Wild Alaska Ch. 01

This is an original story from the mind of the Smokingdragon. Any similarities to any other story are coincidental. The characters it the story are all over 18, and are all fictional.

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My story is a difficult one. Both to remember, and to tell. I now know the meaning of "going to hell and back again." I have been through it, and survived. In order to understand the entire story, I have to start from the beginning, 25 years ago.

I grew up in a loving family environment. An only child, so I had all the attention of both parents. I was raised in Burien, Washington, a suburb of Seattle. I had the ideal childhood.

Summers at the beach, skiing at Crystal Mountain Resort. In my eyes, life was perfect. The only thing I've always wanted but never got, was a brother or sister to share it with. I knew my parents couldn't have any more children, so I put it out of my mind.

They've always supported me in everything I did.

I played a lot of sports as a kid, and they attended almost every game. My mother was a part time nurse, and a full time mother. My father was the local lock smith. He ran his own business and was very successful at it. At a young age, I learned how to pick locks. This came in handy during my teenage years. My friends and I got into a lot of trouble because of it. Only when we were caught though. My father always had plans of me working at his lock smith company, when I graduated. Someday, the idea was for me to take over the company, when my father retired. I had other plans.

When I turned 18, and finally graduated, I wanted to see the world. I've been stuck in the same place for most of my life. Yeah, we had the typical family vacations. Road trips to see all the wonders this country had to offer, but it wasn't enough for me. I wanted to travel to foreign countries. I wanted to see the world through my own two eyes. What better way, than to join the Armed Forces. I get to travel and get paid while doing so.

Within days of graduating, I headed to the local recruitment offices. I filled out all the proper paperwork, and got an interview that day. I was told they would be in touch. I left feeling pretty good about myself and headed home. When I told my parents, they freaked. I thought they would be proud, but they were more concerned than anything else. I told them, the military may not even call, but they did. A week later, I got the call. I was being sent to basic training in Fort Sill, Lawton, Oklahoma. The first half of basic training was Initial Entry Training or IET. That almost killed me. I thought I was in great shape before I started, I was wrong.

The second half was Advanced Individual Training or AIT. That came close to killing me again. I was determined to make it through, and I did.

After 45 weeks of grueling training, I was now officially assigned as a Communications specialist, in the US Army. I was given a leave of absence, and headed home. I never realized just how much respect the uniform carries. When I touched down at SeaTac airport, my stomach was in knots. It's been so long since I last saw my parents. They were waiting for me at the gate. My mom as usual, was crying her eyes out when she saw me in my uniform. My father was pretty teary eyed himself, but he was a proud man. He never cried. After lots of hugs and pats on the back, we were on our way home.

Life was good, then I got the call three days later. I was to return to base a.s.a.p. I was being deployed. I had no idea where I was going.

I was told I would be briefed when I got to the base. As it turns out, I was being transferred to an undisclosed location for further training with Special Forces unit, also known as "the Green Berets." I had to undergo 60 more weeks of additional training as a Special Forces Communication Sergeant. My physical and mental abilities were pushed to limits I never knew they could reach. The training was very intense. I was trained in many different skills from parachuting and scuba diving, to explosives handling and bomb and mine disposal. It was during these months, when I met my new unit and my brothers in arms.

The eight of us got along great right from the start. The best times were the nights of boozing it up and trying to fend off the women at the local watering hole. Most times I would cave in and it would end up in a drunken fuckfest. Over the next year, I became closer to my new brothers than anyone else. I've always wanted a brother growing up, now I have seven of them. We did everything together. Once our training was completed, we were informed that we were being deployed for a series of tours in Afghanistan. Routine protection and counter intelligence surveillance, or so we were told. 15 months, and we would be home.

The first tour, pretty much went without a hitch. . It helps when you have a great bunch of guys to watch your back. Yes, we had some close calls, but nothing my brothers and I couldn't handle. The time went by much faster than I thought. We returned to the states, and had some much need time off. We were all happy to be reunited with family and friends. We said our good byes and headed off in separate directions.

