US Highways
Buffaloed
2 August 2014
EVERY DAY WAS TAKING ME closer to the nineteen-year-old stripper, Alice. There’s no fool like an old fool. I was sure I was the King of Fools. I was amazed at what an important focus of my journey Alice had become, but I was determined to enjoy every day for itself. That included meeting my old friend Stan at Brookfield Zoo in Chicago. He was one of the younger guys I’d worked with a few years ago, and I’d been a mentor in the office. We walked around the zoo and I got the scoop on the fact that he had fallen in love and that he was in training to become an EMT. I figured he’d be good at it.
“How did you meet Roberta?” I asked.
“Gaming. We were at a LARP in Arkansas and kind of fell in love while hunting a magic ruby,” he said.
“What is a LARP?” I asked.
“Live action role playing. It’s a game. We have a big one in Wisconsin about every two years. Takes a week. I’m a game master for a weekend LARP that I host in downtown Chicago twice a year,” he explained. “You should try it. I bet you’d be good.”
“Sounds interesting, but I can’t imagine it.”
I took another detour south of the highway in eastern Nebraska. Not terribly far, but I met a fan in Fremont. That was quite a trip for me since I’d chosen Fremont out of thin air as Tony’s hometown in the Model Student series. Bob showed me some of the places that I’d written about—not terribly accurately. He pointed out one gravel road to me that was just west of town.
“I figure Tony lived about a mile or two down that road,” Bob said. “Heck, when the story came out and Tony visited his parents out here, I drove up and down nearly every road out here trying to figure out which one was his.”
“It’s fiction, Bob.”
“Oh, I know that. I eventually realized that the location wasn’t a real spot, but you wouldn’t believe the number of old farmsteads out here that match what you described. It was fun to just imagine that I might bump into Tony and Lissa and Melody and Kate and Wendy as I was walking down the street. I even joined the Y to try to get fit,” he laughed. “Not like I actually expected to see them there. But it was a motivator. Might not look like it, but I’ve lost forty pounds.”
Another unexpected result of writing erotic fiction.
When I got to Wyoming, I still had a few days left before I was supposed to meet Alice. As much as I wanted to hurry things up, I knew that getting to Yellowstone a week early wouldn’t mean seeing her a week early. And there was something else about Wyoming.
Redtail.
I’d never been to Laramie, Wyoming. But I’d written an entire book set there. Like I told Mitch: Research.
Not So Long Ago:
An Erotic Paranormal Romance Western Mystery
A few years ago, The Gutenberg Rubric won an award. I received almost as much money from the award as I did from sales the next year. Don’t let anyone tell you selling books is profitable. It’s a good thing that’s not why I do it. But I did start to get more involved with the writers’ association and ended up volunteering to help with the annual literary contest.
That help included getting together with the other category chairpersons to sort competition entries and distribute them to the various readers. It was a social event for those of us who were volunteers. Most of us were writers and when writers get together, they talk and tell stories.
One of the topics that came up was genres. We were separating the manuscripts into categories. Occasionally, we would make a joke about someone’s title and say something like, “Sounds like sci fi instead of romance.”
That led to a discussion on genres and genre-mashing which led me to jokingly say, “I think next year I’ll write an erotic paranormal romance western mystery.”
Never joke with the universe.
I’d no more than said it than I knew what the basic concept of the story was. I just needed a place for it to happen and a cast of characters.
Enter Laramie Wyoming Bell.
I’d spent a summer at a college prep school in Colorado at the urging of Joy. I probably mentioned it before. Joy didn’t spend any time urging me to go, but she went to a college prep school in the East in the summer and she was the coolest, so I figured that’s what I needed to do. I found one with a playwriting course and enrolled.
Of course, playwriting wasn’t the only thing offered and there were about 150 students enrolled for the summer. You couldn’t possibly know and talk to all of them. That was the summer of Sue and hiking and getting lost in the desert. One of the other students—I’m sure she was a senior, or maybe even a grad—was a regal dirty blonde whose very presence would make me choke up. I wasn’t in her presence much, but I knew who she was.
She was Laramie Wyoming Bell.
I never spoke to her all summer long. I just admired her. I admired the way she walked, what she looked like at the pool, and the way she handled her horse in the arena. She didn’t seem stuck up or anything, and didn’t flaunt her beauty, but she just carried herself like a queen.
The story I heard was that she was some Cheyenne mucky-muck’s daughter. As soon as I’d thought of setting Redtail in Wyoming, I thought of Laramie.
Back to Laramie
I spent three days in the wind, camped at Laramie. I drove out to Centennial and fell in love with the Beartree Tavern. I talked with folks there and gave them a copy of Redtail to share around. It was the only one of my erotic adventures I’d had made into a paperback at the time.
I took a day to walk back and forth across the campus of the University of Wyoming and promptly became a Cowboys fan. Not Dallas. The real Cowboys of UWyo. While I was there, I stopped in the library to see where you could get a view across campus from the upper stories. And that took me to the rare books section and the University’s historical archives. I gave the librarian my card and told her that I’d written a book set in Laramie, some of it back in the 1880s. She asked for the name of the book and I had to tell her that it was published under a different author name. She tapped a few keys on her keyboard and said, “Oh, yes. We have a copy. Ordered it as soon as it came out. I haven’t read it, but I will. Are you thinking of doing a sequel?”
I hadn’t been, but now I was. I left Laramie and started north toward Cody with the idea for Blackfeather brewing in my head.
I camped at Wapiti, just at the eastern edge of Yellowstone. I spent my first night cleaning the trailer from top to bottom and the next morning went back into Cody for supplies. I was as nervous as a teenager getting ready for his first date. When my phone chimed, I almost dropped it.
“Ari, are you here?”
“I’m here, darlin’. Here being in Cody. Where can I meet you?” I said.
“I’m stopped at the tourist info on the west edge of town. How soon, Ari? How soon can I see you?” she said.
“I’m at the grocery store. I’ll be there as soon as I finish checking out. Can’t wait to see you, babe.” Oh, that was suave. Babe? What kind of cool dude am I supposed to be? I finished paying for the groceries and headed toward the tourist info center across from the Buffalo Bill Museum. After I parked, I stepped out of the truck and looked around nervously. I wasn’t sure what to expect. I didn’t even know what Alice drove.
“I’d recognize that big black truck anywhere,” her voice said from behind me. I turned. She wrapped her arms around me and brought her lips to mine. “Kiss me, Ari. I’ve been waiting a fucking year for this.”
Alice was beautiful. I’ve described her. She’s tall and in her cowboy boots, she had to bend her head to meet my lips. When we broke, I tried to keep my eyes focused on hers. But… She had a western chambray shirt on—mostly. The sleeves had been torn off completely and instead of snapping it closed she had it tied beneath her unencumbered breasts. She wore cutoff shorts that were long enough to cover her butt ledge, but left the pockets hanging down below the ragged fringe. From there, her smooth bare legs extended down and into the tops of her bright red cowboy boots. I tilted my head under her cowboy hat and welcomed her lips again.
