Packback

1. Liaisons

Many thanks to Emmeran for editing assistance. There wasn't time to make all the changes he suggested, but everything I did change made this better. I look forward to our next project.

* * *

I woke to my new life in a trail angel's house near the Mexican border. There were 20 of us on cots and the floor. A young woman with long strawberry-blonde hair in a ponytail bumped butts with me as we packed.

"Sorry, Scott," she said, yawning. "I didn't sleep much."

"S'OK, Megan," I said. "Me neither." We smiled at each other. She and her friend Greta had come with their boyfriends.

We all took photos at the Pacific Crest Trail monument in mid-April morning sunshine, touched the border fence for luck, had a group hug, and said goodbyes to people we probably wouldn't see again. Megan was the only one who'd made an impression on me: smart, funny, perceptive, cute, athletic, flirty and giggly but I thought she used that to conceal some depth. Her boyfriend scowled. He'd snored last night after a couple beers too many. Megan and I had chatted a little before trying to sleep ourselves. They weren't in trail shape and I was, so this would likely be the last time I saw them unless something unforeseen happened farther up the trail.

"Keep in touch," Megan said, then kissed me on the cheek. She smelled nice. I told her I would. My cheek glowed for two hours.

This was before cell phones were ubiquitous, so if I were to keep in touch it would be with pen and paper, but there are always places thru-hikers congregate, where messages are cached and notes addressed to other people are (usually) left unopened.

A part of Southern California I'd never seen before rolled on by. I was surprised to see how much was at higher elevation and there was still a fair amount of snow. I took side trips to summit Monument Peak and Garnet Peak, resupplied at Warner Springs, Idyllwild, and whatever gas station mini-marts were near road crossings. The trail gained elevation. Before each day's off-trail diversion I tried to leave a brief note for Megan, knowing it was probably in vain and that she and her friends were decreasingly likely to come across it. I gained a trail name: "Reboot."

I scrambled up Lion Peak and Pyramid Peak, where I saw a mountain lion lurking not far off the trail. I had a cookpot and metal spoon hanging from the outside of my backpack for exactly this potentiality and banged one with the other. The lion sort of shook its head at me, then disappeared. I imagine I was larger prey than it wanted. I hoped to see another.

I also stumbled into and out of two trail families and had a two-night trail romance with Glyn, a gorgeous 40-something woman who told me she worked in Hollywood. I could easily imagine her being a film star but she said she worked behind the camera and wouldn't say much else. She didn't have a trail name, had an even tighter body than her clothing suggested, and was absolutely fantastic in bed. I think she was curious about me, but I wasn't going to reveal more about myself than she would. I made friends with Steller's Jays, summited still-snowy San Jacinto Peak, and there at the bottom of the connecting trail was Glyn. I'd left notes for her and Megan at the trail junction and Glyn had waited for me, which I thought was sweet. She fucked me deep and slow that night, the best I'd ever had, orgasmed several times herself, woke me for another in the dark and kissed me deep and long in the morning, which rapidly became another great slow fuck. I made her breakfast and left with smiles on both our faces, but it would be a year before I saw Glyn again even though I spent the next night resupplying from a motel in Banning, leaving a note to that effect at the I-10 crossing.

I took two days to summit Mt. San Gorgonio, the tallest mountain I'd seen thus far at 11,499', then, north of the San Gabriels, the trail bent west. I detoured for resupply at Big Bear Lake. I met two horny young honeys at a store there, Doe and Brit. They weren't hikers, they'd just graduated college and apparently I fit their celebratory plans, and between them they fucked me senseless three nights in a row at their rental house. They made scrambled eggs that last morning in the nude, giggling in the kitchen together, then drove me back to the trail on their way back to their families on Balboa Island. We all had smiles on our faces as we kissed goodbye. I left notes for Glyn and Megan, leaving copies of my favorite photo I'd taken with each of them in the envelopes, double-checking to make sure I'd put the right photo in each envelope. I'd had them developed in Big Bear and kept a copy of each, sending the rest of my trail photos to my little rental house in South Pasadena. I hadn't seen Glyn for almost a week or Megan for almost three.

