Climbing Up, Then Climbing On

I had been dreaming of a Vegas vacation, but in the most unusual way.

The separation had been tougher than I could have ever imagined. Salty texts, recriminations, lots of tears. "This too shall pass," the old adage went, but there were times when I was engaged in the umpteenth fight with my ex that I began to wonder if the Persian poets were full of shit.

Some point during my visit to the "falling out of love" hell pit, I promised myself a getaway if I emerged alive on the other side.

My friends had hiked this gorgeous stretch inside the Red Rocks Canyon; I was entranced by pictures of sandstone formations that were the color of cider mill doughnuts and of unblemished skies.

Mountaineering had long been a hobby of mine. It was my escape from the cacophony of voices that came to define my Monday through Friday existence: never-satisfied bosses, a petulant husband and a slew of idiots that tried to chat me up during my gym time.

I had set a goal ten years ago to reach the summit of all 46 Adirondack High Peaks, but I hadn't truly made it a mission until my marriage started dissolving. It was easier, I suppose, to walk up 4,000 feet of incline than it was to bear the sight of my ex concocting another lie as he talked to me.

While I never intended hiking to be a solitary endeavor, the truth was my friends talked a good game, but rarely delivered. I could count on Kirsten or Cathy if my goal for the day was a 2.5 mile loop over somewhat even terrain. But they begged off of longer hikes, citing flimsy promises to attend their daughter's 13th softball game of the year or help their boss get ahead on a client pitch on a weekend.

I didn't give a second thought to inviting a girlfriend to Vegas with me. I've always felt responsible for other people's good times. And, as selfish as this might sound, I wanted to plan almost nothing and let the spirits decide the day's activities.

I booked my trip for early March, figuring I'd be quite over the sub-zero temperatures and face-whipping winds of upstate New York by then. The Nevada weather would be near ideal for hiking, with highs in the upper 60s, lows in the mid-40s and nary a chance of precipitation, even in the higher elevations.

Although I was excited about hiking unfamiliar terrain, it wouldn't allow for much time to pursue my other new passion: enjoying my new found freedom from monogamy. Tinder had become a wasteland of one-night stands, with guys mostly in the 5-7 range on the 1-to-Jon-Hamm scale being my willing prey. Most of these men were going to be forever single because of any one of their various idiosyncrasies, so I felt like the Florence Nightengale of fucking -- healing damaged egos and restoring virility.

I had a vibrator that didn't lack for attention, but I greatly preferred a man's touch. Intimacy, even for one hour or one night, was a welcomed change after my husband's touch ran cold too many years ago.

***

The Bridge Mountain Trail was an excursion you wanted to start early in the morning.

When my alarm went off at 4:35 a.m., I lept into the shower. I did my best thinking there, and today's hike was going to take a bit of planning. The Red Rock Canyon was about a three hour drive from my home in Lake Havasu City, Ariz., although I would get an hour of that back traveling from the Mountain to Pacific time zones. Last night, I had packed all the necessary supplies into my North Face Terra 65 -- water, food, sunscreen, first aid kit, compass and warmer clothing -- so that I could get on the road without delay.

The trail was a 14-mile circuit through a juniper and pinyon pine forest, in which hikers navigated unmarked portions with minimal climbing equipment. It would require a strong set of hands, an understanding of one's own center of gravity and a keen sense of direction.

Between the degree of difficulty and my decision to mountaineer mid-week, I figured I'd have a good six to eight hours by myself. I wasn't anticipating reliable cell service, which was admittedly kind of a relief. The people at my firm had a nasty habit of not respecting "days off," and I relished the thought of how many calls would go straight to voicemail.

I made sure the dog had enough food for a few days -- in case I was feeling a side excursion to Vegas after my hike -- before pointing my Toyota 4Runner north toward Interstate 95.

I made it to the conservation area as the sun was painting everything in its proximity with a warm splash of red. My SUV handled the uneven terrain to the trailhead with minimal trouble, and I soon discovered the parking lot had yet to be touched by another human this morning.

I reached into my passenger seat for my Thermos of coffee and my hiking boots. I laced the boots from toe to ankle, checked my phone -- oscillating between one and two bars here -- and grabbed my pack.

