Jemma drove me halfway to Boulder then pushed me up against the back of her car, pressed her thigh up into my pussy and made out with me as some cars drove by. We both moaned then looked into each other’s eyes, wondering if we’d ever see one another again.
Today, a well known rock climber reached out to me offering his guidance/skills for navigating my way around in the backcountry. He lived in Boulder which happened to be the exact town I would be passing through before I met up with the sexy cowboy. Decided to take him up on his offer.
He seemed to be a local celebrity, knowing everyone by name while they greeted him with welcoming smiles. He bought me pumpkin french toast then took me back to his place to show me some maps and rope techniques. He made me a cup of coffee while I walked around his house, in appreciation of the natural fengshui. He had worked for companies such as Patagonia and Marmot, photographing their gear. But my favorite photographs were the ones he had captured of people in what appeared to be South America and Africa. Their eyes told a story of depth and God. Judging by his work, I was starting to pick up that he was much more famous than he was letting on to be. His humility disguised it well.
He lived a life of luxury through books, nature, music and an impressive talent of carving wood. He spent every morning climbing up a mountain of slick rock that was found in his backyard then did push ups at the very top—said it was what kept him physically and mentally in shape. He gifted me 60’ of rock climbing rope then found a spot in his backyard to show me how to tie my pack and lower/lift it in a sketchy area. It was only about a 6’ drop but he told me to envision something much steeper. He clipped a carabiner to it then showed me how to lower it. The pack we were working with was only 30 pounds and I was having difficulty with it. Mine was approximately 60.
He gave me tips and tricks, such as removing any possible loose items and lowering that down first so it wouldn’t get caught on rocks. Hence why it was helpful to be with a group for this route because one person could scope out the safest way down while another lowered everything. The person on the bottom could unclip all of the items and by the time everything was reorganized the other person would come down. It would burn less energy working as a team.
Lastly, he showed me how to rappel without the use of a harness, showing me what was safe and what was not. He tied it around a tree then wrapped the remaining rope around my shoulder and locked it under my inner thigh then around and behind my back. The other way was just holding it with my hands but that was the most dangerous because everything depended on how strong my hand grip was.
He had me practice maneuvering my way down the cliff, watching every step carefully. I was breaking out in a sweat just from the practice.
He said, “Always keep an eye out, especially when retrieving the rope because rocks and branches could start falling!” He rolled the rope up and handed it to me. “The rope is not to depend on, it is for an extra safety measure.”
Then he brought me to town because I wanted to make it in time to ride the horses. I thanked him for all that he taught me.
He said, “Young people give us older folk energy while we give them wisdom. It’s a trade.”
He gifted me one of the photographs he had taken, then I gave him a hug and stuck my thumb out to hitch a ride up and over the mountain. I watched as 4 bikers drove by which never failed to make me smile. The first one that saw me pointed in between his legs and raised his eyebrows as if insinuating, ‘Wanna sit here?’ I smiled and blushed then started laughing as the rest of them drove by and honked flirtatiously.
As I was waiting, I recognized the small white car from the guy who had invited me to go on a waterfall hike. It was Orson! He approached me with a full smile, happy to see me. I reflected the same smile back.
He approached me and said, “Hey, I hope I didn’t offend you. I just tend to blurt stuff out of my mouth.”
I reassured him he didn’t offend me but deep down I appreciated he voiced that. I kept at the hitching and eventually a sheriff pulled over. He rolled down the window as I walked over to him.
“Hello Sheriff,” I said. “Wanna give me a ride?”
“Yeah,” he said, “but I can only take you as far as the county line.”
“I know,” I said as I threw my pack in the trunk.
He had me hop in the backseat, then drove real slowly up and over the pass. We discussed typical life topics and trials we faced. It seemed as if he was in the middle of trying to figure out what he wanted to do with his life, no longer interested in being a cop.
“I’ve been doing this for 24 years,” he said. “I’m sick of all the drama.”
“You sure picked a job that brings about a lot of that,” I joked.
He dropped me off about 12 miles from Torrey where he said another cop would most likely pick me up from the other direction and bring me down. He enjoyed our time together and said I wasn’t like other hitchhikers.
I still had no luck catching a ride, so the cowboy was on his way to come pick me up. I loved when men came to save the day. He rolled up in a white pick up truck that was covered in dirt and tan dust, clearly having been used for ranching. I found it so hot. My mom always told me that a working man was the most attractive man.
