The Secrets of Liberty Mountain – Chapter 18

November 4, 2017 Leave a Comment

2017 Erotica story: The Secrets of Liberty Mountain – Chapter 18

Alice and I hurried toward the source of illumination like moths to a flame. A glimmering halo of white light surrounded the hole Alice cut through the snow drift at the tunnel’s entrance. I crawled into the air shaft that she excavated and punched through a thin cap of frost at the end and was instantly dazzled by blinding sunshine.

“Come here and take a look, Alice, you aren’t going to believe this,” I shouted over my shoulder as I emerged into the open air. The blizzard had passed us by, and the heavy overcast it left in its wake was riddled with expanding patches of brilliant blue sky. The sun had broken through the clouds at the center of the largest patch of sky and blazed in magnificent glory.

Alice emerged from the tunnel and took her place next to me. We stood together, speechless and in awe, with our arms around each other.

The land itself lay before us, transformed by the blizzard into a visual wonderland of strange beauty. The storm swept all the colors of the world away, and only vivid blues, dazzling whites, and a thousand shades of gray remained. The thin, clear air distorted distance judgment in such ways that far-off mountain ranges appeared close enough to reach out and touch.

Snow capped summits all along the western horizon blazed white with reflected sunlight against a sky so blue that the color bordered on black.

“Have you ever seen anything so beautiful, Dennis?” Alice gave me an extra hug and rested her head on my shoulder.

“Not in this lifetime,” I kissed the top of her head and returned her hug.

“Where did we park Mr. Kawasaki?” I searched the blanket of snow before us for any sign of our ATV. It was nowhere to be seen.

“I think our mule is under the drift,” Alice pointed to a low mound of snow about 10 yards to our right.

The chest high snow made forward motion almost impossible without an extraordinary amount of effort. Any thought of walking back to Liberty Base vanished before I had gone five yards. Our buried ATV wasn’t going anywhere until next spring, and there was no way we would be able to hike the fifteen miles back to base through this snow cover.

“Do you know how to make snowshoes, Alice?”

“No, but the Spanish SAS Survival Manual has a section on how to make them,” Alice said.

“Can you read Spanish?”

“Nope, but we can copy the illustrations in the manual. We’ll need to get branches from a pine tree.” Alice ducked back into the passageway and emerged with our survival saw a few minutes later.

We set off together to explore the nearest stand of evergreens about a quarter mile to our left. The human body is a remarkable machine, but it’s a lousy snowplow.

I was utterly exhausted by the time we reached the tree stand. I had never been ‘athletic’ as a youth, and my physical stamina hadn’t improved with age. Alice, on the other hand, looked like she was ready to do a twenty-mile hike. I grimaced; nobody should be so fucking perky after slogging through waist deep snow.

We cut or collected enough pine branches, garlands, and barrows to decorate the Sistine Chapel after about 30 minutes of labor.

We knitted the load together using para-cord and dragged our evergreen sled across the snowy valley instead of carrying our load of greenery back to our shelter.

We spent a few minutes scooping out a semi-sheltered work area; a depression surrounded by piles of snow to block most of the wind upon arrival.

We had plenty of green pine fuel. We got our hobo stove started and burning in short order and melted snow for drinking water. Our all purpose chamber pot came in handy, and the steam was an excellent hand warmer.

Alice’s attempt to build a replica of the snowshoes pictured in the Spanish survival manual was a perfect copy of the illustration.

“Viola!” she triumphantly held her completed set of Spanish snowshoes aloft for me to view and admire.

“It was too easy,” she laughed as her smile shifted from grin to gloat.

“Nice,” I mumbled, too embarrassed to speak. I knew in my gut that I was never going to hear the end of this one.

I had become a legend at the age of five as the only kid in my home town to ever flunk kindergarten Arts and Crafts.

Alice decided to strut her stuff for the hell of it and started tromping across the top of the snow in her snowshoes. ‘Pride goeth before fall.’ Her footwear fell apart no more than five steps into her victory march. She practically vanished from view as she sank to her neck in powdery snow. The devil lives in the details in the snowshoe business.

