Brooklynn Under the Cover of Night

“We have to go right now!” hissed Oliver, bracing himself against Cam as Brooklynn grew still again before getting to his feet.

Voice still breaking, “Okay,” Cam replied, struggling to get to unsteady feet.

Practically dragging Cam, “This way,” urged Oliver, leading them down the inside of Brooklynn’s leg toward her foot.

Cam staggered along behind, stumbling and falling twice in an attempt to keep pace. “I’m sorry,” he wheezed.

Draping an arm across Cam’s shoulders, the proximity filling Oliver’s nose with Brooklynn’s strong scent, “It’s okay but we’re not out of this yet. Just ahead a little bit, we’re going to have to crawl. Do you think you can do that?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Cam assured, sniffling.

Fortunately, Brooklynn was not a sheets-tucked-in kind of sleeper and they were able to get out from under the blanket near the foot of the bed.

Walking near the edge of the bed and peeking over, “How are we going to get down?” Cam asked.

Oliver frowned. Good question. How were they going to get down? The hair rope was certainly not long enough to reach the floor mired in darkness. So too, there was a considerable gap between the edge of the blanket and the floor far below.

“I don’t think I can jump,” Cam said.

“Dammit! My blade,” Oliver suddenly cursed, looking back toward the slumbering mountain of girl buried under the blanket.

“What?” Cam inquired, shaking his head.

“Nothing,” Oliver replied, angry with himself. Should he go back and get it or would that be pushing his luck? If he had the blade, he could slice a strip of the fitted sheet on the mattress and with that they could get to the floor. Nodding slowly, he turned to Cam, “Wait here, I have to go back, but it’ll be fast,” he instructed.

Protest dying on his lips, Cam nodded, “Okay.”

Loping back to the blanket, Oliver wiggled under it, retracing the path he and Cam had used to escape Brooklynn. Without Cam, he made it there quickly, down on his hands and knees trying to feel for the blade. In the depression created by the gravity of her enormous weight, he found it against her skin. Curling his fingers around it, she suddenly moved, once more causing the ground to shake as this time as her leg shifted and she started to roll onto her stomach. Her enormous leg descended too rapidly for him to evade, so Oliver did the only thing he thought might save him from getting himself turned into paste, he pushed himself up against her crotch, staying close to the fabric of her panties. Her nocturnal move completed, he found himself in the narrow space between her thighs and confined against her warm pussy. Trapped as he was, the only way out was up. Putting the blade between his teeth, he grabbed hold of Brooklynn’s snug panties, using his hands to pull himself up to whence the materials vanished between the twin globes of her rounded bottom. He had no choice but to continue on his current path, it should be easy enough to leverage handholds in the crease of her firm ass, but there was the very real possibility his efforts might alert her. Sliding his fingers wedge-like into the crack, he paused, waiting to see if there was any type of reaction to his intrusion on her part. Her breathing remain deep and regular and there were no other clues she felt him. Letting out a slow breath, he placed his other hand higher up, again wiggling his fingers betwixt her globes. Pulling himself up, he relocated the first hand, like a rock hound cautiously ascending a tough climb. Bit by bit he managed to get up and over the turn in her bottom using the divine cleft of her ass, all the while quieting the shrill voice of dread in his head should she unexpectedly turn or waken. Out onto the small of her back, he crawled toward her left side, fingers stumbling over a dimple. What if she was ticklish, or thought he was a bug? He was sweating profusely. Slithering, he moved over to her side, pivoting his body so his feet were toward the mattress before backing down. Once the slope became too precipitous, he slid the rest of the way, landing softly.

“Rest easy big girl,” he said with relief, moving quickly down the side of her bod and emerging from under the blanket to find a frantic Cam near the corner of the bed.

“When she turned, I thought for sure,” said Cam, leaving the rest unspoken, voice choked with emotion.

“It’s alright, but we need to get out of Dodge like right now,” he said, clamping a hand down on Cam’s shoulder reassuringly.

“Okay,” Cam acknowledged.

Using the blade, Oliver made two parallel cuts several inches apart along the foot of the bed, creating a long strip of fabric he and Cam could use to get to the floor. Tossing the fabric over the side of the bed, “Once we get to the floor, go straight for the door. We can’t stay here in this room,” he said.

“Okay,” Cam replied.

Given Cam’s condition, Oliver was not entirely confident his roommate would have the strength to make it to the floor. Walking over, he handed Cam the braided hair rope he had made.

Cam encircled his waist, making a clumsy knot, “Is this hair?” he asked.

Oliver stepped in, “That’s exactly what it is,” he said re-tying the braid into a sturdier bowline knot before securing the other end around his own waist. “You go down first, I’ll follow. We need to try and keep as little slack in the line as possible. Can you do that?”

Cam nodded. Moving over to the strip hanging off the bed, he got down and started to lower himself.

Putting the blade back in his mouth, Oliver went over the side, pacing himself to Cam’s speed. Nearly half of the way down, Cam lost his grip, crying out.

Tightening his grip, Oliver braced himself, easily taking the weight while Cam re-established himself. Twice more this occurred and both times Oliver caught him.

Getting to the floor, Cam remained on his hands and knees waiting for Oliver, muscles aching from exertion. “I’m sorry,” he offered.

“It’s okay buddy,” Oliver assured, untying the rope from about his own waist before freeing Cam.

Climbing to unsteady feet, “Over to the door now?” asked Cam, weary eyes wide in the darkness.

Nodding, “C’mon,” Oliver urged.

At the door, the towel was securely wedged into the gap. Brooklynn had done a much more diligent job of securing her room.

Using the blade, Oliver started hacking away at the towel, pulling out strips of it until the pair were ability to get enough of it out enough to permit them passage.

Crawling partway under the door, Oliver glanced up and down the dimly lit hall. Most of the doors he could see did not have towels, meaning the rooms were more than likely blocked from the inside. If that was the case, it also meant those rooms were occupied.

Cam pulled himself in beside Oliver, “Where do we go now?” he asked, eyes scanning the hall.

Across the hall and up a bit, there was a neatly folded towel against the bottom of the door. “There,” Oliver said, pointing. He did not know who owned the room, just that whomever it was, she was not currently in it.