What had started out to be just an afternoon of wandering around in the Colorado foothills was turning out to be an experience that was not pleasant at all.
Perhaps you would understand a bit better if I filled you in on what was going on. All of my life there has been a burning deep inside me to seek adventure. I want to, no I need to, find out what is over that next hill or around that next turn in the road. If I look at a map and see all the nice freeways and byways that are designated as "Interstate" this and "Interstate" that, then boredom sets in and, yawning, I put the map away and choose some other route.
Any time I have headed out on vacation the tug of adventure has caused me to abandon the proven route and, literally, forced me to drive down the forbidden or undiscovered path. Oh, I suppose there is a psychological reason for this or, perhaps, I'm a reincarnation of some ancient explorer or, maybe, it is just born into some people and they can't help it. I know I can't.
I joined the merchant marine when I was quite young, simply because I had read somewhere these ships wandered all over the world; I wanted to see the world. When we were in port and loading the ship, I was like a caged tiger pacing from rail to rail and bow to stern hoping we would get underway before I went bananas. I had seen this portion of the world and I wanted to get on with seeing the rest of it; wanderlust, I guess you call this. Where were we going? Who cared as long as it was somewhere different from where we were at the moment.
I have never taken a train, a plane or a ship, other than the merchant marine, to get where I wanted to go. In view of the fact I have seen most of the world via the maritime service, this form of travel no longer appeals to me. Now, when I go somewhere I take the only form of transport that satisfies as far as I'm concerned and that is the four-wheeled vehicle called the automobile. Planes fly over things and all you see are colored patterns, ships can't go into valleys and hidden places, trains roar past most of the good spots without stopping and all you see is a blur of wooden poles holding up wires and the back fences of the poorest neighborhoods in America, but the car can be maneuvered into most any place. Well, not all places as I often discovered.
Which brings me to the present situation. I had traveled from New York to where I was presently parked. I had purchased a small motor home type vehicle and I was towing a small Japanese truck behind it. When I arrived at a destination point, I parked the mobile home, disconnected the truck and called it home. I had everything handy that my New York apartment offered, but this motor home could move from city to city and state to state. My New York apartment was right where I had left it and this was not to my liking. So, here I was parked in a small RV park in the foothills f the Colorado Rockies. My intentions were simply to explore, nothing more than that.
I wanted to see what was around the next corner and over that next hill. After getting all set up and the sewer and water hoses connected, I went in to town and had a good stiff double martini and ordered a filet mignon and baked potato and then went whole hog and ordered a Caesar salad. The steak was terrific, but the place was empty and the waiter, obviously bored, was leaning against the bar and when I finished I waved him over wanting to talk.
He came up and said, "Everything all right, sir? Do you want the check or would you like some dessert?" I wanted conversation, no dessert and I would, of course, take the check. I signed, using my Visa Card, and gave him a tip and said, "I'm going exploring with my 4-by in the morning and I was wondering if you were a native of this area and familiar with the terrain?" He assured me he was all of the above and proceeded to draw me a map of a terrific road which would lead me to all sorts of high adventure.
After breakfast in the RV campgrounds so-called "restaurant", I headed out to follow the route outlined by my friend the waiter. It was beautiful and worthwhile driving through. The month was August and it was sort of dry, but still there was a lot of foliage at this high altitude. I would guess I was at about 10 or 11 thousand feet when I began having doubts. The road was alive with animals in the shape of deer, bear and what I took to be wolf.
A coyote or two loped across in front of me and, on occasion, the sky seemed filled with eagles and hawks of one sort or another.
Suddenly, however, I became aware I was no longer on the main drag. I don't have any notion as to what occurred, but the road I was now on was just a mite better than driving through rough, unimproved terrain. Thank god for four wheel drive and, best of all, I had two external five-gallon tanks of extra gasoline. I bumped and bounced for more than an hour, but could see nothing except another ridge, another valley and another ridge melding into a steady stream of the same thing over and over. The road had been leveled at one time or another, but it had long since deteriorated and was bumpy and loose and the drop off on my right side went down forever. Bad business.
To make it worse it was beginning to spatter rain. Not hard, not steady, but this was a sandy clay type road and rain was going to make this baby impassable in short order.
