by Val Gryphin
(12/17/08)

I was leaving Cheyenne on a hotter than Hell August afternoon. I'd hitched my way into town for Frontier Days, the Daddy-of-'em-all rodeo, to pick up some cash working for a guy I knew who ran the carnival. For the most part I camped with the carnies, but when they left I decided I'd hit the road.

I hadn't been out to California for a while, and I wanted to get back to the ocean. All I had to take with was my backpack and a little radio I got free for applying for a Monkey Ward's card -- that I didn't get -- some years back. The cash I had I hid in various places and I stocked up on snacks and a gallon of water. Like I said, the heat was killer. Normally I had a sleeping bag too, but my last night at the fair some asshole stole it. I was pissed but figured I'd get it replaced before the weather turned cool.

I started walking down Lincoln Way, heading toward the highway. The sun was starting its descent, but still had a few hours left. A breeze was blowing, cooling the heat that rose in waves off the blacktop. I stopped at a crosswalk to wait for the light and a guy on a motorcycle blew by, trailing long dark hair. I got no more than a glance, then he was gone. He'd looked at me, and I thought about how riding a bike in this weather would feel. Shaking myself, I noticed a diner ahead and debated whether I should grab food before I moved on.

Then I heard the bike behind me. Before I could turn around, he passed me again and pulled up in a parking lot just ahead.

"Need a ride?"

I looked at him and smiled. "Where you heading?"

"North to the border. You?"

"North is good." He waited while I pulled on a jacket and adjusted my backpack, then held the bike steady as I climbed on.

I put my arms around his waist, feeling the tight muscles of his stomach and the way my legs fit around his ass. Then he roared back out onto the street.

We left Cheyenne behind in minutes. Its mixture of old and modern gave way to ranch houses and farms, then finally to open country. The hills rose and fell smoothly, their curves rising to meet the expansive sky. The hills in Wyoming have almost no trees, just tall wild grasses, always dry by this point in the summer. The bike hummed smoothly, the vibrations creating shivers between my legs. The wind whipped our hair, raising goosebumps despite the heat.

The air became cooler as the sun set, and my nipples grew tight and aching. Leaning forward I rested my head on his shoulders, wide under his leather jacket. I felt his steady breathing in my body, and let mine fall to the same rhythm.

Night fell finally, and soon millions of sparks appeared overhead. I had no idea where we were; honestly I didn't care. The crotch of my jeans was soaking. The sky was bright with the Milky Way when he finally pulled to the side of the road.

"Hungry?" he asked, "I got some shit in my bags if you are."

"Sure." I slid from the bike. My legs were cramped, and I stumbled; I couldn't stop shivering. A brief flare at the corner of my vision caught my attention and I turned to see him starting a tiny fire from God knew what.

"You sure that's safe?"

"Yeah," he replied without looking up. "I camp here every once in a while. There's no houses and almost nobody passes this way during the day, let alone at night." He handed me a plate, and I watched him eat, watched his fingers, his lips, and my food was gone before I became aware of what I was eating.

When we finished he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and tilted it towards me, eyebrows raised. I nodded and he placed one between his lips, lit it with a deep drag, then handed it to me. I took it and inhaled, feeling the dampness of his mouth on my lips.

A while later he rose and walked over to his bike. I wrapped my arms around my knees for warmth and gazed into the glowing embers. I didn't hear him come up behind me and jumped when he draped a heavy army issue blanket over my shoulders. As he went back over to his bike, I mashed my backpack till it was comfortable, then laid my head on it and pulled the blanket over my body. I looked over as he came back to the fire, pulling on a heavy coat. I frowned.

"Do you have a blanket?"

"No, it's all right."

"Wait." I grabbed his wrist as he walked by, and his eyes gleamed in the dark.

"I mean," I stopped, breathless, "You can share with me."

Slowly, he lifted one side of the blanket and sat beside me. I felt a feather touch on my face, snatching the breath from my chest. The touch trailed down my face, to my neck, down to my chest. He slid his hand inside my jacket and down to cup my breast. Through the fabric of my blouse I could feel his thumb as he ran it over my nipple. Then he pulled away.

Before I could feel disappointed, I felt both hands gently unbuttoning my shirt, and I closed my eyes as he worked his way down the buttons, exposing my bra-less torso. When he reached my jeans he undid the button and I expected him to move on to my zipper. Instead his mouth came down on my breast, scraping it lightly with his teeth.

I reached up to run my fingers through his hair, my nipples rock hard in the frigid air, before his mouth, hot and wet, came down again on my nipple. Shuddering, I tugged his shirt out of his jeans, and as I reached for the buttons his mouth worked his way up to my ear, leaving a cooling trail. I ran my hands down his chest, feeling the tight muscles and the coarseness of his hair. I gently took one of his nipples in my fingers and rolled it. He hissed in my ear, and I took his nipple in my mouth, biting and nipping. As I caressed it with my tongue, he slid his hands under me and pulled down my jeans.

The cold air swooped in, chilling my drenched clit, and I gasped, losing contact with his nipple. He claimed my mouth, his tongue plunging over mine, reaching for my throat as his hand slid between my legs. I fought back with my tongue, but instead of curling around it he drew me into his mouth, and bit gently. I was so absorbed by his mouth that the shock that rocked my body took me by surprise. Again, he rolled my clit between his finger and thumb, and again I was left gasping.

Before I could regain control his fingers slid down between the lips of my cunt and he thumbed the hard knob of my clit. He kept his mouth on mine, and wouldn't let me pull away, not even when he plunged his fingers deep inside me, three, then four, flaring them, allowing the cold air to rush inside. It was cold, so cold, my senses so sharp that I thought I might pass out.

Slowly he began to move his fingers in and out, pushing them deeper and deeper, still teasing me with his thumb. When he released my mouth I only had a moment before he dropped his lips back down to my breasts. I gave into the shaking of my body, clenching my teeth, as he relentlessly bore down, teeth on my breast, fingers deep in me.

I ran my nails down his back to his ass, and I felt him stiffen as my nipple broke free. I fumbled with his jeans and freed his cock, which didn't shrink in the cold air but grew more swollen in my hands. As he pulled his fingers out of my cunt I guided him towards me, raising my hips to meet his. He resisted, just touching my swollen lips with the head of his cock, teasing, and I cried out. I dug my nails into his ass and he plunged into me, hard, and again I was swept away.

We finally slept sometime before dawn.

When I woke he was stamping the ashes of the fire, mixing it into the dirt. The sun turned the heavy dew into a million prisms, every blade of grass sparkling as we climbed onto the bike. Slowly the new sun warmed my body and I shook off the chill of the night.

Before I knew it we were in Jackson Hole. He pulled off at a truck stop and I climbed stiffly off the bike. He smiled, brushing windblown hair out of my face. Then he roared off.

I stood looking after him until he disappeared, then turned, slung my pack over one shoulder, and pushed through the door of the restaurant.

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