I hopped in and we headed down towards his ranch. On the other side of the mountain it was pouring pretty hard so he asked if I still wanted to go ride horses. I said yes but then changed my mind once I saw the severity of the rain and how cold it was.
“Well,” he started, “if you’re not able to ride a horse I’ll make sure to give you—“
His voice faded out as I blushed.
“What?” he asked.
“I thought you were going to say something else.”
“What did you think I was going to say?”
“If you’re not able to ride a horse I’ll make sure to give you something else to ride on.”
We both laughed. Now it was made clear what my intentions were for spending time with him. Next, I noticed that he was listening to some MeatEater podcast.
“Are you gonna eat me?” I asked. “Are you a cannabilist?”
“I’ll eat you in a different way,” he bantered.
The energy was building fast. The most he had said to me previously was calling me beautiful.
“I love that you smoke cigs,” I said, biting my lip.
“Oh yeah?“ he asked, surprised. “Do you have any vices?”
“Yeah,” I said as I caught his eyes. “Sex.”
“Okay,” he said, caught off guard by my blunt word choice. “Well, I haven’t been with anyone in a year and a half.”
“Are you intentionally celibate?” I asked.
“Yeah.”
“Hm, cool.”
A long space of silence filled the space until he finally said, “You’re really sexy,” then checked me out.
“You are, too.”
We arrived at his ranch then he showed me the cabin I would be staying in for the night. My jaw dropped.
“Dude!” I shouted. “I didn’t expect it to be like THIS.”
The place was huge, it was a luxurious log cabin all to myself.
What a way to get the ladies, I thought to myself.
“You’re so cute,” he said as I was in the middle of being awe struck. Then he leaned in to kiss me, his cock already hard for me when he pressed up against me. I loved knowing the dirty thoughts were taking over his Christian boy vibe.
I sucked him off then he went in to finger me. I gently pushed him off and gave him the news of being on my period.
He bent me over the railing of the bed and said, “Let’s get dirty.”
I removed my clothing then got into position. The fucking was short lived, especially after he slapped my ass and pulled my hair, soon telling me he was going to cum. He filled me up, losing rhythm as his flashes of orgasms passed through me. Then he pulled his cock out and a pool of blood mixed with cum fell and splattered onto the floor. I would’ve licked it right up off the floor if he would’ve demanded me to.
Then, he sat in a chair beside the bed and we talked stories about trauma and how he got molested for 3 years by 3 different women, 2 of which were remorseful and apologized. The other one had also been sexually abused but was mentally unstable so he gave her grace. It really made me ponder the recurring visions I had as a child of a large man coming into my room and touching me sexually. Sometimes I wished I knew if it was reality or just visions. And if it were ‘real,’ who was the man? Maybe if things were more clear and brought to the light then I could understand why I was the way that I was and start to let go.
I walked around the cabin naked as I looked at rainbows outside the window and stood under the heater trying to keep warm. His eyes glittered as he showered me with words of affection and admired the beauty he found in me.
“Come lay down with me,” I said.
So he did and naturally I fucked him again. He filled me full of his cum while I rode him. I drank in the sound of his grunts. Then he bought me an entire pizza and we sat at the table as we devoured it.
“Sorry for taking your celibacy,” I said as I took a bite of my pizza and laughed. “I’m not really sorry. I had a lot of fun.”
“I’m sure God can forgive me for this slip up,” he said. “After all, I’ve been a good Christian boy.”
Although he was very Godly, he gave up on the idea of romance and having a healthy marriage and being committed to one woman. He shared stories of 20 year old girls hitting on him and peoples’ wives wanting to leave their husbands for him. He shut them all down.
“Wow, you’re a really good guy,” I said, “most guys would give in to pleasure.”
“Thanks. I mean, I have to uphold my reputation around here. I live in a small town so everyone knows everybody’s business. But yeah, after seeing close friends’ wives claim they would drop their entire relationship just to be with me, it just made me lose hope.”
I tried lifting his Spirit by reminding him it wasn’t all women that were manipulative, some actually wanted real commitment and honesty.
“Do you mean to tell me you really believe that there is only one special person for someone?” he asked.
“Yes, I really do.”