(X-rated) March 25, 2023: In the morning, I pushed my ass into Voodoo, begging him to play with me. I could feel his morning wood bulging through his briefs—made me feel as if I was getting dessert first thing in the morning. He removed his briefs as I removed my panties. I grabbed his cock and slowly slipped him in. I reached around to grab the back of his head, pulling at his hair as he pushed himself in, inch by inch. His cock felt like heaven, throbbing deeply for me.
We had a sheet hanging off the top bunk so people wouldn’t see us fooling around, but even so, it was nearly impossible to be quiet. As our thrusts grew more intense, our privacy sheet fell off mid-fuck and we became fully exposed to a room full of people. Our faces looked like two kids who just got caught putting their hands in a cookie jar. I put my hand over my mouth as I was on the verge of exploding in laughter. I whispered to him that it would be best if we finished somewhere else.
We half-assed put our clothes on and he led me to the outdoor shower. I pulled down his briefs—his cock still wet with my moon cycle blood. I licked up the taste of iron and he became rock hard in seconds. He lifted me up and placed me on the bench. Holding direct eye contact, he slid himself in, watching the way I was taking all of him in. He choked me, then looked down as he thrusted to see his cock covered in my blood. He gripped my neck harder and said, “Fuck, you’re so dirty.” I let out a smile and kissed him with my open mouth. I felt him growing bigger and bigger as my pussy enveloped him. My back pressed up against the shower wall, each thrust putting pressure on my spine. In heat, he thrusted balls deep, forming a suction as he hit my g-spot, then pulled out as he shot his hot cum all over my pussy.
We both decided to take a zero today. Voodoo wanted to work-trade all day for us to have a nice cabin to stay in so we could fuck as loud as we desired. After doing some rough gardening work, he came into the kitchen to drink some water. Out of breath, I watched him gulp down a glass of water… droplets running down his chin. I grabbed him around his waist, pulled him close, french kissed him as I let him know how turned on I felt.
Later in the day, I met a trail angel named Hooch who came to pick me and a couple of my friends up to drive us all the way to Asheville. We had to do some resupplying since Standing Bear was selling expired food and most of us weren’t open to that. I felt so grateful that he was able to help us out last second. As I was walking to his car, I saw Voodoo covered in sweat as he was shoveling dirt. That image of him would sustain me the rest of the day.
Hooch drove us to REI to return some items and buy some new gear! I got a fresh pair of HOKA’s from the garage sale section and Beans decided to join the HOKA cult as well. Then, he dropped us off at Early Girl Eatery on Wall Street to eat some hot food. Afterwards, we went on an adventure to explore the city.
We walked by a man playing the piano in the heart of the city. Something about him invoked curiosity in my soul. We decided to sit on the bench and listen to him play. I felt he had a story on his heart, full of emotions—spoken through the dance of his fingertips. I watched as he expressed himself in a solemn, melancholy manner.
Before we left, we found a brown paper bag beside the bench. Jimmy Dean opened it to find a to go box with a half eaten steak and a couple of chicken wings. We looked at each other in unspoken agreement—as true hiker trash, he ate it.
We went to explore some art galleries, boutique shops and book stores. Then, we went to a clothing store where I bought a mushroom sweater, Beans bought a rainbow hat and Jimmy Dean got himself a groovy shirt so we could fall in line with the AT thru-hiker look.
The boys wanted to smoke a doobie so they thought it would be coolest to smoke it on the top story of a parking garage. We entered the garage and walked up the stairs to find many heroin needles scattered about. Close to the top, there were a couple of addicts huddled up in blankets on the floor talking to themselves. We said hello, then continued to the rooftop. We sat on the concrete while Beans and Jimmy Dean smoked. We talked about the past “addictions” we went through and remembered that the only way through was through.
Another trail angel named Joker came to help us out last minute! He had thru-hiked the PCT and the AT. We met him at Foggy Mountain Brew Pub and enjoyed some grilled chicken sandwiches. Afterwards, he generously trail angel’d us a ride all the way back to Standing Bear.
On the ride back, I received a message from one of my friends who showed me a picture of a hate post that someone wrote about me. Without getting into detail, I was basically being told by this person to “get fucked” because of what I was writing about.
Most of the time, hateful comments would pass by me, but some days, like today, I would take it to heart. Joker put on the song “Nutshell” by Alice In Chains. I closed my eyes and felt a sense of sadness wash over me. I felt as though I really wanted to be held by someone. I knew it wasn’t what I really wanted. What I really wanted was to experience awareness of what was True.
