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“Ugh! I can not believe it is this cold, Jake,” My sister, Erica said again, disgusted.
We were driving home from an impromptu family gathering. My Aunt wanted us all to stay the night at her house, but Erica had to study for an exam coming up on Monday, and I wanted to have a day to rest up and just be lazy before I had to return to work. It was already late on Saturday night when we left and with the current weather conditions, the three-hour drive would probably take us more like five hours. Mom and Dad agreed to stay the night and said they would head for home in the morning. Erica and I agreed that we would take my car and make the trip tonight.
Snow began to softly fall as we pulled out of the driveway. Our Aunt, Jenny, had suggested that we bypass the interstate and take a shortcut down the canyon. It wasn’t that much of a shortcut, but it would save us sixty miles and we could jump on the interstate at the bottom.
Several things should have happened before we took off for the waiting canyon: First, and most importantly, we should have stayed the night. Second, we should have packed some blankets. Third, we should not have taken the shortcut. Then again, mine and Erica’s relationship would not have…grown…in such a way had we not taken the shortcut.
As soon as we got in the car Erica started talking about how nice it was to see everybody again, then quickly transitioned into talking about school and what she was studying and what she had to get done before classes started again on Monday. It was an engaging conversation and I was quickly drawn in. Erica was just easy to talk with, she always had been. She was always so animated and usually excited about almost everything, even her upcoming exam which I couldn’t understand. She was just confident about that, I suppose.
Before leaving our Aunt’s house, Erica had changed into a worn set of sweatpants and a matching faded purple hoodie with the words “Super Star” screened onto the front in huge, feminine lettering. The sweatpants had the same thing screened across the ass. It was her favorite “comfy” outfit. For the long ride home, I couldn’t blame her; the more comfortable we both were the better. Erica was prone to wearing form-fitting clothes that didn’t expose too much skin. I couldn’t remember a time when she wore a shirt that exposed her belly. Her shoulder-length, raven-black hair bounced and swayed as she talked and accented her elf-like features incredibly well. She had a slender, button nose and large green eyes, combined with a wide mouth; thin upper lip and full lower lip. In the soft glow of the radio and dash lights, she looked incredibly sexy and below her twenty-one years of age. She kicked her shoes off onto the floor and was now sitting on the bench seat with her feet tucked under her, Indian-style, her green and pink striped stocking feet peeping out from the knot of her legs.
I had let the car run for fifteen minutes to allow the heater to warm up the cab while we said our goodbyes. Both Erica and I stuffed our luggage, coats, and outerwear, into the trunk so as to be more comfortable for the ride. For my own attire, I chose a ratty old set of sweatpants, gray not pink, and a worn-out blue hoodie that zipped up the front.
My car was an old steel box. A 1979 Pontiac Bonneville and while it was large and comfortable and powerful, being a rear wheel drive vehicle, it sometimes got squirrely on the ice. I knew I’d have to pay attention to the road conditions on the way down the canyon.
As the lights from the house receded and we turned on the paved road south down the dark canyon, I quickly noticed that the light snow falling had not begun to stick on the pavement yet. On the outer shoulders, it had started to collect but not in the traffic lanes. So far it was just melting there.
Erica reached down in front of her to the plastic bag on the floorboard and pulled out a bag of pretzels to munch on as she was telling me how one of the men in her phlebotomy class passed out when two vials of blood were removed from his body via an intravenous catheter. All very interesting.
We had made our way down the canyon about half-way when I let my attention from the road slip to glance at her as she was talking. As my luck would have it, it was the wrong time to do such a thing. She looked back at me as I made a witty comment about the big, strong man that passed out in her phlebotomy class, smiling that sweet smile of hers. As I turned my gaze back towards the road ahead a large cow elk bounced into the roadway from the inclining hill to the right, directly in front of kurtuluş escort the car. My reaction was a reflex, something beyond my control. Many times when things like that happen, we don’t have time to think and our brain just takes over. Call it animal instinct or self-preservation if you want.
