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(x-rated): The morning started with me asking Mo when he got his shit together in life. He pondered and said he would let me know when he did.
We ordered breakfast and my tramily would scream out all of our trail names when our food came out. Most obnoxious was Mo as he cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled, “BD!!!!”, followed by everyone in the crowd yelling, “BD!!!!” To top it off, he would add, “HE GOT THAT B-D!!!!” It brought me to tears from laughing so hard because only we knew what it meant.
After breakfast, BD joined me in the hammock. He used my thigh as a table to write in his journal while I wrote in mine. I asked him to autograph my leg in exchange for me drawing a beaming heart between his thumb and index finger.
I watched him in fond appreciation. It has felt like breaking through a layer in my mind as I learned how to be in a state of vulnerability again. Once I started taking interest in BD, it seemed to take effort to relax into his presence since I have been so used to being alone.
We went to the cabin and I said, “Let’s make out.” He revealed a smile, threw me onto the bed and began kissing me. My nipples became erect through his alpaca sweater. I felt him grow hard as he thrusted into my upper thigh. I guided him to lay down beside me. Grabbing his hand, I playfully bit the side of his thumb. Then, I grabbed his middle and ring finger with my tongue and sucked on them as I whimpered, “Pleaaase let me feel your fingers inside of me… I’ve waited too long.” He whispered, “You are the naughtiest girl I’ve ever met.”
Keeping his eyes locked with mine, he placed his fingers directly on my clit, causing my body to shake at his mere touch. Inch by inch, he slipped his fingers into my pussy and watched the way I arched my back in gratification. He played with me until his fingers were drenched with my cum and I was begging him to slow down. Instead, he would keep me pinned to the mattress, pushing his fingers deeper. I pulled on his beard and told him I needed to feel his cock inside of me right now. I firmly grabbed his bulge and felt his pre-cum soaking through his shorts. I smiled with wet lips and said I wanted a taste. I held eye contact with him as I made my way down to receive his delicious gift.
I teased him by gently licking the tip of his dick… my mouth salivating each time he released more pre-cum for me. I opened my throat and using my tongue, I started to deep throat him. Gagging from his huge cock, I took him out of my mouth to catch my breath. I watched the slobber drip down his shaft and licked it back up. He caught his breath and said, “I think you are the talented one here.” I raised my eyebrows and sent him an air kiss. He said he couldn’t take anymore and demanded I sit on top of him. Of course I did what I was told. After all, I was his slave.
I slid him into my pussy and our eyes softened in sync. His attention was fully focused on my face and the feeling of my pussy wrapped around his cock. I made love with him mindfully and with ease… slowly and deeply, as though all of the time in the world collapsed between us. The snug sunlight gleamed through the dust, revealing a heavenly haze in the room… an aura of deep orange and bright golden hues. Our youthful bodies flushed red with heat as we felt the vibrations of energy lifting us higher and rooting us deeper… expanding rays of love… blending into one existence. He told me he was about to cum and I told him I wanted to taste every drop. I gently slid him out and made my way down to receive his blessing. I missed a couple of his cumshots that landed on his abdomen, but I licked it up shortly after he finished throbbing the rest of his seed into my mouth.
He laid there in disbelief and said he couldn’t comprehend what just unfolded… that he was at a loss for words. I laid down beside him with my afterglow eyes and released a breath as the words, “I’m falling for you” slipped out of my mouth. Watching him receive them with intention, he says, “I’m falling for you, too.”
He said he’s never met someone who paid so much attention to detail… every movement and placement of body… every word, sigh and glance never going unnoticed. To me, any form of art was about invoking feelings, making waves, having people question things they thought they knew so they could open up to new realities. And with that, I couldn’t half ass my movements; everything was done with intention.
After cooling down, we went to visit our table in the common area. My tramily gave us shit every time we came back smiling from ear to ear. This time, we got roasted by CTM in front of everyone. She goes, “Who the FUCK even fucks that much?! You two don’t even know each other!!!!” The yelling was not done quietly, nor privately. It was in front of everyone and our faces turned beet red as we laughed off the embarrassment. In one aspect, it was well deserved since we were all sharing rooms to split up costs. On the other hand, it felt as though we had no where else to go.
We thought Bubbly was trying to get it on with a guy she was talking to for several hours, so we decided to be her wingmen. Like servers, the whole tramily brought her out a pizza, a salad and silverware. We tucked a napkin into her shirt, brought her some water and told her to enjoy her meal. The guy she was with was pretty impressed when he noticed how adored she was. However, it was later revealed she wasn’t interested in him. She was simply being her Bubbly self!
BD and I played horseshoes to pass time. Shortly after, I went back to the cabin to journal. I made friends with a squirrel who ate all of my Oreos and named him Curtis Pete Jr. BD found me in the midst of my solitude time. I told him how I felt overwhelmed by all the people, but really I was overwhelmed by my thoughts, not the people. He understood completely. With found courage, I asked him if it was for sure we were only friends with benefits. He confirmed that yes, he didn’t want anything serious. I found I was able to relax after hearing his response.
We both received the Angel number 444 quite frequently when we were together. When I looked into the meaning, here’s what I found:
-Signified high level of self-confidence, strength and individuality
-I knew what I wanted when it came to a potential relationship and was not willing to settle for things that no longer served my highest interests
-Even though I experienced challenges of standing my ground in a relationship, it has changed for the better
To top off the reminders, my close friend Bob Shine sent me a message that read, “Every time I feel the presence of God within me, it seems so clear to me that I need nothing in this apparent world. There is no greater gift than the Love of God. Pure wholesome Love. Complete. Without any thought that says you need another body, that you need money, or that you need anything outside of yourself. Everything is guiding you from within, back Home to a journey that never even began.”
When night fell, I invited BD to lay in the hammock and look at the stars with me. I expressed to him that I loved him. He took a moment of silence, held me closer and said, “I love you, too, Freyja.” He said he’s never said that to a woman he’s known for less than a week. I felt as though we were spinning within an azure vortex… melting into a field of euphoric waves… as if we were levitating off the hammock and into the glimmering stars… just him and I.
I was snapped back into reality by the distant sound of people singing “Wonderwall” and “Hey Jude.” Their voices echoed through the forest, sounding like a bunch of drunk people screaming the lyrics, followed by deep belly laughter. I was convinced we never truly grew up.
BD and I agreed that we preferred the sound of real live music over songs that used technology. It held a different energy and frequency. There was charm to be found in the rawness of a person’s voice unedited. He nods and says, “The advancement of technology dilutes authentic art.” Hit the nail on the head.
We went back to our table and I read the 1990s hiker entries from the logbook. It was wholesome to see people write long paragraphs about poetry, sorrows they were currently experiencing, expressing how the trail made them feel or what they came out here to learn about themselves and the world. There were drawings and comics scribbled into the pages that put into vision what life on trail was like. Compared to these days, the entries are mostly just trail names with a small message such as, “Hit me up on my Insta!” If that was the trajectory thru-hiking was headed down, I wanted nothing to do with it. A sense of sadness came over me. It felt as though people forgot the sacredness of traditional living.
Those entries inspired me to keep writing in a physical journal, to keep painting on a canvas and to keep weaving with the hands Spirit provided me. There was a deep energetic power in the raw creation of art and actually devoting the time to apparently do it. Technology could never truly replace that. It couldn’t convey the pain, the love, the struggle, the challenge I went through to get to the final product of a piece of writing or work of art.