The skin at her waist was so smooth and the kiss so warm and welcoming that I was afraid we might get arrested if we let it go any further.
“Wow! God, Ari! Maybe we should do something to cool off and get used to each other before we get closed in a small space together. We might never come out otherwise,” she said. I shifted and stuck a hand in my pocket to move my hard-on to a more comfortable position. “Keep that thing handy. We’ll need it later,” she whispered.
After a few minutes’ debate, we decided to just go across the street to the Buffalo Bill Museum. It was cool and we spent a long time in the Smithsonian Firearms exhibit. I discovered Alice knew a lot more about firearms than I did, though I did find an example of the Smith & Wessons that Cole used. When I told Alice that I needed to find a good example of an 1860s revolver that a woman could easily handle, she found the Colt Navy that I’d ultimately include in Blackfeather.
“Did Buffalo Bill really live here?” she asked as we went through the historical section about ‘Buffalo Bill’s Wild West and Congress of Rough Riders of the World.’
“Oh, yes. The town is named after him. A number of years ago, on my first trip through, I stayed at a ranch out west of here that was still owned by one of his descendants.” I didn’t say how long ago. It was before my daughter was born and Alice was younger. I didn’t want to dwell on that.
I asked her if she wanted to stay in town for dinner or go out to the campground and grill the steaks I’d purchased and put in my cooler before I met her. She got quiet and then said that she’d like to have the steak. She also said that she’d follow me out to the campground in her own car. I figured she’d drive out. I can’t imagine what had to be going through a teenager’s mind as she followed an old man to a remote campsite to spend a week with him. We’d had several phone chats over the past year—some pretty explicit. But it was different being face-to-face.
She pulled in behind the trailer when I pointed it out to her and I pulled the truck in front of it. I didn’t want her to have the impression that I was blocking off her escape route. Or mine.
I unlocked the trailer and took the cooler inside to put things in the fridge. I turned around to find her just inside the doorway sort of peeking at the layout. She seemed nervous.
“Ari,” she said, backing out of the trailer as I came toward her. We stepped outside.
“What is it, hon?”
“I know the rules, but could we not get naked right away? Do you mind?”
“Alice, you know I made that rule up just for Angie. I’m not going to make you be naked all the time. In fact, I’m not even ready to be inside the trailer. It’s hot in there. There are no RV hookups out here, so no air conditioning. It’s cooler outside. Let me light a fire and we’ll sit out where it’s comfortable and look at the flames,” I said.
“Oh, Ari. It’s not that I’m not interested and excited. But… I just don’t want to feel like a stripper. Do you understand?” she asked. Yeah. I could see that.
I got the firewood out of the back of the truck and Alice helped get it started. We used a match, but I kind of felt she was hot enough to start a fire just by touching it. I pulled a can of sparkling water out of the cooler for each of us and we sat in front of the fire just getting reacquainted. I really did understand how she felt. It wasn’t just an empathic understanding. I was more than twice her age—I wasn’t saying how much more—and this was significantly different than either Angie or Becky. I had already grown to care for Alice through our correspondence and occasional phone calls. I wanted whatever we were going to do to work for us and be something—I didn’t know what—something that was more than a weeklong fling.
A Long Time Ago: Canoe Camp
I’d been doing an internship at what the churches called ‘Summer Institute’ after I graduated from high school. I assisted the director of theater at the institute in whatever stuff he needed to have done. High school students cycled in and out of the institute for a week at a time with a different group each week. There’s another story there for later. We got to the end of the last week of the institute and the conference director of camping came running into the theater calling for me. I got off my ladder and joined him.
“Ari, we’ve got a situation. I know you’d normally be taking a vacation now so you’re fresh before classes start in a couple of weeks, but one of my counselors for the junior high camp just went into the hospital to have his appendix removed. I hate to ask this, but could you do a week of rough camping with these kids? You’d have an experienced co-counselor. And I know you’ve done primitive camping before,” he said. He’d rushed all the way through the speech and I was thinking I could do that. He looked desperate. But what was I going to do otherwise? Deb had moved out East almost as soon as we graduated and started with a summer session at Wellesley. My parents had moved again to help get my baby sister into a better school system, so there was no home where I knew people. I said sure.
I swung by my parents’ house long enough to change from theater gear to camping gear and Sunday at noon, I pulled into the camp.
I met my co-counselor, Ruth, as soon as I checked in. Oh. My. Maybe I was just eighteen and horny, but damn! Deb and I had to part before we managed to consummate our love affair. We both knew we’d never get around to it now. The graduation blowjob was the last of the relationship. Damn, I miss her.
Ruth was as short as Deb but at least twenty pounds lighter. Everywhere except in her boobs. Those were tucked neatly into a lifeguard-style one-piece swimsuit. She wore a pair of shorts over it. She had short blonde hair in what I’d almost have called a man-cut if it weren’t for the bangs. The sides were trimmed up over her ears.
“Thank god you got here before the urchins,” Ruth said. “And thank you for coming to our rescue this week. I about died when Rob took sick Thursday and we had to get him out of here in an ambulance.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said. “I’m Ari.”
“Oh. Sorry. I’m Ruth. Rob and I have worked this camp all summer, so we really knew everything about each other. You and I are going to have to learn as we go. How are your canoe skills?” she asked. Canoe? No one said anything about a canoe.
“Well, I can paddle, but most of my rough camping has been on land. I’m good at that,” I said.
“If you can make a fire with wet wood and no matches, we’ll be fine. Last week we got rained on and had to depend on a single burner camp stove for two days. I was sure that was what triggered Rob getting sick, but they told me it was his appendix,” she said.
She grabbed a backpack and I shouldered mine as she led me down to the shore. She tossed hers down and I put mine beside it. “Let’s go up to the lodge and cart our supplies down. We’ve got five girls and three boys this week. That works out well. When there is an even number, they tend to pair up and then you end up chasing them all over the woods. We’ll have five canoes. Can you handle a canoe by yourself? I never trust the supplies to a camper on the first day out. It’s better if you and I each paddle a canoe loaded with packs and supplies. We’ll put the three boys in a canoe and split the five girls between the other two canoes. Tomorrow we’ll have more time on the lake for training.”
“I’ll try not to let you down,” I said. I grabbed up the packs that contained food while she dragged a tarp with tents on it. We packed the counselor canoes as we got better acquainted. She told me what her signals were for both time on the water and time in camp. I could see she was as well-organized for the canoe camp as I had been with the theater institute and I just followed her lead and agreed to everything. She’d done all this before.