Bouncing over the next ridge gave me a look at the same view I had been seeing for the past hour; nothing but another valley and, on the horizon, another ridge. Cracking a quick peek at the gas gauge led me to the conclusion the two cans of gas tied on back were just about what was needed for the gauge to read "full" once more. I could go no further; I had to turn around.
Where does one turn around on a road like this? The rain was coming down harder now and the road was just wide enough to allow the tires of this little old truck to find rolling room and not much more. Whoops, I felt it slide a little and I got all kinds of doubts in my mind after that. So, taking the bull by the horns I did a left into the side of the mountain, backed up until I didn't dare back any further, bumped the radiator into the mountain and backed again, over and over until I was headed back the way I had just come.
Over 2 hours later, the gas gauge was bumping against the "E" once more, my two extra cans of gas were history and my trip was about over as far as transportation in this vehicle was concerned. It was hot and muggy, the rain was helping make things even worse and I was going to have to pull it over shortly and walk. At the first spot that offered a tiny place to pull off out of harms way, I parked the truck, locked it and headed down the road. No water, no hiking boots, no backpack, no food.
I was dripping sweat, scared shitless and thirsty enough to suck the liquid out of a skunks ass when I saw smoke rising up among the trees to my left. Maybe somebody was up among the sheltering pines, bro. Head for it. Climbing and falling and climbing again, I snaked my way to within hailing distance of what appeared to be a small farmhouse and shed sitting out here in the wilderness and, yep, there definitely was smoke coming out of the chimney.
Not knowing how the local yokels treated strangers in these parts, I decided to make no further moves until I yelled and got the lay of the land. What I didn't know at that moment was that the last four words of that thought were about to be visited on me; a gift from heaven. Lay of the land, indeed.
"Heeelllllooooooo! Anyone at home up there?" Nothing. Try it again. Nothing. Again. Nothing. I waited a few seconds and decided to try to go ahead and walk on in. I had taken no more than three steps when a soft, definitely female voice off to my left said, "One more step, mister, and you got an hours worth of work pickin' buckshot outta yore hide. Don't move another inch." Looking around I could see nothing at all; just lots of pine trees standing side by side for miles. Then the voice said, "Wadd a ya' want way out here?"
I explained what had happened and all that I wanted to do was get a cool drink of water, freshen up a bit, get some water to carry along and some instructions on how to get out of here and I would be on my way.
"Well, why didn' ya say so. Head on up ta the house and I'll meet ya' there."
When I arrived there was no sign of life except for the biggest goddam dog in all of Colorado. Mean looking, too, so I decided to just stop and stand there, because he didn't look like he wanted any further travel from me; not toward the house, anyway. After a few seconds a girl appeared in the farmhouse doorway and ordered the dog off and said to me, "Well come on up if ya' want somethin' cold ta drink."
As I neared the doorway, I could see she was a young kid, really, not more than 25 or so and what I could see above and below the sort of baggy dress she was wearing, was quite a lot of woman. Her hair was done up in a bun and straight as a die, but blonde as all get out; well a kind of dirty blonde. From the mountain sun I guessed because it looked like it should have been light brown. She was kind of cute, too, not gorgeous, not even pretty, but she was still holding a double barreled shotgun at her side; taking no chances, I guess, and this sort of took away any tendency for her to be pretty as far as I was concerned.
When I was within a yard or so of her she backed into the kitchen and invited me in. Jesus it was good to sit down. Wiping the sweat off my face, I said, "Don't tell me you live all alone out here in the middle of nowhere."
She had a cute tinkly little laugh and said, "Oh, heck no. My husband is here with me, but he's gone out workin' his gold mine out there in tha hills. So, it's just me and Charlie, my buddy, here for the time it takes my hubby to get back down from the ridge."
"What does your husband do? Go to work each morning and come home each afternoon?"
The tinkly little giggle again and she said, "No, heck no. He'll be gone for a few weeks or maybe a coupla months if he finds any gold. Or even if he don't find any."
"Aren't you afraid to be alone like this?"
"Naw, not with ole Charlie around, he'd tear anything apart that tried to do me in, even a bear. He did once, too. Wasn't no bear, but it was a bobcat and it gave me a bad time out in the yard while I was feedin' tha chickens. Wanted a chicken, I guess, but ole Charlie didn't give him a chance. Chased that danged cat clear into the next county, I guess. Matter of fact, that's how I knew you was comin'; ole Charlie let me know as soon as ya' left the road."
