Chapter 16

Can't breathe!

I woke up enough to realize it was because of a weight pressing down on my chest. I opened my eyes. Cheryl was lying on top of me. I knew it was Cheryl because my tongue remembered that she needed to shave again, and I could see stubble in the glow from the campground's light poles creeping in around and through the curtains. I lifted my head slightly and kissed the stubble, then kissed the opening in the middle. Thanks to the exposure to the air, she was dry now. She hadn't been ... however long ago it was. I couldn't see the clock because of her legs.

Should I wake her? I thought about it and decided to leave her where she was. I liked the view. Then I woke up enough to realize she had to be uncomfortable the way her body was folded. I used my tongue to tease her awake. She grew very wet, and not from saliva, before she woke up.

"Oh, God!" she moaned, and a warm, wet mouth sucked in my favorite buckaroo. It was hard in an instant. "Fuck me?" she moaned around it.

"Honey, I can't! No!"

"Okay." She humped my face and came as I spewed so quickly I wondered if it counted as premature ejaculation. I marveled at that for a moment, realizing that when we'd passed out from exhaustion, I thought it wouldn't get up again for a week.

Then I remembered why I'd awakened her. "Honey, you're going to be stiff and sore if you don't straighten out your body."

She rolled sideways off me, scooted her head toward my feet, and went back to sleep with her left leg bent and draped over my chest. I turned my head to enjoy the view and dozed off, too.

We left the truck where Maynard had indicated and hiked through the evergreens up the mountainside trail. Our destination was a locally popular one but difficult to reach. The trail was well used from the parking spot to the point where we had to climb up to a ledge. The area at the base of the ledge appeared to be used as a picnic area and had a nice view. Above that, the trail was less well traveled but still obvious. We continued to climb until we emerged on Panorama Point. The view of the town and the lake below us was breathtakingly spectacular. We even had to look down to see the tops of the ski runs at Wizard Basin.

"Maynard didn't exaggerate!" Cheryl squealed, bouncing on her toes. I remembered when I'd had that much energy left after a climb like that.

Okay, so I lied. I've never had that much left after a workout like that climb.

We sat on a natural bench and enjoyed the view before we erected the tripods and cameras. We shot many pictures of the natural scenery, and then I took pictures of Cheryl with the slightly less beautiful scenery behind her.

"Now some just for Uncle Randy," she said and slipped out of her blouse. Before long she was out of her shorts and thong, too, and kneeling on a blanket from her pack.

Eventually she was on her back, one languid finger slowly stroking between the folds of that beautiful crease, coaxing out wet, smacking sounds that almost made the deceased inhabitant of my shorts stir. "This is almost perfect, Uncle Randy. I can't think of anything I'd like better than losing my virginity to you in a place like this. And there's nobody else but us."

Her offers were growing harder and harder to refuse, but somehow I again found the strength. She seemed a little surprised, as if she thought the exhaustion of the climb and the beauty of the scenery would have eroded my resolve. "Okay," she said as usual. "But I didn't shave for nothing this morning. I won't scratch your tongue now, so get to work." She snapped her fingers and pointed at her wet pinkness. "Hurry up! I get any hornier and I'll have to start humping camera lenses!"

Like I said, those lenses were expensive.

She knelt before me and rotated her hand side-to-side, watching the little buckaroo flop. "It's still awesome, but I think it's dead."

"I thought it was dead before you got it up the first time," I said, barely able to keep my body upright on the natural rock bench. "In fact, I thought it was dead before you got it up ... whenever that was I woke you up to move off me this morning."

"I bet I can resurrect it," she said, rising and straddling my legs.

"Cheryl!"

"Oh, relax, Uncle Randy. I won't put it in, even if I do get it up." She lowered her body until she could stroke her clit along the underside of my shaft held in her right hand. When she finally gasped, threw her left arm around my neck, and buried her face in my shoulder while she came, it was still as floppy as a Mylar ribbon.

