2017 Erotica story: The Secrets of Liberty Mountain – Chapter 21
Wrestling under the covers, while playing a game of naked grab-ass, kicks our biological heat engines into overdrive. The internal temperature of our sleeping bag is well beyond the comfort zone as our cozy sleeping space becomes a sauna without steam.
“I’m tired of anatomy by Braille, I wanna see what I’m doing,” Alice throws the sleeping bag cover back and rises to her knees.
Her nude body glistens with perspiration in the lantern’s harsh light. Alice’s cheeks, neck, and breasts glow blush-red with sexual arousal, and her voice resonates with the husky accent of desire, “Let’s see what you’ve got there, Partner.”
I take Alice’s extended hand as she helps me rise to my knees, and we become perfect mirror images of each other.
“Very nice,” Alice gently circles her fingers around my shaft and slowly strokes me from the head of my prick to my balls. She is teasing me into a state of hypersexual arousal. The faster I want her to go, the slower she moves.
“Oh, you wanna play a slow game? I’ll tease you so slowly that you’ll think time is moving backward,” I slide my right hand between her legs and cup her neatly trimmed pussy in the palm of my hand.
Spreading my fingers as wide apart as I can, I use my thumb and little finger to tease her inner thighs as I slide my hand in and out her pussy.
We gaze intently into each other’s eyes as we tease each other’s desire to higher levels.
The intensity of Alice’s stare is penetrating, and I stare back at her with equal concentration as we wage a battle for sexual control. I slide my fingertips along the slippery, slick lips of her vagina. Her eyes widen and her pupils dilate as I tease the tip of her clit with my fingertip. She hisses out a long “yee-esssss” and gulps in a few breaths of fresh air. She had been holding her breath while my fingers explored near her clit.
Alice stops stroking my cock and grips my penis just under my circumcised mushroom cap instead. Her hand squeezes me like a tube of toothpaste as the tip of a finger from her free hand smears a drop of emerging precum over the head of my cock.
I shudder and my knees tremble as waves of delight radiate outward from where she touches me.
Alice’s intense gaze melts into a smile of victory. She knows that she has me under control as she relaxes her grip on my shaft and slowly squeezes it again. She’s going to bring me to the edge and keep me there as long as she can.
I moan and fight to sustain eye contact as I parlay her touch into an all-out assault on her clit. She is so wet and slippery that my fingers easily slide over her inner and outer pussy lips. I use a finger from my free hand to tease and softly caress the tip of her clitoris.
I relax. I also have her under my control. We have surrendered to each other. I touch my lips to her mouth and kiss her like a lover.
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“Oh! My! God! Please stop. Enough,” Alice’s hands push my face away from between her legs.
“Did you come?” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Stupid question, but I want to hear what she has to say. There is always room for improvement.
“I lost count. I started to come again every time I came. I got to the mountaintop and kept on climbing,” Alice brushed sweat from her eyebrows.
We are drenched in sweat like two marathon runners crossing the finish line. I lie down next to Alice, cuddle her close to my body, and caress her face with my hand while my other hand cups her breast and holds her tight to me. Her words of satisfaction give me a thrill. Egos love to be stroked.
“Beautiful afterglow,” Alice mummers as she snuggles into me.
“Never better” I reply as I wrap my arms around her and give her a long, warm hug. A woman loves to be held after lovemaking is done. Truth be told, I love to be held, too.
Alice shifts her position, rests her chin on my chest, and stares at my face and into my eyes.
“Do you think fate is responsible for putting us in this place together?” Her eyes sparkle in the flashlight’s beam; curiosity tinted with something like warmth.
I start looking around for an exit when someone starts talking about fate. I’m not superstitious, and I put no stock in fate. Like Shakespeare wrote, ‘the future lies not in our stars, but within ourselves.’
Something about her question moves my mind in a different direction. Something about that woman connected with me on many different levels since I first laid eyes on Alice at my show-and-tell naked introduction before the Society of Sisters, and I’m not talking about sexual feelings. Nudity is more scenic than erotic when everyone is undressed.