All the while she was talking, she was moving about the kitchen making a pitcher of lemonade or something out of a yellow can and each time she passed in front of the open door I could see her cute shape under that baggy dress. She didn't have stitch one on under that thing.
Cute shape, too. Wow!
Finally, she put the pitcher in front of me with a glass and said, "Drink up. Fresh up. Sorry I ain't got no ice, but the water comes from a deep mountain spring and is coldern' all get out. Sorry the lemonade ain't fresh, but we can't get 'em up here, lest we go down the mountain to the nearest store."
I assured her it would be fine, but she needn't have gone through all that trouble as water would have worked just as well. But, it did taste good and I refilled the glass two more times. As we sat there at the table she was watching me very closely and I said to her, "You seem to be studying me. Why?"
"No reason. Just wanted to see your features and that sorta stuff. I don't get to see too many people other than my husband and it's nice to be near another human for a change."
"You live up here all the time?"
"Not all the time. We have another farm down in the valley, but we spend most of our time here, summers that is, until the snow gets too bad and we hafta go down the slope. So we're here from about the middle of March until about October and then it gets too bad. So, with a little bit of luck we'll be goin' down about 6 or 8 weeks or so from now."
"How long does your husband stay away during all this time?"
"Most of it. I get pretty lonely so it's kinda nice to have another human to talk to."
"Well, thank you for the cold drink. It was delicious and now, if you have a place I can freshen up, I'll rinse the sweat off and be on my way. On my way, that is, if you can head me in the right direction."
"You can't walk outta here. Ain't ya' got some form of transportation at all?"
"I have a truck about a zillion miles that way, but no gas so it won't do any good to think about that."
"We got gas. See that pump backa tha barn. Full all the time. My husband brings up about three or four big drums like that and stores them here for his Jeep. So, we can fix ya' up with gas. I'll hitch up the mules tomorrow and we'll go get yore truck. No sweat."
"Oh, I couldn't ask you to do all of that, but it would be nice if you have an empty can. I'll take some and get the truck up here this afternoon. I don't want you to have to put me up for the night. No, no."
"I insist. The mules won't care one way or the other." She ended with her tinkly laugh and said, "Now take off your clothes and I'll throw them in the wash tub and give them a good swishin' to get the sweat out."
"Take off my clothes? In front of you? Or are you going to be doing the laundry and keep your eyes shut?"
"No, but ya' needn't be bashful, I ain't. Sides, I seen men with no clothes on before. Why ya' worried, ya' got somethin' ya' don't want me to see? [Another cute tinkly laugh] Now get outta them things and go on down to the horse trough and jump in. I'll bring ya' some soap down inna minute."
Jesus, what an offer, I didn't know whether to shit or go blind at this. But I said, bravely, "Well if I'm going to be parading around naked in front of you, the least we can do is introduce ourselves. I'm Ed and you're?"
"Kathi. Kathi Turner"
"Ed Morriston. Glad to make your acquaintance."
"Go on down and get washin' and I'll bring ya'some soap. I'll even scrub yore back iffen ya want me to." Tinkly giggle.
"Well, Kathi, your offer is terrific and I'll probably kick myself for saying, no thanks, but I keep thinking about what would happen if, while you were scrubbing away at my back, your husband should decide to visit his old plantation and takes exception to what you're doing to a stranger."
"Uh! No problem. He wouldn't care at all. He knows I get lonesome down here; he knows I want someone to kind of make over; to talk to, to be near, to do things for; to sit and eat together, but it so seldom happens he doesn't give it a second thought. So, Ed, there would be no scene; no shouting or getting jealous or anything like that. We have an open marriage; I think that's what they call them now a days. As a matter of fact we used to live in a hippie commune north of San Francisco; lived there for years and he slept with who he wanted and I did too. No, no problem. The same still applies. And if you come right down to it, we probably ain't even married in the eyes of the law. Some itinerant preacher performed the ceremony for us and said we wuz married. I don't even know if he had a license to do that; nothing was ever filed, legally, that I know about. We been livin' like this, married that is, now for nearly 9 years and we ain't been able to produce a baby yet. The clinic doctor says I'm able, but my husband ain't. Now you know why he really could care less about the whole thing. Aw, he likes to get his nuts off when he comes down from the mine, but if I get my jollies some other way it doesn't bother him at all.