Far below us and a little to the west we could see that Otter Park was filling. She seemed displeased with herself as we dressed and assembled our gear to leave. I could tell by the way that she looked at me that she wasn't disappointed with me, the way Mandy was with everyone else whenever she didn't get what she wanted. She gave me an apologetic look of sympathy. I couldn't get it up again, and she blamed herself. How can you not love her?

We descended quietly because we were armed with our cameras, and nature photographers need to learn to move with as little sound as possible, so we heard the approaching voices but they didn't hear us. Around a large boulder surrounded by pine saplings that screened a bend in the trail we found ourselves face-to-face with three boys and three girls, all Cheryl's age or maybe a year or two older. The girls screeched and pulled the edges of their blouses together to hide their bare breasts, realized we weren't locals who knew them, and released the clothing.

"Sorry we startled you," I said, offering a hand to the boy in the lead. "Randy Long. I'm a Western Slope nature photographer, and so I have to move in silence. I'm teaching my niece, Cheryl, how to be a nature photographer and move quietly, too."

The boy nodded, gave Cheryl a thorough inspection in a rapid eye scan, and took my hand. "No foul," he said. "Jeff Baker. Um, anyone else up toward the Point?"

Jeff was looking at me. His two male friends were giving Cheryl a more detailed inspection while their girls, not the least bit jealous, had x-ray eyes fixed on me. They managed to nonchalantly move hands to their hips so that their blouses opened more. I recognized the looks in their eyes. I'd seen it many times in the eyes of Penny and her party friends and last night in Pam's eyes.

"Nope. You'll have it to yourselves," I said as a gentle breeze carried the scent of beer toward me.

"Great!" Jeff said. His eyes flicked toward the girls with a look that I'd often seen in Ricky's eyes. Probably the same look I'd been giving Cheryl earlier.

I'd have thought Cheryl would have been jealous of the way the girls were looking at me, but she was focused on the three guys like she was wondering if she could get them up. No doubt as a test of her now-questionable abilities.

The name and face suddenly clicked. "Jeff Baker? The wide receiver?"

"That's me." He didn't seem surprised that a stranger knew the name, nor, I suppose, should he.

"You surprised me. I couldn't believe you signed with CSU instead of Colorado or Nebraska this fall."

The tall blonde with perky medium-sized breasts crowned by small, pink nipples managed to expose her assets more fully. She hooked her thumbs in the pockets of her shorts and tugged slightly downward while licking her lips with a sinuous wet tongue. She had perfectly sculptured legs, the way I expected Cheryl's to develop. She shook her head at me. "That's because the idiot is chasing me instead of taking the best offer." She shook her head. "He'd still have me on weekends after football season, when he got tired of their cheerleaders during the week."

I gave her my best charming smile, which wasn't difficult to do the way she was visually worshipping me. "He may not have good sense, but he definitely has good taste," I said, causing her to preen and the other girls to show more of their assets, too.

"Listen," Jeff began. He gave Cheryl another scan, skimmed over the girls with him, and then refocused on me as he came to a decision. Swingers often recognized others in the lifestyle, and this seemed to be the case with Jeff and his friends. They must have assumed that Cheryl was my swing partner and pretending to be my niece. "We're going up to have a little party on top. Tammi, Maria, and Yvon..."

"That's 'Yvon' with one 'Y' and one 'n' and without any 'e's," said the slender redhead with the largest pair as she stared at my crotch and licked her lips. Her last name was obviously Subtle.

" ... won't mind having you along for the fun. Looks like your ... niece ... wouldn't mind joining us," he said.

Cheryl had been lost in a fantasy trance. She suddenly focused on me. "Uncle Randy?"

"We have to get down to the concert," I said in reminder.

"The good acts won't be until tonight," said the muscular black-haired boy. I recognized him as a defensive back from another school but couldn't name him. The third guy I didn't recognize.

"Unfortunately, we're working. I also do special assignments, and we've been hired to photograph the concert. That includes the afternoon performance, which starts in fifteen minutes."

Jeff nodded. "Our loss."

"Ours, too," said Yvon. She caressed the underside of one breast. "And yours."

