High Country Ch. 03 Pt. 02

"Lady Carlotta Saxe-Coburg of Annenberg, Saxony and Mecklenburg, it is my pleasure to present to her ladyship the Messiers Adolpho Cosimo De' Medici, XIV, of Florence, and Bryce Adams Canyon, the original, from Seattle," for effect, I smiled. Adolpho reached out to kiss her hand and I thought for a moment Bryce was about to curtsey. Or pee.

He was not prepared, and all four of us broke up seeing his tangible distress. "Bryce, this is Tride. The Lady is our friend, Carlotta, and we are all about to...par-tay, young dude. C'mon, let's get our game face on." And with that, Jeremy brought out the hookah for the special hash we had procured, while I passed out the vintage Bordeaux and a gummy bear each, with a tray of fruit and brie.

As dusk waxed upon us, the boys donned again their black capes with red silk lining, each fastening one another's neck clasps. We all helped load the costumes into the spacious boot of the 'Arrow. The lady was suitably in awe of the Mighty Tungsten Tuberosity, if not a mite baffled, just as Jeremy preferred. Mysteriously, he poked a large black bag in last, leaving me wondering, what else?

Paecup, in full Russian Cossack garb, grinned at us knowingly as he loaded all into the warm interior. Carlotta, now comfortably medicated, was familiarly touchy-feely, and who could blame the woman, what with the succulent manflesh surrounding her. All of the same dress size, I remembered. Her court was in session and her courtiers were in thrall. And enthralled.

After a small familiarization period so we were more knowledgeable of her traveling palace, her next order of business was to instruct Mr. Andropov to dispense the 'international fare'. The tiny spoons appeared and the boys had yet another choice to maneuver through. Our comfortable banter made the ride around the mountain and up the San Miguel River byway through Telluride township intimately enjoyable as we zoomed pleasurably upwards in mental states of jocular camaraderie. Jeremy was in rare form in his own gold caped cover. I snuggled next to him and the boys balanced Carlotta's sides, to her delight, playing more the role of Liza Cougar than her ladyship this night.

Approaching the old entrance to the 19th century silver mine, we were caught up in the traffic joining us in revelry for the Hallow's Eve Bash. The local police, including 'Deputy Fife' and Sheriff Delmar, helped in directing parking for those coming by vehicle. Several hundred more were streaming up from town and the gondola on costumed feet. We safely secured any evidence of the 'implements of destruction' as we had named the party accessories and Paecup navigated to a site separate from the rest, per a perk allowed by Carlotta's friend, County Judge Rickenmeier, and we ended in a secluded cul-de-sac populated by only a few other cars and some security guards.

Upon exiting the car with thanks to Paecup for the safe passage, and a remonstrance to join us soon, we commenced to reassemble the two costumes of mine and Jeremy's. Lady Carlotta was taken by both, though the Tuberosity was 'stupendously fabulous', as she called it, admiringly surveying the accomplishment.

Leaving the parking spot and heading for the mine entry point, we began feeling the pound of the musical beat inside. The mine-cave venue fairly launched the reverberations at us from diverse sources, probably emergency adits, drainage and venting openings, I figured.

Jeremy had Adolpho carrying the mysterious bag as his own hands were busy with the 'puppet' controls and Mr. Bone preceded our entourage. The characters we encountered boggled the mind what with the wide-ranging imaginations populating the area, but our own arrival set off a rumble of wonder by the group we brought. We soon had a flock of varied ghouls, celeb mocks and fantastical figures following in our wake and we looked amongst ourselves like, "What have we wrought?"

Reaching the recently enlarged hangar-style gates, wide open and welcoming this eve, we halted, of asudden encloaked by the pot smoke billowing out upon us. All five of us were already virtually afloat, levitated by the party favors.

Jeremy signaled Adolpho, and hunky Alexander the Great unzipped the big black bag, extracting a carefully bundled head cover of woven hemp dreadlocks. They had been painstakingly sprayed a shimmering silver and also embroidered with hundreds of silver sequins. Next, he extracted a snowboard with extra wide foot bindings. At least, that is what it appeared. But the thing sat off the ground by some tubular 'mechanism' mounted underneath.

While Jeremy and Adolpho fit the ornate dreads onto his head, fastening them by some arranged method, Carlotta passed out to each of us a set of wireless earbuds with which to not only diffuse the sound inside somewhat, but to also allow our inter-personal communication with one another while partying inside. Something new from Harmon-Kardon, she told us. Without wiring, the tiny buds fit our ear canals like a hearing aid and we found we could easily speak amongst us five, privately. How fly, I thought.