At two o’clock, the campers started arriving and by three o’clock, we had all our eight in their swimming suits and down by the canoes for orientation. I could see trouble forming right away. Three of the girls were in two-piece suits and one of those definitely counted as a bikini. The boys practically had their tongues hanging out. Ruth was cool. She handed out camp T-shirts to everyone and told them to put them on before they got sunburned. She had gym shorts that would fit each of the girls and told them that the canoes had aluminum seats that had been sitting in the sun. They would have blisters on their butts if they didn’t cover them. The boys were disappointed to see the flesh disappear, but I figured we hadn’t seen the end of it. These were kids between twelve and fourteen. There would be hormones.
Ruth explained the rules. Everyone got their lifejackets on and we launched our canoes. The first thing the boys did was roll their canoe. I was glad Ruth and I had the supplies. It was five o’clock by the time we made camp—only about half a mile from the lodge beach.
This was where I excelled. We had tents set up, sleeping bags unrolled, and a fire burning by five-thirty. We started having fun.
Of course, the kids wanted to stay up late on their first night at camp, but when I let the fire die and then poured water on the coals, they all got the message and went to bed. We had two girls’ tents on one side and one boys’ tent on the other. Ruth’s and my tent was in the middle. I was surprised when I found out we were sharing a tent.
“It’s a safety thing,” Ruth said. “Not only do we have to keep the boys and girls separated like their parents expect, but we can’t risk being alone with a camper. Having a camper accuse one of us of improper behavior toward them would end the entire program, even if we managed to avoid prosecution.”
Shit! I did not like the sound of that at all. And I really didn’t mind sharing a tent with Ruth. I was getting my sleeping bag rolled out, figuring I’d probably lie on top of it since it was still hot out. At least we didn’t have hiking boots to stow. We only had our water shoes. I turned to ask Ruth if we had a tent check for the kids planned and found her topless. I stared. Ruth caught me.
“Oh. Sorry. Go ahead and look. I bared ’em, you stared ’em. I’m so used to tenting with Rob that I didn’t think about how it might look to you. I sleep in a T-shirt and panties. Believe me, you’ll want to be in something besides your swim trunks when you bed down.” She pulled a T-shirt on and then pulled her suit the rest of the way off. It wasn’t like she was showing me her slit or anything, and it was dark so I couldn’t even tell the color of the little tuft of hair I saw, but just the fact that we were in a small tent meant that we weren’t going to hide much from each other. She put her panties on and stretched out on her sleeping bag.
What the hell? I pulled off my trunks and put a pair of cutoff sweats on that I sometimes slept in if there was a reason. I hadn’t had to all summer, but I figured I’d need to jump out of bed in the middle of the night if anything happened and it was better not to run around camp naked.
Ruth sighed.
“You take the boys’ side and I’ll take the girls’ side. Just a quick reminder to them to take a buddy and their toilet paper if they need to get up in the night,” she said. She crawled out the tent flap and I followed, close behind her shapely rear. We went to our charges’ tents and quietly spoke the instructions. They all murmured their assent and I figured the guys, at least, were asleep before I finished my own trip to the latrine. I went back into the tent where Ruth was already stretched out on her sleeping bag.
“You didn’t take a buddy to the latrine,” she laughed softly.
“Oh. I… Um…”
“I’m teasing, Ari. Get some sleep. We’ll be up with the sun. If it gets cold during the night, you might wake up to find me cuddled up next to you. Try not to grope too much. We’re adults and we’ve got eight little responsibilities asleep outside,” she said.
“I think we’ll have a good time this week, Ruth. I’m glad I agreed to come along,” I said. I was more tired than I realized and was off to sleep in minutes.
I did wake up to find Ruth cuddled against me and pulled a lightweight blanket over us. Then I went back to sleep until daybreak brightened the tent and I heard Ruth moving outside. She was already dressed in her swimsuit.
We had a great week. We spent most of Monday on the lake teaching the kids how to recover if their canoe was swamped, how to get into a canoe from the water without tipping it over, how to paddle and jay-stroke. We were less rushed and the campfire included storytelling and singing. We paddled to our rendezvous with the truck on Tuesday and were taken to the Pigeon River. We were on the river for three days, moving our camp and just having a blast. We were taken back to the lake on Friday and camped back at our base, then packed everything Saturday morning, policed the campground, and paddled back to the lodge. At one o’clock, after the only meal we ate at the lodge, parents arrived to retrieve their tanned and tired kids. I grabbed my pack and piled it into the back of the car.
“Can I get a lift to Fort Wayne?” Ruth called.
“Sure. It’s a little car, but there’s plenty of room.” Ruth didn’t have much. She’d been at the camp for eight weeks and only had one backpack. “Boy, you sure pack light,” I laughed.
“A couple swimsuits and some panties don’t take much room. It’s not like I could get up every morning and rush into the bathroom to put on a ton of makeup. So, are you headed for school now?” she asked.
“Orientation starts Thursday. I’ll check into the dorm on Wednesday. It’s kind of exciting,” I said.
“You’ll love college. I’ve got another year, but I’m taking a break before I finish.”
“Really? You’ll stop right before you graduate? Isn’t that kind of risky?”
“I can take a break year without triggering repayment of student loans,” Ruth said. “It’s a special program that continues to list me as enrolled while I’m doing a field practicum. If I wait till after I graduate, I have to start repaying loans.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Backpack around the world.”
“No way! By yourself?”
“I’m starting off with a girlfriend on Labor Day. We’ll fly to New Zealand first, but then we’re heading to Australia and from there to India. She can only go until Christmas, so I hope to have made enough contacts and friends to plan my next stage from there. I’m used to living out of a backpack,” she said.
“It’s just…” I thought about the kind of an adventure I could have hiking around the world. “I want to do that,” I said firmly. Yeah. I wanted to backpack around the world. I’d do it with Ruth if there was an invite.
“Ari, you’ve got to make a big decision in your life. You’ve got to decide if you really want to do that, or if you want to dream about doing it. It’s not an easy thing to be on your own and alone. Believe me,” she said. I’d lose track of that advice in the future, but one day, I’d have to decide if I was a doer or a dreamer.
“I guess I’ll get a year of college under my belt first. I sure had fun with you this week, Ruth.”
“I loved working with you and having you sing in the evening and tell stories. The kids loved you. And I appreciate that you were respectful. It was kind of nice to wake up in your arms when it got cold at night,” she laughed. “Even with you hand on my tit and your cock rubbing my ass.” That had been an embarrassing morning, but Ruth had laughed it off and told me I could expect the same treatment. “Ari, under different circumstances, if we got together without the responsibility of all those kids, I might have been interested in… you know… in finding out if we were more compatible. Me being a little older and ready to run off around the world doesn’t make it an option. Not to mention that you’ve got your own adventure ahead of you in college this fall. Maybe our paths will cross again someday. But even if they don’t, know that you made a friend this week. I’ll always cherish that.”
