Page 4 of Bigfoot Threw Rocks at Me

When he reaches me, he extends his hand. I place my trembling fingers in his strong grip. Without a word, he pulls me against his hard body and begins to slow-dance with me there under the stars. I melt into his embrace, my breasts pressed to his chest, our hips swaying together. His hands explore the curve of my back, fingers trailing over the thin fabric of my dress. I tangle my hands in his thick hair and breathe him in. He smells of pine and woodsmoke and something entirely primal.

The man pulls me even closer as we dance, his strong arms wrapped tightly around my waist. His hand slides up my back and grasps the nape of my neck firmly, tilting my head back so I'm looking up into his eyes. They seem to glow amber in the candlelight.

Leaning down, he brushes his lips against mine in a feather-light kiss that sends a shiver through my entire body. I part my lips eagerly, wanting more, but he pulls back with a knowing smile. I whimper. I want him to kiss me, and he knows it.

The man leans in, claiming my mouth in a searing kiss. His tongue plunges between my lips as his hands grasp my backside, pulling my hips hard against the growing bulge in his jeans. I moan into his mouth, consumed with desire.

My dream lover lays me down on the soft grass, but he remains standing. He turns away to remove his clothes. As he slips off his shirt, the muscles along his broad back flex and ripple. He unbuckles his belt slowly. Finally, he slides his jeans down, revealing muscular thighs and firm buttocks. When he turns back, he is changed. His body is now covered in dark, coarse hair from head to toe. His hands have grown larger, the fingers extended into claws. His face has elongated into a snout, with sharp fangs peeking from his mouth. He lets out a low, rumbling growl that vibrates through my body. I gasp as I realize this is no ordinary man, but the legendary Bigfoot himself.

Bigfoot moves toward me on all fours, his amber eyes burning with animal passion. I know I should run, but I can’t. I am frozen in place, my heart hammering in my chest.

My eyes are drawn to the massive bulge between his hairy thighs. It growls — twitching and pulsing as if it has a mind of its own. It extends. It snakes its way around my body, encircling me like a living, throbbing cage. It slithers up my thighs, teasing my aching entrance with its velvety softness.

The immense girth of Bigfoot's cock presses against my pussy lips. I can feel the heat emanating from it. His amber eyes lock onto mine as he begins to push forward, the tip of his thick member breaching me ever so slightly. The flared head of his massive cock spreads me wide.

I scream in pleasure and pain. I want him but I can barely take it. He’ll rip me open if he goes any further. But by God, do I want him to rip me open.

Chapter four

I jolt awake, heart pounding. I sit up abruptly, my eyes darting around in the dim light. Where are the trees, the candles? Oh, right. It was just a dream.

I blink, scanning the corners of the campervan, half-expecting to see flickering light or the towering figure of Bigfoot lingering by the door. But there’s nothing. Just the usual clutter of my gear and the soft hum of the forest outside. No candles. No Bigfoot. Just me.

I rub my eyes, letting out a long breath. Get a grip, Emily.

Reaching between my legs, I find I'm dripping wet. My inner thighs are slick with arousal. Slowly, I lie back down, the bed creaking softly under my weight. I pull the blanket up to my chin, determined to find sleep again, but the sun is beginning to rise. I guess I’m getting up then.

I slide out of bed, still shaking off the remnants of the dream. I need coffee, badly. I unpack my little kitchen out the back of the campervan and get the stove going. The familiar hiss of the burner is comforting, and soon, the aroma of coffee fills the air. While the coffee brews, I rummage through my provisions for something to eat. Breakfast is simple — a granola bar and an apple. Nothing fancy, but it does the trick.

With my steaming mug in hand, I settle into a camping chair and pull out my phone.

Hmm, two messages from Mark. The first one is an apology, and the second one is asking if I arrived ok. I should probably reply. But I’m not going to. Not yet anyway. Let him worry.

I lock the phone and set it aside, focusing on my coffee instead. The warmth of the drink soothes me, the bitterness sharp and grounding. Grounding is good. I need grounding after that weird dream.

I finish my coffee and stare out into the vast, awakening forest. Time to get moving. There's a lot to do today.

The forest is crisp, the morning air sharp with the eye-opening scent of pine and earth. I pull on my backpack and adjust the straps, ensuring it’s snug against my shoulders. Stepping off the well-worn trail, I venture deeper into the less-trodden areas of the Payette National Forest. Here, the signs of human passage fade and the true wild begins to unfold.

Around me, the forest is alive with the subtle grandeur of nature untouched. Tall pines tower overhead, their canopies interlocking to create a mosaic of green and gold as the sunlight filters through. Each step I take is cushioned by the mix of soft loam and scattered pine needles beneath me. Every breath I take feels like a gulp of pure, cold water — refreshing and invigorating.

Small ferns and wildflowers peek through the underbrush, dotting the landscape with splashes of color. Whites, yellows, and the vibrant greens that only appear in the deep woods. Occasionally, a bird flits by in a flash of color, its song a fleeting melody quickly swallowed by the vastness of the forest. Every so often, I pause to listen. I let the forest's rhythm sync with my heartbeat. I am exactly where I belong. Here, I am just another creature in the forest, tracing the footsteps of legends and beasts.

After trudging around for what feels like forever, I finally find the Bigfoot print. And let me tell you, it’s a whopper. Deep, unmistakable. I can barely contain my excitement as I crouch down for a closer look. This is seriously fucking amazing.

This footprint is massive — my entire shoe could fit in it twice over. The toes are all splayed out, and you can really see the definition like it just stepped there moments ago. And the heel part? Even deeper. This Bigfoot must be huge. It’s been snacking well out here, that’s for sure.

I whip out my tape measure and start measuring like a detective at a crime scene. I’m talking length, width, and depth. I scribble everything into my notebook, feeling a bit like a kid logging her most epic find yet in her diary. Then, it’s photo time. I snap pictures from every angle imaginable. Including a few selfies. Mark is not going to believe this!

Shit. Mark. I didn’t text him back. I’m sure he’s worried but he’ll have to wait. This is too important to ignore and Mark will still be at the end of the phone in an hour from now.

Grinning ear to ear, I mix up the plaster. The mixture has to be just right. Too runny, and it won’t capture the fine details. Too thick, and it could distort them. This print is going to make an awesome cast if I can get the mixture right.

I pour in the plaster, watching it settle into all the nooks and crannies. Every time I do this, it’s like I’m unlocking a little piece of the mystery — getting one step closer to proving everyone who doubted me wrong. And let me tell you, that feels pretty darn good.

Ok, now I have to wait for it to set. The plaster will be touch dry in about ten minutes. I’ll take a look around for any other evidence while I wait.

I wander away from the print, keeping my eyes peeled. Normally, the forest just feels like... well, forest. Trees, bushes, the usual suspects. But here, around where I found the footprint, the air feels charged. Almost buzzing. It’s like someone’s rubbed a balloon on my hair. Something about this particular spot feels off. It's not just the eerie stillness or the way sounds seem muffled here — it's as if the very air is heavy, holding its breath.

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