We had 12 weeks before we would be back to begin our second tour. During this time, we kept in contact through phone calls and e-mails. I wasn't used to being away from my brothers for extended periods of time. Next thing we knew, we were all together again, on a transport flight headed back to Afghanistan. The second and the third tour was pretty quiet, like the first. It was the fourth tour, where the proverbial shit hit the fan. That's when all hell broke loose. I would never be the same person again.

The fourth tour started out just like any other before it. We were stationed just outside of a small town of Gardez, in western Afghanistan. There has been reports of Taliban activity in the area. We woke up, did our morning 15 mile run. We had our breakfast, and got ready for a routine surveillance. 45 miles into our patrol, I received a call of suspicious activity in the neighboring town of Khost.

The sun was beating down on us, and we were choking on the dust from our convoy. It was hotter than hell, I've never felt heat like that before or since. Especially when you're wearing full combat gear. We started heading in a northeast direction when it hit. I should say, when we hit it. An improvised explosive device (IED). All I remember is laughing and joking with my brother in arms, when a super-heated orange cloud of dust and debris rose up in front of us.

The ground seemed to lift up beneath us. A huge explosion went off, and the last thing I remember was the windows of the truck imploding into the cab. The IED tore through the first armored vehicle, killing everyone inside instantly, and tossing the second truck like a match box toy. We landed upside down and I was instantly pinned inside the cab. I couldn't hear anything except for the constant ringing in my ears. I had blood running into my eyes and mouth, so I couldn't see anything. I called out for my brothers, but couldn't hear them. That's when the pain kicked in. My left arm and my chest were searing like they were on fire.

I tried to find the radio to call for help, but I must have passed out. When I regained consciousness, I was being air lifted to the nearest field hospital. I tried to look around for my brothers, but did not see them in the evac chopper. I remember the look on the medic's faces were sheer horror. I knew something was wrong. Things around me started to fade to black. I passed out once again.

I woke up several days later in a field hospital, just outside Kandahar. I was in critical condition and being transported to Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany. The pain in my left arm and chest was so intense. I have never felt pain like that before, or since. I kept asking about my brothers, but was told I would be briefed when I got to Germany. The doctors then injected me with more morphine, and told me to sleep. The light faded, and I was out once again.

I woke up in the recovery ward of the hospital with military doctors standing over me. They finally filled me in on all the details. In a blink of an eye, I lost five out of seven members of my unit. Everyone in the first armoured vehicle, were killed instantly. In our vehicle, Tony Marino who was driving, was also killed instantly. Carl Jones, who was in the rear driver's side, was on life support. Ryan Smith was riding shot gun in the front, he was hit with shrapnel and also on life support. The medical staff didn't think they would survive the night.

I was the lucky one. I was riding in the rear passenger's side when the IED went off. My left arm and my chest had been ripped to shreds by flying debris and glass. I could not move my arm, due to the extensive muscle and nerve damage, not to mention the several compound fractures. The rest of me was protected by the front seat. Ryan's body acted as a shield. I was told they could save my arm and would regain full use through rehabilitation.

"Cooper, looks like you're going home." The doctor told me.

I couldn't say anything. All I thought about was my brothers, and how I would never see their faces again. A tear rolled down my cheek, and was absorbed quickly by the pillow. I heard him clearly, for my hearing was slowly returning. I just was in no mood to talk. All I thought about then was why me? Why did I survive and not them?

A few days passed, my discharge papers were on their way. I was going home. The lead surgeon came in carrying my file. He stood beside my bed and flipped through the pages.

"Cooper, do you know who your birth parents are?"

"Excuse Me?" I asked "Birth parents?" "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Your medical records don't coincide with those of your parents." He explained.

That's how I found out I was adopted. I had to talk to my parents when I arrived home two days later.

A couple of days after arriving home, I started my rehabilitation for both my arm, my chest and was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder. I was still pretty depressed about not being able to use my left arm and the loss of my brothers in Afghanistan. The ceremony for my fallen unit was held a couple weeks later in Washington DC.

