Zara

Zara was striding along the trail ahead of me, as she usually did. We had resupplied yesterday at Florence Lake, so the packs were heavy, which caused periods of silence as our bodies suffered up a serious grade here and there. We were on the John Muir Trail in the high Sierra.

I didn't mind the silence, being accustomed to solo hikes where conversations were with myself. But Zara, my recent trail companion of one week, usually had words to say if she had breath to do so.

On a sunny afternoon, something prompted her to tease me, "I think I spend too much time thinking about sex."

I wondered to myself if a response was wanted. This could be treacherous territory. I was a twenty-nine year old research professor, currently unemployed, and she was, by her own account, a homeless, friendless, screwed up female trying to find herself on the trail.

In the fashion of trail relationships, we refrained from what might be considered nosy questions, like were you gay or straight. But each of us had confessed to the other that we were currently without a partner.

After a few minutes of silence, I asked, "Is that a philosophical statement, or are you flirting with me?"

The trail was agreeable and we kept walking. After another silent interval, Zara said, "I get to zip our bags together tonight. My feet are always cold."

Shortly after that declaration, we came around a corner and could see Evolution Lake in front of us to the south.

"Pretty open country out there. Should we stop in these trees? It's almost five."

We stood in late sunlight, absorbing the immensity of high Sierra peaks and the work of millions of years of glaciers. Zara stepped backward and reached for my hand.

"Jeff, This is fixing me. You are fixing me. Ever since we met by accident last week, my brain is different."

I eased her pack off and put it down next to mine. My arms around her front gathered her in.

"That's nice to know, but don't give me too much credit. I'm just a guy you ran into on the trail."

She turned around and gave me a warm kiss on the lips. "That's not true, but we will deal with it later. This is a fine place to camp. Let's get farther from the trail. If you fill the water bag from the lake, I will set up the tent."

By the time I got back with several gallons of filtered water, she already had tea water boiling on our stove.

"Orange spice?"

I nodded and dug out my insulated cup, along with my flask of high test alcohol. Shortly we were side by side against a convenient boulder, sipping carefully.

Zara whispered, "You've spiked my drink." Another kiss followed.

I whispered back, "I like your campsite. People have written books about this spot."

"I don't need a book, I have you." She was pressed to me with one of the down bags over us to ward off the high altitude chill.

"Yeah, pretty mellow. Do we have any weed?"

"Yes, but I don't need any. I have you." She decided the next kiss required her being in my lap. I kissed her forehead and held us close.

"That stuff you told me about dropping out of Berkeley. Are we leaving that behind?"

"Yes, if you keep holding me and kissing me."

If this was Zara's version of a hit job, it was working. All of my boy-girl urges were surging.

"You sure you want to be in close contact with a horny male?"

"I've only had one boyfriend up to now and he dropped me for being spaced out and screwed up. That's not much of a recommendation for close contact."

I hummed and just held on. Sometime soon, an early dinner was needed. Zara had good instincts about trail food.

"Has the chef decided on the menu for this evening?"

She wiggled in my arms and replied, "What about stroganoff in a pouch, and one of those cheese and vegetable things you put in boiling water?"

"Sounds good. Is the sous chef allowed to prepare the meal?"

"Yes, but am I allowed to have a little nap right here? Dinner in an hour?"

She was gone before I could say yes. Some guys might think they had inherited trail trash but I was intrigued by Zara. She told me that she had been at Berkeley, but dropped out after two years because she was an indifferent student and her parent's divorce had dried up her financial support.

"All part of being AFU," she had said.

But whether it was me or not, the strong woman was back in the real world. Or at least the high Sierra part of it. I was pretty sure she had thoughts about hooking up with her new trail buddy. This was dangerous. What if she imprinted on Jeff and assumed we were paired up? Damn, that could get sticky.

A little voice said to stop looking only at the downside. You haven't had much success with the opposite sex. The last friend, Carolyn, had said on her way out the door, "Jeff, no woman can meet your expectations. I love you but am going to find myself a nice quiet guy who lets me be myself."

That had set me back for a while and in fact, was one of the reasons why I was out here in the wilderness trying to resort and restart my life. Having my assistant professor appointment expire without renewal hadn't helped.

The package in my arms stirred and said, "This is very cozy, but I have to pee. Do we have more tea, or what about a cup of that tomato bisque soup?"