Looking back at my man, I saw him now pointing a small remote at the 'snowboard', and upon programming the thing, he caused the board to suddenly begin glowing. After a few seconds warm-up, the board very slowly rose up about a foot above the ground, hovering obediently in place. He grinned up at me, mouthed the words, "physics department prototype" and stepped up into the rubber foot grabs. He needn't have mouthed them. The ear buds made each word clearly distinct.

The Mighty Tungsten Tuberosity was now functional. The exclamations surrounding us were audible in their disbelief as this silver dreadlocked, golden-glowing, 'Magic Mike' Cirque-esque character once known as my husband towered above us all, acrobatically balancing on the magnetic-levitation hover board, looking every inch the image of a Greek God. With a skeleton vanguard. And wings.

By some pre-set signal, the trendy hip-hop music suddenly changed to the rhythm and lyrics of 'Monster Mash' by the Crypt-Kickers. The Mighty Tungsten Tuberosity, along with the four of us, followed by the dozens behind, slowly made our entrance into the now 'cavernously' spacious re-do of the Pandora Mine.

The original mine passage had been dynamited through its rock walls, opening it to an enormous adjacent under-mountain cavern sporting a subterranean lake formed by an early mining error which missed the path of the desired silver lode vein. Instead, the blast opened another track for an underground river which flooded the cavern.

The floor of the cavern began ten feet lower than the mine tunnel and dropped off gradually to where the lake surface began about seventy-five feet distant. The contractors had constructed a stairstep entry down to the floor for connection. The grand stairway opened in ever widening semicircles with each step.

Those hundreds of partiers already inside, drinking, mixing and dancing, began signaling others and turning as we entered the opening. Beginning down the stairs, heads turned, seeing a remarkable, floating Jeremy in all his resplendent glory with a strangely glowing entourage. A murmur of incredulity grew at the developing spectacle.

His wings now slowly spread and arched upward and outward. The effect was breathtaking and silenced all conversation in the cavern. Even the pounding music diminished as if on cue. Then, a growing roar of acclamation built and the music ratcheted back up. I took Carlotta's hand, the boys followed suit and at Jeremy's sides we entered the cavern in ancient Roman Triumphal Procession style, many more revelers on our heels. I felt goosebumps well up all over my body and glancing over at Carlotta, we knew we were experiencing the coolest-ass Hallowe'en we would ever possibly imagine.

A clear acrylic dance floor stretched out over one edge of the under-mountain lake. Gloom swallowed the lake's far shore. A playboy bunny had delivered an order of drinks sent courtesy of an attractive Russian Cossack now beaming our way from the bar hugging one rock wall. A becoming female buttercup blossomed next to him, obviously into uniforms by her looks at Mr. Andropov.

Paecup raised his pint of ale in toast to us with a broad grin and we raised ours in reply. The party had now increased in energy level. The multitude gradually absorbed the grand entrance, now gathering to smaller groups for the onslaught that was the Tride Mountain Monster Mash Bash.

The renowned San Francisco DJ of Castro District fame spun round after round of danceable tunes, keeping many attendees on the dance floor without pause. We five joined in, Jeremy disembarking from the mag lev to wiggle that thong-enhanced gold booty. Carlotta was in her element, accepting well-wishes from most everyone as a true royal would expect, and her Gordian knot boys, inseparable and interlocked, kept guard over the lady while magnifying her pleasure just by their presence.

We all danced together with abandon, passing the constantly circulating blunts going through the crowd. Paecup disappeared with his buttercup and we knew another of the man's 'short interludes' must be 'going down'. Good for him, I rooted.

Jeremy lowered his wings and came over to me, drawing us away from the others, as a slower song allowed the cavern to catch its breath. He removed both of our earbuds, nuzzling into my ear, "I am in love and lust with you, my Luke. You make me good." I felt his gold hand cupping my bare, thonged buns. Amazed at this beautiful man's ability to surpass himself in almost every situation, he did so now. As we joined together for a bit, the lights dimmed over a few minutes and we took to the side bar for a break. As we ordered another drink, we saw the ladies, Sheila E and Cat G mount the far steps to the stage, followed by two male figures with whom they were conversing and sharing a joint.