I detoured up Bertha Peak the next day. I wanted to do more but was a bit worn out from Doe and Brit, a good kind of sore. Brit had the biggest, roundest, plushest, most extravagant ass I'd ever known. She was embarrassed by it but I told her over and over how sexy it was, how beautiful she was, how much any man would love it, and to never be afraid to show it or use it proudly whenever she wanted. Two nights later I resupplied at Lake Arrowhead, where more recent college graduates were celebrating. They found another hiker and invited me, and I got fucked several more times. This trip was taking turns I hadn't expected, but honestly, when you're one of the early employees at a tech startup in Silicon Valley, especially when you're not bad looking, you get a lot of attention from beautiful young women, so none of this was entirely foreign. I made sure all my partners had at least as much fun as I did, except possibly Glyn who was on a whole other sexual plane ... it'd always been a good way for me to get more, often with extra effort from my partner.

There was a letter addressed to "Reboot" at a trail cache outside Lake Arrowhead. Megan must've had it sent ahead.

Dear Scott,

I broke up with Mike. The trail has been really hard and we kept getting crabbier with each other. It was probably my fault but he kept whining, he wouldn't do any cooking or cleanup, he drank too much and was constantly coming on to other girls and talking down to me. He spent all his time taking pictures of them, and every night when all I wanted to do was sleep he wanted me to ... well, you get the picture. Hitting me was the last straw.

I would like to see you again. You seemed like a really good person and you treated me like I was important to you, which I'm not used to and I miss it. Your notes have been the one thing on the trail I've enjoyed most, every single one has brightened my day ;-) I

LOVE

the photo!!! I can flip north if that works for you. I'm in better shape now and Greta and I seem to be keeping your pace, 10 days behind, even if we don't go off-trail the way you do. She broke up with Jack, too, he and Mike are such little frat boys together. Maybe that made everything worse. Could we walk together and get to know each other better? Please address your letters to my new trail name, which Mike doesn't know: "Seesaw." He and Jack are ahead of us now.

XO

Fondly,

Megan

I swallowed hard. Would my dalliances fall into the same category as Mike's? Probably not ... Megan had been attached and I wasn't. I felt extra glad for having left that photo for her. I took my copy out to look at it again. She had such a beautiful smile and I looked so happy standing with her. I addressed a letter:

Dear Megan,

I think of you a lot. I thought you were perceptive and funny and smart when I met you, and I enjoyed talking with you very much in that brief time. I would love to walk with you, with or without Greta. I've enjoyed my time on the trail and the people I've met here very much, but no one else has lifted my heart. I'm sorry about what happened with Mike. He doesn't deserve you.

Looking forward to seeing you again,

Scott

I thought about waiting rather than making Megan flip north, but figured I could go off-trail more often and for longer, giving her a chance to catch up while I continued to explore the mountains. I started with a long detour to summit Mt. Baldy, a resupply in Wrightwood, quick side trips up Baden-Powell, Burnham, Throop, and Hawkins in a single day. I'd taken to cowboy camping on Highway 2 campground picnic tables. There weren't many bugs, it was cooler at night but my sleeping bag and pad could handle it, and I enjoyed seeing the stars. The trail was trending downward. I scrambled up Pacifico but the peaks were getting low enough that I didn't feel like more detours, wanting to just pound out the miles and finish this part of trip despite also wanting to wait for Megan. A fine thing to think when you've barely gone 15% of the way.

A week after Lake Arrowhead while resupplying at Agua Dulce, I met a Chilean girl who was traveling with her parents. She had long black hair and full pointed breasts barely contained by her thin, expensive-looking top. She stopped, facing partly away from me, right in the middle of the store aisle, her curtain of silky hair obscuring her eyes. I would have to ask her to let me pass. I did and she turned to look at me. She had absolutely stunning dark brown eyes, huge and expressive with curvaceous lids that came to points on either end. She licked her lips.

"Meet me at the pool in two hours," she told me. She handed me a slip of paper with the name of her hotel.

"How old are you?" I asked.

"I turned 18 two months ago," she said. "I have lost time to make up, and you get to be the very lucky man." She sniffed, her exquisite nose wrinkling. "Shower first."

