Jen's Legacy.

She’d got to the point of giving up and letting the river take her when she felt herself suddenly arrested in her breathless ride down this battering water slide. Her struggles to keep her head above water were weakening, wondering how many more sudden, bruising bounces from rocks she could survive? How much colder could she get, feeling the numbing cold dulling her senses as she grew weaker?

How much more water might she swallow in her fight for air and to struggle to the shore? Her focus was now more on survival, than anything else, and to avoid being smashed unconscious against the rocks.

Something had changed. She was being held still, floating on her back but still buffeted by the water. There was an arm around her middle, changing its hold on her from around her waist to under her arms as she was dragged through the water. It was more a dream than real, being carried out of the water and laid on her side onto the sand, eyes closed, where she coughed up water, trying to fight off the cold; shivering, her teeth clenched tight together, too cold to chatter, with the cold water taking more of her breath away.

She gave up, feeling herself being pulled around, undressed out of her lifejacket, her shirt, her shorts, and then her sneakers and socks; feeling her arms lifted, and then her legs, as someone moved her again, examining her all over her body, though she was too cold to feel much of anything, just thankful to be out of the water.

Her swimsuit was the next to go, peeled down her and off her to leave her lying there, naked.

Surely this was not happening to her!

She had a vague sense of someone talking to her, talking to himself as he knelt across her looking down into her face with some concern as she coughed and spluttered water up into his face.

“That’s the spirit. Fight this!”

She felt his hands all over her, firmly sweeping water off her arms, off her body, her abdomen; from her breasts; which he had no hesitation in touching; from her shoulders, and then her legs; even between them—not caring where he touched her or how personally—before doing the same with her hair. He smoothed his hands over her face and neck as he talked to her, pulling her around, then moved her onto her side to do the same with her back, her buttocks, and even between her legs again, from both the front and the back as he swept the water firmly off her with his hands.

He was touching her again, repeating everything he had already done, returning to touch her too familiarly as he moved her around, and then he wrapped her in something warm, and pulled her onto her side as he continued to rub all over her and massage her cold legs.

She felt warmth from his bare legs against her middle.

When she opened her eyes, she was not sure what she was seeing, though soon recognizing that he was just as wet and naked as she was. He had been in the river too, so had got rid of his clothes too, and she could see everything about his body; unnerving her. Then she was moved again.

What did he intend for her? It seemed that one nightmare was about to turn into another. Was that why he had taken off her swimsuit?

He laid down with her, beside her, pulling her close into him, rubbing his hands all over her again, rubbing at her to dry her, doing it briskly and even more firmly to get her warm again, using something soft and comforting between his hands and her body as she lay into him.

He shouldn’t be doing this to her, but he was warm, even if he was too close to her, breathing into her face, talking to her, kissing her.

Kissing her?

That did not bode well for her, considering that other thing about him that she could feel, hard against her middle, or touching at her where it should not be.

That kiss got a response from her as he’d intended, seeing her eyelids flutter open again.

Why could she feel so much of his warmth? Her breasts were crushed up against his bare chest with nothing between them and his hands were behind her, on her lower back, touching her; large hands, warm, pulling her closer to him as though he were making love to her, but there was no discomfort from anything else pushing into her, as she knew there would have to be for him to be doing that to her.

Was this what making love was like? She was not sure. This was too gentle. It did not feel unpleasant or hurtful as she’d heard it would be when a man took that kind of special interest in her the first time.

She felt beaten up, and numb with cold, though with the tingling sense of pain arriving back into her limbs as they warmed. It was very like the pain she’d known as a girl, of her feet getting warmed up from being frozen from playing in the snow for too long, and of her sitting in front of a warm fire, crying at the pain of her chilblains. At least she had felt that pain, so she had not got frost-bitten.

Nothing, fully-registered with her. There was nothing she could do to stop him, no matter what he chose to do to her. She had to close her eyes, feeling him lying upon her, most of his weight on her, but he was warm, then kissing her under her neck, and by her ear, then on her eyes and lips, as he continued to talk to her and to pull her around.

Kissing her again? Why? But he was not doing anything else to her that she could feel, except he had touched her between her legs once; touching and teasing at her hair down there, although she may have just imagined that.

She was still in that dream, helpless, floating again. Nothing was real.

Then he was pulling her around once more, drying her briskly, almost to the point of pain as he spoke to her, telling her to stay with him, but where could she have gone?

What was he drying her with now? She began to feel warmer. She would pay any price just to feel warm again, even that more personal price that a man in his difficult condition would always demand.

She wanted to thank him for pulling her from the water, as well as to tell him off for removing her swimsuit and touching her as familiarly as he had, as well as for being naked and scaring her, but she could say nothing. She closed her eyes and waited to find out what would happen next, then opening them when she felt him leave her, seeing everything about his body now that she could see all of him.

Her mouth went dry at what she could see, and her legs clenched tightly together to keep him out of her. She was certainly recovering, even if he was not doing anything to her; though it was only a matter of time with him like that. Surely that could not be normal.