JK pulled me along as we wove our way toward the four, vagrant hands reaching out to feel of the Tuberosity passing by. It looked as if the silver lame might be stretching its limits in recognition of the attention...which made my own answer in mimicry. By the time we arrived at the stage, we were both sporting boners and we knew it was something only acceptable under the present circumstances. We luxuriated in each other's tumescence, silently signaling a pact to address the predicament in a little bit.

We climbed the stage and Jeremy turned back to me, squeezed my hand and lipped into my ear, "Honey, it IS Robert Cray and Prince—I knew it." Some band members had begun setting up for a live concert. The four heavyweights continued conversing, amazingly not causing a riot by their simple presence on the stage. Only in Tride, it crossed my mind.

Cat spied us and waltzed over, giant grin congratulating our earlier arrival. "That was some entrance, maestros," she said as she pulled up to us. Sheila E, now following her wife's path, brought the two superstar talents with her.

We were humbled by their kudos and the group of us chatted over their intentions to wow the celebration with true superstar power, all together for a set. I felt a shoulder tap and glanced back to find 'Liza' and the 'twins' next to us. By our questioning looks, she laughed, "Dears, you glow."

The music legends all acted like typical humans, including the three with us in the conversation and even sharing a hash vape cig that Adolpho produced from somewhere. Handing it to me, the ebullient sommelier told me, "Luke, we're in an Armistead Maupin book, I just know it- no one else could think this night up. I've been keeping an eye out for Anna Madrigal the whole time." I was amazed the youth even knew who either one was, even though Mr. Maupin should be a household name to all, as an American Treasure.

The lights blinked three times, signaling the cavern, and we left them as the band warmed up. Everyone finally realized what was about to be up...almost. Over the next hour, the evening was crowned by the exhibition of surprise superstar talent serenading the audience like none of us would likely ever forget.

After classic songs led by each of the four luminary performers, the crowd was crazy in its preoccupation with the star power before them. Then, the band went low to a pianissimo undercurrent like an on-hold freeze-frame.

The lights abruptly blacked out completely and the only luminescence was provided by the multiple phosphorescent entities and fluorescent devices around the subterranean theatre. Umbrella'd by the golden glow put off by Jeremy, all five of our intimate group were together in front of the stage. Thanks to our earbud communicators via Lady Carlotta, we collectively huddled around one more shared vape cig, able to converse privately amidst the cacophony.

J-Man was the first to recognize the new undertone, his senses switching to high alert. The rest of us listened, finally hitting on the fact that the band had picked up an island beat. As the lights crescendoed, our eyes latched on to an immensely tall, lean figure with a mike who was smiling and pointing directly at us, having picked us out beforehand by our glow. We all just about collectively shit our britches (except the Lady, of course) as the dreadlocked crooner launched into a lilting lyric made famous by the Mighty Diamonds. The crowd went delirious.

Ambergai Gee was back...

***

I lay in the big polished cypress bed inside our log cabin nestled amid the high mountain vale overlooking Mountain Village on Telluride Mountain situated in the San Juan Mountains of southwest Colorado, America, Western Hemisphere, Earth. Latitude 37.93 degrees North. 107.85 degrees East.

Douglas Blue Feather preformed Sacred Space from his 'Into Euphoria' CD as the haunting Indian flute imbued our master suite with an otherworldly flare.

My legs were pinned back over my head, spread wide open by two huge ebony hands. The long fingers of each encircled my ankles, securing the clear path below. There was an eleven-inch-long, large diameter slick black dick slowly and methodically pumping in, then out, of my excessively lubed bare asshole. It was fucking purposely slow, all the way in and all the way out, to the ridges on the phatted mushroom head. Each stroke was separated by a pause, necessary to prolong the slowly warming and rising approach to the long-delayed volcanically eruptive, climactic edge being savored all the more by this manner of the mature fuck. As the big dickhead contemplated the propulsive release of baby-infused, Creole creaminess, it knew the pulses of ejaculatory ecstasy would be passed to me by the energy.

In the coming release and by the knowledge of the fuck and suck pluggings now unfolding within inches of my union, I knew that the patience involved would reward five people with whom I was inordinately close and also with whom I desired to share the magnified effect by this manner of doing the deed.

I held the dark brown cylinder in my fingers as I used the opposing fingers of my other hand to close off the manly nostril of the nose on the man now staring deeply into my eyes. He inhaled slowly, then I switched the like action to the other nostril. Having just served myself to the incense high, I was luxuriating in the return of Ambergai Gee and the feeling of his long, swinging dreadlocks caressing my skin as I listened to the slow shag going down next to us. My stud husband, Jeremy, was enjoying the same sensations we were as he passed along the feelings to his fuckee, Bryce.