Back to Alice
Alice and I talked. Oh, I still appreciated looking at her tall slender body, and she didn’t object to my eyes straying into her cleavage, but we really did talk. You might assume that an older guy doesn’t have much he can talk about with a young woman. I mean, what do we have in common? But Alice wasn’t into pop culture, so I didn’t have to listen to her rave about some boy band or actors I’d never heard of. Her tastes in music, because of her profession, tended to be things with a strong, driving, and sensuous beat.
She dug right in to help prepare vegetables to grill with the steak and was suitably impressed with my method of grilling corn on the cob. I don’t husk it and try to clean the silk out or wrap it in tin foil. I toss it on the grill still sealed in its natural husk. When it is done, I cut off the stalk end and grip it with my Ove-Glove. Then I can just shake the corn right out of the husk, silk and all. Alice got into it and I scooped butter off her chin that had run from the corn. The steaks were perfect. I had zucchini on the grill, seasoned with Italian herbs and covered with Parmesan cheese. I poured wine from a box and she laughed, asking what vintage it was. It wasn’t legal for her to have alcohol. Technically, I didn’t think it was legal to have it in the National Forest, even though they never object to having it in your RV.
Mostly, our conversations were philosophical. That seemed to cut across the age difference like a knife.
“I’m not into Christianity,” she said. “Too much condemnation. Same with all the religions. Muslims don’t recognize Jews as the chosen people. Jews don’t recognize Jesus as messiah. Protestants don’t recognize the Pope as the head of the church. Baptists don’t recognize each other when they come to Roxie’s Foxes.” I laughed at her. She had the kind of worldly sense of humor that I’d always enjoyed. “Can I sit on your lap, Ari?” she asked out of the blue. Well, the one luxury that I’ve carried with me on this trip has been my oversized camp chair. I’ve even slept in it overnight and Angie and I used to cuddle in it while we were together. I opened my arms and Alice flowed into them. She kicked her boots off and curled up in my lap.
Alice is as tall as I am. It was easy to think of a couple of the tall girls that I’d written about. I wondered why I named them all Whitney. But the one thing that impressed me most, was Alice’s ability to curl up in a little ball in my lap. She was like having a kitten. A very sexy, silky smooth kitten.
She didn’t wiggle around or make like she was doing a lap dance. We didn’t kiss. I just held her in my arms and enjoyed her closeness as we kept talking.
“I think life is about seeking enlightenment,” she said. “You need to ‘know thyself’, as it says at the Temple of Apollo. Self-knowledge.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve met myself. I wasn’t that impressed.”
“I was.”
“I’m so glad,” I whispered. I pressed my face into her hair and just inhaled. I gave her a little squeeze. “The concept of self-enlightenment has always impressed me as being a little… masturbatory.”
“Ari!” Alice giggled in my lap. “What do you mean?”
“Think of it. It’s focusing on yourself. What’s in you? It’s a solo endeavor. I like masturbation as much as any other guy. I’m alone most of the time. I’m experienced at it. It feels good. But it doesn’t make babies. It doesn’t even connect me with another person. It’s all in my head.”
“And in your balls,” Alice laughed.
“Yeah. The thing is that for a lot of people, making love continues to be an act of masturbation because they are focused inside. A true narcissist can make love to a woman and hate every bone in her body except his own. Seeking self-enlightenment is similarly focused inside.”
“So, you think we should seek enlightenment through other people?” she asked.
“I’m not sure enlightenment is that important. Why do you want to become enlightened?”
“To have peace.”
“Why? What’s so important about having peace?”
“To be a better person.”
“Why? What makes you want to be a better person?”
“Because I believe we are here for more than our own pleasure. I believe we are here to improve humanity.”
“Presto! You’re enlightened,” I laughed.
“What?”
“When you get down to the statement that starts ‘I believe,’ you are down to your true faith. Now enlightenment is no longer about having peace. It is about making the world a better place. Your self-enlightenment is no longer focused inside you. You aren’t masturbating any longer.”
Alice snuggled in my lap and we watched the fire as it burned down. The sun had set. Occasionally, she would giggle a little and whisper “Masturbation.” Later she’d find something completely different to be amused about and whisper “Lap dances.” She wasn’t really talking to me. We were just enjoying being close to each other. I could sit in front of the fire like this all night with her in my arms. The problem with that, of course, was that the fire was dying and to build it up again, we’d have to get up. When the sun had gone down, the temperature had started to drop as well. The elevation was over 6,000 feet, and even though it was eighty-five degrees during the day, it still got into the fifties at night.
“I’m cold,” she said, curling into an even tighter ball. I had her bare legs beneath one arm and the other was wrapped around her back where the shirt rode well up above her waistband. Of course, my first reaction was to rub that exposed skin to improve the circulation and warm her up. “Um… that’s nice, Ari, but I think I need to go in and warm up.” We laughed.
I picked her up as we got out of the chair because she’d taken her boots off, and carried her to the door of the trailer. Once it was open, I set her inside, thankful once again that the trailer was built low and I didn’t have to lift her too high.
“I’ll get your boots and put out the fire,” I said. “If it’s cooled down enough in the trailer, turn off the fan over the bed. We can probably sleep with the windows still open.” I pointed out the bathroom and the bottles of drinking water, and left to douse the fire. When I was sure the embers were dead and had checked to make sure we hadn’t left any food scraps around, I grabbed her boots and went into the trailer. “I think it might get chilly tonight,” I said. “Might even rain by the smell of it.” My folk wisdom and weather sense faltered when I saw Alice. She stood by the table with her suitcase open on the bench seat. She was setting her toothbrush and toothpaste on the table.
And she was naked.
“Alice? I said you didn’t have to get naked, honey.”
“I said I didn’t want to feel like a stripper, Ari,” she smiled. “Not that I didn’t want to be naked with you.” She gave me a soft kiss. “I’m going to brush my teeth. Take your clothes off and get ready for bed, baby.”
A tear was leaking out of my right eye and I wiped it away. She was just so damned beautiful. I considered taking a little blue pill and rejected the idea. What would happen would happen. I grabbed my toothbrush and used the kitchen sink. I folded my clothes as I took them off and stuck them in the closet. I’d show Alice the empty drawer for her things in the morning. The bed suddenly looked awfully small. It wasn’t like I hadn’t slept with anyone in this bed before. But I just hoped she’d be comfortable and debated whether we should each use a blanket folded in half for extra warmth, or if we should stack the two blankets to cover us both. I was second guessing everything and finally just threw myself down on the bed and stretched out where I usually did, slightly right of center.
When I realized that, I snorted at myself thinking that I should be slightly left of center to be true to myself. Then I muttered “masturbation” just as the bathroom door opened and Alice crossed the four steps to the edge of the bed. I started to get up to give her room and she pushed me down with one hand as she crawled into the bed and over me, pausing long enough to give me a kiss and then slide down onto the mattress beside me. Mostly beside me. Her left arm draped over my chest and her left leg twined with mine.