I found my way to her very fancy hotel and booked a room for three nights. I showered. My hiking shorts would function nicely as swim trunks, though I quickwashed them first. When I arrived at the pool, 15 minutes early, she was already lying in the sun, an empty chaise lounge next to her. I sat down on it. She ignored me. She wore a skimpy bikini and her body was simply unbelievable -- large, full breasts, a gorgeous face, silky long straight black hair, slender waist flowing to shapely hips and legs and feet, a wonderfully full ass, long manicured fingernails, and her pussy must've been shaven because there was no way she could've shown that much skin under that tiny bikini bottom unless she was hairless down there.

She reached a hand to my knee, let just her fingernails rest there. "Lie down," she said, and I did. My cock was already near full mast. Her nipples rose in synchrony. Thick, meaty nipples. I was at full mast now.

"Do you know how many boys have wanted to do what you're about to?"

A rhetorical question. I wanted to let it pass but she was silent.

"No. My name's Scott, by the way."

"That's nice, but I don't care what your name is. You're cute, you have a nice body, and I can tell that you appreciate a beautiful woman. I'm about to give myself to you, or really what I'm about to do is take you. How do you feel about being taken by an 18-year-old sex goddess?"

I gulped. "How do I know you're 18?"

She sounded impatient. "Because I told you so, and I don't want to hear another question like that or you'll get nothing. Do you have any idea how lucky you're about to be?"

Another rhetorical question, but this time I knew she expected an answer. "I imagine I'm about to be very lucky indeed."

"You have no idea, Scott. My family is out. We have three hours. We're in room 318. Meet me there in 10 minutes. I'm glad you came early because I'm going to use you for every minute of those three hours."

We remained there for two minutes longer, then she rose. Gracefully, effortlessly, like she was strong under all that beautiful skin. She ignored me as she left. I was really hard, and under these shorts an extremely hard 7-inch cock is difficult to mistake for anything else. I rose, dove into the pool, and swam maybe 8 laps in three minutes. My erection subsided. I toweled off and walked back into the hotel. Room 318 was at the very end of the top floor. There were no other numbered doors near. The door to 318 was ajar. I opened it.

"Hello?"

"Come in and close the door behind you," I heard her say. "I'm in the bedroom to the right, ready for you."

It was a huge suite. Four doors, three of them closed, plus a floating stairway leading up to a smaller second floor. I recalled seeing six towers before I walked into the lobby. This must be one of them.

The slightly open doorway was the one to the right. I entered.

"Close it behind you," she said, and I did.

She was nude, her ass on the edge of the bed, her legs down, her upper back and neck propped up on pillows. I'd already seen her in a very skimpy bikini so I should've known what to expect, but her visual impact was still tremendous.

"Shorts off, Scott," she said. "Then get on your knees and worship your sex goddess." She pointed one wet long-nailed finger at her glistening hairless pussy. Her head tilted back.

I kissed her there. She sighed. She was fragrant like flowers and extra virgin olive oil and sweetness and savory, all rolled into one incredibly beautiful, incredibly sexy package.

I kissed her more, my tongue starting to tease. Up her outer lips and down, one side and then the other. I kissed her clit, then took it between my lips and suckled, so gently. She squirmed, moaning.

"Oh, I knew you would be good at this. Make me come, Scotty, make me come hard."

Her feet, on the floor, came between my legs and began to caress my balls and extremely hard cock. She took my shaft between one big toe and a middle toe and squeezed me. With her other foot she pressed my balls gently but firmly into the floor.

"You'll come when I want it, not before," she said. "You will come very hard, Scott, and once you've come the real fun begins. But first you must make me come twice, using only your mouth and hands. Make me come hard, Scott." She gasped. I could feel her sex pulsing under me, like she was enjoying telling me what to do just as much as feeling what I was doing.

She mewed, coming for the first time. It went on for a while and I tried to make it last as long as I could. It was her first time with me, but was it also her first time with anyone else?

She pressed down onto one of my balls, pushing it hard into the floor. I gasped.

"You chose well,

mi linda hija

," I heard someone say from behind me. A woman.

Hija? Daughter? Fuck, what had I stumbled into? My other ball got pressed into the floor. I turned to look at the woman who'd spoken.

She was older, maybe 40, even more spectacularly curvaceous than her daughter, dressed in a leather catsuit that she was absolutely spilling out of. She held an actual whip in one hand. Oh shit. My balls got squashed into the floor harder and I leaned forward, my hands going down to relieve the unwelcome pressure.

