(X-rated) April 14 2023, Abingdon Gap Shelter to Damascus:
Last night, Voodoo kept talking in his sleep, making comments about how he had to pee really bad.
I joked, “Don’t go into the bathroom, it’s a trap!”
After the fourth or fifth time of him bringing it up, I started fantasizing about him pissing himself.
I mumbled, “Just pee right here.”
Well, I received my wish. We woke up at the break of dawn to my sleeping bag completely soaked in his piss.
He became all flustered as he hopped out of the hammock and said, “Fuck! I had a dream I was going to the bathroom!”
Lucky for him, I was extremely turned on rather than upset. I loved that his golden juices would soak through anything of mine. I planned to carry it the rest of the trail completely unwashed.
We packed our things and started our trek into Damascus. I felt overwhelmed by the thought of being late to the diner, in turn not receiving my craving fix for french toast.
Voodoo reassured me that we would make it on time and in fact, we did, even with time to spare. We joined a couple of other hikers at a table and ate with them. I had fond memories of clogging the toilet at that restaurant last year during Trail Days.
After we ate, we loitered around outside. Pusher walked by on the sidewalk and flipped Voodoo off.
“He hates me,” Voodoo said as he took a hit of his cigarette and continued, “he’s just mad that I stole his girl.”
“I’m no one’s girl,” I corrected.
“You’re my girl,” he said, “and if you got a problem with that, I’ll just tie you up and take you somewhere else.”
We went to visit Treehouse at the Broken Fiddle whom I hadn’t seen since the CDT. I loved being able to finally see his place that the hikers spoke so highly of. I told him how I was stoked to go to Trail Days this year, but that I wouldn’t camp in tent city due to apparently getting poison ivy last year.
“Well that’s what you get for fucking in the fields,” he teased.
After our quick hellos, I said my “goodbyes” to Voodoo. I planned to hitch to Pearisburg so I could hike alone before I hitched out to New Mexico.
With longing in his eyes, he said, “I’m just going to hitch to Pearisburg with you.”
I secretly hoped he would say that. I smiled and kissed him. Apparently, I just couldn’t stay away from him. We got our stuff together and walked up the road about a mile until we found a good shoulder to stand on for a proper hitch.
Eventually, we got picked up by a church lady named Katy who drove us several miles north. She gave us a hand written Bible verse to carry—said she made them to hand out to people to inspire some joy and light their way in case they were going through a difficult day. Then, she gave us money to help us along our journey before she dropped us off.
As we hitchhiked, Voodoo kept trying to make all the truckers honk their horns as they passed by. He made commentary on all the cars that didn’t stop to give us a ride, calling them fags. I understood that he was just being playful and making jokes, but hitchhiking had always been a fun spiritual experience for me. I would never get upset with anyone who didn’t pull over as I knew they were simply not meant to give me a ride. It didn’t make them “fags” or “bastards.”
Once again, I missed the silence of my experience. I missed listening to the ambiance of the cars and the rhythm of my footsteps walking on the road. There seemed to be a strong push and pull energy that I felt with Voodoo—a tendency I felt within myself to keep him around, but only if he played by my rules.
We got short distanced rides all the way up to Dublin. Once there, we stood at a busy intersection as we attempted to hitch the rest of the way up. Someone in their car laughed and took a picture of us—Voodoo smiled and waved while he posed with his thumb out for them. Pringles called us and told us to stop hitching and that she would pick us up at the Taco Bell. Once she got us, she generously trail magic’d us a spot at Angel’s Rest for the night!
As we were setting up his hammock there, I said, “I don’t think we need a tarp. It doesn’t look like it’s going to rai—.”
Before I could even finish the sentence, lightning struck and a loud boom of thunder followed a few seconds later. I turned around to see a dark wave of clouds rolling in behind us. We laughed at the timing. Then, we stood in the grass and he hugged me.
“I’m gonna miss you, kid,” he said, “but I’m really looking forward to some alone time—well, more so to give you alone time. But, I really like bothering you even when I can tell that you’re annoyed. I just love it even more.”
We went to the Mexican joint and had an argument over steak and beef fajitas.
It started when he asked if I wanted beef fajitas and I said, “No, steak.”
“It’s the same thing,” he says.
We agreed to disagree.
He looked at our server and asked, “Can we get some spicy salsa? Like the one you don’t give white people?”
After we devoured our fajitas, we started to make our way back towards the hostel.
We walked down the grassy hill and Voodoo said to me, “I have to piss so bad.”
Every time he had to go, he would look at me in a way that suggested, You wanna drink it?
He asked, “How about right here in this open field?”
I gladly got on my knees with my face just below his cock. He got nervous and laughed, then lifted me back up and went to pee in the woods on the blue blaze trail that led back to our camp. He always pinched some off for me near the end of his stream so he could squirt it into my mouth.
He would say, “Don’t forget about about who pisses in your mouth.”
I blushed while wiping the corners of my mouth.
“Thank you, baby,” I said, feeling all spoiled.
When we made it back, I led him into the bathroom and begged him to fuck me in the shower. I was on my moon cycle, so figured it would be less messy. We started there, but within a couple of minutes, he placed me on top of the sink and penetrated me there.
My legs spread wide open for him. I begged him desperately to cum inside of me. I swear I played with fire everytime I asked for that, but I hoped for the best since I was on my moon. I placed the ball of my foot on the metal railing as I let him take me. I tuned into the way his throbbing cock felt when he came inside of me, barely able to control his thrusting rhythm. His eyes barely able to stay open from the intensity of pleasure—I felt as if I was sucking the soul out of his body. When he pulled his cock out of me, a giant pile of blood, squirt and cum splattered out onto the floor. Crimson red galaxies were sprinkled on the nearby walls and furniture. Our jaws dropped in disbelief. I felt it was a work of abstract art.