“Even cuddled together, we’re going to need a blanket,” she sighed. I hugged her and then lifted enough to tug one of my two blankets up from the foot of the bed to cover us.
“There’s another where this one came from if we need it,” I whispered. I flicked off the light and Alice kissed my chest before wiggling up to reach my lips. We had a long, sensuous, but not overly passionate kiss.
“I’m going to love sleeping with you,” she said around a yawn.
I kissed her head and held her in my arms as we went to sleep.
My eyes popped open at five just like always. It no longer seemed to make any difference what time zone I was in. I woke up at five every morning. It was different today, though. Today, I didn’t want to get out of bed. I didn’t want to make coffee. I didn’t want to write. I just wanted to lie here with this beautiful creature in my arms. Ultimately, my bladder won out and I slipped out of the bed and out of her arms. Alice rolled over away from me and stayed asleep. Much though I regretted it, I pulled the blanket up over her bare ass. To keep her warm.
After I came out of the bathroom, I set water on the stove to boil and prepared my coffee pot. While I waited, I opened my computer and realized I was out of range for my cellular hotspot. No bars. I started typing, just jotting down some ideas and then working on a scene. It was the first time I’d ever written a scene where two guys were involved with two girls all together at the same time. Carl, Brenda, Louise, and Brian. I kept dragging out the writing. I normally could write three or four thousand words a day without a problem. But I kept pausing in the middle of hot sex scenes and putting the computer aside. I kind of felt that if I dragged out writing the scene, the characters would enjoy it longer.
Brenda’s incredibly flexible legs spread so wide that I sank another inch into her and we drove each other into an ecstasy of come that lasted most of the night.
I stopped there and let them enjoy their ‘ecstasy of come’ while I made coffee. When it was done, I filled the thermos—no microwave to heat cold coffee when dry camped—took my cup back to bed with me, and propped the laptop on my knees. The slight movement of the bed must have triggered a subliminal message in Alice’s brain as she rolled back toward me and wiggled as much of her body in contact with mine as she could get. That was distracting. I read what I’d written and typed one handed with my coffee cup in the other.
There was a little nip at my elbow as I typed and I looked down to see Alice, still with her eyes closed, but smiling.
“Is there coffee for me?”
“Sure is,” I said. “I’ll get you a cup.”
“Just stay put. I have to pee. I can pour coffee while I’m up.”
“If you say so,” I said. I pulled the laptop back out of the way and held my coffee cup aside so she didn’t bump it as she crawled over me to get out of bed. Bits of her scraped against bits of me as she moved and I watched with pleasure as she minced four steps to the bathroom.
I looked at what I’d written, saved it, and closed the laptop. In a couple of minutes, the toilet flushed. Water ran. Alice came out of the bathroom.
“I honestly don’t think I can shower in there,” she said. “Even alone. And certainly not with you.”
“We’ll find a way. There’s an outdoor shower, too.”
“Ooo, kinky. Cups?” I pointed to the cabinet and she opened it and found a coffee mug. She didn’t have to reach up very high, but just lifting her arms above her shoulders did wonderful things for her profile. She poured her coffee and turned. “Milk in the fridge?”
“Bought a little carton of half and half for you. It’s in the door.”
“You’ll make me fat.” I didn’t think there was much chance of that. I set my coffee cup down on the headboard where there’s a shelf and took her cup so she could crawl over me to get back in bed. This time she paused, stretched out on top of me, and kissed me. So dreamy. She propped herself up on a pillow and leaned into my outstretched left arm. When she was settled, I brought her coffee to her with my right hand and reached back to get my own.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” I said. She smiled over the rim of her cup and took a sip of the coffee.
“There is nothing like the first sip of coffee in the morning,” she sighed. “And coffee covers up morning breath.” She lifted her lips and gave me a light kiss. “Did you get a lot of writing done?”
“Not really. I just wanted to lie here and hold you.”
“Okay. I could get used to this life.”
A Long Time Ago: Morning Coffee
I know I keep interrupting and you want me to get on with the sex with Alice, but I told you at the outset, my mind tends to wander. And sitting in bed with an arm wrapped around the bare shoulders of an incredible girl who was not being shy about expressing her pleasure as we talked and sipped our coffee, reminded me of a very happy time.
I was happily married for twenty years. Out of thirty-one years of marriage to three different women, that’s not a bad percentage. Treasure was… my treasure, and most of those happy years were with her.
In the early years of our marriage, I struggled with getting out of bed. For the first time in my life, it seemed, I had a reason not to. From the time I was twelve and started delivering newspapers on that miserable route in Northern Indiana, I’ve been an early riser. Yeah, Brian got that from me. Even when I went to college and started working late nights on stage, I’d wake up at five o’clock in the morning. I’d roll out of bed, plug in my coffee pot—an old electric percolator—and by the time I’d get back from the dormitory bathroom, I could pour my first cup of the day and hit the books. My first class during freshman year was biology with Dr. Dennis at 7:30 a.m. That’s when I’d go back to sleep.
But waking up next to Treasure at five in the morning was different. I didn’t want to get out of bed. We never slept with clothes on, even after Maddie was born. Waking up with the love of my life naked beside me was like having a bed magnet.
Eventually, of course, I did get up because I couldn’t lie awake forever, waiting for her to wake up. I’d get the morning newspaper and make coffee. About six-thirty, I’d steam some milk, pour her coffee in it, and take it to Treasure in bed. That’s how she woke up in the mornings for the better part of twenty-five years. On Sunday mornings, I’d bring the newspaper and settle back into the bed with her, laughing at the comics, reading book reviews to each other, exclaiming over heartbreaking news stories. Occasionally, we’d manage to have a little loving time before Maddie woke up demanding breakfast and attention.
I continued to bring her coffee in bed right up until the day I moved out.
Just writing about those sublime moments continues to bring tears to my eyes.
Back to Alice
“There isn’t a sound but the two of us breathing and talking.”
“And the rain,” I said. Alice was lying quietly listening to the silence of our retreat when I heard the first patters of rain sweeping down out of the mountains. The wind picked up and my little trailer rocked. I had the stabilizers extended and the awning most of the way in, so it didn’t concern me.
“Are we safe?” Alice asked, hugging me. The raindrops hit the roof, starting as a hiss as the smaller drops reached us and then like drumbeats when the big drops hit. I set my empty cup aside and held her in my arms, rocking slightly.
“Safe and sound. The trailer stayed anchored firmly in Laramie. I’ve never camped anyplace that was so constantly windy.” She handed me her cup and I set it aside while she wrapped her arms around me. It was an ‘all’s right with the world’ moment. We slid down in the bed a little farther and pulled up the blanket.
Mostly, I’d been letting Alice take the lead so I wasn’t pushing her, but looking at her dark brown, almost black, eyes, I was just drawn to her and had to kiss her.