My cheek exploded in sudden pain.

"You may not touch me, boy. You are mine to do with as I please for three hours, and tomorrow, if I choose, you'll be back for more."

One of her feet moved from a ball to my cock, began caressing me. She kneaded her big shapely pointed breasts in her beautiful manicured long-nailed hands, maybe because she knew exactly what that would do to me. I'd gone from 7 to 3 in about 10 seconds, but I was already approaching 7 again.

"Doesn't that sound good, Scott?" She asked. "Scooter? Spot? I think I like Spot best ... you can be my little puppy."

"No," I said. "That doesn't sound good. In fact I'm not comfortable with this situation at all. I would like to leave." But I hadn't moved.

She seemed taken aback. Her mother came up close behind me, let her whip (her

*WHIP*

!) drape over my shoulders, a thinly veiled threat.

"I'm a virgin, Scott," the daughter whispered. "I want you to be my first man. Does that excite you?"

"A lot of things about you excite me," I said. "What's your name? I've already given you mine." Behind me, the whip was moving on my back.

The daughter squashed my balls into the floor. I needed to make a decision but my body made it for me. I reached one arm down to quickly push her legs up and to the side, off my aching balls, the other waiting for her next strike. It came. I intercepted her wrist, twisting it a little, raised it high and kept rising myself. She rose with me. Raising her arm like this left her side vulnerable, something I'd learned could provoke an extreme reaction if the person whose wrist was being raised knew what to do about it. She did, following her momentum to knee me in the balls, but I'd anticipated it and raised my leg to deflect her knee, harmlessly.

Then the whip hit my back.

"Son of a ...!" I yelped. The daughter's other hand was jabbing toward my chest, all five long strong nails extended together in a tight spike that would've done real damage if it landed, but I twisted away. The next lash hit my back but off-target. I shoved the daughter onto the bed, hard enough that she wouldn't bounce right back up, letting her go. The whip wrapped around my neck in a choke move and I felt a stiletto-heeled boot pushing hard into the middle of my back, tightening the choke. Luckily, I'd trained for something like this, too. I spun and dropped, grabbed the whip near its handle with one hand and twisted it from the mother's grasp. Then I rolled, ending up several feet away, two women glaring daggers at me, unsettled and furious.

"You did an aikido move," I said to the daughter as I uncoiled the whip from my neck. "I know because I teach aikido." This was a bit of a lie, what I'd really done was sign up to be a live punching bag for several women's self-defense aikido courses. They paid me to do it and I learned everything even the most advanced students did, sometimes more, though I got knocked around, sometimes very hard but always wearing full pads, so it could've been a lot worse. I also got laid rather often, something about manhandling men seemed to turn some women on.

"We're not doing this, not this way," I said. "If you want to be with me we'll do it as equals. I don't get off on getting smacked around. I can make it very good for you, even for both of you if that's what you want, but I'm not into pain with my pleasure." This was another lie -- I knew well how a little pain can make a lot of pleasure go even farther, for me and whoever my partner was.

The mother and daughter looked at each other, then the daughter turned back to me, her eyes down. "I would like to make you very happy, and I would like you to do the same for me," she said. "My name is Graciela. We can start out your way and perhaps we will grow to trust each other enough to try new things."

"I look forward to learning more about you, Graciela. I would also like to make

you

happy, and I know how to do that very well. Can we do this without your mother, at least at first?"

Graciela looked at her mother again, nodding after a few moments. "Excuse us please, Scott. I'll be right back." Then both women walked out of the bedroom, Graciela closing the door behind her.

About three minutes later Graciela came back in, alone, nude, closed the door, beautiful long-nailed hands fondling the doorknob behind her, eyes downcast. "I want this, Scott," she said, raising her eyes and walking toward me, hips swaying, the sexiest approach I'd ever seen in my life. Then, after worshipping her again with my mouth and hands, I fucked the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen at least four times, including once in the ass, and her mother twice. Both were almost as good as Glyn in their different ways, which didn't compute at all since Graciela had indeed been a virgin until today, but she was much stronger than she looked and she must've been doing some kind of exercises because you don't get to be almost as good as Glyn unless you've practiced. A lot.