January I had spent a lot of evenings in bars and ended a lot of them in the back seat of the Lincoln. I preferred the moans of orgasm to the cries of a-a-w-w-k! a-a-w-wk!
On this day of my triumph over Long John, and celebrating my subsequent independence, however, a large gesture was required. And I had a really juicy idea, one I’d been saving. It was inspired by Grandpa and Unchee, my grandma. They told a story about driving the C&NW tracks up to Rapid City one winter in the sixties. Highway 79 was drifted over, but my sister Angelee was bad sick, and they had to get her to the hospital. Trains traveled when cars couldn’t, so the tracks were clear. Drove those railroad tracks all the way to Rapid, and made it. What they’d have done if a train came … they didn’t have a clue.
Unfortunately, my juicy idea was not based on honoring that memory. I wanted to add some kick to a quickie in the back seat, in fact a lollapalooza of a kick. Imagine me cruising the C&NW tracks, topping Rosaphine in the back seat, head down, my mind on hurling myself into her hole, and maybe hurling us into the black maw of death.
C&NW freight trains don’t run on any schedule.
Doesn’t that make it delicious?
You never know when.
“Come on,” I said, pulling her by one hand to the Lincoln. “I got an idea you ain’t never seen the like.”
She didn’t catch on right at first, it was too crazy. I lined the tires up square on the tracks. I let some air out, so the tires would stay, the way Grandpa said he did it. Rosaphine was looking bamboozled. I pulled her to me and fondled one breast. She ground against my leg. “We’ll ride them tracks right into Rapid City, exit at the first street we see, and find a bar will serve ared man a drink.” Pause for kiss and fondle. “We’ll ride in the back seat.”
Her eyes got queen-sized.
I positioned the car right, engine running, in neutral. Turned the lights out—wanted to run in the beautiful darkness. Set the cruise control, hopped into the back seat with Rosaphine, who wore no underwear under her bluejean skirt. I got my Wranglers down, reached forward and popped the gear lever into drive, and started to turn and pop me into Rosaphine when … I got beguiled by the sound and feel of the car on the tracks, like a silk stocking easing up a leg.
It was an utterly delicious, smooth ride, rubber to rail, seamless, eerily quiet, a world as undisturbed …
Raven, fold me in your wings .
My face up in the air, my eyes on the velvet darkness ahead, Rosaphine behind me, I slowly took my clothes all the way off. I turned my face down and regarded my risen cock with relish. And I rolled on top of Rosaphine.
Then I saw, or maybe felt. She’d passed out. Lay down, pass out. Well, hell, I’ve done it myself .
I stood up, found my balance on the spongy seat between Rosaphine’s sleeping legs, bared my chest to the warm wind, lifted my face to the sky, and looked at the moon. It was a half-moon—yin-yang moon going toward new moon. I said a traditional prayer—Grandmother Moon waning, take from me the things I do not need!
Not far ahead I saw a curiosity. A trestle was coming up. Enough booze, you don’t see the problems. I figured if we met a train, I would wrench the steering wheel and we’d plunge off into the sagebrush, bouncing and laughing. Plunging head first through the air into a ravine, though … Raven, bear me up into the night sky .
Did you know everything sounds different going over a ravine? Real spacy, kind of echoey. Downright eerie.
Back onto solid earth, more or less. Something woke Rosaphine.She sat up and looked up at her fool date, erect in two different ways.
Curve. Another trestle. Deeper ravine. Cooler air. I fell silent. My ears crawled all around the edges of the swishing sound of the tires, listening for the approach of my own death.
Rosaphine passed out again. She laid there fully clothed but her legs up and knees spread, dark shadow between, a
On this day of my triumph over Long John, and celebrating my subsequent independence, however, a large gesture was required. And I had a really juicy idea, one I’d been saving. It was inspired by Grandpa and Unchee, my grandma. They told a story about driving the C&NW tracks up to Rapid City one winter in the sixties. Highway 79 was drifted over, but my sister Angelee was bad sick, and they had to get her to the hospital. Trains traveled when cars couldn’t, so the tracks were clear. Drove those railroad tracks all the way to Rapid, and made it. What they’d have done if a train came … they didn’t have a clue.
Unfortunately, my juicy idea was not based on honoring that memory. I wanted to add some kick to a quickie in the back seat, in fact a lollapalooza of a kick. Imagine me cruising the C&NW tracks, topping Rosaphine in the back seat, head down, my mind on hurling myself into her hole, and maybe hurling us into the black maw of death.
C&NW freight trains don’t run on any schedule.
Doesn’t that make it delicious?
You never know when.
“Come on,” I said, pulling her by one hand to the Lincoln. “I got an idea you ain’t never seen the like.”
She didn’t catch on right at first, it was too crazy. I lined the tires up square on the tracks. I let some air out, so the tires would stay, the way Grandpa said he did it. Rosaphine was looking bamboozled. I pulled her to me and fondled one breast. She ground against my leg. “We’ll ride them tracks right into Rapid City, exit at the first street we see, and find a bar will serve ared man a drink.” Pause for kiss and fondle. “We’ll ride in the back seat.”
Her eyes got queen-sized.
I positioned the car right, engine running, in neutral. Turned the lights out—wanted to run in the beautiful darkness. Set the cruise control, hopped into the back seat with Rosaphine, who wore no underwear under her bluejean skirt. I got my Wranglers down, reached forward and popped the gear lever into drive, and started to turn and pop me into Rosaphine when … I got beguiled by the sound and feel of the car on the tracks, like a silk stocking easing up a leg.
It was an utterly delicious, smooth ride, rubber to rail, seamless, eerily quiet, a world as undisturbed …
Raven, fold me in your wings .
My face up in the air, my eyes on the velvet darkness ahead, Rosaphine behind me, I slowly took my clothes all the way off. I turned my face down and regarded my risen cock with relish. And I rolled on top of Rosaphine.
Then I saw, or maybe felt. She’d passed out. Lay down, pass out. Well, hell, I’ve done it myself .
I stood up, found my balance on the spongy seat between Rosaphine’s sleeping legs, bared my chest to the warm wind, lifted my face to the sky, and looked at the moon. It was a half-moon—yin-yang moon going toward new moon. I said a traditional prayer—Grandmother Moon waning, take from me the things I do not need!
Not far ahead I saw a curiosity. A trestle was coming up. Enough booze, you don’t see the problems. I figured if we met a train, I would wrench the steering wheel and we’d plunge off into the sagebrush, bouncing and laughing. Plunging head first through the air into a ravine, though … Raven, bear me up into the night sky .
Did you know everything sounds different going over a ravine? Real spacy, kind of echoey. Downright eerie.
Back onto solid earth, more or less. Something woke Rosaphine.She sat up and looked up at her fool date, erect in two different ways.
Curve. Another trestle. Deeper ravine. Cooler air. I fell silent. My ears crawled all around the edges of the swishing sound of the tires, listening for the approach of my own death.
Rosaphine passed out again. She laid there fully clothed but her legs up and knees spread, dark shadow between, a
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