The churning and merging is so vigorous that surrounding objects tremble with the movements, and so wet that a continuous sloshing sound is noticeable above the din of heavy breathing, rhythmic throbbing intonations and voices that betray heightened excitement and arousal. With pressure rapidly building and heat rising, the white frothy liquid reaches a point where it must burst from its dark enclosure. The bright juice sparkles in the sunlight as it is spewed, in copious amounts, into the air in repeated spurts from its chamber. Participants moan and shout in soaring states of exhilaration and ecstasy, each a witness to the eruption of a geyser in Yellowstone National Park.
Since Yellowstone contains anywhere from a third to a half of the world’s geysers, the luminous, foamy eruptions in the park are many and varied. They differ in size, duration, frequency, intensity and other respects. Some erupt in bursts in different directions like fountains, while others spurt into the air streaming in one particular direction. Eruptions last for many hours or are done in a couple minutes, occur many times a day or once in a great while, and are loud or hardly noticeable, purring or groaning softly as they spew. Each variation may be spectacular to some and commonplace to others, depending on the circumstances and mood of those partaking in the action. The most massive, extensive, prolonged and beautiful among them tend to attract the most people and bring the greatest pleasure when they burst and spew.
All the frothy white eruptions in the park are not, of course, solely from geysers.
As a divorced and single park ranger stationed throughout the year at remote, isolated and sparsely populated Lake Village, there are days during the winter that I do not see another person. During the colder months travel in the interior of Yellowstone, including Lake Village, is restricted to over-snow vehicles such as snowmobiles or coaches. The few visitors that do come to Lake Village in the winter, around 40 people on average per day, only stay for long enough to finish their lunches or warm themselves by the warming hut stove. There are no overnight accommodations at Lake Village from mid October to mid May, save for the handful of heated ranger residences such as my own. Storms, drifting snow, subzero temperatures, unmaintained roads, grumpy buffalo or grizzly bears emerging early from hibernation, or other bad driving conditions often shut down one or more of the three routes leading to Lake Village. This means no one visits, or leaves, for perhaps days.
However, I did not become a park ranger for a dislike of the stillness, isolation, silence or unusual phenomena that often accompany the job. I, like the wolves that prowl nearby, crave such things.
It is my day off and I’m eager to take advantage of it by cross-country skiing on the Howard Eaton trail. The trailhead is a mile distant, just past Fishing Bridge Junction. The trail leads through the pine and fir wilderness along the Yellowstone River. Just a few steps into the wilderness is all it takes to enter a portal to a vibrant, entrancing and beautiful world.
As the sun rises the temperature isn’t far above zero degrees Fahrenheit, yet at 7,900 feet in elevation the temperature varies more than at sea level and the high should approach a balmy 28 degrees today.
Announcing their arrival with mysterious and surreal trumpeting calls that reverberate over the otherwise silent, still and snow-coated landscape, swans float above the pine and fir forest to a dark patch of open water on the mostly frozen Yellowstone River, where they join other swans. The soft light of the sun, low on the horizon and partially veiled by a thin layer of clouds, illuminates the river ice which glows like a river of aquamarine. With the ethereal trumpeting of swans, ice that sparkles and glows like gemstones in the sunlight, the hypnotic, swirling movement of drifting snow and the comforting stillness and silence, I feel extremely awake, powerful and alive. I wonder what took me so long to venture into the snow-covered forest and splendor of the winter Yellowstone wilderness.
At the beginning of the trail I find a single set of cross-country ski tracks that are slender and close together. The tracks must have been made by a shorter and lighter person, most likely an adult female. Since there was snowfall last night, the tracks were definitely made this day.
Looking further down the trail I spot, beneath a grove of snow-covered subalpine firs, law enf***ement ranger Anya Johansson waving to me. I catch up to her and soon we continue along the trail together, with Anya leading the way.
Anya is not a typical law enf***ement ranger. She is still very feminine. At 33 years she has shoulder length blond hair, full pink lips, bright emerald eyes and a stunningly beautiful face and body. Her best feature is her thighs, which are shapely, curvy, athletic and flexible like a dancer’s. I’d do just about anything to be between her bare thighs, holding her slender back and seductive hourglass form as I slide my considerable cock repeatedly in her wet pussy.