I made it to the junction between the North Peak and Bridge Mountain trails with relative ease, and enjoyed the views of the sandstone cliffs as well of as my home state. I continued to follow signs toward the summit, passing the Keystone and Canyon overlooks. The trail became less obvious as I pressed on and, as the ridge narrowed, I ditched my trekking poles near a prominent painted rock that I thought would stand out on my return trip.

I methodically moved through the steep gullies, up the cracked rocks and picked the route that would lead me under the staggering, nature-made arch. I refilled my canteen using the water that collected in a pocket of bedrock and then continued -- upward this time -- to the summit.

I was feeling very accomplished when I reached the apex of the trail. I stopped for a half-hour to refuel, sign the register and take pictures of my 360 degree view of California and Nevada's most prominent mountain ranges and high peaks.

As I descended, I began to take note of my body. Despite the caloric boost, my legs were putty -- not a comforting feeling when you're palming and smearing your way down a shale formation. It took just one bad plant, and my balance was lost. I extended my right hand out to cushion my fall and heard a sound like a fat man stepping on a bag of potato chips.

I rolled onto my shoulder and reflexively grabbed my wrist. I barely had touched it when I felt the pain shoot down into my elbow.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

I shimmied my body toward a rock that would provide some back support and took my first good look at my wrist. Nothing was protruding -- very good -- but it definitely looked askew. It was very tender, reacting to even the lightest of touches.

I used my good hand to reach into my backpack and find the ibuprofen. When I swallowed those, I grabbed my cell phone. I tried a friend's number, but the phone would not connect. I tried several other numbers. No service.

I leaned my head back on the rock, took a few deep breaths and tried to keep from crying.

***

The hiking gods were laughing at me.

I had wanted a challenge. That's why I picked the Bridge Mountain Trail. Now I was cursing my five-hours-ago self for her hubris.

I silently thanked myself for having the foresight, at least, to purchase a permit to camp on this trail. The tent had added pack weight, which wasn't helping the pins and needles feeling in my feet. But I would get as far as I could, find a spot sheltered from crosswinds and put down stakes.

Mentally, I was committed to hitting the summit today. Physically, I just wasn't sure it was possible. There had been a fair amount of trucks in the parking lot. Yet the farther I walked, the fewer people I encountered. The casual hikers came for the sights and found them at the early canyons. The hardcores must have stayed home -- with the exception of whoever left behind their trekking poles at the painted rock.

With my walking now feeling like moving through Jell-O, I took more time to appreciate the scenery. At the arch, I even tried to close my eyes and meditate. With only the slight rustle of wind to distract me, I still failed to clear my mind.

Nirvana would have to wait for another day.

I ate my lunch, wrote in my journal as I awaited digestion and then pressed on up the shale formation. The hike was mostly vertical at this point -- a bunch of slopers and sidepulls as I continued to move toward the summit.

As I hoisted myself up one of the hundreds of ledges I had traversed that day, I almost lost my grip from the shock of seeing another person. It was a man, who was sitting slumped against a rock and not moving a bit. He was close enough that I could see his chest rising and falling with each breath, but he didn't seem to react to my presence.

I briefly debated the appropriateness of waking a tired hiker, but this man had made no effort that I could tell to take proper cover for a real respite.

"Hello?"

***

I rolled my head toward the sound of the woman's voice. I squinted as I opened my eyes for the first time in -- how long had it been? I used my hand to shield my face, but I could see little because of the bright sun.

"I don't mean to disturb you, but it looks like the sun is baking you a bit." She gestured toward my legs. I looked down to see beet-red limbs peeking out from dirt and sweat.

"I...I think I broke my wrist. I must have passed out," I said, although through a thin sheen of dust that had gathered in my throat and made the words more raspy than usual.

The woman stepped forward, allowing me to get my first good look at her.Even in my hazy state, I was struck by this woman's soft features: long, tan legs, toned arms and shoulders, mesmerizing brown eyes, beautiful, pert breasts --

Oops.

Her eyes caught mine and I realized she had watched me give her the once over. I blushed and the concern that had painted her face briefly relaxed.

"Listen. I'm not a doctor, but I do have some training as a physical therapist," she said. "Do you mind if I check you out?"

