By Air Mail Ch.05

Emmy felt that she had a chance here and her kisses, as needful as they were, kept him prisoner. Her hands ran everywhere on him that she could reach and his hands began to glide over her skin, sliding over her softness and slowing as he felt some of her strength and musculature. It seemed to do something to him and he groaned then, before those hands of his found the sides of her breasts and one moved on, though the other one stayed and wandered inward.

She gave him the room for it, not having the choice or the want in her to do anything different and after a moment, she reached down, slipping her fingers against and then past his warm masculinity.

She took a breath when she could and eased her hand down to slide carefully, with only slightly trembling fingers curling around to cup that wonderful male sac. Emmy wasn't a little thing and her hands weren't willow-girl hands as they squeezed just a tiny bit before she made him groan again when she rolled those stones around in there so cautiously.

Her hand came back up a little to grasp the pulsing rod that she found there and she began to stroke him a little, almost lost as she kissed his neck and jaw.

"You smell so good," she whispered hungrily, "I've never ... ohhh, Quinton."

She pressed herself against him even more, drinking in his warmth along with his strength as she kissed him again, just as hungrily.

She broke the kiss and moved back to look into his eyes, "Is this good?" she asked and his reply was the barest nod. What she saw in his eyes was hunger. He lunged for her and she wanted to fall down as he kissed her throat. His arm went around her neck to hold her and he kissed and sometimes nipped, working from under her ear to her clavicle and back.

She moaned a little and to Quinton, it sounded a little sad.

"My skin is too dark for me to be any kind of white girl," she said. "Other than my cheekbones and how dark I am, my face looks like I'm white. But I'm not.

My hair ... I've never seen a girl where I was who had hair like mine, this heavy and thick."

She took his hand and guided it down over her belly, losing it once because she was going faster than he wanted to feel. When she had it against her mound, she dragged herself away from his shoulder and looked him in the eye.

"What's there is sleek and thick enough to make a throw rug. Quinton listen to me, I've been my own worst nightmare for all of my life, stuck in here as I am. I don't fit with either bunch and I never have."

She sighed, "I don't belong anywhere.

For God's sake, tell me why you said I'm beautiful. I'm sorry that I keep bringing it up, but I just can't understand. I'll do what you want, and tonight I'll take care of you, but please tell me so that I can know if you mean it or you're just lying to me.

Look, it doesn't matter to me if you are, I just ... I ... please?"

He stopped, frozen in place and Emmy's heart froze with him, thinking that she'd just ruined things.

"I didn't lie," he whispered, "I meant it Emmy. You are beautiful; don't ever tell me you're not. I can see your eyes and I know what's in there. You put up fences, thinking that I can't see past them. If there's one thing that you do like your father's people - that's it. You look out impassively - like nothing affects you, but you're hiding how you feel.

Well I've lived in a place where they do that better than anybody in the world Emmy, and I can see right through it, believe me."

He exhaled heavily, "Trust me, alright? You want to be my friend, then you have to let me in past those eyes. You want this, then you can't just hide inside yourself and make all the right noises, like Momma taught you, maybe.

I don't want that. Look, I don't even need this, though I want it pretty bad."

"What do you want then?" Emmy asked, in the softest whispered sigh.

He reached for her face and he stared into her eyes until she gave up and looked back into his.

"I want to make love to you. I want to be beside you, Emmy. Neither one of us knows what this is, other than the obvious, but I know that I'd go anywhere and be seen with you, if you'll just let me hold your hand."

The next moment, Quinton had the thought that their moment was ending, but he hoped that she might understand, at least a litt -

Emmy was against him again, happy and hungry for him once more, her moment of doubt gone. She lunged for his neck herself and she wouldn't let go as she tried to drink him in through her pores. She felt the scruff of his beard against her neck and shoulder and she didn't care.

She'd found what she never knew that she'd wanted so badly, someone who would let her out of her hard shell. Nothing had ever felt this good, the way that Quinton's chest felt against hers. That soft fur that he had, it felt amazing and her tits had never been happier to be crushed up against that.