I took a moment to breathe as I let the feelings make their way through. When I opened my eyes, I looked around at my friends and realized what a great community I had and how loved I was. Joker said how grateful he was that he met a legend, whereas the other guy felt I was just a whore. That was how it worked in this apparent world—a play on opposites.
When I made it back to the farm, Voodoo took me to the cabin that he work-traded for us. I cuddled with him but felt immensely off. I could tell I was trying to distract myself through a person and I knew that feeling all too well, so I got up and decided to take a walk.
I heard Pink playing the harmonica by the fire so I joined him on the wooden stump. He was genuinely excited to see me, gave me a big hug and kissed my cheek. I was so grateful to be in his presence. I placed my head on his shoulder and he asked how I was doing. I said, “I don’t feel so good. I’m hurting right now.” I didn’t feel like bringing up details at the moment. Instead, I buried my face under my hat and cried into his shirt while he played his harmonica. He stood up and led me to the road where we could talk privately.
I told him how I felt this push and pull energy—of wanting to share my story with people publicly because I loved to inspire. Yet, anytime I started to become more known, I automatically wanted to retract back into my shell. Sometimes, I felt it was immensely difficult for me to handle the energy of hatred. It was what made me want to draw away from the social world so suddenly. Pink was also going through the perception of people talking shit about him and it was weighing heavy on his heart. He, himself, drew away from everyone today just to be in silence as he went through his emotions.
He said, “Don’t ever let people make you feel bad for who you are.” He wiped the tears off my face and said, “Come here with me.” He took my hand and led me back down the driveway. He goes, “You wanna dance with me on the bridge?” There was a crowd of people by the fire watching us. I felt nervous and said no. He gently grabbed my hand and said, “Come on, let’s dance! We need to shake off this energy!” So, inevitably, we started dancing. We did the thumb booty—Pink’s signature dance move that he taught me in the beginning of the trail. It was where we moved our thumbs up and down and swayed our booties from side to side. Everyone watched us making fools of ourselves while Pink and I busted out laughing numerous times. I felt so grateful to be surrounded by people who appreciated me and reminded me to have fun despite any painful perceptions I was receiving.
After about an hour, I went into the bunk room to sit on the bed I was in the previous night. I felt a sense of overwhelm again and thought it would be a good place to take a breather. Checkmate came in shortly after and saw me curled up on the bed. He asked how I was doing and out of thin air, another wave of energy came over me. I put my head in my hands and started crying. It all felt so heavy. I began hyperventilating and he quickly came to sit on the bunk beside me and put his arm around me.
He said “come on” to me as he grabbed my hand and led me out of the room to go on a walk up the road. We walked in the darkness as the moonlight casted silhouettes of the tree branches hovering above us.
He gave me space to open up as I went into story mode of the situation as I perceived it. I told him how I felt as if I was being called out for being a whore and that was where the contradiction of the character “Goda” came in. I didn’t mind when my friends called me a whore or it was used in a sexual sense—it was actually a huge turn on. Yet, when it was used with the energy of disrespect behind it, I felt really hurt for I knew I was so much more than the character I played. I felt unseen or as if that was the only story a lot of people had of me—a girl who fucked random dudes on trail and wrote about it.
Checkmate got really defensive for me and said, “Fuck that dude. The thing is, sluts are awesome and people need to recognize that. My ex is a whore and I love it.” I laughed out loud and he continued, “People get upset because they don’t know how to embody the freedom that you embody. You just don’t give a fuck and people want that for themselves but don’t know how to find it. I love how free you are. You teach me how to have that for myself. Please don’t change who you are. Just continue to keep your eye on the prize. As your followers grow, you will have people like that come up, but that’s part of it. But, even when that happens, take a moment to look at who’s in front of you. You have a great tramily and people who love you.” I felt much better after talking with Checkmate and dancing with Pink. As we started walking back, he goes, “If I make out with you right now does that make you a whore?” I laughed out loud and kissed him under the moonlight. He says, “And if you haven’t noticed, Beans and I have been straight pink-blazing you on trail because we have so much fun with you. We pushed a 24 mile day just because you decided to.”
