Hiking in the mountains
Note : This story is completely fictional!
Mom had promised me that she and I would celebrate my eighteenth birthday at our cabin by the mountainside. I was eagerly looking forward for the occasion. I had always loved to visit our old little cabin, situated at the foothills. I also knew that perhaps it would be our last holidaying together for this season.
With the winters were about to go, but the whether was still very cold. We all were looking forward for the upcoming summers. Within weeks the weather would slowly start getting warm and pleasant, it would not be long, before our small hillside town would be flocked by tourists.
Mom would be very busy for the remaining season. Mom was a tourist guide as well as a rock-climbing coach. During the lean seasons, she worked part time at a local gym, teaching fat rich ladies the art of getting slim. However, in the summers, she would take a break from her gymnasium and do what she liked most, hiking and teaching people about rock climbing and mountaineering.
Our little town is a major tourist destination, for the nature lovers and the fun seeking freaks, who wouldn’t mind spending a few extra bucks for enjoying and learning mountaineering, and mom was certainly good at it. There is another reason, why she loved her summer job very much; it gave her a chance to earn quite a handsome amount during the season, sometimes sufficient to support her and I, for the remaining months of the year.
Mainly because of this reason, she had purchased a piece of land at the foothills and built a small cabin there, so that her excursionists can make a halt during their trips. Deep in the woods, the small cabin was situated near a small creek, making it a perfect place for an ideal weekend. I always loved to be there. There were few other cabins also, belonging to other tourist guides, scattered over in a large area.
Mom would be turning thirty-seven soon; however, she still looked gorgeous. Working as a physical training instructor had kept her body in perfect shape, and even in my friend circle, she was a thing of envy. I had seen numerous heads turning, during our stroll through markets, to get a better look at my mother’s tall five eight figure, her dark brown eyes, her long shapely legs and her big bouncy boobs and taut buttocks. She had very short hair, which gave her a very youthful look, hiding her actual age. I always felt proud of her.
Mom had learnt mountaineering from her father and now, I had been learning some of the finer tricks from her. She had also agreed to teach me some serious mountaineering, once I reach my adulthood and be ready to prepare for my own license as a trainer. Her partner coach, a young lad called Stevens, wanted to quit after this season and mom wanted me to fill his place. It is very difficult to handle novice mountaineers alone in a rough terrain and I too was more than willing to join her team.
My father was an outsider. He came to our little town, to spend his summer holidays twenty years back and fell in love with my mom; got married and settled down. Initially everything was ok, but later he became restless. He was a big city guy and our little town was too backward for his taste. Many a times, he asked mom to leave the town and to settle in some big city.
Mom was not willing, as it would have taken her away from her first love, the beautiful countryside, the exquisite mountain range and its fresh atmosphere. The disagreement continued and finally, they decided to split. My father went back to his city after the divorce. He again got married there.
I didn’t go with dad, as I wanted to be with my mo. My father was also not much interested in taking me with him. That happened some five-years back. Mother didn’t marry again; perhaps she didn’t want to; though I would not say that she was leading a life of celibacy. Time and again, she had had her affairs, but none of them materialize into marriage.
Thursday night we were busy preparing for our trip. I was so excited about the trip that at times mom had to lecture me in controlling my emotions. Although, my birthday was on Tuesday, however, we agreed to postpone the celebrations to Saturday, when I would take my final lessons in mountaineering by climbing a peak with her.
From our house, the cabin was about half an hour by car, and then about two hours hiking into the mountain. We started our journey at around four on Friday afternoon, after mom returned from the gym.
Mom parked the car at an inn at the base of hill. The owner Mr. Bob was an old friend of my grandpa. After collecting our essential luggage for our weekend and for tracking, we finally left for out cabin.
When we reached at cabin, it was almost seven. The journey was mostly tracking along the creek without much steep climbing. The night was already set in and complete area was covered with darkness. Though, the moon was out there in the sky but because of dense trees, it was not always visible. During the way we passed through some of the cabins, belonging to other guides, however, all were without any sign of occupancy.
Our cabin was the farthest and the nearest hut, which we crossed, was about half a mile before it. Mom opened the door and put on the lights. In an effort to attract more and more tourists, the local government had extended the electric connections to all base huts. So, at the cabin we didn’t have any problem of lighting. However, the facility was not extended beyond this point, and for all the tourists willing to stay in the mountains during nights, had to travel with proper lighting arrangements.
Mom asked me to collect some fresh water from the creek. I took a flask and went out for bringing water. I was thrilled with the serene atmosphere outside. To be alone in such a wilderness was an inspiring experience in itself. The creek was as usual flowing with its gentle rhythmic sound. I filled my flask and went back to the cabin.
We took our dinner, which we had brought with us. As per our program, we planned to sleep early so that we could start by the crack of dawn. We opened our sleeping bags and were about to retire, when someone knocked the door. Mom and I looked at each other questioningly. Who could be there at the door at this hour, might be someone from nearby cabins. Mom signaled me to open the door. I left my sleeping bag and opened the door.
The very next moment, someone pushed my forcibly, and I was thrown on the floor. Mom cried in fear and surprise. I looked at the intruders, two men, one old man with grayish hair and second, a younger one who was about a year or two older than me, smiling at us with their evil grins. Both were clad in a peculiar orange coverall, which I had never seen before. Worst of all, the elder guy was holding a revolver in his hand; its muzzle pointing towards us, and the second one was carelessly playing with a small knife.
“Oh…!” The elder intruder spoke with a wicked grin. “Holidaying?”
No one spoke a word. Mom and I both were frozen with fear. We live in a very peaceful town and for the last many years, we had only heard of about occasional shoplifting by teenage boys. Even in our dreams, we could not have imagined that someone would barge into our cabin, pointing gun at us.
“Son,” The elder man indicated to his younger accomplice. “Check that they don’t have any arm.”
“Ya! Pap.” The younger goon replied and went to search through our baggage. After satisfying himself he pointed towards our mountaineering gear. “They’re clean, but that looks strange.”
“That’s our mountaineering gear.” Mom replied in haste. “We have come here for mountaineering.”
The gray haired man didn’t reply, instead he carefully went to the gear, lifted it, carried it to the door and thrown it outside the door.
“You can collect it, when we’re gone.” He again turned to the lad. “Check their body.”
Without any reply the lad was onto me, his hands caressing my whole body trying to find out any hidden weapon. Once satisfied with me, he went to mom, trying to search her body; his hands running on her body for toe to towards her hip. He rubbed his hands along mom’s thighs deliberately feeling the softness. Feeling uncomfortable mom tried to move.
“You move, honey,” Old man’s, whom the lad was addressing as Pap, tone was rude, very rude. He pointed the gun towards me. “And I’ll blow the head of this boy. Who’s he? Your son?”
Mom went rigid in her position; she was too stunned to speak. She only nodded her head in affirmation.
“Ah…!” As if he understood, the old man snapped. “Don’t try to act smart and you’ll live. Any trick … and your son is gone and next will be you.”
My first time with my uncle's wife. Suzaine was 30, Uncle Dough was 45 and I was 18...
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