We played woodland cobbler and tried to make a working pair of snowshoes for the next several hours. Alice’s creations were things of beauty. Although my efforts were less than stylish, they had one thing in common with my partner’s design. Neither one of them worked worth a damn.

The one thing we didn’t count on in our fight against frostbite and hypothermia was getting sunburned. A UV barbecue is exactly what we got. Our faces looked like supermarket tomatoes, i.e., red, juicy, and overpriced, after four hours in the bright sunshine in the thin mountain air.

“The cupboard is bare, and we’ve officially run out of food,” Alice licked her fingers and stared forlornly at the empty MRE packages at our feet.

“Correction; we’ve run out of prepared food. We still have a pantry full of legless protein awaiting our culinary expertise,” I waved my arm at the sleeping snakes in the darkness beyond our tent.

“Yuck! Do you even know how to cook rattlesnake?” Alice’s body shivered in disgust.

“Easy as pie. Cut strips of meat, grill ’em, and they’re done when they start to burn,” I grinned as I fished around trying to find our weed stash.

“Time for dessert. Our sunburns are an as good excuse as any to explore the medicinal benefits of Liberty Mountain’s legally homegrown marijuana.” I lit my glass pipe, took a toke, and passed it to Alice.

Wow. We were smoking weed with attitude. We were as stoned as the faces carved on Mount Rushmore after three or four hits from our pipe.

We undressed for bed as our cannabis high wrapped us in a calm and relaxing fog. Alice stripped down to her birthday suit and climbed into the sleeping bag. I shed all my clothing except for my jockey shorts and t-shirt and quickly joined her under the covers.

We snuggled together like two spoons in the kitchen drawer. While I was content to drift off to sleep, Alice had other ideas.

She caressed the side of my face with her fingers and slid her hand down my chest in a southward journey.

Alice gave a contented sigh and snuggled closer to me. She nuzzled her head on my chest. She ever so carefully slid her hand under the waistband of my shorts and explored the contours of my growing erection.

“Does this guy have a name?” Alice tenderly squeezed my penis and held it between her thumb and forefinger as she began to gently stroke it.

Damn! Some treacherous male had revealed one of manhood’s most closely guarded secrets in a moment of weakness; we gave pet names to our junk.

My appendage answered to the name of Harvey (as in Harvey the Hardon).

“Let’s see if Harvey wants to come out and play.” Alice used both hands to slide my shorts down to my knees.

Freed from his fabric prison, Harvey joyfully sprang into the air, nearly poking Alice in the face.

Turning her head to face me, Alice leaned into me and kissed the end of my nose.

“Do you like this?” she stared into my eyes as her fingers stroked my shaft. Her gaze was as intense as the sensation of her fingers playing with the head of my dick. Turn out lights

“Oh, God, yes!” I let out a low groan as my hips moved in time with her touch.

I closed my eyes in pleasure. Alice wrapped her lips around the head of my prick before I could open them again. My body jolted in surprise and joy when she explored my pee-hole with the tip of her tongue.

She wrapped her lips around the base of my penis with a long, slow slurp, and slowly lifted her head and let my cock slide out of her mouth. Her tongue did a butterfly dance as it did,

Alice rose to her knees as I writhed in pleasure, and straddled my body before scooting forward. She lowered herself over my mouth when she had positioned my face was between her legs and pressed the wet lips of her pussy against mine.

I let out a muffled ‘Oomph,’ only to hear Alice giggling, “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Pick a number between sixty-eight and seventy,” she said as she turned around, settled her pussy against my lips, and leaned forward to take my cock into her mouth. She was so wet that I could hardly breathe. I licked all her juices up in self-defense as I tried to catch my breath. I would be damned if I was going to be the poor guy who drowned while making love in the mountains.

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Parent Post: The Secrets of Liberty Mountain – Author: Nathan Wolf

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