I went back over to the cabin where Voodoo was. He didn’t shower just for me, knowing how much I loved him covered in dirt and sweat. I watched him watching me get undressed. One look at my naked body and he says, “I wanna tie you up.” My nipples grew so hard and I said, “Pleaaase tie me up.” I happened to have hot pink rope for bear hanging purposes that I carried all the way from the NOC. I wasn’t fooling anyone—I never once made a bear hang.
I sat naked on the bed for him—his eyes scanning my body to see where he wanted to place the rope. He started by tying my breasts, moving the rope in loops and knots—the cord gripping my skin as he tightened it. I was so surprised because I, myself, was a professional rope artist and I couldn’t figure out how he was coming up with the knots. I was impressed by how symmetrical the design was, unfazed by any intricacy.
He tied my wrists, then brought the rope behind me as he tied it around my ass cheeks. He placed me on my back and put my legs on his shoulders. The rope so tight I couldn’t move. Anytime I attempted to make my way out, I would end up giving myself rope burn. I was fully trapped as his victim.
He slipped his cock in—the ropes nearly cutting off my circulation as I opened up my body for him—bruising my skin. He called me his little slut and went balls deep. I loved how sloppy we became as the energy of lust arose. We completely ceased to care how we looked. I could feel my moon cycle blood mixing with my cum. He slapped my face so hard I went dizzy. He spit in my open mouth as I swallowed it like a drug. He knew just the right way to move my hips and position my legs, making me aggressively addicted to the feeling of his cock hitting my walls. Choking me to the point of nearly passing out, he pulled out and came all over my tits—said the way I looked covered in ropes just got him.
He got up to take a breath. Standing naked in front of me, his abs glistened from the soft background light. I told him I was going to let his cum soak into my skin all the way to Hot Springs. He placed a cigarette in his mouth, lit it and said, “You’re such a dirty little freak.”
He came back in bed as he caressed me with his rough hands. I looked at his palms—covered in dirt, blisters and skin that had ripped off in patches from when he was shoveling dirt earlier. He goes, “Don’t trust them boys with soft hands.” Agreed. It was so beyond sexy to see a man that showed me he worked hard.
We looked at the painting on the wall, now hanging crooked. Those bad boys sure knew how to fuck me good. I asked where he learned to tie knots like that and he said, “I tied a lot of boats in Florida.”
I said to him, “Hm, maybe I’ll be a cougar when I’m older.” My entire life, I had always preferred men much older than me, but after being with Voodoo, it was a game changer. I felt as if he could keep up with how much sex I wanted and I loved that he was able to fuck me over and over and over again.
We had a sheet hanging off the top bunk so people wouldn’t see us fooling around, but even so, it was nearly impossible to be quiet. As our thrusts grew more intense, our privacy sheet fell off mid-fuck and we became fully exposed to a room full of people. Our faces looked like two kids who just got caught putting their hands in a cookie jar. I put my hand over my mouth as I was on the verge of exploding in laughter. I whispered to him that it would be best if we finished somewhere else.
We half-assed put our clothes on and he led me to the outdoor shower. I pulled down his briefs—his cock still wet with my moon cycle blood. I licked up the taste of iron and he became rock hard in seconds. He lifted me up and placed me on the bench. Holding direct eye contact, he slid himself in, watching the way I was taking all of him in. He choked me, then looked down as he thrusted to see his cock covered in my blood. He gripped my neck harder and said, “Fuck, you’re so dirty.” I let out a smile and kissed him with my open mouth. I felt him growing bigger and bigger as my pussy enveloped him. My back pressed up against the shower wall, each thrust putting pressure on my spine. In heat, he thrusted balls deep, forming a suction as he hit my g-spot, then pulled out as he shot his hot cum all over my pussy.
We both decided to take a zero today. Voodoo wanted to work-trade all day for us to have a nice cabin to stay in so we could fuck as loud as we desired. After doing some rough gardening work, he came into the kitchen to drink some water. Out of breath, I watched him gulp down a glass of water… droplets running down his chin. I grabbed him around his waist, pulled him close, french kissed him as I let him know how turned on I felt.
Later in the day, I met a trail angel named Hooch who came to pick me and a couple of my friends up to drive us all the way to Asheville. We had to do some resupplying since Standing Bear was selling expired food and most of us weren’t open to that. I felt so grateful that he was able to help us out last second. As I was walking to his car, I saw Voodoo covered in sweat as he was shoveling dirt. That image of him would sustain me the rest of the day.
