After the girls had gone and Pete and Darlene had left to go back to the boat, Bunny and Jim looked at each other for a moment in the awkward silence.
"Well," he said, "I suppose we had best clean up this cabin."
"If you want," she said.
"Well, isn't that what Pete asked us to do?"
"Yes. They won't be back for awhile." She gave him a long look.
Jim-coughed self-consciously.
He looked down at his open fly and remembered. He looked up at Bunny and smiled sheepishly.
"Why did you do what you did?" he asked.
"What's that?"
"On the boat. You know."
"Oh, that? I just felt like it. I wanted to see if you would get excited."
"But… right out in the open like that. Weren't you afraid of your husband?"
"Pete? Hardly, Jim. He had his hands full at the time. And his mind was on a lot of other things."
"Yes, I suppose so. I-I don't know what to say, Mrs. Lonsdale. I-I've never had anyone do anything like that to me before."
"No, I suppose not," she smiled. "Zip up your fly, Jim. And call me Bunny. Let's get some of this clutter cleaned up and then we can talk. Okay?"
"Okay, Mrs.,- uh, Bunny," he said, and zipped up his fly.
The dirt floor of the adobe was littered with rusted tin cans, old newspapers, El Mexicano, dirty cloths, an old mattress that rats had used for nesting, fish hooks and line, some yellowed magazines and assorted utensils that were broken and useless. Bunny made piles of the rubble and Jim carried them out into the storm and threw them twenty yards from the adobe. Soon the clay shack began to look as barren as when it was first built. Bunny's clothes had almost dried when they were finished. She sighed and sat on a wooden barrel that she had not thrown out, a nail keg that was still intact.
"That was work," Jim said. "I wish they'd get back."
"They'll be back soon," Bunny said.
"I hope they bring some beer. I'm thirsty." Bunny thought that he was probably still drunk.
"Do you swing, Jim?" she asked, delighting in her sudden cruelty.
"I-I don't know what you mean," he said honestly.
"Never mind."
She looked at him. He was a slender man who looked almost consumptive, with a sunken chest and frail hands and arms. He was almost handsome with his dark hair and brown eyes, but back of them she saw little backbone, little character. Still, she was attracted to him because he was a square. If he had been more aggressive they wouldn't be wasting all this time while Pete was balling Darlene. She was sure of that. She knew her husband too well and knew that he had made good time before the storm hit. Well, that was all right. She had Jim to coach and from the looks of it, it was going to take some doing. Yet the business of the open fly had opened up a hell of a lot of ground. She chuckled to herself thinking about it.
"What're you thinking about?" Jim asked her.
"You," she said,
"Me?"
"Yes, I was just thinking how cute and innocent you are, Jim."
"I don't understand."
"Have you ever balled anybody in your life besides Darlene?"
"I'm sorry, Mrs.-I mean, Bunny, I don't quite get your point."
"Have you ever been unfaithfu1 to your wife?"
"Of course not. We grew up together. But I'm surprised you would ask such a question."
"Don't let it throw you."
"I guess you and Mr. Lonsdale lead a-a different sort of life than we do, Mrs., ah, Bunny."
"Yes Jim, I suppose we do," she sighed.
"Darlene and I grew up together, went to the same schools, the same church. Both liked the same things. She would never, ah, and I would never. I mean we're just not that way. I don't mean that you and Mr. Lonsdale are, but I mean you both seem a lot more worldly than we." He was still a little tipsy, she could tell. His words were slightly slurred by the effects of the beer.
"Don't you ever feel as though you're missing something, Jim?"
"Why no-no, I don't think so. We have a very full life, Darlene and I."
"Really? It looks quite sheltered from here. But I'm not knocking it, Jim baby. Except that I think it's time you started living. Really living. Grooving."
"I don't think we ought to be talking this way with your husband gone, Bunny."
"Gone or here, what's the difference? Come here, Jim," she ordered.
Jim hesitated a second or two, then came and stood in front of Bunny, who was sitting, legs apart, on the keg.
"Here, Jim, give me your hand." He gingerly held out his hand.
Bunny took it and placed it on her breast. She felt it tremble as she took a deep breath. Her breast rose with the breathing and filled his shaking hand. Bunny looked up into Jim's eyes and saw only darkness. She wished she could see them but it was too dark in the adobe.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked, finally.
"Because I don't want you to be afraid of me." she said. "I want you to touch me, Jim."
He tried to take his hand away from her breast. She held on to it and began to rub it in a circular motion.
"Do you know," she told him, "how good that feels to me? I can feel your hand clear down between my legs."
"Good lord," he mumbled. "This is unbelievable."
"You'll believe it, Jim." She stood up, still holding his hand clasped to her breast. She put her body next to his so that they were touching. He was trembling all over, whether from the cold or the nearness of her she didn't know. She kept kneading his hand on her breast. With her other hand she grabbed his and put it between her legs.