She dropped her briefs and found a convenient bush. I did the soup and brought it in one container and two spoons. She was bundled in the sleeping bag without benefit of the trail sweaty briefs. Female smells were in the air.

"Maybe you need to wash my bottom for me?"

"Before or after we check compatibility?"

"Mountain sex is messy. It is not on the program for this evening, but what about a sunny place tomorrow?" She followed that with a torrid kiss. I moaned and tickled.

"Stop, the soup will spill. Talk to me about our future."

Oh, oh. Just what I feared. She leaned back and waited for another kiss.

"Um, both of us have screwed up lives at the moment. Don't we have to fix that?"

"Yes, you are absolutely right. I have been thinking it might be easier to fix ourselves as a team." She turned her head and applied lips to mine again. I felt myself sinking. Sinking somewhere with a pretty woman with smarts.

She pulled the bag over her head and sniffled on my chest.

This was not trail behavior. "What is the problem? You were tough trail girl until a few minutes ago."

"Just hold on to me. I may live."

I kind of liked having her under there. My hands wandered, finding ribs to tickle and boobs to squeeze. The body was on the thin and muscular side. Whatever else was happening, trail work was helping her fitness.

She found my hand with hers and put it between her legs. A muffled voice said, "Rub."

That induced a whole new round of wiggling, and a few giggles.

"Being around you makes me horny."

I uncovered the mop of not recently washed hair and worked my fingers in it.

"You want me to stop thinking about sex and do it?"

Her fingers pressed on mine, rubbing harder. Her other hand was worming, searching for a hard thing.

I lay back, lifted the squirming body, and dropped it on top of a very hard cock.

"You are definitely hitting on me. If you are serious, certain parts have to be washed."

There was a new giggle. "If I take my clothes off, are you going to wash me?"

"Warm water is required, and I have to fix it."

She stood over me, bag tossed aside, and dropped clothing on my chest until I was looking up at furry bottom. I rose and kissed the bare body. "You have many charms, trail girl." I pushed nakedness into the down bag and looked for my biggest pot to heat water.

I decided to provide a little more excitement and stripped, throwing clothes at the lump in the bag. In a few minutes, with the bag safely out of the way, she was standing in front of me, looking down at an anxious cock, while my soapy washcloth made its way up muscled legs.

"You are big and hard. Is that because of me?"

Having gotten to her crotch, I applied especially thorough washing, which made her jump about and complain, "Am I that dirty? I am going to come if you don't stop."

After soap had been properly removed, I applied a curious tongue.

"Oh no! You can't!"

Fresh pussy tasted great, and I probed everywhere. A firm hand on her tight ass was required. After a minute, she gave a great sigh and came vigorously on my fingers.

Her lovely voice trilled, "Mother would not approve."

I assisted to bend knees and slide the body into my arms. More importantly, I assisted the dripping pussy to slide properly in place around the stiff cock.

I was in no hurry, and enjoyed a hard kiss as she maneuvered herself into tight contact. It felt fantastic.

"This seems like a very nice result of my flirting."

"I'm glad you think so. I've never been inside a finer woman. Are you sure you are all fucked up?"

I followed with three thrusts lifting her in the air.

"Ahhh! Nasty fucker, who said you could do that?"

"As a matter of fact, you did."

She moaned, "You are the first man to bring me off with his cock. More, please."

We were standing up. Zara was bouncing and coming. I paddled her rear with both hands since her grip with her legs had me under control.

"Oh god, this is good. I'm still coming!"

I grabbed the bag and wandered into a thicket where we were hidden from the trail. Down on her back, I whispered in her ear, "I know it sounds arrogant, but I think you needed this. Needed less thinking about sex, and more doing it."

"Oh god, Alex, what has happened to me? Where are my principles? All I can think about is wanting your big thing to stay where it is!"

I drove myself tight and turned us over. My voice was harsh, "It's about to blast you, Zara, is that ok?"

She twisted off, "Zara may be silly, but not that silly!" I was astonished when her mouth clamped on me and took the full force of my hose.

All I could think to say was, "Damn!"

She took her time cleaning me. I was astonished all over again that the trail feminist was now a sex kitten. With the bag over us, she snuggled tight again.

I asked, "Um, was that more than a plain old fuck?"

