Mountain Memories

Sometimes there are events in life that are short-lived but remain an important and wonderful memory. This is one of those memories.

I have always loved the mountains. Not the barren western high country but the dense, tree-covered, misty slopes of the Great Smoky Mountains. There was and still is no better place to find solitude. The nature of my work allowed me a four-day weekend every six weeks. Many times each year I would load the car with camping gear and start the six hour trip to eastern Tennessee. I tended to go at times when the other vacationers would be at a minimum, to enhance the peace and quiet. It was a late spring weekend and the weather forecast was favorable; so off I went for a short getaway.

There are numerous campgrounds in the National Park but one particular place was always my favorite. It was not one of the more heavily used areas and always had few people at this time of year. I arrived early afternoon, picked out the campsite, set up the small tent, and unpacked all of my gear. I like to take photos late in the afternoon so a short nap was needed to regenerate after the long drive. Sleep came easily with the gentle breeze carrying the scent of pine and cedar.

Unfortunately, I awakened to the noise of someone backing a car into the camping space next to mine. I was rather annoyed since there were many empty spaces and did not want to interact with anyone. But, since it was time to grab my camera and head to the inner reaches of the park, I put on my boots and headed out of the tent. My frustration at having a neighbor dissolved when I looked at the new camper. She was unpacking a VW Beetle and seemed to have all of the necessities for a great camp. She was also one of the most gorgeous women that I had ever seen. Anyone who loves camping knows that the clothing is not the most attractive for a woman to wear. But this creature could have been wearing a burlap sack and I would not have noticed. She was of average height, about five feet, six inches. Her hair was long, dark blond, and pulled back into a ponytail.

She was very tanned, very slender, and moved with comfortable grace while assembling her tent. She saw me as I walked to my car, smiled broadly, and said hello. Her smile was enough to stop the average mans heart, mine included. Honestly, it would have been very easy to stay and talk but my shyness led me to the car and off I went. The afternoon lighting is spectacular. The colors are so vibrant and expressive. Without seeing the park in person it is impossible to comprehend how many shades of green can exist. How exciting to kneel and shoot frame after frame of white-tailed deer feeding almost within arms length. After shooting several roles of film the suns shadows were lengthening and it was time to return to camp and fix dinner. I was secretly hoping that she would be there when I returned. The fantasies had been running through my mind since I left the parking place.

There was relief when I saw her car still parked at the site. As I started to set up my stove, she did the same. There were no words spoken, but I took every chance to look her way. She started to her car and spent several minutes rummaging through the backseat and trunk. She had a noticeable look of frustration when she returned to the campsite. I was trying not to be obvious so hearing her voice startled me. When I looked she was walking toward me.

She had forgotten the fuel for her stove and wondered if I had some to spare. Unfortunately, our stoves were of different design and the fuels were not the same. She introduced herself as Melinda from Nashville and asked if she could use my stove to heat water for her meal. I would have started a fire from green wood if it meant spending time with her. She got her food and came to my camp. She told me that camping was also her way to relax and get away from the rigors of everyday life and work. I could not believe the way her green eyes sparkled when she talked. She obviously knew no strangers. It was difficult getting in a word, but listening to her was so different than other women I had known. I found myself immersed in her presence as she talked with common sense and intelligence, on many varied topics. Her questions, when there was time for me to respond, were insightful and intuitive. We hardly realized that while cooking and eating our meal the afternoon had turned into dusk.

We also became aware that the night air was starting to cool. Nights in the mountains came early and usually signal bedtime. I did not want to retire to the tent but she mentioned that her day had been long and the sleeping bag was calling her name. I tried to hide the disappointment as she thanked me for the use of the stove and headed back to her tent. I was locking up my car when I heard her walking from her area. She said that she wasn’t quite ready for sleep, had a bottle of Cabernet, and would share it with me if I had some cups. Cupped palms would have sufficed for drinking containers at that time. She said that it was too cold to set outside and wondered if I minded getting into her tent. What a silly question. We sat on the floor of her tent, drank wine, and talked for some time.

