Anika told me, “You know the best way to stay warm at night. We’ll do it to survive.”
As I joined her in undressing, I said, “Right.” We laid on our sides in just our underwear, with our coats and other clothing piled on top of us, with me spooned behind her.
When we got too cold, she would masturbate as I humped her butt through my shorts. We needed to be careful not to climax or sweat much. Any liquid on our bodies would cool us even more. It was awkward doing that with my sister, but it had been even worse when my brother and I had needed to. Each time we woke up too cold, we repeated our abortive self-arousal sessions, every hour or so.
The heavy snowfall returned in the morning, but it warmed up a little. Since we couldn’t ski with near-zero visibility, we snowshoed several kilometers then spent half the day ice fishing. We weren’t travelling very fast, but we’d get there if we kept making progress. We built a wall of snow around a small area to block the wind and made a campfire. We shared some dried berries she found and a small fish I had caught for lunch. Anika caught a bigger one later, which we had for supper and breakfast the next morning.
Once the sun went down, it was pitch black in the cave. We only had two candles and didn’t want to waste our precious flashlight batteries. We repeated our earlier activities to keep warm through the night. I was a little surprised when Anika let me reach around her, to help her masturbate.
I’d never seen or felt a female’s private parts before and got very aroused. I lost control of myself and climaxed, squirting semen into my underwear. A lot seeped through, and my sister got wet too.
I sheepishly told her, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to!”
“Darn it, Otto! Take your underwear off and wipe us dry. Quick!”
She took her wet panties off too.
I apologized some more, and she said, “If you can’t control yourself and need to finish, put it in my mouth. We won’t get wet that way.”
“But … but you’re my sister!”
“Your nearly frozen sister! We do what we need to, to stay warm and alive.”
“I guess. Okay.”
She asked, “Who do you think about while we warm up?”
To hide my shame I lied, “Hildi Olsen”. She was a girl I used to sit next to in school.
“I used to think about Hans Afrit, until he got married. But now … it doesn’t matter. Good night.”
Since she didn’t object and we were doing it to survive, I was more than happy to jerk off and cum in her mouth twice during the night. The second time she said, “Help me stay dry too.” She pushed my face between her legs and I licked up her juice. The next morning, we made love. I thought Anika would resist, but she seemed even happier than I was. As I was getting breakfast together she looked at her watch and said, “It’s the morning of December 25th. Merry Christmas!” I smiled remembering the joy her sexual gifts had brought me, but knew we were still in a life-or-death situation.
The blizzard continued and we slowed to practically a crawl for six more days. We would go to bed when the sun went down, keep each other warm and happy all night, then kiss and make love again when we woke. We realized we loved each other in a physical way, as well as the usual family way. As soon as the sun rose, we would check the snare traps we set each evening. They rewarded us with five rabbits over the course of our two-week trip. We caught another small fish through the river ice and supplemented that with several handfuls of dried berries we found sticking out of the snow. We had four days’ worth of food left, but if we hadn’t trapped or fished, we would have been down to almost nothing.
The storm finally let up as we got to the edge of a large grove of trees. We saw a helicopter land on the far side of a valley from us. A dozen soldiers got out and we quietly laughed at them. They were wearing white parkas, but JUNGLE camouflage pants and BLACK caps! They had snowshoes, but they were factory-made aluminum ones, which sent off gleaming reflections of the sun. They wouldn’t even do for hunting, since the shine would alert any animals nearby. Well-armed soldiers would be dangerous, but these obviously knew almost nothing about winter in the subarctic.
They split into two groups of six, one heading away from us and the other in our direction. Their awkward gait and slow pace made it clear none of them had snowshoed more than a kilometer or two before. Anika and I quickly agreed on a plan. We left most of our things in the snow cave with a small campfire burning outside. She climbed the steep hill nearby and I skied 200 meters away and found a good spot behind some boulders.
When the enemy got to our camp and started looking around, I heard Anika’s bird call, indicating she would take her first shot in five seconds. I aimed at the one who appeared to be in charge and counted down. A split-second before I fired, I heard a BANG from her rifle. As my own went off, I saw an explosion of blood from one of the men. She had hit him in the neck! I got enough of a glimpse to tell my shot was on target, hitting the leader in the chest as the recoil thrust my shoulder back.