"But since we moved here it has happened only once. A deer hunter got lost and spent the night here. We screwed a couple of times during the night and my husband didn't even bother to wake up. Slept through the whole thing. You're the first one to come along since that time and that was over two years ago. As I said, I get lonely up here all by myself and a healthy girl like me needs somebody around to make over, to love and to get some love in return. Jeez, I'd even settle for a kiss or a pat on the butt, but so far I ain't gettin' any of them things and now you tell me no, you don't want me to wash yore back. Makes me wanta cry, almost. As a matter of fact, I was hopin' you'd help me make a baby. That's why I was studyin' you so hard when you first came to the house. I wanted to sort of picture what kinda baby you could make. Good one and cute, I'll bet, 'cause yore cute."
Jesus, I didn't know how to respond to all of this, but by the time she finished this speech I had a lump in my throat about the size of a cantaloupe and felt so sorry for her I didn't know what to say. Here I am, a grown man, traveling on my own, no ties to anyone anywhere, standing naked in the farmyard of a mountain cabin, listening to a sad tale told by a cute young chick about 10 years younger than I am and not knowing whether to believe it or not. She sounded sincere, though, and there were lots of her kind dotting these hills and valleys. I took her hand in mine and said, "I feel so sorry for you living like this that I could cry. But I still have your husband in the back of my mind and that bothers me no end."
"Okie, Ed. He's been gone for quite a while; it takes him almost a week to get up to the mine. He takes a burro along to carry his gear; his tent and food and stuff and he always plans on bein' gone at least a month. He couldn't get back at the earliest even if he just went up, took a look and headed back, lessen a week from tomorrow. No way. Come on, be a sport. Help me make a baby. You can can't you?"
"Sure I could, but I've often said to myself if I ever had a kid by anyone I'd wanta know about it and see it and touch it and help it grow and go to school and stuff and if I knock you up doing an overnight stand and then drift away I could never realize all those dreams of mine. Capeesh?"
"Oh, sure. I understand, but I'd keep in touch with you and come and visit you if you don't live too far away. We ain't got a whole lot of money, you know, 'cause I think that mine is more rock than anything else and you can't buy food with gravel and rocks. Then, too, you got a means of gettin' here. You could come and spend a week or so and play with our new baby anytime ya' would want. I'd want ya' to do that."
That was the bone crusher for me. I reached out, then, and took this cute little thing into my arms and crushed her body up to mine. She literally molded herself to my frame, wrapping her arms around me like a long lost sister. I kissed her then, a deep and penetrating kiss and, as our tongues intertwined she began to move her torso and push her cunt right against my thigh, rubbing it hard into my leg. She began to sob, too, and I could feel the tears rolling down her cheeks and on to mine. Coming up for air, she said, "Ed. You'll never regret this, I promise with all my heart and soul. You'll never be sorry for this, for sure. So let's get you bathed and then we'll start makin' babies. Go ahead and get in the hoss trough and I'll get some soap."
She was like a little kid with a new Christmas toy; she literally danced back to the farmhouse and by the time I had ensconced myself up to my shoulders in the cool water she was on her way back, bar of soap in one hand, towels in the other and naked as a jaybird. The trough was a perfect place to bathe. It was made of wood and was rather large and fairly deep. Made of heavy planking, it was about 4 feet wide and six or so feet long. At one end of the trough was a windmill for pumping the water in and on the other end was a flat wooden table that was used for washing clothes and that sort of stuff. She was skipping and hopping all the way here and she had let her hair down and it was bobbing and bouncing with each skip she made. Really a sight to see.
As a matter of fact my old pecker was now standing fully at attention under the water. She climbed in by throwing her left leg over the side like mounting a boys bicycle, her little slit opened up wide and, boy, was I glad I had made this decision. Best move you ever made Ed, old boy. This was working itself up into a situation that would be imbedded in my memory forever and then some.