She heard other things happening close to her, watching him start a fire, heedless of his own nakedness (at least his mind was not fixed on her, to the exclusion of everything else), and begin to build it up with twigs before he went out of her sight for a moment, returning with a pan of water from the river, setting it close by the fire to warm up. If his mind was on those other things, as it must be, why was he still like that? Intimidating! Aroused. Unless that was how he normally was? God help her if that was the case! Her legs would not go any closer together than they were, seeing that about him.

Now her teeth were chattering to themselves.

She paid more attention to him. He did not look so very frightening as she’d heard a man could be when he was…like that… and with a naked woman at the focus of his attention.

He stood in front of the fire, running has hands over his body and hair, sweeping other water from being trapped in the hair covering his legs and he stood close over the fire, getting warm, almost causing her to smile; though how she could smile at a time like this, she didn’t know. He kept returning to her, setting her heart beating again, wondering if she should be prepared to object, enveloping her in his arms again, and he was oh-so-warm now, where he had been in front of the fire.

She gave up. What the hell. He still didn’t seem to care about them both being naked, or how vulnerable and helpless she was to fend off whatever he intended with him as aroused as he was.

Satisfied with the progress she was making as she became more conscious of him, he went back to the fire to make it up again and to build it up with larger pieces of wood, moving her clothing around to avoid them scorching.

She had to close her eyes when he returned. He was lying down with her again, pulling her close to him, then he moved behind her, reaching around her as no man had ever done before, pulling her back into him with his hand fully upon her breast, then moving to her middle, so that he could get closer into her back with the warmth of the fire in front of her and pushing closer to her. She was unable to complain about what she felt of him pushing at her and even intruding between her legs; through them, but not where it could be going; into her body.

It felt so strange to have a man touching her so familiarly, and she could neither fight, or object, but he wasn’t doing anything more personal to her, even though that fear would always be there, and the danger always present, with that item so close, and the way it was.

The fire was blazing now, and he moved away from her again, and added larger pieces of wood, checked the water and her clothing, and turned back to her.

She played dead again, closing her eyes, but breathing in a less labored way, though her heart was pounding away. What could she do if he decided to…? It would be rape. Nothing less than rape. She shouldn’t think of that.

Then, relief. A reprieve. She felt him bring her swimsuit back over her feet from by the fire. He didn’t intend to do that other to her, even though he seemed to be permanently primed enough to do so.

Oh, that, felt wonderfully warm on her legs and hips as he pulled it up on her to her waist.

He pushed his fingers into the edges of it at the legs and into that hair again, quickly running his fingers around the edges, pulling them away from her body and from being pulled too tight on her, startling her again as he positioned them on her body better, yet touching her so personally to do that, then pulled it farther up on her body again, as he sat her up, holding her close to him.

She felt his chest snug up against her exposed breasts as he pulled it higher on her, holding her against him, his warm breath flowing down across her breasts as he unrolled it over her body just as he had taken it off her, then bringing it up and over her breasts, as he threaded her arms through the broad straps. It was warm on her breasts, and comforting to feel them being covered once more.

He startled her to the point of her opening her eyes in alarm as she felt his hands go down into the front of her swimsuit to reposition her breasts without any hesitation or shyness. He lifted one, then the other with his large hand fully, and snuggly over each nipple, lifting up each breast in-turn to sit where it should be in that cup as he pulled her swimsuit down from where it would otherwise trap them. He should not have touched her like that!

He must not be aware that she was awake and conscious; or he didn’t care.

He had done this before, to help some other woman, for him to know about doing that for her comfort, and to stop her breasts being pinched under the tight fabric. She was getting warm now and beginning to relax, realizing that he was not going to take advantage of her in that other way as she’d feared with him being as obvious... there... as he still was.

He laid her back down as he checked her over again from head to toe and then startled her once more when she felt his fingers go into the edge of her swimsuit at the top of her legs yet again, moving directly into the hair down there as he took a firm hold, touching her personally now with the back of his fingers as he swept around her swimsuit, pulling the fabric firmly to cover her buttocks even better, loosening it on her.

He was one surprise after another, showing no suggestion of shyness or of holding back with her, but not threatening her either. Then he laid her down in his sleeping bag (she guessed that was what it was), with him kneeling in front of her, and pulled her closer to the fire, leaving the sleeping bag open around her where she could recover in the warmth from both the sun and the fire. He went back to making up the fire as she watched everything he did, seeing no threat there for her, even though he was still naked, and still so obviously aroused-- which she did not understand-- and yet she did understand it, and he was not in the least shy or concerned that she could see him like that.

She had never been so close to an entirely naked man, or had one strip all of her clothes from her, or hold her in his arms, as he’d dried and dressed her as he had.

Or kiss her.

Now that she was recovering, she could think ahead.

It would be no laughing matter if he decided to reverse any of what he'd done for her and decided to….

She would not dwell on that, but she did not close her eyes now; curious about him, wondering who he was and where he had come from.

She watched as he moved around, getting her shirt and shorts dry, and even his own. He must have jumped into the river fully clothed to have wet everything like that, and that was why he was naked, but she was not sure about the other she could see.

It was a simple explanation, and nothing for her to worry about. Except for what his body was telling her about his emotional state after undressing her and touching her as he had.

She was relieved when she saw him pull on his underwear, and then put on more of his clothes, except he still wasn't hidden enough for her peace-of-mind.