Mt. Rainier


Mt. Rainier , by Fyre
The trail twists up the mountain. We hike upward, following the well-marked path. As the path sweeps to the same level as a creek bed, we hit a muddy section, and our boots squelch with the effort of each footstep. We enter a layer of fog--where dewdrops glisten on grasses–then catch a glimpse of the kaleidoscope of color as the sun finally shines down, breaking through the mist. The smell of wet pine hits us with its crispness.
Within the stillness, I catch the chatter of a Douglas squirrel, calling out to scold some annoyance. Higher yet, the sweet, clear whistle of a pika rings out to warn all of our passing. Finally, I stretch my jaw forward, purposely trying to release the pressure of my eardrums as we climb in elevation. The sky is as clear-blue as ever.
Once a break is in order, we come to the meadow. It splashes with color where bright orange tufts of Indian Paintbrush rise above the cool, mossy, layer of ground cover. The pink phlox raises faded faces to the sun, gasping for the effort to catch the last few rays of energy needed to nurture the seeds for the next generation. A sparkle of yellow catches my eye as the breeze pushes patches of buttercups into place around patches of stone.
Thirsty, I unscrew the cap from my canteen and take a dose of the tinny canteen water. I feel crisp relief as I swallow, hardly sensing the ooze of water on my chin and the quick swipe of my forearm to erase it.


   I look at you, and you are no stranger to the whisper of Spring. You look as though you are about to dance. I laugh softly, thinking how wonderful the fresh air tastes. How delicious to be out on the trail this time of year!
You have an uncanny, impish look on your face, as you open your own canteen, and I shriek with surprise, as a dash of cold water hits me, then gushes across my back and down through my shorts. The chill of a wind blows the clean smell of pine along as it sweeps down off the peak, raising goosebumps along my flesh.
You laugh, and throw another unexpected splash of water at me, dousing me good, even as I weave away. In a rush of retaliation, I scramble for my own canteen. A water-fight ensues. I get the worst of it. You smile broadly as you catch sight of my cold-hardened nipples, now visible through my soaked shirt. I spring at you in a tackle. We crumple to the ground, a jumble of giggles and pokes.
You peel my shirt up, and I gasp with the sudden warmth as you swallow my right nipple into your mouth. The warmth of your mouth courses through my body, the left nipple still tight and cold--the contrast is immediate. I feel the ache deep inside of me to have you suckle my breasts, like a nursing child.

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   I want you to bite them softly and urgently, feeling nipples hard against your tongue. We melt together on the soft ground staving off the chill of Spring.
My cut-offs feel cold and clammy between my thighs. Once I have a chance, I twist open the buttons and wriggle free. You slide your hands down my body to my damp panties, and peel them back, kissing me once through my panties. The warmth of your lips against me imprints me like a brand. You slide back up my body, and pull me in tightly. My breasts press fully against yours, still beneath your clothing, willing you to take me away forever.
There in the fold of the meadow, you take off my clothing, piece by piece, memorizing me. Your touch is so soft that it almost tickles, and I am surprised by the care you take to discover me. Then I’m naked, and you lay near me. My body aches to take you in.
Once you’ve stopped writhing against me, your mouth moves into a voiceless "now. " I softly kiss your neck below your ear. I press in and feel the wetness from your clothes clammy against my skin.

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   I part my thighs and roll down over your leg. I grind my pussy into your knee and gasp in surprise to feel just how ready I am. With my leg, I push against your crotch,and you raise slightly to receive the pressure.
I kiss my way down your neck, unbuttoning your shirt as I go. I move down over your bra where it fastens in front, and on to your navel. I open your pants. You arch against me, so I can unzip them and keep sliding them off. I unfasten your boots and move them aside. Then I unclip your bra like I am opening a package. I push the bra cups away under your arms. Underneath, you tremble like a leaf in the breeze. Your nipples are hard and tangible. I want to take them into my mouth at once, but instead, I blow softly against them, and watch them rise in anticipation.
I lean forward and take your right breast into my mouth. My hair falls all over your C cup breasts, spreading out.

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   The soft silkiness of my curls all but covers you. Underneath, I move my tongue against your nipple, and suck hard, then stop for a second, giving you a chance to react.
You arch below me. I move a hand to your waist, to the band of your soft, white panties. I sit up to pull them down, slowly. I am so turned on to see the subtle brownness of your hair. I touch a curl tentatively, just to see that it is really there. You push against my finger, almost unaware that you are doing so. I keep sliding your panties off, until you can open your legs.
I fight the urge to simply study you. Your body looks pure, so perfect. You lie between my legs and I just look at you. Your breasts are so pretty, your nipples much darker brown than my own. Your nipples are hard; they stand out further than mine. I start massaging your thighs, and move my hands up to the front part of your hips and then stream my hair over your belly.

