Jen's Legacy.
New lives. Growing understanding.

Three hours later, with their clothes dry and the day warming up, they helped each other dress by a warm fire, gradually losing any and all remaining shyness. They were able to touch, hold, and caress each other without any shyness or restraint as they took their time about it; kissing, holding each other close, looking deep into each other’s eyes.

The only real difference was that Claire was now exceedingly sensitive and ticklish, with all of the nerves in her body ready to fire at even the gentlest touch anywhere upon her body, causing her to flinch and chuckle, before she melted close to him again, his hands on her cheeks behind her, holding her close, always wanting to go into her.

She had won. She now had a firm toehold in his life. She was not trying to displace Jen from his memory, but was working alongside of her to bring him back from that depressing place he had been locked in. She needed Jen to be with them both.

He was gentle when he kissed her now; gentle in everything he did, even gentle holding her breasts, with the lightest and most intimate of touches that caused her breath to catch in her throat.

He had been hard on her lips just moments before, as well as being forceful in other parts of her body in his fiery eagerness; never getting enough of any of her after three months of unbelievable pain and deprivation of a woman’s touch and love, but now he was so gentle; alive again.

He was constantly captivated and fascinated by her breasts (as Jen had told her) which he always came back to, enthralled by the way her areola stood out so firmly and prominently upon the actual breast in a way he could scarce believe in its attractiveness and fascination to him, but he had been the same way with Jen.

He would never forget Jen, or his feelings for her, and he felt similar feelings for this woman already, not fully understanding it, but not wanting to question why there were two adult women in his life. He was happy to accept the euphoric feeling of not wanting to wake up, ever, if this was a dream, and wondering why he did not feel guilty over letting things proceed as they had. Except that had been Claire who had moved it forward, never giving him chance to refuse her .

He rationalized it, as Claire had. It was easy to believe--however unlikely--that it had been Jen that had brought him to this place so that he would meet Claire, rescue her, fall in love with her, and now, this; make love to her.

As they stood holding each other, getting warm by the fire, though the day was already warm, Claire felt his rising excitement for her again, feeling that he was ready and always would be ready if she gave him even a breath of encouragement. Her presence with him was encouragement enough.

He lifted her leg onto the log beside them, touching into the remaining hair and then into her with the tips of his fingers; exploring gently, tickling her there but not intentionally, moving along and into those hairs he’d missed, feeling her moist warmth as she took hold of him in turn, guiding him toward her, leaving him to show her how this would go.

He pulled her closer and went into her again, bending his legs to start, then rising up into her, lifting her, pushing into her as they stood together.

Despite the different challenges that making love standing up, presented, he soon got to that breathless emotional pitch when he came again; breathing like a racehorse, almost falling over with her in their distraction, laughing together as they came down from that high; catching their breath again, kissing endlessly, gently this time, holding each other close, sobbing together in happiness. How could two people share so much pleasure; experience so much intimacy?

When he reluctantly retreated from her, she sat at the edge of the log feeling him running from her vagina as he knelt in front of her, continuing to kiss and caress her, pulling his jacket around her shoulders until she felt she’d got rid of most of him, and was able to dress once more.

She would wear her shorts and shirt, and his jacket, and with her lifejacket over the top of everything, but unfastened.

As a last step before he doused the fire, he inspected her feet once more, palpating the bottoms, feeling the blisters hardening, not so tender for her now that they had been drained and were drying, then kissed her everywhere he could reach as he rose to her, looking deep into each other’s eyes. He was becoming breathless again, wanting more--he would always want more--slowly moved his hand up her legs into her shorts to gently investigate, and touch her, as she put her legs apart for him, feeling again, that hair at the edges of her vulva where he had not been able to do much without nicking her, and feeling how damp she was, with him still leaking from her. He would always be leaking from her.

He sighed heavily. He would have liked to have stayed here with her for a few more days, not wanting to leave this place so soon with so much he still wanted to share with her, but they had to go. Others could be out searching for her already.

“We’ll take it easy and walk slowly until your muscles work the stiffness out of them, and until we know how your feet are holding up.”

If they walked too far today, or at too hard a pace, those blisters would get worse and he had to make sure that didn’t happen, changing the band-aids that had come unstuck overnight, putting other ones, the last of them on her, and pulling his spare socks on her again before lacing up her sneakers over them.

Badger’s Crossing was only about two or three miles ahead of them, down from the rim; and a two-hour downhill walk at their slow pace, and dropping several hundred feet in a short distance, but they would have to go down slowly anyway. He would help her with that. None of it would be too strenuous or dangerous.

His pack was much lighter now than when he’d set out, so he could carry her on his shoulders for most of it, if he had to, and he’d cut her a staff to help her walk.

They would soon get used to each other and would know when they should stop and make love again, as she knew he would soon want to.

They climbed out of the gully with him helping her, always attentive to her difficulties, leading the way.

Once on the open plateau again, she told him what she wanted to do. Waiting for him to tell her why she shouldn’t, but he didn’t. He watched her and smiled, seeing her shirt part from her body as she stood straight and shouted to the world, holding her open hands up on either side of her mouth to direct the sound.

“I… am… in love.” She paused briefly after each word, hearing her voice echoing off the canyon walls around them; below them, coming back at them.... 'in love'....fading away, and paused to let the reverberations die down as he smiled at her. Everything seemed to have gone quiet as though the world was listening.

She raised her voice even louder. “I… am… loved!” She waited again... hearing the tail-end echo... 'loved'....

Was it better to be in love, or to know that one was loved? It didn’t matter. Both applied to her. They were both necessary, or it would be a one-sided and tragic deal.

Royce moved to stand beside her and took her hand, their fingers finding each other, becoming intertwined without any words needing to be spoken.

He was too choked up to say anything.

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