Relationships born of lust and desire are often so intense that they burn themselves into emotional ash within hours, days, or weeks. Affairs built on lust and desire are like that; there is nothing left for tomorrow once lust is satisfied and desire fulfilled. The tomorrows then stop happening.
I used an old trick a Rabbi taught me. Answer with a question of your own when hit with a question you aren’t ready to discuss.
“Why do you ask? Do you think fate brought us together?” I brushed a strand of hair from Alice’s eyes.
“It must be fate. Look at all the improbable things that had to happen for us to be as we are now: naked and alone in each other’s arms with no one for miles around,” Alice said as she rolled on her back, rested her head on my shoulder, made a fist, and ticked off her points on her fingers:
“First, you hook up with Darlene who’s never been interested in older men,” Alice pointed to her thumb.
“Second, you come here as the result of a fluke accident with autocorrect,” she taps her little finger.
“Third, Darlene gets my hunting partner stinking drunk and creates a vacancy in the expedition,” she taps another finger.
“Next you volunteer, and Lisa allows you to ride shotgun,” she taps her fourth finger.
“And finally, an unexpected blizzard traps us here in this shelter,” Alice paints a capital ‘F in the air with her index finger.
“Gotta be fate. What else could it be?” she smiles, leans forward, and kisses my lips.
Every instant of our lives is a moment of impossible connections if you look at it that way. My mother would have never met my father if she hadn’t missed the bus one day. A different sperm cell would’ve fertilized the egg that became me if my dad sneezed as he ejaculated. Darlene would never have become an item if she had found a willing bed partner in the tavern that night. The list is endless.
Our lives are the result of billions of random events. Change one ingredient in the recipe of life and we become something different. Some folks call it fate. I don’t. It is what it is, and it’s all the luck of the draw.”
“What’s your secret name?” Alice whispers in my ear. Her strange question is intriguing.
“What’s a secret name? I’m not sure that I understand your question.” I shift position and look into Alice’s eyes as we speak.
“A secret name is a name that we wish we had been born with,” the tips of her fingers play with my mustache.
“My secret name is Seraina; my grandmother used to call Seraina. It means Bringer of Serenity or Peace,” Alice brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes.
“Sounds like you’re talking about Spirit names, you know, the names our soul had before we were born. I don’t know what mine is. I never bothered to go through the ritual,” I sighed.
“A Native American tribal ritual?” Alice asked.
“No, nothing Native American about it. It was a hippy thing involving massive quantities of Peyote back in my crunchy granola days when I lived on a commune,” I laughed.
“I was assigned the radio call sign of Sky-Wolf when I was in the Army Reserve, D Troop, 5th Armored Cavalry. Sky because I was prior service, Air Force, and Wolf because my favorite band was Steppenwolf.” I smiled at the memory.
“I like it. Sky-Wolf sounds much more exotic than Dennis does. I christen thee Sky-Wolf,” Alice splashed me with a few drops of sweat she wiped from her forehead.
“Thank you. I love it,” I’m astonished at how touched I am by what I’m sure was a casual gesture. I wipe the sweat from my forehead and flick several drops on Alice.
“By the power of the pack, I christen thee Seraina, Lady of Peace,” I hug my hunting partner and give her a long slow kiss. A newly born Seraina kisses me back moments later, and her eyes are as misty as my own.
Our perspiration naming ceremony that began as a joke evoked a powerful and primal truth. We christen babies, name the ships we sail the oceans upon, and the places we live because we want each to love us as much as we love them.
What’s in a name? That’s a philosopher’s question, and I don’t have the answer. Dennis is my birth name, and it served me well in my previous life. That life ended the day I arrived at Liberty Mountain. Tomorrow belongs to Sky-Wolf.
“Good night, Seraina. We have a long day ahead of us if we’re going to add Bambi burgers to our menu,” I flicked the light off, and we snuggled together like two spoons in the kitchen drawer.
If you want God to laugh, tell him your plans.
When we looked outside the next morning snow was falling in near whiteout conditions. It kept snowing for the next three days. Who says fate doesn’t have a sense of humor?
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