My foot came off the accelerator all on its own and slammed down on the brake pedal. The result was that the ass end of the vehicle quickly overtook the front end as we spun down the middle of the roadway. We had not passed another vehicle since we started down and there were no other vehicles in the roadway now. I heard Erica scream as we spun wildly in a counter-clockwise direction.
I had time enough to glance at her again and register the terrified look on her beautiful face before we tore through the four-foot snow embankment on the left side of the road after crossing the other traffic lane. The car sailed at a steep down-grade along the slope of the mountain for a hundred yards before it slammed to a stop. We were both heaved against our restraints. Erica’s breath came out of her with a sudden “Oomph” and I blurted out “Aww, FUCK!”
The engine of the car rattled to a stop, death throes, you might say, and then there was silence. The car must have hit a tree on my side as we were tilting that way, maybe a five percent grade.
“Are you okay?” I asked Erica.
“I think so,” she said, checking herself. “What the fuck happened?”
“Goddamn elk happened. Jumped right in front of the car. Didn’t you see it?”
“Uh-uh.” She said simply. She seemed to be out of sorts a little.
I checked myself for injuries and decided other than maybe a bruised clavicle from the seatbelt that I was otherwise fine. I removed my seat belt and attempted to open my door to assess the situation. It wouldn’t budge. I turned and looked at all the windows. They were all blocked out by white. We were covered in snow. Having all of the windows covered in white gave off a strange luminescence throughout the cab. I tried the engine again but it wouldn’t turn over at all, not even a click. The battery was likely dislodged and disconnected when we hit. Not good. If we couldn’t’ start the engine we couldn’t get heat. If we couldn’t get heat we were probably going to freeze to death.
Fortunately, the car was old enough that it had the old-fashioned roller windows that you had to expel energy to open instead of relying on power. When I gave the handle a crank, however, the window came down about two inches and stopped. I tried to force it but it wouldn’t move. Something serious had happened to my side of the car. I knew that Erica’s window was broken. The cable that ran everything in there had snapped more than a year ago. I had torn the door apart and installed a screw into the window rail so that the window would stay up. That one wasn’t coming down.
“Try to open your door,” I told Erica.
When she undid her seatbelt she slid down the bench seat into my side.
“Oomph,” I said.
“Shit! I should have expected that. Sorry.”
She pulled herself back over to the door and tried to open it. It wasn’t having it either. At least not from my petite sister. I told her to switch me places so I could try it. She slid back down toward me and my first instinct was to go over her, but she lifted her butt up onto my lap and slid past me. It wasn’t an unwelcome experience. I had always known my sister was beautiful. Even told her so on occasion, but I wasn’t in the habit of thinking about her in a sexual way. When she slid her perfect ass across my lap, I thought of her in a sexual way. It just happened, like my involuntary reaction to seeing the elk in the road. I couldn’t help it. An image of my cock pressed into the crack of her ass flashed in my head.
I cleared my throat and pulled myself towards the passenger side door. After pulling the door lever and pushing with my hands and having no luck, I reared back and hit it with my shoulder a couple of times. The only thing that happened was that my bruised collarbone started hurting more. The door didn’t move. There must be a significant amount of snow covering the car.
The temperature inside the vehicle was dropping at a rapid rate, with no heat from the engine blowing in, it wouldn’t be long before the atmosphere inside the car was the same as outside. Maybe colder because this vehicle was all steel. It would be like sitting in a freezer. I was starting to be thankful that it wasn’t extremely cold outside. The forecast said that the overnight low would be close to 30 degrees in the area. Still, it was way too cold to sustain the appropriate body temperature. We would get too cold and eventually slip into hypothermia. A severe enough case of that means death.
I looked over at Erica. She was leaned up against the door, with her back against it looking at me. I couldn’t read her expression. Call it neutral.
“What do we do now?” she asked.
I shook my head, “I don’t know.” I reached for my cell phone thinking I could levent escort make a phone call and get some help down here to get us out. No joy there, it had a little X where there should have been bars of service. “Shit. Check your cell, see if you have service.”