I nodded and then swung my head to find my canteen while simultaneously extending my right arm to her.

Her touch was barely there, but she managed to inspect the wrist from most angles before declaring, "I will be right back."

***

There was a little hidden forest near where the man had fallen and I ran there to find a branch that could be used as a stabilizer. I was rushing, although I'm unsure why; he had clearly been slumped against that rock for a while. I grabbed three sticks that looked to be the right length and ran back to him.

I pulled a knife out of my bag and started whittling the shoots off the stick that was going to work. I asked him for an extra pair of socks, and I MacGuyver'ed a splint out of a sock, a branch and some Kinesio tape that I had brought. It wasn't perfect, but it would keep it immobilized.

I could tell by his state that he would not be able to make it down the hill before it got dark.

"I'm sorry. What's your name?" I asked.

"Dominic," he replied.

"I'm Janet," I said, while offering a half-wave. "Look, Dominic, we're going to have to make a camp for the night. Do you think you can walk a short distance?"

He nodded. I stood him up and we moved very deliberately down to the gully where the forest was. This area would protect us from night winds, and be better soil to lay stakes. I dropped Dominic off by a rock and proceeded to unfurl my tent.

We talked as I worked. He owned his own realty business in Arizona and was an avid outdoorsman, although the hobby was mostly contained to the weekend getaways like this one. He was a widower -- cancer, I think, although it wasn't exactly spelled out -- and a dog lover.

Dominic definitely took care of himself, I noticed. He was tan and muscular, with a strong jawline that his well-manicured beard attempted to hide. There were wisps of white hairs, although he struck me as someone roughly my age.

When I finished the tent, I started to collect rocks for the firepit I'd be building for us. Dominic offered to help, but I figured it was better for him to save his strength for tomorrow's journey.

After dinner, Dominic asked me to help him into the warmer attire that he brought. I used the tent to change into my night gear first and then emerged to find Dominic with his good hand full of long sleeved shirts and jeans.

"OK, how do you want to do this?" I asked.

***

"Gently," I replied.

Janet helped me get my short sleeved shirt over my head. She stood close to me by necessity, but I still tingled when her warm exhale of breath met my bare skin. When she got both top layers on, she moved her way around my body.

"I am so sorry to ask you this, but I don't think I can get my jeans on without your help," I said, legitimately contrite.

"No big deal," Janet said. "As I said, I'm a physical therapist. So this isn't exactly uncharted territory for me."

She gently popped the button on my shorts and ran her hands along my waistline. I looked skyward and tried to think of something -- anything -- that would not cause me to have an erection in front of this stunning creature.

I felt my shorts fall to my ankles. She noticed I wasn't looking and asked, "Are you OK?"

"Oh, totally. I just thought I heard something above us. I can't figure out what direction it's coming from though," I said, cursing myself that this lame excuse was the fastest one to pop in my mind.

***

Truthfully, I was kind of glad he wasn't looking. I was afraid he may have caught me ogling at what was an impressive display in his boxer briefs. Now that I knew what I was working with, it was time to up the charm.

When I helped him pull his jeans up, I managed to glance my breasts against his legs. It did not go unnoticed. Goosebumps appeared on his right leg.

"There you go," I said, buttoning his jeans and pulling up his fly.

We sort of looked at each other in puzzlement, unsure of what was next.

"I'll sleep out here," he offered. "The fire should keep me warm enough and I'll use my pack as a pillow."

"Dominic, don't be an idiot. It's going to be in the mid-40s out here," I replied, already scheming. "We're not adding frostbite to the list of reasons it'll be harder for you to get down this mountain tomorrow."

My new partner acquiesced, and came inside the tent. He sat down, looked me in the eyes, and said, "I just want to thank you. You've given me food and water. You've helped me put on my clothes and now you're keeping me warm while I rest up for the hike tomorrow. I don't know how I can thank you for all of this."

"There's only one thing I want from you," I said.

"Anything," he replied.

"I want you to fuck me."

***

You know that moment where the cartoon character gets whacked so hard upside the head and starts seeing stars and having double vision? That was me.

"I'm sorry. I -- what?" I sputtered.

"You heard me. I'm a woman who knows what she wants. You're cute. I want to fuck. And I want you to fuck me tonight. Right here. Right now," Janet said in a matter-of-fact manner.