Getting one foot in and the other on the ground caused her to swing that cute little ass in my direction and I couldn't help myself; I reached out and gave it a couple of pats. She froze rock still and wiggled it for me to do it again. Her pussy was wide open, standing spread eagled like that, so the natural thing to do was go from pat to feel and I did so. Running my hand up and down the slit caused her to moan and groan already and she hunkered her butt down to make better contact with my fingers so I extended my middle finger and shoved it all the way in her, now, dripping wet pussy.
We weren't even into this thing yet and she was showing signs of coming apart. I removed my hand, then, and said, "Come on in the water's fine." She swung the other leg in and gave me another x-rated view of her snatch. It was a cute thing, tiny like she was, she couldn't weigh more than 100 pounds and didn't appear to be more than 5 feet tall in her bare feet; maybe a bit less. Her hair was what is referred to as dishwater blonde, but her pussy hairs were golden yellow and very sparse.
As she sat down submerging her tits in the process I saw they, too, were small but stuck straight out, not one line of sag in either one. The nipples just came to a sort of rounded point and were a delicate shade of beige. Cute package any way you looked at it. She was the small, cute package type a guy likes to dream of, with him lying on his back, putting his pecker in, having her hold her legs up out of the way and giving her a good spin to see how many rotations she could make, jesus, what a thought.
She held the soap up and said, "You first, slide down this way a little bit and I'll wash your hair for you. This ain't the best shampoo in the world, but it'll have to do."
With that I bent my head down and she washed my hair thoroughly, rinsed it and went on down from there. She worked extra hard on my nipples which sent some shock waves through my system kissing and sucking each one when she finished, and then, kneeling in the water, asked me to stand up. When I did my hard on splashed up out of the water like a small submarine breaking the surface after a deep dive. Taking the head in her hand, she soaped my dick from hair to head and then started working the lather in and around the folds of my foreskin.
I had never been circumcised and she washed the folds of skin very well indeed. As a matter of fact, I had to caution her about being too brisk with her hands or I was going to shoot my load right into her hair standing at his angle. So, she turned me around and went to work on my ass, crack, hole, balls and all. She did my back and legs to where they entered the water and then had me sit on the little table on the end of the trough so she could get to my feet and lower calves. Then she told me to rinse off and see if anything else had to be washed. Satisfied with her job she asked me to sit back down in the water and gave me the soap. "Now it's my turn. Be inventive." [Little tinkly giggle.]
I went to work on her hair while she was sitting down, but to do so I had to stand up and this, of course, put my horizontal dong within reach of her mouth which she put to work, immediately, Rub a dub dub, three men in a tub and as I sloshed the soap around in her hair she gave slosh for suck and we were off an running. As I moved down to her face and ears and neck, she would take my foreskin and pull it out until it covered the head of my dick and, then, with her lips right at the end, move the foreskin back very slowly until the head was completely in her mouth and then she would go to work on the underside of the head with her tongue fluttering it like the touch of a butterflies wings. Jeepers, what a feeling, so I told her I couldn't take much more of that or I was going to waste this load. She quit, then, 'cause she said she didn't want me to waste any jizz just shootin' it in the water and got up on the table so I could wash her private parts as she called them.
Lying on her back, now, with knees drawn up and wide apart I was presented free access to her "privates" and I went to work on her with a will. I soaped her pussy and asshole, worked my way up each thigh to the knees and then on down to her feet. Getting all of this soaped thoroughly, I went back to work on her cunt. I lathered, I scrubbed, I rinsed and I played with it; I kissed it and fingered it. She was really moaning and moving her hips up and down in a rotary motion at my ministrations and, finally, I leaned down and started to kiss her right in the middle of all the pink spots. Believe me when I say this was one of the cutest little female love holes I had ever seen. It was, as I said, sparsely covered with hair, making it look somewhat like it had been shaved and that has always turned me on.
Just the thought of a shaved pussy is enough to give me a hardon and here was one that was naturally shaved. Hot shit! I couldn't help it, I leaned down and started to tongue from the bottom of the slit to the top and back again. The best part of the whole thing was the table she was on was just the right height for me to sit in the water, pull her forward and her cunt was right at the level of my mouth. Believe me when I say, I gave her a tongue-lashing the like of which not many women ever have had.