She already had her cell phone in hand and glanced at it. No service on her phone either. I was an outdoors type of guy, I loved the mountains. At the moment, though, fuck the mountains and their cell signal blocking powers.
Erica looked up at me and asked, “Can we get to the trunk?”
In my rattled state I misunderstood the question. “Sis, we can’t get out of the car to get to the trunk..”
“Not from the outside, dummy. Can’t we pull the cushion off the back seat and crawl through to the trunk?”
Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. I honestly didn’t know if I could or not. I’d never removed the back seat since I owned the car. Still, I had seen my friends do exactly that with their cars. There was generally just a frame behind the seats with holes big enough to crawl through. In today’s modern vehicles, the seats in most cases actually had a latch that you could disengage and fold the back of the seat forward. This being an older vehicle, I was certain that the seat would not fold down. I was pretty sure that I could remove the entire back cushion. If I could remove the cushion and store it on the shelf of the back window it would be out of the way and we would have access to the trunk.
“Good thinking,” I said giving her a wink. I turned and boosted myself over the front bench seat to the back seat and started looking around to see how the seat was attached. I couldn’t figure it, though, and instead grabbed it in the middle at the top and bottom of the seat and gave a yank. There was some give to the seat back but it didn’t come off. With a little coaxing and some manpower, it finally gave.
When I moved the cushion out of the way and looked at what sort of access we had to the trunk I was disappointed. There was no seat frame. Behind the seat cushion was a solid steel wall. Probably not thick steel, but strong enough that I couldn’t manipulate it at all. There were a couple of holes through the steel that allowed for wiring to pass through. You have to appreciate the small things sometimes. At least we wouldn’t run out of oxygen. I could feel a light breeze coming through the hole nearest to me. That meant that at least the ass end of the car, or part of it was not buried in snow.
I turned around and looked at Erica, she was still against the driver’s side door. She had brought her legs up in front of her and had wrapped her arms around them. She appeared to be trying to make herself as small as possible and she was doing a good job of it. I looked again at her face. She was pale and had a very light sheen to her skin. She was sweating lightly, sitting here in the cooling car.
“Are you alright?” I asked, concerned.
“I don’t feel good,” she said as she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the window.
Having some basic medical training, I moved across the seat once again to sit in front of her. I reached out and took her wrist, feeling for the pulse. Her heart rate was rapid but strong. Her skin was smooth but indeed, pale and clammy.
“You’re in shock, little sister,” I told her.
“I need a drink.”
“We didn’t bring any alcohol,” I said.
She attempted a smile and said, “Water.”
“No water right now, you need to lie down,” I instructed.
She tried to move towards me, away from the door in an effort to lie with her head on the uphill side.
“Nope,” I stopped her. She just looked at me, awaiting instruction. She knew I had taken some medical courses. “You need to lie down with your feet above your head. As luck would have it we’re leaning on your side.”
I slid back towards the passenger side and grabbed her stocking feet above the ankles. “Hang on,” I told her and pulled.
She squealed as I pulled her across the seat towards me, her small frame sliding easily over the bench seat thanks to the sweatpants that covered her ass. She was a petite woman standing five-foot-four and at 108 lbs she was nothing to maneuver into position. When I had pulled her close enough in my direction, I told her to lie down. She leaned back and rested her head on the seat, then covered her eyes with her arm.
“You stay like that until I see some color come back to you,” I said.
Erica had always been small and fair-skinned. Her black hair was as fine as silk threads and seemed to flow and ripple whenever she moved her head in the slightest way. It was shoulder length, growing out from a pixie cut she had done 8 months before. A strand was stuck to the corner of her mouth.
I sat silently watching her chest rise and fall with each breath, timing them. I became enchanted with the small mounds of her breasts rising and falling and had to refocus and start counting again. When she first lay down she was breathing at twenty-two respirations maçka escort per minute. After a few minutes of silence, her breathing had calmed to sixteen and some pink was coming back into her pale skin.
“How are you feeling now?” I asked.
She removed her arm from across her eyes and looked at me, “Better,” she said. “Can I sit up now?”
“Sure, if you’re feeling up to it.”
