Backroads, v2

"What do we need that for?" Now I was really scared. What did she have in mind? Something with me, or something perhaps something a little more extreme with a furry four legged carnivore in the parking lot. If it was pain she wanted I was rather certain a Grizzly would be more than willing to help her out.

She just winked at me and bought an industrial sized bottle of the stuff, then picked up several pairs of pantyhose and a tube of toothpaste. I paid for the stuff and walked out to the lobby. Someone screamed, of course, and I saw a commotion out front, then a wall of people running into the lobby; a doorman ran in and bolted the door shut. We walked over in time to see a bear walking across a pile of luggage strewn about like an overturned litter barrel, the old man was firing off his new canister of bear spray before piling into his Mercedes, then -- and this is my favorite part -- the bear was standing up on hind legs, licking the spray off its snout and extended front claws.

As the thoroughly cowed bear walked off I dumped my "bear repellant" in a trash can and followed Jennie as she headed off in search of Rocky Road ice cream.

+++++

We were out on a huge terrace overlooking the lake, watching a thunderstorm over the mountains beyond Grinnell Peak; great cracks of thunder split the air, sheets of lightning rolled through clouds then arced down to mountaintops. We could see a white wall of rain moving our way, the sky above the mountains was black and purple and overtly menacing; kayakers on the lake were scurrying in as fast as they could paddle. They looked faintly funny as they rolled and stroked and thudded onto the rocky shore.

"I love to fuck during storms like this," Jennie said.

"Oh, do you like lightning with your Astroglide?"

She laughed. "Come on, let's go find the room."

"Seriously? Lightning makes you horny?"

"You've no fucking idea!"

"This I've got to see. Lead on."

We found the room up on the top floor, and when I opened the door I could see out over the lake; lightning was flashing everywhere. The room itself was tiny; the walls thin, the curtains looked like they were original issue and hadn't been washed since Queen Victoria blew a gasket. There was, I noted, a smallish bathroom, two towels a little larger than a tissue and a window inside the shower looking out over the lake. How interesting. A public shower. I never would have thought of that.

"Let's take a shower," Jennie said.

"Of course. Why not."

She really was horny. Really horny, I thought.

We ducked under hot water and some of the tension I felt washed away, and Jennie started doing things with her hands and my cock that definitely got my mind off bears. She knelt down at one point and played with it, wrapped her fingers around it and jerked it a few times, all quite playfully, then she leaned forward and bit the tip. Hard.

"Yeeooww!" I stood on my toes, jerked my cock from her mouth as I hopped up and away. Then she growled. I shit you not. Growled like a bear.

"You got away from one today," she said now, grinning, "but not again. I'm going to eat you up and spit out the bones."

"Really? You don't swallow?"

She stood and smiled. "You'll find out. Now, you wait here. I'll call you when I'm ready for you."

"Yes Ma'am."

She smiled as she walked out of the bathroom, and she closed the door behind her. I looked down at my cock; it was at half mast and I wasn't sure if it was her lipstick or my blood smeared all over the head.

+++++

"Alright, Jim. Come in here, now."

I dried off; the bathroom was hot as hell but the room was freezing. All the windows had been thrown wide open, curtains flew in the stormy wind, thunder rumbled and lightning flashed. Jennie looked possessed; my cock tried to run from the room in terror.

"Lie down," she commanded.

"You betcha."

"You like being a smart ass, don't you little boy."

"Well, if the shoe fits..." I made it to the bed, was about to pull the covers down...

"No! Leave them alone. Lie down. Now!"

Lightning flashed over the lake. The lake right outside that open window.

"Is this horny? Are we horny yet?" I lay down, spread my legs a bit and put my hands behind my head.

"Move your hands." I could see her now; she had been standing in shadow. She was wearing a black leather brassiere and fishnet stockings. There were little cut outs in the bra and her nipples jutted out fiercely. She came and sat by me; put a scarf over my eyes. "Lift your head." She tied the scarf behind my head, then let my head drop; the pillow was gone. "Arms out."

"Jennie, what are..."

"Arms out, Jim, or you don't get to play."

"What makes you think I want to?" I said this, of course, while I was extending my arms. Freud was so right.

"That's a good boy." I felt something loop around my left wrist, then the loop tightened. She moved around to the other side of the bed and did the same, then moved down to my ankles and tied them off as well.

"How do you feel, Jim?"

"Cold."

