The drive took several hours, but it was a gorgeous view. First we took the highway into some really pretty rolling hills. They didn't have any trees on them, and I always loved the way they had this dusky worn tapestry color to them.
Then we took this winding dirt road up a dry mountainside, that doubled back so you could see the grassy green ranches of the little town below it. Finally, the road meandered along a canyon with a river at its bottom, and then plunged down to end near the river.
We were already losing light when we arrived, so we set up camp for the night. We hadn't figured we'd be able to hike to the hot springs today. We'd do it tomorrow.
After a dinner of cold cuts and bread, Jonah coaxed a few twigs into flame, and we added some small dry juniper logs to it. We sat, just watching the fire, and I felt so happy and content.
This was the place to be with Jonah. It was his home more than any other place I knew of. He belonged out here with the breezes and the treeses; the running river, the stones, the grasses. They spoke his language - the lollygagging, lingering, lazy language of just being.
Out here, we didn't have to do anything to belong. We could do whatever we wanted, and no one would give a care, write it up in the newspaper, send us a bill for it, or stamp it approved for audiences over the age of 13.
It's amazing how long you can watch fire. It's this constantly changing show that's more riveting than anything I've ever seen on TV. The flames seem to dance and fly and cower and chase each-other, and disappear, and reappear. It's like this whole drama, that never stops. They say there are spirits that live in fire called salamanders, and watching the flames leap all over the place, I could almost see them in there.
Then, when the flames die down and you don't add any more wood, the hot coals and embers take on this whole other life, different from the fire, but related. They sparkle and pulse, and get redder, and then blacker, and you can take almost as long watching them as you did the fire, because they take a really long time to cool off and go out.
Jonah was as enthralled in the fire as I was. In fact, having him here was part of what made me notice all this, more than I had ever noticed it before.
When the fire was finally gone, we curled up together into two sleeping bags we had zipped together, and it was so cozy. The night air brushed our faces, and our body heat was already rising. In fact, we had to unzip the side halfway down to get enough air.
We didn't need a tent tonight. The sky was perfectly clear, and as black as could be. There was no moon, so the stars were out like a horde of insects. I had never seen so many! All the constellations like the dippers and Cassiopeia, and the planets, big and colored, and the whole Milky Way, and a few shooting stars to make wishes on. I couldn't really come up with any wishes though, except that this would never end.
The crickets lent their lullaby to our retiring, and Jonah kissed me sweetly, gently, lazily good-night...
And he kissed me and kissed me...
And then his tongue got deeper and hungrier, and his hand slipped up my side, massaging my ribs and my waist; and we took off what little clothes we had on, and it felt so much better to be naked in the summer air.
And I felt like the breeze was making love to me too, grazing my breast, tickling my pubic hair and the insides of my knees and elbows, where I was starting to perspire. So I massaged his back and his sides and his chest, sucking his taut nipples into my mouth, then mouthing his chest and down his belly, and closing over the spongy tang of his shaft, bobbing as he moved to give me access.
He spread his legs and I knelt between them, cupping his balls, rubbing them gently, moving up and down with my mouth and squeezing whenever I reached the tip.
He was getting tense, and I knew he was close, but I wanted it to go on, so I withdrew, giving the air time to subdue him a little.
Then I straddled him, moving my legs over his one at a time, and squatted over his mound, bringing it just to the entrance of my tunnel. I was the jungle, and he was the machete. He had to push through, pierce and conquer. Valiantly, he sallied forth.
I sat on his hips and leaned over, placing my hands on either side of his head, and he suckled my breasts as they hung over him. Then I rode him like I had done that very first time. He grasped my breasts and pushed them against my chest as they jiggled with my carousel rhythms.
Then he rolled me over, still inside, and finished me off with his gyrating hips. The pressure peaked and I groaned loudly, releasing it all with shouts and wails. I was louder than I had ever been before. And the black sky and the river heard me gladly, and didn't complain. Then he cried out too, and we were consummate.
* * * *
We woke early, and the air was thin, the light was thin, the bird voices thin, the sounds of the river thin. I pulled some fuzzy stretch pants and a sweatshirt on and found a place to pee.
Jonah built a fire to heat water for tea and cocoa, and to cook oatmeal. He was really good at fires. That was nice, because I was dreadful at it, and never built a fire myself unless there was no one else to do it. I would even go without a fire and just bury myself under blankets and eat sandwiches if I was by myself. This was so much better.
We stood, hands outstretched, feeling the delicious wafts of smoke and hot air invade the cold surrounding us. The sun would be up soon, and it would get plenty hot today, but right now the dry air was cool and the fire was bliss.
So was the hot drink held in a ceramic cup without handles that warmed my hands; and the bowl of oatmeal, also held on the outside, then eaten to warm the inside.
I walked down to the river and watched the water in all its swirling, swilling, swishing, swelling, swaying, sweeping patterns. Jonah came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. We stood a long time, really still, just looking at the water.
He slipped his hands under my sweatshirt, and they were cold against my skin. I squealed and pushed them away, but he planted them on my belly, and pretty soon they were getting warm again. I liked him treating my body like it belonged to him, the way a child artlessly imposes upon its mother, without a second thought.