She sat up smoothly, a testament to her fitness level. Sitting up from a declined position without the slightest difficulty meant she had a strong core.
She was six inches from my face when she asked, “What happens now?”
“Well, we’re not getting out of here by ourselves. We’ll have to wait for rescue. It was about 11:30 PM when we wiped out. I expect Mom and Dad won’t be up and about for six hours or so. I’ll assume that when they see we haven’t checked in that they’ll try to call us. When they can’t get hold of either of us they’ll come looking. I would expect to be stuck here until late morning or early afternoon. Maybe sooner.
“More than twelve hours, then.” She looked down and I noticed a familiar glistening in her eyes. She was crying.
“Hey! What’s with the waterworks? We’re fine for now.” I reached for her and pulled her into a hug. She came willingly and rested her head against my chest, sniffling. I could feel her body shake with her silent sobs. She was more afraid than I realized. Me? I looked at this more like an inconvenience.
I stroked her silky hair which released a light smell into the air surrounding her head, like watermelons but slightly sweeter. After a short time of speaking soft reassurances to her, she calmed down and stopped crying.
She lifted her head from my chest and looked at me, “Thanks, Jake. I feel much better now.”
She let gravity pull her back until she was leaned up against the driver’s side door below me. I could see her breath as she exhaled, a clear indicator that it was getting colder in the cab.
Since the crash, she had been unusually reserved, quiet which was uncharacteristic. Another tell-tale sign that she was frightened. She had resumed her position against the door, hugging her legs. I reached out and pulled her right leg toward me.
“What are you doing?” she asked with a hint of suspicion. She was quite ticklish on her feet but I had no intention of tickling her feet in this situation. I only wanted her to relax a little.
I glanced at her but didn’t answer. Instead, I focused my attention on her foot. I wrapped both of my large hands around her small foot, thumbs pressed against the bottom and the rest of my fingers around the top. I started to massage the bottom of her foot, apparently a little too lightly because she started to giggle and tried to pull her foot away.
“Okay, okay, I get it. I need to press a little harder,” I said.
She extended her leg again when I applied a bit more force to the bottom of her foot until I was beyond that ticklish point and into the massage. I had never massaged her feet before. I was always the one pinning her down and tickling them to the point of madness whenever she got a good, witty jab in during our conversations. This was new for the both of us.
She sighed and leaned her head back as her eyes closed. “Oh, my God. That feels so good.”
Her feet were beautiful, like the rest of her, with a high arch and dainty toes. Toes that were now wiggling in appreciation of the massage. She wore a size six in women’s shoes. Less than half of the size of my feet at a size thirteen.
I worked on her right foot with her sock on for a bit before reaching up to push the pant leg of her sweats up above her calf and pulling her sock off. She just watched me, mouth slightly open, breathing out clouds of condensation. When her sock was off, I reached back up and lightly massaged her calf muscle before moving back to her foot. I gently massaged the pad of her foot, just behind her toes before sliding a finger between each one and working the tension out of her as best I could. After, I put her sock back on, putting it in place and moving the sweatpants back down. When I was done with her right foot, I indicated that she should give me the other one.
She smiled sweetly and extended her left leg, resting her foot in my lap. I gave her left foot and calf the same treatment, taking my time, feeling the tension leave her. By the time I was done she was so relaxed that she looked like a puddle of flesh and hair against the driver’s side door.
“Where did you learn to do that?” she asked in a breathy voice. “That was amazing.”
“Oh, I have my secrets, little sister. How did you like it?”
“I feel squishy,” she said.
I couldn’t help but laugh at that, happy that I was able to help her relax. We talked for a while after that. She had left her foot in my lap and was absently rotating it at the ankle. I don’t think she even realized she was doing it. The problem was that every time she extended her toes on the rotation, the pad of her foot brushed against the crotch of my sweats, and subsequently my dick resting beneath. For the longest time I was able to ignore it but slowly during our conversation, I was aware of it more and more and then aware of it every time. Involuntarily, my dick thickened and rested heavily in my sweatpants.
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