My face was attacked with kisses. "You are so nice to say that! My god, I don't deserve any of this!"

Easing her fully on top, I worked muscles up and down her spine. After a while, I said, "Guess what, you are going to stand where you were and more hot water is going to take care of my mess."

"I might have a clean pair of underwear." Her eyes were bright and the smile was as sexy as she could make it. The uniform for the chef was a fleece top and gorgeous pale yellow briefs.

Even though it was cooling off at altitude, I was told to make a very small mountain gimlet while she prepared dinner. I wandered to the leftover snowbank behind a thicket, and retrieved the ice substitute. Gin and limeade produced a mountain gimlet. Every so often, I offered a sip and made a low male noise. That required a quick drop into my lap for the sip and a hot kiss.

"You were right."

"Right about?"

"Not an ordinary fuck."

I hummed. She frowned.

Dinner was a porkchop and fresh green beans. A fleeting benefit of yesterday's store run.

"I feel so much better. Did I just get a special cock cure?"

She looked up from her plate, an expectant smile on her face.

I frowned, "You are wrecking my search for tranquility. How am I supposed to deal with an amazing female who wants to pair up?"

It was her turn to frown. "Do the cleanup while I fix our bed. Did the ice cream and dry ice survive today's hike?"

A pound of dry ice and a pint of ice cream took up valuable pack space, but were a touch of civilisation to be enjoyed in a mountain meadow, preferably with a loving companion and a rising moon. Hoping for a remnant tomorrow, I put half in a dish and carried to the nest Zara had constructed. It was cosy and she was definitely a loving companion.

"We have to cuddle and watch the moon come up, and not talk anything serious."

I provided a kiss and a boob squeeze to underline her statement and closed my eyes.

Her wiggle woke me. "Have to pee."

We walked a decent distance from the trail and watered the dry meadow. I pulled her close and said, "I'll provide a proper wipe."

On the way back, my fingers entertained her bottom. "You are very bad. I want more cock."

Seized by a horny impulse, I obliged a very energetic cunt with a midnight screw that sent loud human noises to the starry sky. After, she was not standing for long in the cold night while cleaning took place.

Back in the bag, she asked, "Are you my sub or something? I've never had a guy fix my bottom like you do."

Tight to her back, an arm over her side for access to a fine boob, I whispered, "Totally your sub."

In the morning, there was frost on the zipped together bags. I had just decided to get out and start the stove for coffee water when she said, "I'll do the coffee."

I kissed the back of her neck and whispered, "You will lie here like Cleopatra and give orders to the male servant."

"What if I said, 'Fuck me?' " Her fingers had my morning erection firmly in control.

"Not allowed until later. Cock doesn't function below freezing."

She giggled and we climbed out together, digging in the packs for warm clothes.

A few minutes later, she sipped hot coffee and blew me away with her next question.

"Did we have a mountain meadow marriage yesterday?"

I looked at the mountain girl. Hair a terrible mess. No bra but a wooly plaid shirt. Commando jeans that did not fit as tight as they had a week ago. Was I suddenly married to this person? I tried a smile, saying nothing and sipping my own coffee.

She frowned and ordered, "You are required to say something romantic."

I moved closer for a soft kiss followed by a quiet, "Yes."

She pushed me down against yesterday's boulder, grabbing a down bag for cover.

"Where is this trip going?"

I pulled her very tight, "My trip never had a destination. I figured the trail would unscramble my brain and provide an ending."

"This is bad. I didn't have a destination, I had too many destinations. My friends kept throwing names at me. Whitney. Forester. Kearsarge. South Lake."

Zara curled into me. "Will you get us out of here?"

I undid a button on the wool shirt and reached for a warm boob. Felt right, somehow.

"If you are taking directions from the male sub, we could back up a little, climb over Lamarck Col and go out to North Lake. There is a shuttle to Bishop in the summer."

She pushed me flat and lay her head on my chest. "That sounds too organized. If we head out, we have to face the real world in a few days."

"You told me about life changes that were necessary."

"What about stolen sunny days of high country summer?" She burrowed deeper into me, holding the hand tight to her breast.

"In three weeks, you have to be in Berkeley, fighting your way back into school."

A very small voice asked, "What about you? Is this instant romance going to be gone by the time we drive to Berkeley?"

I took my time answering. This trail romance wasn't a joke anymore. We had bonded. Neither of us knew how strong the bond was.