I actually got to talk more than earlier. There was almost no light, barely enough moonlight filtering through the trees to see her silhouette against the wall of the tent. By the time the wine was finished, we were both mainly silent, listening to the night noises, crickets, wind rustling the branches, and a distant owl. My back was starting to ache after sitting cross-legged on the tent floor for so long. I stretched out my legs and reclined back to relieve the screaming muscles. As I lay there staring at the roof I felt her shift positions. She was sitting next to me with her legs near my arms. I felt her hand brush my arm and then my hair. I was afraid to move, not wanting to break the spell. She leaned over and kissed my lips. Her mouth was so soft, so warm. I lifted my arms and pulled her to me. Feeling her body next to mine was like a dream.

We kissed and touched for some time; getting bolder with our explorations of each other. She sat up and started to take off her shirt. I had thought that she wasn’t wearing a bra but couldn’t tell because of the bulkiness of the shirt. As she pulled the shirt off I was sliding my hands up her sides. Her skin was electric. Her breasts perfectly filled the palm of my hand. Her nipples were hard and sensitive to my touch. I could hear her breathing as I slid my fingers over her nipples, lightly pinching them between my fingers. She moaned, leaned back, and slid her pants and panties off in one motion. She rose up and straddled my head, trapping myself between her thighs.

I could feel the heat, smell the fragrance, as she lowered herself to me. She was so unbelievably wet and smooth. My tongue explored every crevice, every texture. My hands roamed over her body, feeling the subtle changes as my fingers slid across her. I was engrossed by every detail, the silky hairs in the small of her back, the tautness of her ass, the tension in her arms and legs. She was so diminutive. I felt huge in comparison. As her orgasm approached the tension in her body increased to a point that she was sitting over me like a statue. I could feel the muscles in her thighs start to quiver. As she came, I pinched her nipples, and she exploded in a long wail. I am sure that other campers heard the sound but nothing was going to stop either one of us.

As she came down, I gently placed her at my side so I could remove my clothes. She slid under me and spread those wonderful legs to allow me entrance to her. Her entire body funneled my erection toward the center of her body. Her legs reached around me and pulled me the last few inches. When I entered her I was sure that I could not last long. How could I possibly make this last forever? How could any woman feel so soft, so hard, so inviting. She became the one in control. I remember feeling that it would be her decision when I could leave her body. The time was too special to have it end that quickly. She, likewise, ran her hands over me, as I had done to her. She caressed my arms and chest, as we became one constant rhythm. Her breathing, her moans, was as musical as the finest of orchestras. As I approached orgasm, she reached between us and ran her fingernails lightly across my hardness. When I came it was like no other orgasm in my memory. We melted into each other while our breathing returned to normal. As I lay next to her we wrapped our arms around each other and fell asleep.

That was the beginning of three beautiful days. We spent every moment together. We explored the peaks, the waterfalls, and the isolated sunny glades. She was child-like in her eagerness to learn, to look, and to see. She taught me the trees and wildflowers. I taught her the birds, the insects, and the hidden mushrooms. We learned our likes and dislikes while walking the trails hand in hand. My entire person tingled at every fleeting touch. A smiling glance warmed the coolest shade. We sat on the rocks while high-country creeks gurgled past, with no sound except the splashing and rushing of the water. Was it possible for three days to seem like three years? Could it last for forever?

On Sunday morning, after waking to pleasure each other one last time, I broached the subject of seeing each other again. She was obviously nervous at answering my question. She would not allow any future meetings. She said that she was in a relationship with someone who was very influential and controlling. Any attempt to continue our brief affair would cause harm to her and myself. Attempts to argue proved futile and I realized that the only thing that I could keep were the pictures I took and the incredible memories. We packed and left the campsites at the same time. I turned right as we left the campground; she turned opposite. I never saw her again except in the pictures stored in my locked cabinet.

It has been twenty years since meeting her. I have been back to the Smoky Mountains over forty times in those years, each time going to the same campground, driving by the same campsite, hoping to see that familiar face. I have lived a good and fruitful life. I hope that she has as well.