Free shipping on all orders! (U.S. only)

(X-rated) May 13 2023, Wintergreen View to VA Route 56:
I woke up to some millipede looking insects covering my hat and trekking pole straps. I gently took them off and started my hike.
Later on, I ran into Pusher at Three Ridges Overlook. Our jaws dropped in disbelief. We didn’t plan it, we both just walked into the parking lot at the same time from different directions.
Both of us were covered in sweat from the suffocating moisture of the humidity. We took our packs off and laid down in the parking lot. I interlaced my legs over his and he began to play with my pussy over my shorts. I heard someone coming up the trail, but didn’t make it known to Pusher. Eventually, he heard the person as well and quickly stood up. I smiled and locked my ankles around his left leg as though I was his daughter and he was my Daddy. I looked up at him with longing eyes as the person popped out into our view. Turned out it was Good Soup.
As soon as he recognized me, he said, “Oh hey, Freyja. Still up to your antics, I see.”
I smiled and said, “Yes I am.”
“Where’s Voodoo? Is he dead?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” I said, “I think he’s still at Boots Off.”
Just hearing Voodoo’s name made me long for his presence. As soon as he left, I had Pusher finger me again. Perfect distraction.
“Oh, you think you’re just gonna get what you want, eh?” he asked as he placed his fingers over my clit.
It wasn’t really what I wanted. I actually wanted to just keep hiking and not feel like someone always had to touch me. I could see where men had a hard time reading me. When I felt sad, I wanted to use a man’s body to distract me. But, simultaneously, I felt as if I would get fed up pretty fast and the desire would arise to be alone again.
I was really honest with him and told him how I hooked up with someone. He didn’t seem to mind. He accepted the fact that he couldn’t have me for himself. He knew I would be hooking up with a bunch of people at Trail Days and had still planned on fucking me, regardless.
Today, I had a loose itinerary to hitch back south to finish up a section I had skipped near the Grayson Highlands. I wanted to make it back before Trail Days so I could keep my hiker legs in tact.
“I want to come with…” he says, “in more ways than one.”
I smiled at his witty remark and told him I didn’t feel comfortable, especially since Miles was buying me a room for the night. Having solitude time was also something I wanted to take advantage of since I could work through some internal feelings in silence.
He asked when I would stop running from him.
I laid down on the wet asphalt, basking in a feeling of melancholy and annoyance, wondering to myself, Why does everyone think I’m running?
He even said he would walk south with me, the same section he just walked through, just to spend some time with me.
“Eh,” I said.
What resonated for me was to be alone, so I stuck by it. Once I made it down to Route 56, I began hitchhiking and got picked up by a guy who was super into bird watching. It was perfect timing because the rain just began to hit the asphalt. I watched the way it would steam and the way the scent would come off the ground.
I closed my eyes and softly said, “I love this sound.”
I was brought back to vivid memories of my childhood when my parents were driving us back home from the airport after a vacation. I remembered the way the rain pitter pattered on the windshield with the fading sound of them talking, their voices drifting me to sleep. And then I thought about how trippy the concept of memories were, as I convinced myself that the past was real and that stuff actually happened.
The first thing I did when I arrived to Salem was go to Mamma’s Pizza and order myself a giant pizza. The server could barely speak English, but tried to hit on me regardless.
“Are you hiking alone?” he asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
“I’m going to go hiking with you,” he said as he poured me a pop and asked, “why don’t you hike with your family or your… boyfriend?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” I said.
He came back to my table and high fived me.
“Here’s your pizza, babe,” he said, “I’m going to give you a cheesecake dessert, too.”
Then, he gave me his number and offered to take me out to dinner. I could feel the vibe he was looking for, but I was not interested in him. I wanted to let myself get in the habit of just being really honest and letting men know that I wouldn’t be calling them rather than them getting their hopes up.
Afterwards, I spent the night writing and listening to music. I had the TV on to distract my mind with visuals. But upon going to bed, thoughts of Voodoo still raced across my mind. My arm hung off the side of the bed and I remembered of the way that we first connected. I thought back to the way he ever so gently danced his fingertips along mine and of the way he danced his presence into my heart. I curled myself up into a ball, feeling so alone. I felt the energy of grieving arise as I cried myself to sleep, praying to God for help in seeing it another way.