DISCLAIMER:- The following text is sexually explicit and contains depictions of sexual acts that have been classified by the surgeon general as potentially dangerous and unhealthy. You must be a broad minded adult to read the text, and you must not make this text available to minors or to any person who does not wish to view it. Unprotected sexual relations with unknown partners is hazardous and we urge the use of condoms and safe sex at all times.

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.