She was tossing to and fro, though, and I had to finally hold her by her hips so I could make contact with her pussy. She had, by this time, reached down and gotten her hands on her thighs just above her knees and was holding her legs straight up in the air and out of my way. I really had access to that cute little glistening love nest. By the time I had made a couple of trips around and in and out doing this, Kathi was moaning and groaning; kicking her legs straight out and bringing them back into her body and straight over head, over and over again. Then, she began asking me to "Please put it in, please I want it in, oh please, oh please, just fuck me and don't waste a drop of that precious jizz. Please put it in, put in, put in, put in, oh, god! please put it in. I want it so bad. Please make me have a baby. Don't waste any, please."
I couldn't resist these entreaties to fuck her, so I rose out of the water, dripping wet, got my knees against the wooden end of the tub and aiming my dick with my right hand, slid her forward another couple of inches and shot it about half way in with one shove. She let out a moan, her eyelids fluttering and my breath was coming in bursts and gasps and I did what she asked me to do.
I buried it to the hilt and came almost immediately. I let loose a flood of juice into her pussy and when I did that, she wrapped her legs around my middle and held me in a vice grip so tight that I couldn't have broken it had I wanted to. I didn't want to. The tightness of her cunt around my dick, her shuddering orgasms and her cries of, "don't waste any, don't take it out, oh, please, I want every drop, don't waste it, make me have a baby", were more than I could stand. I clamped my lips on her pouty mouth and kissed her like crazy and then I started to wiggle my ass and hips around while I was still buried to the hilt in her cute cunt.
Strangely, I was soft, but came again. I didn't know I could do that, but she felt it and shuddered out with, "Oh, god, that's good. Hold still so we don't lose any. I want a baby so bad, I don't want one drop to slide out and be wasted. Just hold still and let it soak in. I don't know how long it takes sperm to reach my eggs, but let's not disturb it. I want them to have every chance to get there. Just lay on top and let the sperm find my eggs. Please hold still."
I did hold still. It wasn't easy, though, and, besides, the rough wooden edge of the tub was beginning to get to my knees. She was so warm, so tight and so wet, and she was holding me in such a vice grip with her legs and I could feel her vaginal muscles pulsing around my dick that I started to get hard almost immediately and thought I was going to have to start pumping again.
I knew, though, that she didn't want to take a chance and have any of my jizz pumped out; not yet, anyway. So, I just kneeled there trying to keep from getting hard again and, above all trying to keep it from slipping out. It was not to be. As my pecker shriveled it just naturally slipped out and when it did our love juices just came out with it and stained the wooden planking of the table.
She could feel it and started wailing about wasting it and not having a chance to have a baby and on and on. I tried to calm her by telling her there was more where that came from and for her not to fret. Shit, I told her she had enough in her to create 2 billion me's. She calmed a bit and relaxed staring at the blue sky.
Then she said, "Ed. Do you want to know something? You kissed my pussy and licked it with your tongue. That was really terrific. Nobody has ever done that to me before. My husband thinks only queers do that sort of thing. He is the sort to stick it in, cum, pull it out, have a cigarette and go to sleep sort of guy. Know what I mean? What I'm tryin' to say is, I enjoyed it almost as much as havin' your prick explode inside me. Wow, that felt good. Can we do it again? Soon?"
I assured her this was part and parcel of good lovemaking and I considered myself and expert at this game. I told her, too, that I enjoyed our session just as much as she did, maybe more, and I wasn't about to stop as long as she felt her husband was not going to come barging in and raise hell. She assured me this would never happen, "because he just didn't give a shit one way or the other."
I kissed her, then, and we both lay back on the table to soak up a little of that gorgeous mountain August sun. After we had rested there for several minutes, she rolled over to face me and said, "Ed, do you think your jizz has been in me long enough for the sperm to reach my eggs by now? I been holdin' my legs tight together so none would leak out. Is that okay to do?"
I didn't know for sure, I said, but was reasonably sure that something was bound to happen sooner or later. This satisfied her and we both got up and went inside. My clothes had not gotten washed, so she put on her dress and went back out to the trough and washed my underwear and pants and my shirt. I sat sipping on another cold lemonade, I watched her as she worked and I mulled over in my mind all that she had told me about her so called "marriage" and what had transpired between the two of them over the past several years and my heart went out to this little waif, a cute little waif, but a waif, none-the-less and one that certainly didn't deserve such treatment by any man.