Hooch drove us to REI to return some items and buy some new gear! I got a fresh pair of HOKA’s from the garage sale section and Beans decided to join the HOKA cult as well. Then, he dropped us off at Early Girl Eatery on Wall Street to eat some hot food. Afterwards, we went on an adventure to explore the city.
We walked by a man playing the piano in the heart of the city. Something about him invoked curiosity in my soul. We decided to sit on the bench and listen to him play. I felt he had a story on his heart, full of emotions—spoken through the dance of his fingertips. I watched as he expressed himself in a solemn, melancholy manner.
Before we left, we found a brown paper bag beside the bench. Jimmy Dean opened it to find a to go box with a half eaten steak and a couple of chicken wings. We looked at each other in unspoken agreement—as true hiker trash, he ate it.
We went to explore some art galleries, boutique shops and book stores. Then, we went to a clothing store where I bought a mushroom sweater, Beans bought a rainbow hat and Jimmy Dean got himself a groovy shirt so we could fall in line with the AT thru-hiker look.
The boys wanted to smoke a doobie so they thought it would be coolest to smoke it on the top story of a parking garage. We entered the garage and walked up the stairs to find many heroin needles scattered about. Close to the top, there were a couple of addicts huddled up in blankets on the floor talking to themselves. We said hello, then continued to the rooftop. We sat on the concrete while Beans and Jimmy Dean smoked. We talked about the past “addictions” we went through and remembered that the only way through was through.
Another trail angel named Joker came to help us out last minute! He had thru-hiked the PCT and the AT. We met him at Foggy Mountain Brew Pub and enjoyed some grilled chicken sandwiches. Afterwards, he generously trail angel’d us a ride all the way back to Standing Bear.
On the ride back, I received a message from one of my friends who showed me a picture of a hate post that someone wrote about me. Without getting into detail, I was basically being told by this person to “get fucked” because of what I was writing about.
Most of the time, hateful comments would pass by me, but some days, like today, I would take it to heart. Joker put on the song “Nutshell” by Alice In Chains. I closed my eyes and felt a sense of sadness wash over me. I felt as though I really wanted to be held by someone. I knew it wasn’t what I really wanted. What I really wanted was to experience awareness of what was True.
I took a moment to breathe as I let the feelings make their way through. When I opened my eyes, I looked around at my friends and realized what a great community I had and how loved I was. Joker said how grateful he was that he met a legend, whereas the other guy felt I was just a whore. That was how it worked in this apparent world—a play on opposites.
When I made it back to the farm, Voodoo took me to the cabin that he work-traded for us. I cuddled with him but felt immensely off. I could tell I was trying to distract myself through a person and I knew that feeling all too well, so I got up and decided to take a walk.
I heard Pink playing the harmonica by the fire so I joined him on the wooden stump. He was genuinely excited to see me, gave me a big hug and kissed my cheek. I was so grateful to be in his presence. I placed my head on his shoulder and he asked how I was doing. I said, “I don’t feel so good. I’m hurting right now.” I didn’t feel like bringing up details at the moment. Instead, I buried my face under my hat and cried into his shirt while he played his harmonica. He stood up and led me to the road where we could talk privately.
I told him how I felt this push and pull energy—of wanting to share my story with people publicly because I loved to inspire. Yet, anytime I started to become more known, I automatically wanted to retract back into my shell. Sometimes, I felt it was immensely difficult for me to handle the energy of hatred. It was what made me want to draw away from the social world so suddenly. Pink was also going through the perception of people talking shit about him and it was weighing heavy on his heart. He, himself, drew away from everyone today just to be in silence as he went through his emotions.
He said, “Don’t ever let people make you feel bad for who you are.” He wiped the tears off my face and said, “Come here with me.” He took my hand and led me back down the driveway. He goes, “You wanna dance with me on the bridge?” There was a crowd of people by the fire watching us. I felt nervous and said no. He gently grabbed my hand and said, “Come on, let’s dance! We need to shake off this energy!” So, inevitably, we started dancing. We did the thumb booty—Pink’s signature dance move that he taught me in the beginning of the trail. It was where we moved our thumbs up and down and swayed our booties from side to side. Everyone watched us making fools of ourselves while Pink and I busted out laughing numerous times. I felt so grateful to be surrounded by people who appreciated me and reminded me to have fun despite any painful perceptions I was receiving.