Something hard slapped the tops of my thighs.

"And now my legs hurt."

Another slap, this time harder. "I can do it much harder, Jim. Would you like that?"

"Whatever floats your boat, baby."

The next blow was seriously sharp; I bit my lip and laughed at the same time. The next blow did, however, get my more immediate attention.

"Okay! You win! Time for dinner? Reservation's at six?"

Another slap, harder still, then I felt her standing bedside. "Lift your butt," she whispered into my ear.

"Pardon me."

Hard blow.

"Lift your ass, Jim." She grabbed my cock and pulled it toward the ceiling. My back arched obligingly; she slipped a mound of pillows underneath my ass. "Good boy," she said sweetly.

I felt her hands on my cock, then hot breath; her tongue drew lazy circles on the head as it grew harder, and sharp fingernails pulsed down the shaft. I may have moaned then, but I wouldn't have made a bet on it.

"You like that, Jim?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. Thanks for asking."

Big slap across the thighs.

"You must really enjoy being a smart ass, Jim. Go ahead, though, if you like."

"I've been trying to quit, honestly I have, but..."

Whack! Laughter. Hers, not mine, by the way. I felt her sliding between my legs, then she flicked one of my nuts with a finger and I jumped. I mean seriously Jumped.

"Okay. Uncle. I give. Time for ole Jim to ..."

"Jim?" she said this while she flicked the other nut, though she managed to knock this one with what felt like a sand wedge or a nine iron.

"Yes?" I groaned.

"Shut the fuck up, Jim."

"Right."

I heard plastic snapping, then felt cold liquid pouring down my cock; said cock was, as I'm sure you can guess, about as hard as a lead pipe. A huge wad of the stuff, really cold, too, dripped down the shaft, then her hands swirled around and rubbed the stuff in. She held my cock straight out then slapped the snot out of it; it bounced from side to side a couple of times.

"You know, I could have sworn it was you who was into pain."

"Oh, I am, Jim. I am."

"Swell."

Whack!

Then she was all smooth and tender, made little loving noises over my cock, nibbled at it playfully from time to time while she continued massaging me. More fluid, this time running down over my sack, and she massaged that whole area as well. Then she pinched the sack. Once. Twice. A third time. I was hopping around like popcorn in a kettle, then as suddenly she was back to the gentle thing; smooth, even strokes, both hands wrapped around the shaft -- pulsing up and down in long, tight pulls. There was slick stuff running down my asshole and she found it, began running her finger over the opening, slowly, gently, lingering, probing a little with one finger while her other hand kept working over my cock.

She moaned a little, or was it me? "Ooh, you like that Jim, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Your cock just got real hard, Jim. Very, very hard and, ooh, yes, a little pre-cum, Jim. Ooh, yes, a nice little stream of it. Would you like this first bit, or can I?"

"Oh, feel free."

"I don't want to be selfish, Jim." I felt her fingernail scooping around the tip of my cock, her hand milking the shaft and then scooping even more. "Open your mouth, Jim."

"Uh, no thanks, really..."

Fingernails digging into the skin of my inner thigh, total pain now.

"Open your mouth, Jim. Now, that's a good boy. Stick your tongue out, Jim, here it is."

It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, but the Astroglide left a weird aftertaste. Hardly mattered, though, because she slipped a second finger up the back passage and started moving her fingers in and out, slowly, gently, slowly, evenly, in and out, in and out, then more pressure, a third finger in and out and in and out and then a forth finger and the pressure was building building in and out slowly in and out gently what the hell is she doing I can feel her thumb sliding-in -- unbearable pain -- blinding light -- pop!

She's turning her hand inside me and somewhere a part of me is aware of that but all I'm really aware of are echoes of intense pain washing across and through me.

"What? Are you? Doing?" I felt myself floating, drifting...

"I'm fisting you, Jim. Ever been fisted?"

"Where am I?"

"All around me, Jim. And I have you, don't worry."

"Oh. Good."

Another flash of lightning, a sudden crack, then the boom of thunder just overhead.

"Yes, Jim. Good. Are you ready to cum for me, Jim?"

"Cum?"

"Yes, Jim. Cum. I want you to cum for me now."

I felt pressure on my cock, insane pressure inside my bowels, then as she began jacking my cock and turning her fist inside me I felt every synapse in my body firing simultaneously, my back arching off the bed, her hands sloshing in lubed hammer blows and all was white... all was orgasm. I was aware of her mouth engulfing the head of my cock, my sperm flooding into her warmth and it was endless, endless...