How could I explain to them that the three of them together couldn't get it up again if Cheryl couldn't? "I'm sure that's very true," I said, giving each a thorough scan and nod of approval.

"Have fun at the concert," Jeff said.

"Not as much as you're going to have," I admitted with a sly grin that he returned. The guys each kissed Cheryl in passing as the girls kissed me, the slightly wide little Hispanic one adding an extra dose of sinuous tongue as she rubbed her tits on my arm.

"Uncle Randy," Cheryl said about fifty feet down the trail, "you gotta get that awesome thing up again tonight and fuck me or I'm gonna die of terminal horniness!"

I've been swinging for years. I understand the lifestyle and don't get jealous. Cheryl isn't a swinger, hence the attitude toward Penny and Pam. So why wasn't she equally jealous of those three? Was it because she'd been attracted to the three guys her own age? Or was it because she was jumping into her seat of the truck without her shorts and thong panties, swiveling on the seat, and lying back with her left foot resting in the opened window and her right folded back so that her knee was near her cheek, urgently demanding that I, "Hurry up, damn it!"

Twenty seconds after I shoved my face into her, she grabbed my hair in her fingers and tried to pull my head inside. I was surprised that she didn't rip out chunks of my scalp.

After she relaxed and released my hair, she giggled and cooed, "Uncle Randy, did those three get it up for you?"

"Honey," I said in all honesty, "if you couldn't, they didn't have a chance."

"Shit."

Maynard and Molly watched while Cheryl bit into her cheeseburger and chewed thoughtfully, judging. We'd decided to buy our food from the concession stands rather than pack a basket. Normally, stands at events like this tried to earn enough money from each customer to put kids through college for a year, but the prices here were very reasonable and the food was supposed to be good. We were testing that last bit of information. "Well?" he asked when she swallowed.

"Second best I've ever had," she said.

"Second best? Pedro's El Grande isn't the best you've ever had?"

She bit off another chunk and indicated I should try mine while she chewed. I did after noting she had mustard on the corner of her mouth. She scooped it with a fingertip and wiped it on the paper sleeve around the burger. "Second best, right?" she asked after she swallowed.

I nodded at her and at Maynard. "It's close, but Bobbi Jo's Buckskin Diner has these beat by a smidgen."

"Or maybe just a half-smidgen," she amended.

"Three-quarters of a smidgen."

"Yeah." She nodded to Maynard. "Three-quarters." She held up her free hand and pinched her thumb and forefinger together, then opened them barely enough to slide in a sheet of thin paper.

Maynard shook his large head and jerked a thumb toward the comedian emcee, who we'd learned was an announcer for the local radio station. "Have you two been taking smartass lessons from Junior?"

I shook my own head. "No, I've been taking them from Cheryl."

"He's a fast learner," she said, sampling a french fry and then making an Eeew! face while shaking her head. "God! These aren't even in the top twenty. You should come visit Long Ranch. Uncle Randy and I will take you to Bobbi Jo's and let you sample some great fries to go with the best cheeseburgers ever."

"There's an idea," said Molly. "We could stop at Keith's and see them, too."

Maynard patted his wife's knee. "Could I take smartass lessons from Cheryl while we were there?"

"Honey, you don't need them," she replied as a shitkicker band from Golden began wailing.

Cheryl's pert little nose turned to me and wrinkled in disgust. "EEEW!"

I indicated Maynard and Cheryl with a subtle movement of an index finger. "Is she really teaching him something new?"

Molly nodded. "I think so. One of the reasons I argue against his getting that Nikon for himself is that it's more camera than he can handle. He's basically point-and-click-and-pray. He was overwhelmed by the Instamatic. He's good enough for The Herald, though he usually shoots two or three pictures to get one good enough."

"Then he's better than me," I said as Cheryl had him adjusting the manual settings and photographing a wide shot of Wolf Creek Avalanche, a reasonably good rock band from Pagosa Springs. "I usually salvage one out of a hundred."

"Your clients have higher standards than E. L. Blankenbaugh," Molly said. "His only standard is how cheap he can get away with everything."

"I run into those occasionally."

"She loves you very much, doesn't she?"