"I can give you a choice," she groaned into his ear, one hand against his back, pulling him against her and the fingers of her other hand deep into his soft blonde hair, "I'll suck you if you want me to, but there's no way that I'll let you chew my rug after that, because I can't stop kissing you and I know it - if that's what you think you might want to do."

She sighed, "I know that's what I'd want some of, but ...

Or, you can rub your prick in between my thighs until you come, and then for sure I won't let you chew on me - and I won't suck you after that, not without a shower first. They have that here, don't they?"

He nodded, "They do and I don't care, Emmy. Do what you want."

She got up, struggling with her fallen-down overalls, "Come on then," she smiled, "I want to get warm and this is freezing my ass." She went to the very back of the cabin and just shrugged at what she was looking at.

The plane was a kind that is most often referred to as a 'tail-dragger', for the way that it faced upward slightly at rest on the ground. The rear end of it sat lower on the tailwheel. That meant that the interior, when parked, sloped back. Actually sleeping might prove to be a challenge, she thought, but they weren't there yet.

Emmy had her shoes and overalls off and was on her back as Quinton pulled the other bedding closer and turned it so that the inside faced down and he covered her with it. The whole operation had been a little amazing in the dark, away from the hanging flashlights, since he was holding his pants up with one hand at some points. She giggled and he asked her what was so funny.

She giggled some more and pointed, "You look like a weathervane."

He looked down and nodded with a smile, "Well don't put any faith in this, just sayin'."

"Just tell me that it can bring me the storm that I'm wanting so bad," she smiled up.

"Well for that," he grinned, "I'm at least a little sure that it's accurate."

Emmy almost squealed when she laughed because it felt so good to feel this way.

Quinton moved and eased himself over Emmy to hold her and they moaned a little at each other as they kissed slowly and deeply. He reached and pulled up the sleeping bag. She asked him why.

He looked at her as though it was obvious, or it ought to be, "I don't want to get arrested for letting your bosoms get cold. I'm headed downstairs a little slowly. I'll be back sooner or later though, so while I'm gone use this to stay warm."

"Why, Quinton? I don't get it. Where are you going?

Oh ... ohhh, I get it now... That feels so nice. Mmm. My bosoms are in love, I'm pretty sure."

He began to squeeze whichever nipple that he wasn't loving with his mouth. For all of her nervous silliness, Quinton was quickly finding that he had feelings for this one girl. He'd have done this anyway, but like this, he'd made her shut up before she'd be able to feel foolish over it later. He knew that about women. They were all too quick in his opinion to feel foolish at times like this.

And just like cold bosoms, Quinton decided that it ought to be a crime.

Emmy was as skittish as a colt until he realized that his beard was tickling her as he nosed his way down her stomach, keeping at least one finger and thumb set working a nipple on his way down south.

And she'd been right, though for some reason, he didn't mind. There was enough down here for a throw rug. To him, it felt luxurious, too.

By then, Emmy's hips were already bucking and he was surprised, but he decided that like a lot of things about her, there were surprises and he just grew to like them as he settled in a little lower to really try to do this part of her justice. He was, he told himself, trying to supersede the efforts of another female, who'd been here before him, only to fuck up something this nice.

Emmy was clutching the sleeping bag to herself and Quinton regretted that, but he could accept it. He promised himself to do this again for Emmy if he could, because frankly, he's have paid money only for the view up over her mound to watch the rest of her feeling this good.

Her head was moving restlessly and her wonderful tits just had to be worth a look from this angle if she was having this much fun, he decided. And these thighs, he thought to himself as he looked over and reached for one to hold her so that she could feel him being appreciative, what he'd give right now to feel these strong legs wrapped around him.

Emmy kept bucking and she cried out once and he knew it right away as she clamped her mouth shut. He stopped and waited for her head to lift up.

He got to a count of four and then he saw her looking at him.

"You like what I was doing at all?"

She nodded nervously.

"Well then you just let it out if it wants to come out of you. I swear - " he stopped to lay a very affectionate kiss onto her outer lips, just for being as puffy and nice to feel like this "- there is nothing, Miss Emmy, no sweeter sound in the world to me than a beautiful woman who's feeling a little joy."