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   I could swallow you alive, you know. Then I lean in, and taste that first taste. I thrust my tongue into your folds, and inhale your sweet nectar. You taste gloriously different than I do! I’m almost surprised, but then I realize that this is such a personal observation, and there might be new flavors tomorrow.
I settle in between your legs and start licking at your cunt. I nibble at the insides of your thighs. Next, I thrust my tongue inside your vagina, then lap upwards and lean into your clit. You squirm a bit below me, so I ease off, then dig in, concentrating on your clit. I try to suck a little, lap a little, then start flicking the tip of my tongue left to right across the tip. You sigh. I know I’m hitting something right, so I stay put, until you start to arch and twist.
    I settle a little lower, and thrust my tongue in and out of your vagina, wishing it was a big dick. Then I lap deeper back, and taste your ass.
    After a few minutes, you scramble around and I know you want to taste me too. The ground is chilly, but not too cold.

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       I lay with my back on the ground, the grass smells so new. You straddle my face, facing my toes. I keep mixing it up, lapping at your labia, flicking in and out of your cunt, playing with your clit. Then I slow down, because I’m really liking the way you’re playing with me. You have your mouth in a slight suction against my clit and your fingers are toying with my asshole. Your tongue starts lapping against my clit, like a butterfly fluttering there.
    Oh I like the way you eat pussy! I spread my legs open, trying to give you access to whatever you want. I lay there for what feels like hours, at least until you start feeling neglected. You sit up and grind your pussy against my mouth. I open my mouth, and your inner lips slide inside. I lap at your clit. I feel deliciously distracted, you’re all in my face, and lower on my body, my clit’s throbbing where your mouth shows me no mercy.
    "Oh shit!" You’ve got your tongue flicking against my clit and I almost can’t stand it! It feels so so good! Too good to believe. "Oooooh, ooh shit! Oh my god!" I writhe and you keep after me, holding my hips and going after my clit with your tongue. I feel the climax start to wash over me, going from the pleasant, comforting buzz in my pussy, to a full spasm of delight.

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       "OH MY GOD!"
    You take two fingers and insert them into my vagina. You start stroking me, probing me, your tongue on my clit on the top, your fingers against my G-spot on the other side. "Ooooh! Oh, oh, oh! DAMN!" And I start crying out, "Fuck, fuck, Keep it going, keep it going. " Your fingers twitch against my pleasure node. "Fuck that feels so good!"
    I keep writhing and twisting and you resume licking my cunt. When the sensation gets a little too intense, you ease off a little, then start milking it back into another spasm, another throbbing intense rhythm that washes through my entire body. "Shit, shit, shit!" I have my eyes closed and my hands clenched into fists. My whole body reels with incredible sensations. I can’t help but curl my toes. Oh my God! You’re such an awesome lover!
    You don’t let up. You’ve moved over to my left and have settled in to watch. When the twitching subsides, you put your hand back over my pussy and start working it again, first gently, then as I start to come another time, you press your finger harder and start stroking me persistently, your thumb down against where I pee, drawing the intensity there. Then back to my clit. Then back to my urethra. Then back to the clit.

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       So divine! I’m lost inside my head.
    I twitch. You feel my PC muscles tighten and probe against them at the opening of my cunt. "Shit! Oh, oh, oh shit!" Your fingers probe inside. You watch me shudder. "Fuck!"
    I can’t help it. I haven’t come like this in years! I feel like I’m your instrument, that your fingers are plucking an orgasm from my sweet pussy in the same way you might coax a symphony out of a violin. In the same way you might paint a masterpiece by mixing three primary colors. My stomach quakes from the exceptional workout you’re giving me.
    We play back and forth. I work you up to a frenzy, then you concentrate on me. Then we switch. We lay there up on the mountaintop with the grass blowing and the pine boughs swaying, totally spent. Then reluctantly, we pull our clothes back on and chase down the path, getting to our car just as the sun falls over the horizon, and the sky stains the clouds purple. It's late, after seven, when the night creeps in to take over.

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       We drive home in silence, still holding the exhilaration close.