't help but get a real prolonged eyeful of her flawless mammary glands.

Once she seemed to be coherent, although with a few tears in her eyes, I said "Let me get you a shirt," noticing that her top and bra on the ground near where she had been laying looked unserviceable.

I let go of her for a few seconds, retrieved my backpack, and pulled out both my extra T-shirt and my long sleeve shirt and held them up to her -- again perving on her chest, which she was still too shocked to cover up.

"I'm a little cold -- the long sleeve one," she uttered after a few seconds.

I brushed some leaves off of her sides and back, and then helped her put my shirt on. Since I'm six feet five inches, 230 pounds, and I estimated her to be five feet six inches and 120 pounds, of course my shirt draped on her. Fortunately it had a relatively small neck opening so it covered up her chest completely, but she did have to push the sleeves up since they extended a foot past her hands.

After I made sure that she was OK, including having pulled her jeans shorts' zipper back up, I had her sit on an adjacent rock and collected what appeared to be her belongings strewn about a ten square meter area.

After I collected all of her belongings -- including her cut-up bra and top -- and put them in her small rucksack I knelt by her and gave her a drink from one of my full insulated metal bottles. I didn't ask her what happened, because that was obvious. I talked to her gently, mostly assuring her that she was now completely safe, and asking her to tell me when she felt like hiking back to the trailhead. After about fifteen minutes she looked over toward her attacker and asked -- with no concern in her voice, merely curiosity -- "Is he dead?"

"I don't know?" I replied. "Once I determined that he wasn't a threat I was just concerned about you. I'll check."

I walked over toward the rapist. I noted that he fit the physical description that the other victims had given the authorities of the serial rapist. I again made sure that his knife was out of his reach then I knelt down and took his pulse. He definitely was dead.

Then I had to decide what to do -- aside from helping his victim out of the forest. I went up her and said "I haven't introduced myself; I'm Blake; and you are?"

"Rachel -- Rachel Webb," she replied, shaking my offered hand.

"Well, Rachel, your attacker is dead. Apparently I kicked him in a lethal place on his head. Now we have to decide what to do. I'll ultimately do what you want, but let me tell you my initial thoughts and then you can provide your perspective, OK?

"Sure," she said, and then with a stern look said "I'm glad that he's dead."

"Me too," I chimed in, "because I'm sure that he's the serial rapist." This seemed to cause Rachel's eyebrows to rise. Then I continued "I would prefer that we just leave him like this. I'll wipe any of my DNA off him from taking his pulse, and there's no other indication that I touched him because only the tip of my boot hit him, and I'll be cleaning my boot toe off with bleach. I'm worried that your DNA might be on him, though. How did he touch you?"

Rachel was a little reluctant to reply, but finally did -- but she had been traumatized so she couldn't really tell me much. I decided that we needed to do something with the body, but to keep both me and Rachel out of it.

After a few minutes of thought and an exchange of ideas I said "Let me look around." I walked away from the crime scene, in the opposite direction from the trail, and after about 100 meters came to a rock outcrop. There was about a forty foot drop from the outcrop to a fairly high volume creek below. If I dropped the rapist off the rock into the creek any vestiges of Rachel would likely be removed after a couple of days.

I walked back to Rachel and told her my plan -- and that I'd need her destroyed top. She was on board. Using Rachel's top I grabbed the rapist's feet and dragged him to the outcrop and then dumped him into the creek, face down. He hit dead center, where it was deep enough to completely cover his body although it was clearly visible.

Using her cut bra Rachel had picked up his knife and carried it to me. I tossed the knife on top of him; it might get washed downstream, but maybe not since it landed upstream of him.

"Let me take your ruined clothing and destroy it," I told her.

"Sounds good," she meekly replied, as I stowed her ruined bra and top in my backpack.

When we got back to the crime scene Rachel started quietly sobbing. I sat her down on the rock again and held her until she stopped. She gently broke away from me and said "I'm OK, now; let's get out of here."

We made sure to police the crime scene to the extent that we could, and even covered over the path where I dragged the perpetrator using a branch with leaves on it, and the area where Rachel had been lying, and only then did we walk back to the path. When we reached the main trail I held us back to be sure that no one else was nearby before we went on it back to the trailhead.

During our walk back I engaged her in light conversation hoping to take her mind off of her ordeal. She seemed to be a pretty tough woman, and after about a half hour appeared to act almost normal -- although I thought that she would probably need counselling in the future. I did eventually get up the nerve to ask her why she was hiking alone when the Ranger's had put out a warning about a serial rapist.

"I'm from out of town. I'm here on business and had to stay over the weekend so I knew nothing about a warning and I love to walk in nature. I guess that I should have known better anyway," she said.

"Don't beat yourself up," was my reply, "you should be able to walk a trail in the forest without fear. You did nothing wrong."

We found out a lot about each other during the two plus hours it took to reach the trailhead including that she was 29 years old, soon to turn 30, married with no kids, and a business executive. When we got to the trailhead her rental car was only two spots over from my car, and I again marveled that the lot was so empty on this beautiful early autumn day.

At the trailhead I held her by the shoulders again and stared at her. "Listen, Rachel; I suggest that you go see a counselor that you have a confidential relationship with and talk about your experience. It might take a while to get over it, but just in the three plus hours that I've known you I've found that you're tough and will persevere."

"Thanks, Blake; you have no idea how much I appreciate it," and then tears formed in her eyes.

"I do know how much you appreciate it Rachel and I can tell you that it was my privilege to help you. It may have been the best single thing I have done in my life and I'm proud to have been of service."