I rapidly cycled the bolt and aimed for another shot. I fired and heard one scream as my bullet pierced his belly, quickly followed by a small explosion and more screams. I reloaded again and started searching for another target. I saw three bodies on the ground and THREE MEN ON FIRE! One shot himself in the mouth to escape the torment of the burning white phosphorus all over him. The other two frantically struggled to get the intensely burning fragments off their faces and clothing. To spare them from additional fiery agony, we finished them off with headshots.
When the last of them stopped moving, we returned to our camp. I knew what my sister liked, so I handed her one of the enemy’s fully automatic carbines. She bashfully admitted, “I was aiming and started to sneeze. Shooting the phosphorus grenade by accident was a miracle.”
I happily declared, “If any more miracles happen, I’ll take ‘em!”
She agreed, “Good. Here’s a real sniper rifle, with a 16-power scope on it.” I’d been wanting one for years, but for hunting instead of fighting. It would be a huge improvement. My old rifle worked but was made during World War 2. I should be able to hit targets close to two kilometers away now, instead of ‘only’ five or six hundred meters.
–
One afternoon I saw a large bull moose close enough for a good shot. I slowly took aim as it approached, happily knowing it would provide at least 200 kilos of meat! I was about to squeeze the trigger when Anika whispered, “No! Don’t waste it.” I realized she was right. I sighed and lowered my new sniper rifle. We didn’t pray or belong to any church but understood that taking the life of a large animal for only a few meals would be a sin against nature. It would be different if we had a whole village to feed but we could survive without it. We allowed the magnificent beast to wander away.
I thought it might be a reward for our self-restraint, when Anika caught a very large fish the next day. It was nearly as big as my leg! We cut it into kilo-sized pieces and cooked and ate our fill. We let the remainder freeze and saved it for later. After another three days, we saw a sign warning the Soviet border was ten km ahead. There had been a few cross-border skirmishes in the past. They were officially neutral but strongly disliked the Corporates, so we hoped they might help us.
We knew we were almost to the border when we saw the edge of the forest and a wide field of snow as the sun was beginning to set. Our countries had cleared a kilometer of forest on both sides of the dividing line, and bulldozed it flat as a tabletop. It would make any incursions obvious and force any invaders to be terribly vulnerable as they crossed the featureless plain.
We were happy to be so near our goal, but Anika and I knew we needed to cross into Soviet territory intelligently. If we skied or walked across at night, our body heat would make us stand out like beacons for anybody or anything with night vision or IR cameras. Counter to common sense, we would be much harder to spot in the middle of the day, crossing the snow field in our all-white clothing. The glare of the sun reflecting off snow and ice would likely blind most cameras.
As Anika started digging another snow cave, I prepared supper. I saw a sparkle in the sky and discovered there was a drone flying south to north over the border line. We ate some crackers with fish and vegetable soup. We decided to start across the border a little before noon. Skiing would be faster, but rapid movement would make it easier to detect us. We’d cross on snowshoes but be ready to change to skis quickly if we were noticed.
We snowshoed slowly, taking nearly an hour to reach the middle of the two-kilometer plain. I spotted a drone, but as it approached I saw it was Russian. We walked a little farther and heard engines in the distance. We looked around and saw eight soldiers on snow machines far behind us. We abandoned our snowshoes and skied for our lives. I was surprised they didn’t shoot, until I remembered their main goal was capturing Ostnordians to sell as slaves.
They were only a hundred meters behind when we reached a small village. We skied behind a barn and saw an old woman getting firewood from a pile. She heard the engines and waved us in her direction. We followed as she led us around a house and into the middle of the village. The Corp soldiers drove around the corner. They hopped off their snow machines, pointed their guns at us, and yelled for us to surrender. The old woman picked up a large metal funnel, holding it to her mouth like a megaphone. She shouted, “RODINA UUURRRAAAH!” – ‘For Mother Russia!’
Suddenly gun barrels protruded from every door and half the windows! There must have been a hundred! A few even had RPG rocket launchers! The Corp soldiers dropped their guns and held their hands up. Instead of capturing us, they became prisoners of the Soviets. Later I heard they were ‘reeducated to be good socialists’ by working in a mine for five years.
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