My heart raced so hard against my chest I was worried it might fall out and kill me in this perfect moment. I still hadn't moved an inch, lest I wake up from this dream.

"Dominic, get over here," said Janet, opening the flap of her sleeping bag. I shimmied under the covers on her left side, taking great pains not to bump my swollen wrist against the ground or her body.

She rolled over onto her side and met my face there. She laid a firm, steamy kiss upon my lips and almost immediately increased her pace. I was just trying to keep up, but it was clear Janet wanted me to follow her lead.

I used my good hand to run my fingers along the side of her jacket. I went back and forth a few times, before slipping my hand underneath her clothing. Janet reflexively sat up and began to remove her jacket, shirt and sports bra. Her breasts were bigger than I had allowed myself to imagine; her skin was smooth to my rough touch.

Janet helped me remove my shirts -- funny how we had just labored to put them on -- and I felt her hair tickle my chest as her head hovered above mine. Our kissing continued as I moved my good hand along the contours of her shapely breasts.

As our kissing became more passionate, I felt Janet's hand run along my abdomen and to the button of my jeans. She was a sure-handed in her movements as a two-pack-a-day smoker with a book of matches. I felt the button release and Janet used the back of her hand to widen the opening of my jeans.

She released from our kiss to focus her attention on my pants, taking her two hands and gripping the sides with forceful intention. She slipped my boxer briefs off in the same movement, and my erection sprung to life.

***

Hmm, a bit bigger than I had guessed. I was more than ready for a challenge. Dominic was easily the hottest guy I had slept with in the past six months, and I was determined to give us both an experience to remember.

I traced the outline of his erect cock with my finger, purposefully slowing down as I thumbed the tip. His breath quickened and a small "mmhm" escaped his lips. I wrapped my hands around his dick and began to pull on it, gently at first and then more as our kissing intensified.

I released from his mouth and squirmed down so that my lips were even with his swollen shaft. I started at the base of his cock, moving his balls ever so slightly with my tongue. I then licked my way up his pulsating prick and took him into my mouth for the first time.

"Oh yes," he whispered. "Oh God yes."

My mouth was full of warm wetness. I layered his cock with my sweet spit and relaxed my throat so that I could drive my mouth deeper and deeper. He moaned -- louder than before -- and yelped "oh fuck yes, this is so good."

I deserved a turn, so I released him slowly and said, "Fuck me right now."

***

If this girl fucks as good as she takes my cock in her mouth, I wondered if I'd even last 30 seconds.

Janet peeled off her leggings, her underwear and her socks. In the dim light, I could see that she had a French wax -- a small strip of well manicured brown hair led to her alluring lips. She straddled me and began to rub my hardness against her mound, which only intensified my desire to be inside of her. I began to leave streaks of pre-cum on the inside of her thighs, across her clit and along her perfect pussy.

She then guided my cock inside of her now-sopping box and I watched as her beautiful round breasts began rising and falling as she lifted her legs up and down. I had fucked only one other woman since my wife's death two years ago, a disastrous one-night stand catalyzed by loneliness and liquor.

This was going much better. Her pussy framed my cock and I got aroused at the sight of my thickness moving in and out of her hole. We locked eyes and she smiled, before throwing her head back and running her hands through her hair.

I wanted to explore every inch of my body with my hands, but the wrist stayed as still as possible. I felt the occasional twinge, but the pleasure occurring below the waist was telling my brain a little discomfort was a more-than-fair trade-off.

Janet tried different positions, all with her on top. She pressed her hands into my chest and rode me high; she leaned all the way back, grabbed my ankles and moved my cock slowly in and out of her body. (That one hurt a bit!)

Eventually, the sight and sound of her body crashing into mine became too overwhelming. I felt as if I was going to cum and told Janet as much. She dismounted from my dick as if jumping off a horse and brought my hardness into her mouth again. The sight of Janet licking her own cum off my cock was pleasure overload, and I released a sizeable load into her mouth a few moments later. I started grunting, trying to squeeze every last bit out as Janet willfully accepted it.

Janet slowly moved off my cock, closed her eyes and swallowed the thick, sticky ropes she had coaxed out of me with her banging body and luscious mouth.