During the following week, I sat down with my parents to discuss this adoption. As it turned out, they could not have children of their own. They adopted me when I was 8 weeks old. They had no idea who my birth parents were but had their full support if I wanted to track them down. I decided to start with the adoption agency. My files were no longer sealed, so accessing them were pretty easy. The files contained the names of my birth parents. Anne and Michael Stevens. I tracked down the address that was listed in the file. It was in the nearby town of Yakima. I decided I would take the trip after my rehab and check it out.

I continued my rehabilitation slowly but painfully. I started to regain some movement in my fingers and my wrist. I had to relearn how to write and pick things up. It took a bit of getting used to, but I finally got the hang of it. A couple of months later, I headed out to Yakima to track down my birth parents. I arrived at the house only to find out, they passed away several years before. The new home owners told me to go check out the city's records for more information. I arrived at city hall and started going through the files I was given on Anne and Michael Stevens. That's when I found out, I had a younger sister, Alexis. The only information contained within the file was that she was born in the local hospital with the date and time. I had to track her down. At least this would keep my mind busy and off my PTSD.

After a lot of failed attempts through neighbors, old friends, and schools, I was told she was living in Anchorage Alaska. Never been there before, I've always heard it was beautiful and cold. Before I did anything, I had to return to Seattle.

I completed the rest of my rehab over the next six months. I started making plans for my trip to Alaska. My arm was healing faster than the doctors predicted. I had regained 90% of the movement, but still had stiffness, scarring, and phantom pain. My PTSD was becoming more manageable, and I was starting to enjoy life once again.

I decided to go to a local tattoo shop, and get a full sleeve done on my left arm and chest to remember my fallen brothers. I was told by the artist that tattooing over scar tissue would be a little more difficult, but possible.

It took several months to complete the tattoo, but it turned out better than I ever expected. It was a mural that covered most of the scarring. It contained the names of all seven members of my fallen unit and our squad logo. He managed to incorporate the scarring into the design. The most beautiful piece of artwork I have ever seen.

I returned to my parent's home, where I have been staying. I started booking flights and making arrangements for my trip to Anchorage. I was leaving in three days. Little did I know, this trip would change my life in ways I couldn't have imagined? I read everything I could on Alaska, its economy, and its wilderness. I went online and people searched Alexis Stevens. There were several results that were connected to her name.

Three were right in Anchorage, and two in the remote towns outside of Anchorage. I wanted to be as prepared as I possibly could. There was no direct flight to Anchorage, I had an 11 hour layover in Portland, Oregon. I booked a hotel and would just hang out there. My parents dropped my off at SeaTac airport, we said our good byes, and I checked my bags and all my gear. As I sat in the boarding lounge, reality started to hit. Was I making the right choice? How would I get around?

Just then, the boarding announcement came over the terminal speakers.

"This is the first boarding call for Alaska Airlines flight 735 to Portland, now boarding through gate 17."

I got up and grabbed my carryon luggage. I started fumbling a bit with the bag. My arm still wasn't working as well as I would have liked. That's when one of the most beautiful flight attendants I ever saw, came over and asked me if I needed any help. Her blue topaz eyes were amazing. Heir golden blonde hair flowed down her back. She pushed her bangs gently away from those topaz eyes, and tucked behind her ear. She had one of the most beautiful smiles I've ever seen.

I was speechless at first.

"Um, thank you." I stammered. I smiled back at her.

I have not been with a woman since one drunken night during a leave of absence with my brothers. I can't exactly recall what happened, or even what she looked like. I just remember the multiple shots of straight Jack Daniels. I'm not too proud of that.

"Is it usual for beautiful flight attendants to help passengers who can't carry their own bags?" I asked with another smile.

"Only the cute ones." She replied. "Are you off to Portland?

I'm off to Anchorage, with a layover in Portland" I said, as we passed through the gate, and headed down the gateway to the aircraft.

"Are you working on this flight?" I asked?

"No." she replied. "I just finished a flight and headed back home." "Do you live in Anchorage?"

"No, I don't."

