The Yellowstone Conundrum Read Online Free PDF Page B

as one. Jimmy James hit the runway just as her plane landed and the pair started to glide down the runway to the exit ramp.
      The orgasm stopped moving but the earth didn’t.
      “Wh--” sputtered her startled partner. “What the hell! “
      Penny screamed as their REI 4-season tent started the limbo, shaking to the earthy beat.
      A penis is a funny thing. It knows. It knows when to hold ‘em and knows when to fold ‘em. While part of Jimmy’s brain was still inside Penny, the alert portion of his brain told him something was seriously wrong and that Mandingo needed to fold camp, take a hike; petered out so to speak.
      “What the fuck was that?” Jimmy shouted, tumbling first out of, then off of, the hottest babe he’d managed to snag in the past year. Penny Anderson, second team US volleyball and alternate to the USA 20km cross-country skiing team—a walking, talking hot babefest fucking machine. And he’d scored the best pussy ever. 
      The Earth even moved.
      The pair lay panting as the shock poles on the tent continued to rock and roll, the ground beneath them vibrating like a 50-cent bed in the Super 8 in Cody.
      Penny screamed again because of the noise; a rumbling, bumbling, rolling thunder, belying the beautiful morning she saw out of the flaps of the tent; the yellow distant sun just climbing over the statuesque fir trees, the blue sky to the east. She shouted, rolled over Jimmy James and tumbled out into the hard packed snow. He wasn’t far behind her, although equally undressed.
      The two naked twenty-two year olds looked across the wide expanse of the NE corner of Yellowstone National Park; they were alone.
      Trees swayed. Animals cried and wolves howled, the crisp hardness of the snow crust crinkled as the ground shook.  Surf’s up, dude . The pair reacted to balancing themselves during the most violent earthquake since the earth’s creation.
      Then it stopped.
      The sound of the ground shaking stopped. 
      Pine trees rustled their branches, then stopped, all snow falling to lumps beneath.
      The animals stopped howling.
      Thirty seconds later, Penny and Jimmy James, still naked and scared to death outside their now-collapsed tent.  
      “What’s that?” Penny pointed, her small breasts, nipples taut, along with her finger, pointing to the west.   Cleanly shaven except for a small vertical tuft of pubis; she was indeed a blond.  While perky Penny could point, Jimmy James’ pointer had gone to its hidey-hole.
      Fifty miles to the west a cloud of volcanic ash, molten rock, miniscule portions of Old Faithful Village, and maybe a piece of Nadene and Randy Crowe of Flagstaff, Arizona shot skyward into the blue-black sky, just now clearing the far horizon.
      Dressing quickly, Penny Anderson of Eugene, Oregon and Jimmy James Johnson of Ogden, Utah scurried to break down camp, each knowing their portion of morning chores in the backcountry. Fifteen minutes later they were ready, boots on, skis attached.
      “Where to?” Jimmy asked.
      “Not there,” Penny nodded to the west, looking like she was ready for a Nordic pentathlon; clear skin, short blond hair cut shake-‘n-bake style. In fifteen minutes it had taken to take down camp the sky to the west was blocked by a shroud of volcanic debris now approaching twenty-five thousand feet, making the cloud look like a fierce thunderhead. 
      Penny turned and faced north, the sun blocked by a range of E-W Mountains that ran along the border between Wyoming and Montana; the range was the western extension of the Bitterroots.
      “Well, you know, we could check the radio,” added Jimmy.
      Penny smiled. “I knew I had you along for a reason other than that stiff thing you bring out every morning.”
      Jimmy smiled and fetched his GPS, a marvel of technology that included a telephone, an Emergency Band radio, and the positioning software. The device woke up and beeped cheerily. Hello, what can I do for you?