Her head fell back with a soft thump and Emmy groaned for a second. "You did it again."

"I know, "he chuckled, "I can't help it."

"Jesus Quinton," she groaned, "you're three inches from my asshole and you called me that again."

"You want me to -"

"No," she sighed, "though it is a nice thought, the way that you say it to me."

He grew a little determined at that point, so he lifted his knees and brought them forward to plant them one at a time. While Emmy tried to figure out what he was doing, Quinton seized her hips in his hands and lifted her bottom end clean off the sleeping bag up to his mouth.

Emmy squawked in surprise for a moment until it became a little clear to her and she was amazed as she looked up at how he was holding her partly in the air like she was a little thing. His breath came out of him in hot blasts every time that he exhaled from the effort of holding her there as Emmy came to find something else about him that just blew her away.

But after a moment, she did come to the thoughts that he wanted her to.

If he thought enough of her to want her like this, taking her as though she was his and so obviously liking to do it, then she found that she could feel either stupid or just give in to revel in the way that he really wanted to do this for her - to her - whichever.

Her hips moved once more, though not as much now for the way that she felt a little delightfully restrained by him.

She didn't care anymore and it felt great.

The rest of her trip wasn't a long one. Before long she was wailing, the squeezing her own breasts, not giving a damn kind of wailing.

The rolling her head on the matting and not even noticing the cold kind of wailing.

The calling his name like she meant it kind. The 'o - o-OH OH fuuck, Oh, god-DAMN and hellfire' wailing kind.

And just a little yelling out that she loved him too.

-------

"Quinton?" her voice came to him sounding small and uncertain out of the pile of sleeping bags that he'd put onto her to keep her from getting cold as he watched her chest heaving under them all.

"Quinton, when I said that -"

She saw him slowly look up from her covered hips the entire long road along the sleeping bags to her face.

"When I said -"

"Are you going to take it back now?" he asked as more of a voice out in the darkness, "What you said? I wouldn't recommend it.

If you do that, then I'll never do anything like that for you again."

"You were wonderful," she said quietly, "I don't even have words for how you made me feel. I just said someth-"

"Were you," he growled a little coolly, "for just maybe an instant back there, in heaven? Like it felt so good that for just one sliver of time - and not forever or even probably the very next sliver of time right after that - in love with me where it felt good enough to say to me that it just got out of you?"

"Well, yeah," she said, "I've never felt anything - "

"But now it's over and you want to take away from my moment in it," he said quietly, "I was good enough for Emmy Looking Cloud one time, and it made her forget herself and feel good enough just once so that she could say anything to me with complete abandon."

She looked up and saw him still crouched and shivering a little in the cool air.

"Why aren't you covered up?" she asked.

"I wanted you to be warm," he said.

Emmy was stunned. She couldn't tell if he was serious or not.

"Come here," she said, "Please."

He eased himself down stiffly and she covered him and pressed herself against him, ignoring the way that his body now felt cold to hers. She nosed up against him, seeking his face to look into his eyes. "What's wrong?"

He took a minute to answer her, "Emmy, why would you ever think that I'd be anything but happy once I worked at something just for you until you felt good enough to say that you love me? Do you really think that I'm fool enough to have heard that and want to hold you to it?

I was happy that you felt so good. You can look all you like, but you won't find a courthouse stenographer in here typing away what you said in a moment of joy so that I can use it against you. You were happy. I was happy that I could make you get that way for once. I heard that and thought that I did good for you."

"You did, Quinton."

"Then let me enjoy what I did. If I can make you feel that good, then if it's what you want, you can tell me that you love me, or that you'll name all of your children and your pet dog after me, whatever you want to say. I won't mind. But don't worry about it afterward as the feeling passes by you and try to take it back like you think I'm a thief who can't be trusted."

He turned onto his back and looked up in the darkness, "All of you are the same - every single one. As soon as you calm down a little bit, then you think back to check in case you made an admission like that. Then you try to retract it, like it wasn't meant.