Upon finishing with the washing, she hung them up to dry and then came skipping [yep, skipping] back to the kitchen. She was just like a little kid, but a grown up little kid. She grabbed me and hugged hard, kissing me on the mouth and said, "I'm glad God sent you to me. You make me so happy. Can you stay for awhile?" l yes I would stay for awhile. I had nothing better to do.
As a matter of fact, I told her tomorrow I'd take a five gallon can of gas down to get my truck going and then I would go to the motel, pay my bill and come on back here to stay as long as she wanted me around. Shit, I thought she was going to have apoplexy the way she carried on, jumping around and yelling and laughing and crying all at the same time. If an outsider had been witness to this, he would have sworn that someone had just given her a reprieve from a death sentence.
"You'll never know how happy you made me feel with what you just said. Oh, I'll be so good to you. I'll cook for you, I'll wash yore clothes, I'll keep ya' warm at night, I'll love ya' and I'll treat ya' bettern' ya' ever been treated before. You won't need to ask for anything. I'll just think of it first. All I want you to promise is that anytime I want you to fuck me, you won't say no. I want a baby so bad I can taste it and yore the one I want to have it by. Is that a bargain?"
"Hey, it sure is, but you don't have to promise all that stuff. I'll stay here with you until you old man gets back and then I'll be on my way. And, as far as keeping you well fucked, you don't need to even ask. Any man who would turn down a cute little piece of ass like you would be out of his mind. It's getting dark, so why don't you fix a bite to eat and we'll hit the sack and start all over tomorrow. How about that?"
With that she took me by the hair, lifted my head up and kissed me long and lovingly and, as she did, took my right hand and put it up under her dress and rubbed her cunt with it and said, "Okay, we'll go to bed and fuck all night. Game, Ed?"
I was willing, but not sure I was able to do it all night. After eating, we did the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen, fed the dogs and the livestock and while doing that, had a couple of quickies while rolling around in the sweet smelling hay. Nothing great, just a quick thrust into her cunt, or sitting her on a bale of hay to kiss and lick her pussy a few times or just to hold her and roll around in the soft carpet of hay that covered the barn floor. Jesus, this was some gal.
She wore nothing and neither did I so I could, as she said, "Put it in without messing with clothes." We did, I did and she did. We ran around this old barn like two kids. Every time I caught her she would flop into the position she wanted to be in to receive my cock and I'd shoot it in or she'd take me in her mouth and suck me for a few seconds and then be off and running to hide somewhere else.
There was a ladder to the loft, for instance, and she started climbing that, I caught her about the third rung, she swung around and clamped her legs around my neck and I buried my face in her cunt and started licking while she hung by her hands from the rung above. Terrific sex play.
Then she let go and I walked around the barn with her sitting on my shoulders with her cunt on my mouth and talking at the same time. She thought that was hilarious, for sure. Try that sometime folks. Get your wife or girl friend up on your shoulders, facing you, have her wrap her legs around your neck and get your mouth buried in her pussy and recite the Preamble to the Constitution as you walk around the area. Your girl will stay with you forever.
By the time we finished with these chores it was time to go to bed, so we washed up and climbed in the sack. Even if it was early August, the nights at this elevation got damn cold and if felt good to have this warm, little naked body snuggled up against me.
After we settled in and curled up, she started in with reaching around and playing with my big prick. When she had messed with it long enough, it started to get hard and she squealed with glee. Taking me by the right hip, she turned me toward her and began to kiss me all over my groin area. She kissed my dong, my balls, under my balls, sucked on my prick and it didn't take long for it to get hard as a rock and, rolling over on her back, asked me to put it in and make a baby.
I was more than willing, but wanted to have a teeny bit of foreplay first, but she wouldn't hear of it. She wanted to be loaded with jizz again and wanted to be able to keep it "in all night so she would have a better chance to get knocked up" [her words].
She spread her legs, I climbed on, she guided my dick into her cunt and I started pumping. She went, literally, bananas. The sounds, most of them grunts and guttural sounds, excited hell out of me and it didn't take too many pumps of my dong before I stiffened and shot her full once again.