Then after pause I continued "One thing; remember NOT to tell the authorities about it. After two days I will make an anonymous call from a pay phone to the authorities and tell them where they can find the serial rapist's body. I want the public to no longer be afraid, and within two days any traces of us will have been washed off of him."

Rachel stared up at me. The sun hit her just right and although I had long ago realized that she was a nice-looking woman until just that point I hadn't realized that she was far more than just nice-looking; she was exotic.

"Where should I return your shirt to you, Blake? I have to keep it on until I get back to my hotel, but I'm happy to return it."

"Please, keep it; if it brings back bad memories then throw it away, but otherwise you can use it whenever you want to wear something six sizes too big for you," I replied with a smile.

"OK," she smiled back. "Have a good life, Rachel," I said, kissing her on the top of her head and then turning and opening up the driver's door to my car.

Once I was in the driver's seat and had fastened my seatbelt she tapped on the window and I rolled it down. "I would like to take you to dinner to thank you" she said with a smile.

When I looked at her beautiful face and remembered her flawless mammaries that were now protruding from my shirt that she was wearing I thought "Way too much temptation," so I politely declined telling her that there was no need for further thanks and that I had other plans,

Then she gobsmacked me with One last thing; what did you think of my naked tits; the way that your eyeballs almost popped out of your head when you were staring at them it looked like you thought that they were OK."

I know that I instantly blushed. Before I could think of a respectable response I blurted out "They're by far the nicest I've ever seen in my life." When I saw her diabolical grin I got even more embarrassed and without further ado drove off.

I chastised myself for the next half hour for being a perve when I ogled her naked tits, and for my response to her question. I finally realized that I couldn't take either back, sighed, and just drove home, only stopping at an out-of-the-way convenience store to throw her ruined top and bra into its dumpster.

That night I called Elsbeth, talked to her, both of her sisters, and all five of their kids, for short times each, got some takeout for dinner, and went to bed fairly early. I was fatigued and went right to sleep. Unfortunately I woke up in the middle of an intense dream in a cold sweat and in time to see my rigid cock spontaneously ejaculating. "What the fuck?" I moaned. I got up, cleaned up the seminal fluid deposit on my sheets with a washcloth, and then rolled over to the other side of the bed. The clock read 3:08 a. m. I chastised myself for the subject matter of the most realistic dream of my life, and eventually got back to sleep.

The next day, Sunday, I was energetic despite my interrupted sleep the night before. I did some puzzles in the newspaper, made myself a hearty breakfast, exercised vigorously with weights, took a twenty mile bike ride, and mid-afternoon showered and dressed in just exercise shorts, a T-shirt, and flip-flops. I was looking over some documents for work the next day when my doorbell rang. When I answered I couldn't believe who had rung the doorbell -- the same person who had figuratively rung my bell the night before -- Rachel Webb.

"Rachel," I greeted her with shock, "what are you doing here -- and how did you know where I lived?"

"I knew where you lived because I got your license plate number and I have an employee who can find out anything and using your license plate number she easily found you even though you, quite cleverly I might add, never gave me your surname. As to why I'm here it's to return your shirt, to thank you again, and for another reason-- may I come in?"

Actually, I didn't want to let Rachel in. The flimsy top that she had on featured the marvels on her chest, and her shorts clearly displayed her toned legs. However, being a gentleman I replied, "Sure, sorry, please come in."

I brought Rachel into my living room and when I took my shirt from her she said "Sorry, I didn't have a chance to wash it in the hotel; it may have my essence on it," like having her essence on it was something negative.

"No problem," I replied. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Sure, but don't go to too much trouble; whatever you're having," she responded.

"I was just going to get a can of seltzer, Rachel."

"Fine with me, Blake."

As we sipped seltzers we first chatted about the weather, how she liked our city, restaurants she had eaten at the previous week, and other places to hike besides where we had gone. After she thanked me once again she said "There's another reason for coming over."

"What's that?" I asked her

"I'm here for therapy."

"How's that?" I inquired truly puzzled.

"I thought that I would have a nightmare last night; instead I had one of the most powerful and realistic great dreams that I've ever had."

"Really!" I exclaimed; "that's a good sign, isn't it?"

"I would think that it was a good sign except that the dream made me wistful. Also it made me realize that acting out my dream would provide real therapy just like it did last night. I looked up information on line last night about the other victims of the 'Trail Rapist' as the press calls him. All were severely injured as well as raped and one is still in the hospital. You saved me from that, which likely would have ruined my life, and that knowledge was very therapeutic."

I was joyful inwardly when she said that but didn't want to show it, so I merely smiled and said "I told you that I was really happy to help."

"Yeah," she smirked. "In my dream I remembered something else you said too -- that I have the nicest tits that you've ever seen."

With that Rachel stood up and as she closed the six or seven feet between us pulled her top over her head exposing the naked luscious marvels on her chest. She discarded her top, sat on my lap, and said "My dream was intense because I dreamt that you sucked my tits raw," she said as she shoved a tit into my face, "before you fucked me, that is," she continued as my lips unconsciously engulfed one of her nipples.

Over the next fifteen minutes or so my mind was more muddled than at any other time in my life. The thing I most didn't want to do was to cheat on Elsbeth; the thing that I most did want to do was to suck Rachel's tits and then fuck her. Obviously one had to give. I guess that I'm a really weak person because after sucking on Rachel's tits for about ten minutes with her on my lap I stood up, removed my shirt and shorts as she pulled down her shorts revealing her bare shaved pussy, and then I lifted her off her feet and put her on our overstuffed large living room couch on her hands and knees.