After about an hour, I went into the bunk room to sit on the bed I was in the previous night. I felt a sense of overwhelm again and thought it would be a good place to take a breather. Checkmate came in shortly after and saw me curled up on the bed. He asked how I was doing and out of thin air, another wave of energy came over me. I put my head in my hands and started crying. It all felt so heavy. I began hyperventilating and he quickly came to sit on the bunk beside me and put his arm around me.
He said “come on” to me as he grabbed my hand and led me out of the room to go on a walk up the road. We walked in the darkness as the moonlight casted silhouettes of the tree branches hovering above us.
He gave me space to open up as I went into story mode of the situation as I perceived it. I told him how I felt as if I was being called out for being a whore and that was where the contradiction of the character “Goda” came in. I didn’t mind when my friends called me a whore or it was used in a sexual sense—it was actually a huge turn on. Yet, when it was used with the energy of disrespect behind it, I felt really hurt for I knew I was so much more than the character I played. I felt unseen or as if that was the only story a lot of people had of me—a girl who fucked random dudes on trail and wrote about it.
Checkmate got really defensive for me and said, “Fuck that dude. The thing is, sluts are awesome and people need to recognize that. My ex is a whore and I love it.” I laughed out loud and he continued, “People get upset because they don’t know how to embody the freedom that you embody. You just don’t give a fuck and people want that for themselves but don’t know how to find it. I love how free you are. You teach me how to have that for myself. Please don’t change who you are. Just continue to keep your eye on the prize. As your followers grow, you will have people like that come up, but that’s part of it. But, even when that happens, take a moment to look at who’s in front of you. You have a great tramily and people who love you.” I felt much better after talking with Checkmate and dancing with Pink. As we started walking back, he goes, “If I make out with you right now does that make you a whore?” I laughed out loud and kissed him under the moonlight. He says, “And if you haven’t noticed, Beans and I have been straight pink-blazing you on trail because we have so much fun with you. We pushed a 24 mile day just because you decided to.”
I went back over to the cabin where Voodoo was. He didn’t shower just for me, knowing how much I loved him covered in dirt and sweat. I watched him watching me get undressed. One look at my naked body and he says, “I wanna tie you up.” My nipples grew so hard and I said, “Pleaaase tie me up.” I happened to have hot pink rope for bear hanging purposes that I carried all the way from the NOC. I wasn’t fooling anyone—I never once made a bear hang.
I sat naked on the bed for him—his eyes scanning my body to see where he wanted to place the rope. He started by tying my breasts, moving the rope in loops and knots—the cord gripping my skin as he tightened it. I was so surprised because I, myself, was a professional rope artist and I couldn’t figure out how he was coming up with the knots. I was impressed by how symmetrical the design was, unfazed by any intricacy.
He tied my wrists, then brought the rope behind me as he tied it around my ass cheeks. He placed me on my back and put my legs on his shoulders. The rope so tight I couldn’t move. Anytime I attempted to make my way out, I would end up giving myself rope burn. I was fully trapped as his victim.
He slipped his cock in—the ropes nearly cutting off my circulation as I opened up my body for him—bruising my skin. He called me his little slut and went balls deep. I loved how sloppy we became as the energy of lust arose. We completely ceased to care how we looked. I could feel my moon cycle blood mixing with my cum. He slapped my face so hard I went dizzy. He spit in my open mouth as I swallowed it like a drug. He knew just the right way to move my hips and position my legs, making me aggressively addicted to the feeling of his cock hitting my walls. Choking me to the point of nearly passing out, he pulled out and came all over my tits—said the way I looked covered in ropes just got him.
He got up to take a breath. Standing naked in front of me, his abs glistened from the soft background light. I told him I was going to let his cum soak into my skin all the way to Hot Springs. He placed a cigarette in his mouth, lit it and said, “You’re such a dirty little freak.”
He came back in bed as he caressed me with his rough hands. I looked at his palms—covered in dirt, blisters and skin that had ripped off in patches from when he was shoveling dirt earlier. He goes, “Don’t trust them boys with soft hands.” Agreed. It was so beyond sexy to see a man that showed me he worked hard.
We looked at the painting on the wall, now hanging crooked. Those bad boys sure knew how to fuck me good. I asked where he learned to tie knots like that and he said, “I tied a lot of boats in Florida.”
I said to him, “Hm, maybe I’ll be a cougar when I’m older.” My entire life, I had always preferred men much older than me, but after being with Voodoo, it was a game changer. I felt as if he could keep up with how much sex I wanted and I loved that he was able to fuck me over and over and over again.