I started to tell her why I was heading to Anchorage, when we reached our seats. I was really hoping we were sitting beside each other during the flight. She must have picked up on that, because she kindly asked the gentleman next to me if she could switch seats with him. He agreed, and took her place beside me. I was ecstatic.

"I hope you don't mind." She asked.

"No, not at all." I answered. "I was kind of hoping we got to sit next to each other."

She smiled and pushed her beautiful golden hair behind her ears again.

"My name is Jenna." She said.

"Pleasure to meet you Jenna." "I'm Erik." I responded.

I removed my jacket, and stowed it away in the overhead compartment. I helped her with her bags, as best as I could and we took our seats. She noticed the tattoo on my left arm and asked about it, as she ran her fingers gently over the ink. I proceeded to tell her the story of my military service, my fallen brothers, and the rehabilitation afterwards. She was in shock at what had happened, and what I've been through.

During the course of the flight, we talked, laughed, and enjoyed each other's company. The 38 minute flight seemed shorter than I expected. When we disembarked from the plane, she asked me where I was staying during the 11 hour layover. I told her I had booked a hotel. We made plans to go out for dinner and a few drinks.

She told me she wanted to go home and get changed first. She would swing by my hotel and pick me up. I jumped on the shuttle bus to the hotel, and checked in. I was getting ready in my hotel room, when the phone rang. The front desk advised me Jenna had arrived in the lobby. I told them I would be right down. I arrived in the lobby. The sight of Jenna standing there, waiting for me, was amazing. She wore a short little black dress that fit her body like a glove.

She stood 5' 7", about 125lbs, with a body to die for. She had small B cup breast that looked firm and very perky. I guessed she wasn't wearing a bra, judging by the way her nipples were pressing against the thin fabric. Her beautiful blonde hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall of gold. She was one of the most gorgeous creatures I've ever seen. My manhood started to stir beneath my jeans. We embraced and headed out the lobby doors. While she walked in front of me, I glanced down at her perfect ass. No panty lines.

A grin spread across my face.

During dinner, she continued to tell me about her life. She was divorced with no kids. She worked as a flight attendant for Alaska Airlines, during the past eight years. I couldn't take my eyes off her, as she proceeded to tell me about herself.

She played and twisted her hair through her fingers, while she spoke. Dinner arrived, we ate and finished off our bottle of wine. I ordered another to accompany our dessert. I could feel her playing footsy under the table. I was feeling better than I have in years. We fed each other dessert, finished off the second bottle of wine, and decided to head back to my hotel room to get a little more comfortable.

On the way back to the hotel, things really started to heat up between us. We started passionately kissing in the back of the cab. I wasn't too surprised, when the driver became distracted and couldn't keep his eyes on the road.

I started to explore that magnificent body of hers. Those breasts were as firm as they looked. I discovered she was not wearing a bra, as I gently rubbed her erect nipples through my fingers. By this time, my jeans had grown tight as my cock strained to be released. It didn't help the situation any, when she reached down and began to rub it through the denim. She leaned over, whispered in my ear and proceeded to tell me how wet she had become. I thought I would lose my load right there, when we finally arrived at the hotel. We quickly exited the cab, I paid the driver, and rushed to get Jenna up to my room.

The wait for the elevator seemed to take forever.

Finally, the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. We quickly entered and I repeatedly hit the button to close the door. I didn't want anyone else to ride with us. The moment the doors closed, we were all over each other. The lust swept through us like a wave. I slipped my hand down beneath the hem of her dress. As I slid my hands up between her thighs, my suspicions were confirmed. She in fact was not wearing any panties. My fingers slipped between her pussy lips so easily. I couldn't believe how wet she was.

She let out a loud throaty groan, as I pushed my fingers deeper inside her. She undid the button on my jeans, and slipped her hand down into my pants. She grabbed a hold of my cock through my boxers and tugged furiously. I was in pure ecstasy. That's when the elevator doors dinged again. Perfect, we reached our floor. Or so I thought. The doors slid open and there stood an elderly couple. We quickly withdrew our hands from each other's groin, but they knew what we were up to. The elderly woman had a look of sheer disgust across her face, as they stepped inside.