I teased, "You just said we are married."

She pulled my head down for a teary kiss, "I wasn't joking!"

I stood us up. It was quite a sight in the first sunlight. Messy camp. Messy hikers. Glorious scenery.

I crouched with hands up. "I wasn't joking either. Want to make something of it?"

She marched right into me, fists flailing. I was closing for a kiss when a voice hailed us from the trail, fifty yards away. "Morning, Doing your calisthenics?"

We stopped misbehaving and walked over to say hello. It was a couple, both of them looking strong. I suspected instantly they were doing the John Muir Trail hike.

"JMT hikers, getting an early start?"

"Yes and Yes. Yourselves?"

Zara spoke up, "As you can see by the mess, we aren't going anywhere fast. I have to be back at school in three weeks and we are deciding how much longer we can laze around the high country. How far are you going today?"

"Our vacation is over in a week, so we are pushing for Whitney in 5 days."

"Ambitious. Don't let us keep you."

Quick goodbyes and they were striding down the trail headed south.

Zara tightened her arms around me and said, "Two well grounded young people with their goals in hand."

After a kiss, she smiled and asked, "Can we behave like that, mountain husband?"

By nine o'clock, the sun was on us and the packs were almost ready. Zara seemed to have a perpetual smile on her face. "Do you mind if we stay up here in the mountains until the last minute?"

That required a hug and a kiss. "My very thought!"

"What if we amble down the trail and enjoy the sights. Maybe a little honeymoon loving?"

Zara was laughing and looking adorable. "Now that we are married, aren't I supposed to ration sex?"

"I thought we agreed teasing was over?"

I helped her with the pack. "You don't look like a ration woman to me."

We were walking toward the trail when her hand caught mine and pulled us close. "No teasing, lots of loving."

* * *

Trail magic, I called it. Sunny days with miles slipping by. Bodies moving easily even with packs. Amazing places to camp. Creeks and lakes to provide water for washing up after wild sex. Both of us ignoring the inevitable day we had to face the real world.

After another week, we were passing the trail out to Kearsage and Onion Valley. Zara said, "Lover, we are going to be on short rations soon. Which pass are we using to find civilization and food?"

"The romance novels say we can exist on love alone!"

She sat on my chest and said, "My stomach doesn't agree!"

"We can turn here and go over Kearsarge. Or we can do Forester, which is the highest pass on the JMT, and go out over Shepherd Pass. Either way, we end up in Independence, where there are even food choices."

"You decide, but there are only two dinners left and a mess of stuff for breakfast and lunch."

"You are tough as nails and deserve the hundred mile view from the top of Forester. It's over thirteen thousand."

* * *

Puffing up the north side of Forester, with snow still here and there on the trail, we appreciated the light packs. Zara complained, "You are sure this is worth the climb? I'm really out of breath!"

"You are supposed to be, we are over twelve thousand. No guts, no glory!"

"If we survive this, I am going to beat you!"

Despite the altitude and the grade, the view from the top was inspiring. It was a clear day and we could see from the thirteen thousand foot peaks of the Kings-Kern divide to the south, all the way to the fourteen thousand foot height of North Palisade in the other direction.

"Can we see Whitney," she asked.

"Hard to pick out of that ridge running south from Williamson. Sure you don't want a forced march to the top of the highest peak in the lower 48?"

Huddled against me in a cold breeze, she said, "I'm glad we are here. I love you and don't need any forced marches. Whitney will be there when our kids are old enough to climb it!"

I flinched and she poked me. "Gotcha!"

The drop from Forester to Independence is nine thousand feet and our knees complained a lot as we hiked into town two days later. The Winnedumah hotel, famous movie and hippie hangout from days of yore, was used to tired and dirty hikers and found a room with a generous real shower stall. They also found two very cold bottles of beer and said they would go on the room bill.

Clean after a lot of hot water, I worked on Zara's damp hair. She squeezed my free hand and asked, "Are we still in love now that we are back in civilization?"

I leaned her back for a long kiss and said, "The county courthouse is across the street. Do you want a real marriage certificate?"

A quiet crying fit on my chest trailed off into a nap without an answer. I covered her with the duvet and got some clothes on. My pickup was in Bishop, forty miles away. I went downstairs to consult with the front desk about the best way to get us there.