As my dick was pumping into her cunt, she wrapped her cute little legs around my back and pulled me down tight and held me there in this vise grip and said, "Oh, god that was good, but don't pull out, don't get off, just roll over on your side and I'll roll with you and let's go to sleep with it in." As uncomfortable as it was with her leg under me, I did go to sleep and it was breaking daylight before I was able to come awake.
The next day was spent, after breakfast, [she sure as hell could cook] making preparations to go after my truck. She was all for taking the two mules she had and dragging the truck back, but I opted for what I hoped would be and easier way; taking one mule and a 5 gallon can of gas, going to the truck, filling it up and we'd tie the mule on the back of the truck and slow drive back home with everything intact.
She, finally, gave in on this and suggested it would be a long ride both ways so she would fix a picnic basket of goodies and we could munch going and coming. The trip was a riot. We couldn't go 15 miles before she wanted me to "Put it in and give her another chance to get pregnant".
We would drive for a little while, I would pull off into a nice shady glen of some sort, get out, and lie in the shade and after some preliminary kissing and sucking and feeling, I'd put it in, shoot her full of jizz and she would lay back "to let it soak in good" and we'd be on our way. We got back home about a half hour before dark, fed the animals and then she let out a loud, "Oh, my husband must be home!"
"What do you mean? How do you know without going to the house?"
"His burro is here in his stall and he never comes back without Paul. As a matter of fact, I don't think he could find his way back without being led home."
"Well, I don't know about that. Animals have a strong homing instinct. But, let's go up to the house and see. If he had been home, though, I'm sure he would have heard the truck come in and heard us fooling around in the barn." No one was there and no one had been there. So, taking a lantern, we went back to examine the burro.
I don't know why I wanted to do this, but I had a strong hunch something had happened to Paul. Sure enough, on the donkey's harness there was a note which read, "Kathi. I've looked and looked for gold and can't find any. I've made a mess of your life and mine and I ain't gonna bother you no more. In the tin box in the cupboard are the deeds to both places. They're yours. Why don't you find yourself a nice guy, get married and settle down. Have kids, lots of them. Good luck. Sorry. Paul. P.S. We ain't married. Never was. He was just a good actor friend of mine. Paul."
Kathi looked at me with those big round eyes, now glistening with tears and said, "He ran away. He just up and ran away. I always knew he wasn't no real man. He just ran away. Now I'm all alone. What am I gonna do, Ed. I'm scared to death of bein' alone. What am I gonna do?"
That was easy. I hadn't known her very long, but the short time the two of us had been together were some of the most enjoyable I have ever lived. I just took her in my arms, pulled her in as tight as I could and she snuggled her head on my chest and I said, "No, no. You're not alone. You have me. Would you be so kind as to marry me if I ask you real nice? If you say yes, I'm going to take your dress off, lay you down in this nice soft hay and I'm going to fuck you silly. You want to be knocked up? Honey, I'm going to knock you up so high you'll be spitting out kids like lemon drops out of a candy machine. What do you say?"
She pulled my head down, looked soulfully into my eyes, gave me a big wet kiss and whispered in my ear, "Oh, Ed, my precious, yes I'll marry you." She kissed my ear, then, and continued, "Can marriage wait until we lie down in this hay and fuck a couple of times?" It sure could and did.
Oh, for those interested enough to want to know. We've been married for 6 years, now. The first baby was a boy; a 9 pounder, big and strong and a dead ringer for me; named Ed, Jr., of course. Born, by the way, exactly 273 days after our first session in the horse trough, which, by the way happened on August 11th., my first day with Kathi. Then two girls came along and just a few months ago another big boy. We're cutting back as of last night, though; four is enough, but we can't stop fucking. She wants it now, more than ever before and who the hell am I to refuse such a simple request. Not me, friend. Not me. We still go up to the "farm" and spend the kids' summer vacation.
When it gets too cold we lock it up and head down to the valley floor where it's warmer. It isn't a farm at all, just a cabin, a barn and some outhouses, but it's ours. So, is the other place.
Her husband, by the way, didn't really run off and leave her. We saw it in the papers about three weeks after he didn't return. His gold mine wasn't a gold mine; it was a place for raising marijuana plants, that's were he got his money, and he is now serving some time trying to satisfy the authorities.