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(X-rated) March 31 2013, Jerry’s Cabin Shelter to Devil’s Fork Gap:
I told Voodoo I’d be banana blazing him until he “actually” tied me up to a tree and had his way with me. Sometimes, I felt our relationship was based on a Stockholm syndrome kind of energy.
He expressed, “I wanna make some memories with you.”
“Baby, I already love the memories we made,” I said.
He goes, “You haven’t seen nothing yet, girl. Stick around… I’ll show you some things.”
Right before we made it down to the road, I squatted down to pee. He said he had to go, too, so I asked him sweetly to save a little bit for me. I watched him release himself beside the trail, then he pinched the tip of his dick near the end of his stream. He told me to open wide. I stuck my tongue out and he squirted his piss down my throat—I sucked him dry.
He smiled, “You’re a fucking sicko,” then laughed, “Well… I don’t know who’s the actual sicko, since I’m the one with a boner.”
Once at the road, we decided to say fuck it and hitch to Erwin. He pulled me towards him as he kissed me and said, “Thanks for being dirt bag hiker trash with me.” He loved the way I chose to move around on trail and was happy to see I wasn’t a purist. I had nothing against being a purist; I’ve been a purist on numerous trails, including the entirety of the PCT. I simply moved where the guidance led me and didn’t question it.
In less than a couple of minutes, a car pulled to a stop to give us a ride! The second I saw the man, I knew it would be extremely difficult to keep it cool in front of Voodoo. He was so majestically handsome. The appearance of a bear—dark skin, full black beard, hairy arms, deep sexy voice. His name was Free. He told us to hop in the back of his trailer and offered me his rain jacket to help block out the wind before we got on the highway!
Voodoo and I were so stoked with our apparent decision as we snuggled up and watched the road winding in waves. The traffic and wind so loud that we were only able to communicate through our eyes and smiles. We french kissed as cars drove by and honked.
Free dropped us off near Taco Bell and I flashed my tits for him as a thank you. Right after that, he offered us a place to stay for the night on his off grid property five minutes from the trail. We were stoked on the offer so we met up with him after we gorged on some quesadillas and burritos.
On the drive up to his farm, he shared part of his story with us: a former heroin addict, now sober for four years. I asked him about his experience with heroine and how he let go of the power that was placed into it.
He said, “I was sick of being sick and tired.”
And so, he discovered permaculture and fell in love working with the land. He was passionate about helping people remember how to live from natural resources, aware that residing in cities was very unnatural and still a new concept for us.
His farm was big and in the beginning stages of being restructured. He let us stay in a clay house that he built right beside the pond. We asked if we could take a shower so he took us to the outdoor setup. We both got naked on the spot—Voodoo cupped his dick and balls whereas I ran around free as could be, in my natural habitat.
During our shower the heat stopped working, so we called out to Free and he switched the propane tank out. Shortly after it got going again, the nozzle started making a high-pitched noise and exploded into pieces! We busted out laughing and called Free again. Voodoo and I stood shivering covered in soap suds, looking like a bunch of cold naked hippies.
Free took his shirt off before he got to fixing the shower. I tried to hide my blush and smile, but Voodoo caught on fast. It was just that he was so very much my type—those dark, hairy features always seemed to win me over. His happy trail was so defined that I just wanted to take a peek and see where it led.
Voodoo quickly snapped my head back into place. His eyes glared, Why the fuck are you looking at him like that? I loved misbehaving in front of my lovers, or should I say, allowing myself to be natural—it served as a reminder for them that I was untamable.
After we dried off, we went into Free’s RV and he cooked some salmon with dandelion salad on the side. He made me spaghetti with butter since I didn’t take to fish or vegetables.
He brought up his fiancé several times in conversation—she was coming out in a month to move in with him. He showed me pictures of her and brought her up any time Voodoo and I would show any signs of PDA.
When Free stepped outside momentarily, I made a comment to Voodoo, “He would definitely cheat on his fiancé.”
I stood by my comment even though Voodoo appeared visibly upset at me for saying such a thing. I knew it the moment I looked into Free’s eyes—it was an intuitive hunch that felt clear as day to me. Some people made it easy to read, others not so much, but energy didn’t lie.
He excessively brought her name up in conversation, almost as a way to remind himself that she was still part of his reality. While he wanted her presence to be known, I was being shown his weakness, as if he was holding onto a thin thread of someone as he tried to convince himself that she still existed.
As we were eating, Free mentioned that he had cheated on his girl in the past which was what apparently caused them to break up for a long time. I looked over at Voodoo and raised my eyebrows.
Free continued, “But, I would never do that again. That’s why I’m finally going to propose to her.”
He showed us the ring he bought her. While he made eye contact with me, I caught a glimpse of sadism. I could feel him breaking away.
Voodoo and I made our way back to our bed for the night. I fantasized about Free. I thought about sneaking over into his RV while Voodoo was asleep. I longed to have the space where I could be myself again, completely uninhibited. If it weren’t for considering Voodoo’s feelings, I would have been getting fucked on Free’s countertop right then and there. But, sometimes, I had sympathy for my victims.
Voodoo started getting really deep with the conversations again. I could see his struggle to communicate and how uncomfortable it was for him to just say what was on his mind. I could tell he wanted to know where our relationship was headed, just by observing the topics we were skirting around.
I felt myself get uncomfortable, too. I felt as though it was time to get moving again. Not because it had anything to do with him, but because I didn’t want to get in too deep, when I knew deep down I just wanted to play for a bit. A part of me wanted to claim him as my one and only, but it was only fantasy. It was clear we were just getting wrapped up in the honeymoon stage.
It often surprised me how easy it felt for me to let go of people in my life. I have been so good at being on the move that I would tend to forget that not everyone found it so easy to stay detached.
Voodoo voiced, “People warned me of your wildness, but I refused to accept it. Sometimes, I just want to trap you and put you in my pocket… tie you up the way you like, feed you every once in a while in hopes that maybe you wouldn’t notice that you were being held hostage.”
I desperately wanted to let him know what I was going through and the things I felt for him, but I felt so closed off in his presence—as if there was a giant brick wall between us… as if I wanted to break it down, but couldn’t find the strength to lift my arms.
He asked, “Why don’t you talk to me? Why are you always so silent?”
“It just feels like you don’t want to listen,” I explained.
He contemplated, “Would you be surprised if I told you that you weren’t the first girl who told me that?”
There had been several instances when he let me speak and he would change the subject or turn it around to make it about himself, so I just dropped conversations that weren’t going anywhere. I wasn’t interested in using energy I didn’t need to use. I enjoyed being heard, acknowledged and understood. I was also over the game of trying to change people to fit them in a sort of mold I thought would satisfy me.
Nowadays, I felt called to hang around people for as long as I felt inspired and when I wasn’t interested in a certain energy play anymore, I would just leave—no hard feelings. Nothing personal, no fights, no need to complicate the situation—the flow of direction would simply change.
He goes, “I don’t know why a girl like you would want to be with a guy like me, anyway.” It saddened me to hear that, especially since others had brought up the same thing. I wish he saw what I saw in him. I found him to be so beautiful, so charming. He was such a special gift that it would be impossible to perceive him as anything short of magic.