It was the right thing to do. The kisses started softly and steadily intensified. Our tongues joined our lips and we spent time exploring each other. Until the previous day, Alice and I had only kissed in the middle of an orgasm in a strip club. As intense as that was, it wasn’t particularly memorable. We’d almost started at that level in the parking lot yesterday before we pulled back to learn how to be together before we were having sex.
Our kisses this morning were like starting new. We had to explore and find out what each other liked. How we liked to kiss. Where we liked to be touched. What we tasted like and sounded like and felt like. There’s no way to get to know a woman quite like kissing her. Alice wasn’t aggressive, meaning being on the attack as I withdrew, but didn’t retreat when I approached. She was more than welcoming, participating in the dance with her whole body moving against mine.
We explored each other with our hands, starting like most new lovers by touching hair and faces. Then shoulders and backs. Then I had my hand on her butt as she moved closer to me.
“Ari, I know you make a big thing in your story about being clear when attention is being invited. Don’t be afraid to touch me, lover. I want to explore all of you, and I want you to discover all of me,” she whispered. Our next kiss intensified and, in the process, we found each other’s nipples.
“What do you like, Alice?” I asked as I pressed a thumb against her hardening nipple.
“Mmm. I like them touched and kissed and sucked. But not too rough. I don’t like to have my titties pinched. A soft touch just connects all the erogenous points of my body. My lips, my nipples, my pussy, and even my toes. But rough play just hurts them,” she said, demonstrating the way she liked to be touched by caressing and kissing my own nipples. Yes, I could understand exactly where she was coming from. I hated having my nipples twisted or my cock gripped in a hand like a vise. But this little play was delightful.
I scooted down a little so I could kiss across her shoulders and around her breasts.
Breasts are one of the miracles of the human race. Stop and think of it. On most mammals, the teats and nipples are purely functional. This is how babies get food. That’s cool, but I don’t know of any other species in which breasts play such a strong role in the attraction of male to female. Or even female to female. You can say that it is because we cover them up and sexualize them that they are so attractive, but even in cultures that have less concern for clothing than in the West, breasts still play an important part in sexual stimulation. For a straight male with even passably working equipment, a woman’s breast is a source of limitless fascination. Maybe it’s that way for other women as well. I imagine that if I were a woman, I would stand in front of a mirror all day just staring at my breasts. Well, that’s a guy talking.
A woman can wear the tiniest, skimpy bikini, showing her entire breast except the dark center, and men will pant, hoping for a slip of that fabric that will expose the nipple. I tent my pants just lying back and thinking about caressing a tender breast in the palm of my hand.
There is nothing remarkably different in the physical sensation of squeezing a woman’s soft butt and squeezing her soft breast. Some guys can’t even tell the difference by touch. There was a scene in the movie Summer of ’42 in which the boy thought he’d set a record for holding a girl’s breast in his hand until his friend told him that he’d been holding her arm. But when you have a breast laid bare for your enjoyment, resting in the palm of your hand, there is no feeling that is quite the same.
Alice’s breasts, as I’d noticed in my first contact over a year earlier, were larger than my one-time lover Carly’s. They had a beautiful soft roundness that begged to be caressed exactly the way she said she liked. They were small enough that there was no sag when she stood, and no noticeable flattening when she lay down. And unlike the common way oafs describe breasts in sex stories, these weren’t two half oranges planted on a flat surface. They weren’t half globes or melons. They rose in a gentle slope that you could almost detect starting just below her collar bone and after they peaked, tapering off just above her last rib. While I could kiss her breastbone between the two hillocks, it was a valley that smoothly transitioned from one breast to the other.
I honestly don’t know—and I’ve been searching my memories—where I first began to love small areolae and nipples. Maybe that was part of the legacy of playing doctor with Betts. I have absolutely nothing against huge dark circles with fat, long nipples in the center, but I adore a nipple and surrounding area that is so near the same color as the breast that it appears translucent. I love a small nipple in the center that stiffens and swells enough to tongue and lave with attention. Alice’s nipples were like that. The transition from her breast to her areolae was almost more of texture, with light little bumps in it, than of color. The nipple, just a little larger than a boy’s, was perfect for sucking on and responded by swelling and stiffening just enough to remind me of licking a woman’s clitoris.
For her part, Alice was expressing her enjoyment of my attention with little moans and with feather-light strokes along the length of my cock.
I raised my head again to kiss her and Alice wrapped strong arms around me, rolling to her back and pulling me with her.
And then a miracle occurred.
As we continued to kiss, seemingly without moving and without being guided and without jabbing at her, I simply glided into her wet folds and into her vagina.
I had planned—inasmuch as one ever plans in these situations—to continue down her body until I could use my tongue to satisfy her. But instead, my cock had effortlessly slid into her. And we both froze there. The feeling was so sensually overwhelming that I couldn’t separate the regions of my body that were responding to her. She’d described the connection between her nipples and lips and clit and even toes. I could understand in that instant exactly what she meant. Even the base of my spine was tingling.
“I’m sorry, Alice,” I said, starting to withdraw. “I didn’t mean…” She clamped her hands around my butt and pulled me tighter.
“Don’t apologize. Oh, god, Ari! This is what we both wanted. And we’re here. You weren’t even fully hard! I can feel you stiffening inside me. It’s… so incredible,” Alice said. She kissed me again until she broke to gasp for air.
“I don’t think… I feel like a teenager… I don’t think I can hold off, Alice.”
“Don’t! Don’t wait. Come in me. Fill me. I think I’m going to… I’ve never had an orgasm from intercourse and I’m… Come in me, Ari. I’m going to… Oh, god, Ari!”
We hadn’t moved since she stopped me from pulling out. I was simply buried deeply inside her and my penis pulsed as my soul rushed into her waiting vagina. She gripped me as she came. Her legs eventually relaxed which resulted in me dipping even farther into her depths as we both gasped again.
I was lost. I opened my eyes, not even realizing I had them squeezed tightly shut. She was looking up at me, tears flowing down her cheeks. Her dark eyes flashed at me and she pulled me to her for another kiss. I was, sadly, softening in her, but even as my cock slipped from her hot depths, I felt residual charges of electricity jolting through me.
“What did you do to me?” she whispered. “Ari, I’m never going to be the same.”
It rained most of the day. That was a good enough excuse for us to just stay in bed. It doesn’t mean that we were fucking the entire time, but we certainly didn’t jump out of bed and get dressed. Under the best of circumstances, it takes me a while to recover from a good come and be ready to go again. When my entire essence had been drained from my body, it was certainly going to take a little longer. After we kissed and held each other for a while, I got up and made breakfast. Alice cut up the melon that I’d purchased, so we each had a thick slice of bacon, scrambled eggs, and honeydew. I tossed towels on the bench seat at the table and Alice laughed about needing something to catch the drips. I knew she’d caught the first several in her hand on the way to the bathroom, but between her juices and my leavings, she was still dripping.