But you still get to keep the memory that someone did something good for you until you said what you felt right then - at that instant - when it was true because that was how you felt then just long enough to say it. Most men know that it's just a moment and nothing more and it doesn't mean anything but that the man in it did something good for you."

He sighed, "But you want to deny it, like it was a mistake. And you never think that you're the real thief in it. You get to think that it was pretty nice, but the man gets to think something different - if he's got a heart at all."

"I don't understand," Emmy said, "How did I take anything? I just said something that I didn't -"

"You didn't mean it," Quinton said, "I know. You didn't mean it, so it didn't really happen, so you're telling me that the moment when you said that four times, you were lying, because you didn't really mean it.

That means that what I got out of it didn't really happen - that I made you feel good enough to say what you felt right then, even if that's all that it was - you telling me that you love me for just that short length of time. It means that you didn't have that moment, so I did what I did for nothing, because it didn't mean what I thought that it did. It really means that you didn't enjoy what I did."

He looked over at her and she was a little shocked at what she saw in his eyes. "It was a moment, Emmy.

That's all that it was and you said how you felt for that moment. If you mean to tell me that it was nothing, then that's what it was. Nothing.

I won't waste my time again."

He moved to get up and she tried to hold him, "Where are you going?"

He didn't look at her, "I'm gonna get dressed and go outside to have a smoke. After that, I'll take one of these sleeping bags and go sleep in my seat up front."

Emmy threw herself onto him, forcing him back down. She knew that she had only a second before he just tossed her off of him, like she was nothing.

"Don't go, Quinton," she whispered, "not if you meant what you did for me at all. I think I get it now and I didn't think."

"It's alright," he said in a dead-sounding tone, "Just forget it and let me up."

"No I won't," Emmy said, "I'm not as dumb as I look, and I need to know something first, no matter what happens now."

He shook his head, "You've still got the job. Now let me up."

But she didn't. Before he tried really hard to get free, Emmy took the wind right out of his sails.

"That's not what I was asking for," she said, "How many women have done that to you?"

He looked at her as though he was a kid who'd been surprised to be found in a game of hide and seek.

"How many, Quinton? I might be a little new at this, but I can see that what I said hurt you from someplace long ago before me."

She kissed his cheek and reached to pull his face toward her, "I did love you when I said it. I just didn't think it was the right thing to say to you, like you might not want to hear that and I was just showing you that I'm a beginner at this kind of thing.

You were really hurt before, weren't you? So how many? I need to know what I'm working against, because you were my friend for at least a little while."

"Four," he said, "the last three wouldn't have bothered me, but I really meant it with the first one. She told me that it was nothing, just something that she said, and then she told me that she didn't love me at all and never had, though that was a new tune for her, since we'd been seeing each other for a while. From that I learned that I'd been an idiot. I just never got over that, I guess. I'd put a lot of myself into anything that I did for her."

"It wasn't like this with her, was it?" she asked, "You were trying to tell her something that time, weren't you?"

"I never do that unless I'm feeling something," he said to the ceiling.

Emmy was a little surprised, "You - you're feeling just like me, aren't you? You care."

Quinton didn't answer and she knew that he wouldn't. She moved her leg over one of his and she pulled him so that she could find the fit half on him. Looking down at him, she smiled and kissed him very slowly, very gently, but with as much feeling as she could put into it until he began to respond.

Once that happened, Emmy shifted herself so that she was on top of Quinton. With a little fumbling around, she had his hardness held captive between her thighs and she began to hump on him a little experimentally.

"I'm not trying to take anything right now," she smiled down at him. "This is for us."

Quinton was a little confused, though he didn't say anything about it. But Emmy knew it and she just kissed him for a little while, "'I learned this and some other stuff from my Momma," she smiled after a minute, "but I learned a little from the women on the reservation, the two who I could understand. This really old one would speak to me and another would translate it into English.

I was trying to learn to bead things and to them, it's a woman thing, where the women of a family and maybe a few of their friends and even some daughters sit around and talk a lot while they're working at an old craft. I listened hard, because they didn't speak to me much or often. They were giving me advice for later on, because they knew that I'd had my period and that changes a few things to them. I just didn't get it right away that they were talking about later.