Last night, Voodoo kept talking in his sleep, making comments about how he had to pee really bad.
I joked, “Don’t go into the bathroom, it’s a trap!”
After the fourth or fifth time of him bringing it up, I started fantasizing about him pissing himself.
I mumbled, “Just pee right here.”
Well, I received my wish. We woke up at the break of dawn to my sleeping bag completely soaked in his piss.
He became all flustered as he hopped out of the hammock and said, “Fuck! I had a dream I was going to the bathroom!”
Lucky for him, I was extremely turned on rather than upset. I loved that his golden juices would soak through anything of mine. I planned to carry it the rest of the trail completely unwashed.
We packed our things and started our trek into Damascus. I felt overwhelmed by the thought of being late to the diner, in turn not receiving my craving fix for french toast.
Voodoo reassured me that we would make it on time and in fact, we did, even with time to spare. We joined a couple of other hikers at a table and ate with them. I had fond memories of clogging the toilet at that restaurant last year during Trail Days.
After we ate, we loitered around outside. Pusher walked by on the sidewalk and flipped Voodoo off.
“He hates me,” Voodoo said as he took a hit of his cigarette and continued, “he’s just mad that I stole his girl.”
“I’m no one’s girl,” I corrected.
“You’re my girl,” he said, “and if you got a problem with that, I’ll just tie you up and take you somewhere else.”
We went to visit Treehouse at the Broken Fiddle whom I hadn’t seen since the CDT. I loved being able to finally see his place that the hikers spoke so highly of. I told him how I was stoked to go to Trail Days this year, but that I wouldn’t camp in tent city due to apparently getting poison ivy last year.
“Well that’s what you get for fucking in the fields,” he teased.
After our quick hellos, I said my “goodbyes” to Voodoo. I planned to hitch to Pearisburg so I could hike alone before I hitched out to New Mexico.
With longing in his eyes, he said, “I’m just going to hitch to Pearisburg with you.”
I secretly hoped he would say that. I smiled and kissed him. Apparently, I just couldn’t stay away from him. We got our stuff together and walked up the road about a mile until we found a good shoulder to stand on for a proper hitch.
Eventually, we got picked up by a church lady named Katy who drove us several miles north. She gave us a hand written Bible verse to carry—said she made them to hand out to people to inspire some joy and light their way in case they were going through a difficult day. Then, she gave us money to help us along our journey before she dropped us off.
As we hitchhiked, Voodoo kept trying to make all the truckers honk their horns as they passed by. He made commentary on all the cars that didn’t stop to give us a ride, calling them fags. I understood that he was just being playful and making jokes, but hitchhiking had always been a fun spiritual experience for me. I would never get upset with anyone who didn’t pull over as I knew they were simply not meant to give me a ride. It didn’t make them “fags” or “bastards.”
Once again, I missed the silence of my experience. I missed listening to the ambiance of the cars and the rhythm of my footsteps walking on the road. There seemed to be a strong push and pull energy that I felt with Voodoo—a tendency I felt within myself to keep him around, but only if he played by my rules.
We got short distanced rides all the way up to Dublin. Once there, we stood at a busy intersection as we attempted to hitch the rest of the way up. Someone in their car laughed and took a picture of us—Voodoo smiled and waved while he posed with his thumb out for them. Pringles called us and told us to stop hitching and that she would pick us up at the Taco Bell. Once she got us, she generously trail magic’d us a spot at Angel’s Rest for the night!
As we were setting up his hammock there, I said, “I don’t think we need a tarp. It doesn’t look like it’s going to rai—.”
Before I could even finish the sentence, lightning struck and a loud boom of thunder followed a few seconds later. I turned around to see a dark wave of clouds rolling in behind us. We laughed at the timing. Then, we stood in the grass and he hugged me.
“I’m gonna miss you, kid,” he said, “but I’m really looking forward to some alone time—well, more so to give you alone time. But, I really like bothering you even when I can tell that you’re annoyed. I just love it even more.”
We went to the Mexican joint and had an argument over steak and beef fajitas.
It started when he asked if I wanted beef fajitas and I said, “No, steak.”
“It’s the same thing,” he says.
We agreed to disagree.
He looked at our server and asked, “Can we get some spicy salsa? Like the one you don’t give white people?”
After we devoured our fajitas, we started to make our way back towards the hostel.
We walked down the grassy hill and Voodoo said to me, “I have to piss so bad.”
Every time he had to go, he would look at me in a way that suggested, You wanna drink it?
He asked, “How about right here in this open field?”
I gladly got on my knees with my face just below his cock. He got nervous and laughed, then lifted me back up and went to pee in the woods on the blue blaze trail that led back to our camp. He always pinched some off for me near the end of his stream so he could squirt it into my mouth.
He would say, “Don’t forget about about who pisses in your mouth.”
I blushed while wiping the corners of my mouth.
“Thank you, baby,” I said, feeling all spoiled.
When we made it back, I led him into the bathroom and begged him to fuck me in the shower. I was on my moon cycle, so figured it would be less messy. We started there, but within a couple of minutes, he placed me on top of the sink and penetrated me there.
My legs spread wide open for him. I begged him desperately to cum inside of me. I swear I played with fire everytime I asked for that, but I hoped for the best since I was on my moon. I placed the ball of my foot on the metal railing as I let him take me. I tuned into the way his throbbing cock felt when he came inside of me, barely able to control his thrusting rhythm. His eyes barely able to stay open from the intensity of pleasure—I felt as if I was sucking the soul out of his body. When he pulled his cock out of me, a giant pile of blood, squirt and cum splattered out onto the floor. Crimson red galaxies were sprinkled on the nearby walls and furniture. Our jaws dropped in disbelief. I felt it was a work of abstract art.