I came-to I don't know how much later. She wasn't on the bed; I could hear her in the shower, and she came out a few minutes later, humming some Irish ditty and going about getting dressed like I wasn't in the room. I tried to talk, but couldn't. My tongue felt dry, my cheeks full, and I could hear a muffled voice inside my head when I tried to speak.

"What was that, Jim?"

More muffled noises that used to be my voice.

"Oh. I'm sorry Jim, but I stuffed some dirty underwear in your mouth and tied them in place with a stocking."

Loud muffled voice, some jerking of restraints.

"Now, Jim, don't be rude or next time I'll stick my foot up your asshole. Would you like that, Jim?"

Dead silence.

"That's a good boy, Jim. I'm going to go down to dinner now. Maybe I'll find someone to come up and play with us. Hm-m? Would you like that, Jim?"

Continued dead silence on my part.

"Well, let me make a call before I go."

I heard her walk to the desk by the bed and punch two numbers.

"Yes, Maid Service? This is room 437; we're off to dinner now and I wondered if you might be able to turn our bed now, perhaps put one of those lovely chocolates on the pillow? Yes? Splendid? Bye-bye."

She laughed a little.

"Well Jim, this might be interesting. Then again, maybe not. I guess all that will depend on one's point of view, won't it?"

Muffled pleading, pulling at restraints on wrist.

"Well, toodle-loo, Jim." Sounds of door opening and closing, followed by the last remnants of the storm rumbling down the valley and away from the lodge.

A clock ticking on the bedside table.

Water falling from the roof to the wood timbered deck outside.

I could feel my cock shriveling, my balls trying to retreat to somewhere near my spleen. Whether they were running from the cold or the impending humiliation, I have no idea.

I heard voices in the hallway. A woman and a man, talking. Voices growing near, then receding. A couple of little kids running down the hall, their laughter skipping like stones across a pond.

A cart, wheels squealing, glasses tinkling, stopping outside the door.

A knock on the door.

"Room service!"

A key in the door, the lock turning. A blast of air as the door opened...

+++++

After I got over being released by a young man from Croatia, I walked down to the dining room; it was huge, tall windows looked out over the lake and Grinnell Peak beyond, and moonlight had filled in behind the passing thunderstorm. There were people queued-up to be seated but I walked past them and entered the room, saw Jennie sitting in a dark corner and walked to her table. I was doing everything in my power to keep calm, doing pretty well, too, given the circumstances, when I noticed the other place at the table was set, a glass of wine waiting.

She smiled when I walked up, indicated with her hand for me to be seated. "Did you have a nice shower?"

"Peachy. How 'bout you?"

"Nice, thank you. So. How do you feel?"

"Feel? I don't know. Maybe relieved you have small hands."

She laughed. "I see."

"Frankly, I doubt you do."

"Jim, don't be angry."

I couldn't tell if she was surprised, taunting me, or simply enjoying the fact of my evident discomfort. So much for my skills as a people person; she was opaque to me now.

"Well, gee. Let me think. Am I angry? Hm-m..."

"It was a gift, Jim. Accept it as such, would you?"

"A gift?"

"Yes. You learned something about yourself tonight, didn't you?"

"Did I?"

"I think you did."

"Such as."

"There's a darkness inside us all, Jim. Sometimes it's good to give that voice expression, revel in the release."

"Really? This might be news to you, but a lot of repression is self-imposed for a reason. It prevents us from acting like barking lunatics, and might even keep us from hurting people who have no interest in being hurt."

She smiled, perhaps a little condescendingly. "So. Tell me about the turn down service."

"What? The maid?"

"Yes."

"I don't know. Nice guy. Perhaps you should ask him what its like to walk into a room and find a buck-naked man bound and gagged to a bed. Personally, I got the impression he was a little annoyed by the whole thing."

"What did he do?"

"Are you going to be getting your rocks-off over his reaction, too?"

"Sure. Why not?"

I stood up. "Well, it's been a real slice, Jennie what-ever-your-name-is. My condolences to your constituents, and good night." I walked from the table.

"Jim!"