We went back to bed.
We read for a while, she had a Kindle and had downloaded Jay Cantrell’s Daze in the Valley from SOL. Occasionally, she’d nudge me and read a scene or a speech out loud. We’d giggle a little and kiss, then go back to reading. Eventually, we both fell asleep again, listening to the rain on my fiberglass roof.
We woke up face-to-face and sleepily smooched. She squeezed and I felt her pussy muscles clamp down on my cock.
“How did we do that?” she asked. We’d been sleeping on our sides, holding each other face-to-face, but we hadn’t been fucking when we went to sleep. Still we woke up with my cock deep inside her.
“I don’t know how, but I like it.”
“It’s like our parts are just drawn together. Make love to me, Ari.”
I was happy to oblige. Our first time, neither of us had moved much once I’d been fully inserted. The initial feelings had been so intense that we came without any other stimulation. This time, I pulled back and pushed in again slowly. She pushed forward to meet my stroke. Perhaps it wasn’t as intense as our first coupling, but I could still feel the residual shocks charging down my spine like I’d been struck by lightning. We rocked slowly together and continued our early explorations of each other with kisses, light touches, a grasp of buttock or breast. We looked into each other’s eyes as we made love and when we came, we kissed through the entire orgasm, trying to be joined in every possible way at once.
We didn’t stay in bed making love all week. The next day was sunny and we headed into Yellowstone to see Old Faithful. In addition to being an awesome sight, we took some funny pictures that made it look like she was mad and the geyser was spouting out of her pretty head. We hiked along a trail near the visitor center, walking hand-in-hand and enjoying the peace.
“Ari?” she whispered. “What’s that?”
I glanced to my left where she was looking. A bull elk, about twenty feet off the path in the shade of interlocking trees, was quietly watching us as we passed. I kept Alice moving. Beside the bull were three cows and two calves.
“I think we should just keep going,” I whispered.
“Shouldn’t we go back?”
“This trail is a loop. We should just keep going.” We didn’t rush, but I kept Alice moving.
I have a lot of respect for animals—especially wild animals. I’d seen a video of a bull elk jamming his antlers right through the side of a car it thought was invading its territory. I did not want to give it the impression we were considering bedding down where he was. We were a good fifty yards down the path before we started to breathe easy again.
Of course, people are idiots. On the northern side of the lake as we drove back toward our campsite late in the afternoon, traffic was stopped for the herd of buffalo that was blocking the road. People were getting out of their cars and approaching the two ton beasts to take selfies with them. A sixteen-year-old had been gored by a bison just this spring. Witnesses had said he was about three feet away from the huge animal taking a selfie.
We waited in the line of cars, getting out and sitting on the hood of the truck to take our pictures. It was after dark by the time we got back to camp.
A Long Time Ago: Yes I Will Yes
I won a contest my senior year in high school. It didn’t surprise me. I’d won lots of contests. When I was a paper carrier, I won all sorts of contests. That dude ranch that Brian kept visiting? Yeah. I went there a bunch of times. I won trips to baseball games in Chicago, the State Fair in Indianapolis, and once I even won a four-day cruise to Nassau in the Bahamas. That’s a story I’ll have to tell you sometime. Fifteen years old with seven other paper carriers and two circulation managers on a cruise to paradise. Toss in appendicitis. That wasn’t this trip.
The prize was a theater tour in New York City. It was a mixed group of seventeen- and eighteen-year-old boys and girls. What could possibly go wrong? We’d been selected through the state speech contest and were sponsored by the regional theater in Indianapolis. I’d never be able to find the hotel we stayed at if I went back there. It was cheap and we were assigned to dormitory-style rooms with four single beds and a bath in each one. I’m sure they figured that keeping us bunched up like that would make it harder for us to have a boy slip into a girl’s room or vice versa. And it did. We were good kids. Which didn’t mean there was no fooling around. We just didn’t sleep together.
There was a total of thirty-two students and eight adults that boarded a charter bus in Indianapolis at nine at night on Thursday. Officially, we all had Friday and Monday off school. We’d arrive in New York by noon on Friday and get settled in our hotel, do a little touring of Broadway, including a backstage tour of The Lyceum Theater and then attend Zalmen or the Madness of God Friday night after dinner. We’d see a total of four shows and then Monday we’d be back on the bus headed for Indiana. None of us would be worth shit in school on Tuesday.
First, there was the fourteen-hour bus ride from Indianapolis to New York City. We boarded the bus and did our best to grab seats so we could sleep on the way. That was the intent. I grabbed a seat and propped my pillow against the window. There weren’t enough seats for everyone to have one, but I was surprised when a girl I didn’t know plopped down next to me.
“You look like you’ve got a comfortable shoulder. Can I sleep with you?” she said as she pulled her pillow between us.
“I usually like to know the names of the girls I sleep with,” I laughed.
“Allison,” she said, offering her hand. I took it lightly.
“Aroslav.”
“I know. I saw you do your one-man rendition of A Midsummer Night’s Dream at state finals.”
“You were there? Wait. You did that incredible interpretation of Molly Bloom from Ulysses.”
“That was me.”
“Inspired. I will never hear the word ‘yes’ again in the same way.”
“I borrowed it. Saw Siobhan McKenna do it in London a couple of years ago. I’ve been working on it ever since. They wouldn’t let me do it naked, though.”
“They… You… What?”
“Well, maybe not completely naked, but someday I want to do the whole thing instead of just the four-minute cut and I want to do it lying in bed like Molly would be, examining her breasts and trying to figure out why men are so fascinated with them. Don’t you think that would be cool?” she asked.
“The idea is… fascinating,” I said weakly.
“Well, now we can sleep together while crossing state lines. You can put your arm around me. It will be more comfortable.”
For whom? She pushed her pillow up against me and I let my arm fall to her shoulder as I pushed her pillow down and out of my face. We shifted a little so we were both lying back and got comfortable. Except my hand was dangling down over her shoulder and I knew it was just an inch or so from her breast.
Apparently, Allison knew about it, too, because before she went to sleep, she took hold of my hand and held it for the rest of the night, sort of between her breasts.
New York was great. Zalmen was heavy. I’d read some of Elie Wiesel’s work when I went out to Colorado a couple years previously, so I was kind of expecting the dark cry of despair. Like a lot of our group, though, I had a hard time staying awake through the second act.
Saturday afternoon, we scored a bonus. Those of us who were over eighteen could buy tickets to a matinee of Oh! Calcutta! It had recently been revived and we couldn’t wait to see it. Of course, the big draw was that it included full nudity, but the music was damned good, too. And it was funny. And they were naked.
The second act started with a filmed segment where the actors were all dancing around nude. Allison had been holding my hand all through the show and leaned over to whisper in my ear.