"Oh lord," he said. "Mrs. Lonsdale, you're making me do this." His voice shook as though he spoke while running on a treadmill.
"Yes, Jim, I am. But I want you to enjoy it. Do you know that your hand on me gives me a hell of a thrill?"
"No. I mean yes. I don't know. I don't want to do this."
"How do you feel, Jim?"
"My legs-my legs feel like they're made of rubber. I don't feel so good."
She pulled his hand hard against her pussy. She could feel his palms go sweaty as he contacted the warmth of her nest. She ground her pubes against his hand and held his other hand right against her breast. "That's good, Jim. It feels very good," she said softly in the darkness of the adobe.
Crashes of lightning lit the two as they stood there like some half-lit tableau. It was very quiet in the cabin but they could hear the rain driving against the thick walls and spattering above them on the roof.
"Oh lord, I can't believe this," he whispered more to himself then to Bunny.
She moved his hand to her leg and the hem of her shorts. She hunched herself down slightly and pushed his hand inside. The shorts were loose on her leg and his hand went underneath the cloth.
He didn't try to elude her grasp although he could have easily slipped away now that her hand had less control over his. Bunny smiled to herself in the darkness.
"Put your hand inside," she whispered. "Find me. Find my pussy."
Jim felt dizzy and his legs went weak.
"Please," she moaned. "Do this for me, Jim. Please."
She felt his hand move slightly closer toward her nest. It was one of the eeriest feelings she had ever experienced.
"Please. Touch me, Jim."
His hand moved closer until it touched the curly wire hairs on the outer edges of her pussy.
"Closer," she urged.
Jim's breathing was very heavy and it filled the quiet room with its painful sound. He moved his hand still closer until his palm was scratchy with the nest of pubic hairs. Bunny had moved him around so that he could put his hand in as far as she wanted it without causing him to feel any more awkward than he already did.
"Touch it," she said.
Jim took in a deep breath. His hand hovered over her pussy lips for a long moment and then moved gently toward her pussy until it was touching the flesh.
Bunny let out a long sigh. "That feels good, Jim. Are you all right?"
"I-I don't know what to say. This is something I never would have thought I would do. I'm glad I'm a little drunk."
Bunny smiled and patted his hand underneath her shorts. "I want you to put your finger inside me." she said.
"I-this is wrong, Mrs. Lonsdale, wrong!" he blurted his voice trembling.
"Look, Jim, you've gone this far. We're not doing anything wrong. I just want to feel your finger inside me. Now take your hand away. That's it. Now stand to one side of me. No, wait. I'll pull my shorts and panties down. Don't worry now, dammit."
She unbuttoned her shorts and unzipped them in the back and let them drop to the floor. She dropped her panties to her knees. Jim could see her dark patch and her legs fairly clearly and he shook his head in bewilderment.
"Now, Jim. Touch me again."
She took his hand when he hesitated and put it on her pussy again.
"Put your finger inside me." She squatted slightly and spread her legs as his finger groped for the hole.
"There. That's it." she said. "Put it in deep." His finger slid past her lips and into her slot. He felt her body shudder and his own knees weaken like young trees being climbed by a heavy animal.
Their twin breathings became very audible in the adobe shell. Like the whispers of lovers under summer trees or the rustle of sheets in clandestine bedrooms. Like the deep sighings of large animals mating in spring forests. Like the sounds a house makes when it has been empty a long time and a listener comes in and hears its memories moving.
Bunny put her hand on Jim's crotch. She felt his cock curled up hard like the knob on a Scotsman's knurled cane and she slid her own hand up inside his shorts and grabbed the bone of it. She uncurled it and felt a spasm shake Jim's body.
"Finger fuck me, Jim," she said quietly. He knew what to do.
He moved his finger in and out of her pussy as she stripped his cock with her hand, making it grow large and virile.
"Does this feel good to you, Jim?" she asked after a few moments.
"I would be lying if I said it didn't. Lord, Bunny, what if they should come back?" he moaned.
"They'd probably laugh their asses off," she grinned and squeezed his cock hard.
Jim let out a breath. She could feel him coming close to orgasm. She herself was wet through and through with the probings of his supple finger inside her pussy.
She pulled his cock out of his shorts, sideways. Then she jacked it very quickly, moving her hand up and down its length in swift strokes, squeezing the uncircumcised head very hard as her fist passed it. She could sense his knees buckling and the sperm starting to rise in his stalk like sap in an April tree.
Quickly she moved her head down to his shorts and held the head of his cock up to her mouth. Just as she swallowed his foreskin she felt the hot juices spurt into her throat. Above her, incongruously, she could hear him sobbing, sobbing like a lost child.