People were staring now; perhaps I'd gone a little over the top on the 'bound and gagged' thing and not kept my voice in check, but when you're mad -- you're mad. My face was burning, my stomach knotted and churning, and all I wanted to do was get on the Wing and ride. I didn't really care where or how far away it was; I was off for the backroads, back on my nonstop journey to nowhere, and I wanted to get as far away as humanly possible from this woman as fast as I could.

I plowed through the lobby like an ice-breaker, out the doors and over to the stairs that led up to the parking lot. A full moon was out; the whole world was dull silver and deep black -- which was exactly how I felt right then. The Wing was right where I'd left it, and not a Grizzly bear in sight anywhere. I was in luck! Off the menu!

And I could hear Jennie running up behind me, walking a couple of yards back, but she was there. I could hear her now, her breathing was hard and labored.

I unlocked my helmet and put it on, then found hers and handed it to her. I climbed aboard and rocked the bike off the center-stand, steadied my feet, looked ahead.

"Don't do this, Jim. Please. We have something here, you and I..."

"Had. We had something. Then you tried to twist me into something dark and perverted."

"No, Jim, that's not what I did."

I put the key in the ignition and started the engine. The Wing kicked over and rumbled for a moment, then settled into her low, gentle purr. I felt her hand on my arm; saw a tear in her eye.

"Good-bye, Jim."

"Right." I slipped the Wing into gear and rode through the lot, down a little curving drive between dormitories and over a little waterfall, then right onto the main road and took off down the valley. It was almost ten at night, maybe a couple hours to the first town with a hotel that wouldn't be full. I decided to ride until I got tired, but I had a hard time concentrating on anything but Jennie. I set the cruise control once I hit the highway at the bottom of the valley and sat numbly while the Wing rolled southward across miles of dark shadows; the moon high above was silent and not at all interested in my thoughts.

I found it hard to order my feelings about Jennie. Some instinct when I first saw her told me she was something well off the beaten path but also something well worth knowing, kind of like the roads I'd been moving along. Then there were the subtle intrusions that came along: the sadistic underpinnings and the almost psychopathic disregard for other people's feelings. How on earth, I wondered, could the woman possibly be a politician? Or was a certain callousness necessary to do the job well?

I could see contours of what the woman had been like once, before the assumed dominant had come along and reordered her tortured priorities. But the more I thought about it, the more I wondered why her actions had caused such an intense reaction in me. Certainly, probably, not what she had expected, certainly not something from the realm of her experience? She'd had certain expectations based, I assumed, on her own history with this other man; namely, that I'd enjoy the experience or, failing that, at least be open to the experience and try to understand her in the light of that experience.

If that was the case, I'd certainly let her down on that front. And her observed inability to integrate other people's feelings had probably closed her down, prevented her from seeing anything other than what she wanted to see, and wanted to feel. The whole incident, in this world-view, had been driven by her needs and expectations; she'd wanted me to perform in her little drama, and I hadn't. I couldn't, really.

Or perhaps she wanted me to experience a part of myself that, for most people, remains buried by the conscious self. She wanted to open Pandora's box, give free reign to all those human impulses that had been relegated to the shadows by moralists and theologians for centuries. But...

Why? What impulse had driven her to make such drastic and unwarranted assumptions? Her personality seemed substantially intact; had, in fact, up until the events of that night.

What was in that Pandora's box, what held such fascination? What was so important on those backroads of the mind? What would I have found there if I'd let go? Would it truly have been so dangerous?

Like the road ahead, everything was a vast, twisting ribbon across a gray landscape. I couldn't see ahead or behind, only the pool of light cast just ahead by the headlight, the fading light of memory that held me now in a last embrace.

If my reaction to these impulses was, or had been instinctual, then perhaps my reaction was appropriate, even if it was somewhat disproportionate. Yet, if this kind of reaction in general -- outrage, moral posturing -- was nothing more than a socially conditioned response, a response dictated by the morally repressive culture I'd been born into, then I was off-base, my actions very, very wrong.

The Wing rolled into Browning and I gassed-up, then made for the Interstate and Great Falls. Even at this lower elevation and out of the mountains the night air was cold, and the moon -- now high in the night sky -- cast a silver glow on dry rolling plains of speckled grass. Deer grazed just off the side of the road, hundreds of them at times, so I rode along slowly, meditatively. There was no other traffic on this lonely road and the silver landscape was punctuated only by the white glare of the Wing's headlight on the pitted asphalt just ahead. I was well and truly alone out here. Alone again, I said to myself. What was that song? Alone Again - Naturally?