“You can put your arm around me.” I obliged, placing my hand on her shoulder and pulling her toward me more firmly. That, apparently, wasn’t what she had in mind. She leaned forward a little and pulled my arm behind her back and my hand under her arm. By the time the scene ‘One on One’ began, she’d pulled my hand far enough forward to cup her breast. It was a nice breast to cup. It was also then that I realized she wasn’t wearing a bra. It was really nice. I petted and squeezed her breast through the entire act and when I lagged, she shifted a bit and made sure her breast was moving against my hand.
During the finale, there were supposedly comments being received from the audience. The whole cast was standing around nude on stage, taking comments. “How come none of the guys have hard-ons?” one questioner asked. Allison leaned up to my ear and licked it. Shit!
“Do you have a hard-on?” she asked. No shit, Sherlock! I couldn’t care less about the naked actors. I had an incredible tit in my hand. She didn’t give me a chance to respond. “I have a hard-on. Feel it under your fingers?” I let my fingers glide across the curvature of her breast and tweak her nipple a little. She gasped. “Yes,” she whispered. She put her hand on my chest and continued to whisper in my ear as the audience began to applaud for the curtain call. I couldn’t move and she practically crawled into my lap. “His heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.” I turned my head and we kissed. Yes.
That night we saw Porgy and Bess at the Uris Theater. I love that music! Unfortunately, when we got our tickets, one of the kids who hadn’t been with us at Oh! Calcutta! had the ticket for the seat between us and refused to move. We were late getting into the show and ended up sitting a seat away from each other with the smug little pug between us. When he asked where we’d been while the rest of them had been to see Fiddler on the Roof, Allison answered with the words “O quel cul t’as!” which is French for “What an asshole you are!” she told me later.
On Sunday, we were allowed time to go get our own lunch and explore as long as we were in a group of four or more. We met Bert and Frankie, another couple who had hit it off during the trip. We had a nice late lunch at a genuine New York Deli in the Theater District. Allison kept stroking up and down my thigh with her left hand while we ate. I had a raging hard-on, but she never quite touched it. We got to the Circle in the Square Theater in plenty of time to make sure we had seats together after we’d wandered up and down Broadway, Forty-Second Street, and Seventh Avenue. The big treat of the trip was to see Tennessee Williams’ The Night of the Iguana with Richard Chamberlain.
Indiana Rep wanted to impress upon us that theater was serious business and between Zalmen and Iguana, I guess they succeeded in getting their point across. Frankly, I found Iguana an easy show to love with my arm wrapped around Allison, once again playing with her nipples as she stroked my thigh. This time, about every third or fourth stroke, she’d glide her fingers up the full length of my cock. I was erect through the entire play.
I was looking forward to the bus ride home on Monday morning. I figured we’d cuddle up in our seat again and this time, the petting, at least, would be serious. Of course, we didn’t get to do that for the whole fourteen hours back to Indy. It was daylight for the first eight hours and people were raucous. We joined in the card games and even charades, played in the aisle of the bus.
It got dark soon after we crossed into Ohio, though, and people started to settle down. Allison slid into the seat beside me and reached up to turn off our overhead light. Just that movement, though, set her breasts in motion in such a way as to let me know she’d somehow lost her bra. We shifted ourselves around this time so that she was lying back across my lap with our pillows under her. We had one of the light bus blankets over us. As soon as we started to kiss, Allison guided my hand under her sweater and I felt the luscious flesh of her tits in my hand. She shifted enough that she could stroke my continued erection.
It took nearly two hours of kissing and whispering before I got my hand beneath her waistband and into her pussy.
“You’ve got to kiss me really tight, Ari,” she said. “Because when you get me off, I’m going to scream. Do it. You’ve got the spot, right there. Just a little more. I’ve been waiting all weekend for this.” True to her word, she ramped up for an ear-splitting scream that was almost completely muffled by my having our lips sealed together and my tongue halfway down her throat. She didn’t get my cock out of my pants, but she turned her head enough that she could nibble at my jeans from my balls all the way up to the crown. She had it in her mouth, jeans and all, when I came.
“Why me?” I whispered as we calmed down and just continued to make out in the quiet darkness of the bus. “Why did you choose me, Allison?”
“I’m going to need a first act before I do my Molly Bloom one day,” she whispered back. “You’ll write it for me, won’t you, Ari?”
“Of course I will, Allie. Of course I will.”
Back to Alice
“Why me?” I whispered late the night before Alice left to return to school. We’d made love for hours, it seemed, and she’d fallen asleep in my arms. I lay awake most of the night with the same questions going through my mind.
“Too much mental masturbation,” Alice whispered without opening her eyes. I hadn’t thought she was awake.
“Go back to sleep, love,” I said as I petted her hair. So pretty. So young.
“You’re tormenting yourself, Ari,” she said, her eyes flicking open. “Call it Karma and I’m the punishment for your wicked ways.”
“I’m glad I lived such a bad life. What would my reward have been if I’d been good?”
“A frigid virgin. You’d keep each other pure.” She giggled softly.
“It doesn’t answer the question,” I said after a while. “You’re nineteen. Why are you even interested in an old fart like me? Even as a diversion? You have to want someone closer to your own age.”
“Ari, love, I don’t know. I don’t know why I find you attractive. Maybe it’s just the stability of having someone older.”
“Stability? I’m one step above living in a white van down by the river,” I laughed.
“Yeah. I guess I have to scratch that off my list.” She wiggled herself closer, if possible. We hadn’t spent all our time making love this week, but we’d spent a good share. “Please don’t take this wrong, Ari, but I love you.”
“How could I possibly take that wrong?”
“I’m not making a life commitment to you. I love you, but I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. Maybe you’ll become impotent and there will be no reason to have me.”
“Thanks. Alice, I…”
“I know, Ari. You love me, too. But you aren’t making a commitment. I’m a freshman in college. You are living the life of my dreams. When I’m ready to live that life, you might be done with it and want to hide in a cabin in Montana for the rest of your life. Which, by the way, isn’t an unattractive prospect. But the thing is we don’t know.”
She kissed me again and we hugged each other close. Her kisses just did something to me. I placed my finger against her lips to keep her from responding until I was finished.
“I love you, Alice. I wanted you to hear that from my lips so you weren’t just assuming it was true. Now you know it. I love you and no matter where our paths lead or when they cross, I will always wish you the best of all possible worlds.” I kissed her again.
“Then write me more stories. Call me in the middle of cold and snowy Montana nights and make me come with your voice. And…” she shifted only slightly and gasped as I slid into her yet again. “And make love to me again, Ari.”
“Aren’t you too sore by now?”
“I don’t care. I just want to feel it again. I’ll take another week off work so I don’t have a swollen pussy when I dance.”
We made love. The rest of the night.
I watched her as she left, choosing to let her go before I could get the trailer hitched and be tempted to follow her. An hour later, I pulled out of the campground and resumed my journey westward.
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