Bryce, who was slobbering hungrily on the rhythmically synchronous Italian curve sliding down his throat to the same beat of the two fuckers. His new life lover, Adolpho, made sure to hold his boy's legs wide open and to match the two black dicks in their desired mutual arrival at the doorway of elusive five-fold bliss.

Indeed, after many moments of suspended time passage, the low grumbling throat sounds by the Jamaican set my Jeremy and Bryce's Adolpho into take off mode, and within seconds, all five of us came collectively, the only sperm to be seen was from my and Bryce's cocks, as the other three spent their loads deeply embedded in the cavities of choice.

Jeremy and Gai vied for the cream afterwards, Adolpho too new an initiate to gay methods to partake yet, at least in the view of anyone other than his baby, Bryce. Scooping the gooey exudate, the two ritually smeared each other's mouths, allowing the licking clean of both men's long fingers by the other's tongue and lips. The ultimate expression of domination by black men over white men.

If the religious right feared the expansion of their narrow, bigoted concept of sinful manifestation, our perception of ultimate gay consummation was the epitome of it.

We all relished the camaraderie of our communalism, sharing soft, private, group intimacy as we recovered our wits and backed down from the peak just scaled. Should others desire to understand our bohemie, then get high, do a hit of poppers, multiply by fifty while climaxing during a thunder and lightning storm in the middle of a hurricane. Then one might possibly understand.

Jeremy scooched over to me as Gai arose to get towels and washcloths, whispering nothing at all into my ear. I giggled back at him, out loud. Adolpho covered his tow-headed blond bombshell with kisses because he could and we awaited Gai's return. When he walked back into the road, biggest dick swinging possessively at us all, we accepted the towels, and pounced.

Bombarding him with questions for which we had been wanting answers since Hallowe'en night, when he returned to us.

Jeremy, the man's lifelong friend and long lost confidant, asked, "OK, my man, Gai, where in hell did you disappear to and why did you leave without a word?" Among the multitude of questions, these two were the most stumping.

Gai slowly, deliberately washed and toweled himself as we all watched his waggling, then he smirked and clod hopped downstairs. Size 17 quadruple E feet tend to do that. On returning, he held a Chimay Blue ale bottle by the neck, classic blue vapor spreading over the lip, descending around it like dry ice. It was an ethereal effect. I bought Chimay Blue to see it. The ale was stellar, but the vapor was better.

Clearing his throat, he asked to light up some ganja so we got a blunt out and did so. After taking a large toke, he began. "Ma' pussy boys, ya' all need t'know a bit a' the few t'ings I does before ya' may unnerstan on th'appenin's goin' down o' late. So, I'm a'gonna tell ya, now, Mon. Be listenin' close."

And Ambergai Gee, IV, he did tell us, and we did listen, stonedly rapt. But, as I am not him, I will relate it in this language, for ease of unnerstannin', as he would say:

The statuesque denizen of Rastafarianism told us that the Rastafari Sect began in Creole Jamaica, in the early days of Western World slavery. It was a way for the slaves to empower themselves. They adopted some tenets of the Bible, but developed their own dialect of English, called Lyaric. They lived by the creed calling for treating one's body as a temple: never cut one's hair, eat only that which is good for the body, never tattoo your body...

They did hold to some gruesome beliefs, too, though. Like, after vanquishing their enemies, they would save the bones of the enemy bodies and before the next battle, they pulled the bones out and gnawed on them symbolically, to bring them strength and courage.

The Rastafari, or Rasta, think of the New World—aka, the Western Hemisphere—as their purgatory, since they were brought here against their will. The need for return to Africa, their homeland, which is their Heaven on Earth, is paramount to them. Like Mecca for Muslims. Jerusalem for Christians.

The direct descendent of King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba was Haile Selassie I, who ruled Ethiopia, Africa, from 1916-1974. He was the messiah to the Rastafari and they felt he had promised to bring all slaves home. The Rastafari detest other religions, calling them the white man's way of subjugating them, and refer those other than their own as 'Babylonians'. They reject the term Rastafarian and the concept called Rastafarianism because any philosophy ending in '-ian', or '-ism', are of Babylon, and therefore oppressive to the peoples of the World. Hence, the Rastafari, or Rasta.