Anya, like me, loves the outdoors. This shared love helped bring us together on the Howard Eaton trail today.
However another shared love, fastidiousness and fussiness in selecting mates, hinders us from coming even closer together. We both are recovering from fractured relationships and are hesitant to become involved with each other or anyone else.
In this village with a dozen residents one notices if others are keeping a new flame, beau or mistress of any sort. No strange vehicles, sightings or footsteps have shown up in front of either my home or Anya’s. We haven’t had sex for months.
Both Anya and I are showing signs that we are about to break from our self-imposed regimens of chastity.
Just the other day Anya stopped by the warming hut where I am stationed. At the time I was alone splitting wood. Anya and I talked for half an hour about mundane things before she, without looking into my eyes, casually and indirectly mentioned she wasn’t seeing anyone. Shy and particular as I am, I often need such hints to ask a woman out. I prefer to see signs that a woman is attracted to me before I take things a step further.
Anya and I agreed to go skiing together, though we didn’t set a specific date as I should have insisted upon. It is fortunate that we happened upon each other on the Howard Eaton trail today, otherwise we might not have seen each other, as comfortable as I am with my lone wolf ways.
With Anya appearing in the warming hut and mentioning that she wasn’t dating anyone, there was one sign that she was attracted to me, yet how does she feel about sex? Is she chaste and asexual as Christine O’Donnell claims to be? An answer to this question came soon after Anya’s solo visit to me at the warming hut.
The other night at a co-worker’s party Anya brought up the subject of Erin the sex-starved interpretive ranger from last summer. Erin, a young and insecure blond Texan with a beautiful bubble ass, carried on with a revolving door of men. Erin wasn’t comfortable without a man desiring her and yet she was equally uncomfortable with the same man wanting her. Intriguing strange men, young and old, who caught her fancy, became an alternative wardrobe that she assiduously and continually assembled and used to give her pleasure, adorn her image, maintain her sense of well-being and discard as she pleased.
When Anya spoke of Erin at a party daring to have sex in a shower at someone else’s house, I detected a certain level of envy within Anya’s scorn. Anya dwelled on the subject of Erin being in the shower and there was a sense of longing and passion in Anya’s voice that was something other than negative and condemning. Sensing that Anya needed a cock badly, my own bulged expectantly in my pants and strained at the seams that kept it hidden and in the dark.
If we are ever alone together and Anya speaks of sex like she did regarding Erin, and she smiles at me slyly or gives me a similar welcoming sign, I swear I will turn her around, shove her pants and panties to her knees, clench her slender back and round ass, and fuck her like a wild man.
Fantasizing about Anya’s bare and spread thighs, dark muff sliding on my wet shaft, moaning and urging me to cum, ample breasts moving in rhythm with my thrusts, my soaked balls repeatedly kissing her engorged wet snatch, and the thick pink lips of her mouth wide open while she cums, I stroke my lengthy cock at night and spray cum on my bed sheets.
This afternoon as we ski together on the Howard Eaton trail I watch those same curvy thighs that I so often fantasize about, though now covered by dark blue tights, working their way up hills and gliding across the frozen landscape of Yellowstone National Park. Entranced with her hourglass shaped back and round bubble ass, I concentrate on the best way for our conversations to turn to talk of sex. Then our words might more easily lead to action on the same subject.
Anya skis virtually every day in the winter and bikes as often in the summer, so it is a good workout to keep up with her. As we remove outer layers of quick drying and lightweight clothing, we deposit them in our sleek little packs stuffed with food, drink and extra gear. Anya is down to virtually tights alone and I longingly admire her hourglass form.
Crystals of snow on the ground sparkle in the sunlight and flash a rainbow of colors. Snow melting in the tree tops creates the sound like summer rainfall. Clouds change form and drift like ghosts in the sapphire sky.
Skiing from a bright and open area to the dense and shadowy forest, Anya and I glide through surreal, peculiar and divergent environments. Strange though it may seem, the trees in the shadows are brighter than the trees in the sun, for the shadow trees are clothed in bright white snow while those in the warm sunlight have lost their bright coats as the snow melts. Skiing from the sunlight to the shadows Anya and I move through contrasting worlds much like in a M.C. Escher print. Emerging from the sable forest and into the sunlight, Anya and I must shield our eyes for the bright ground beneath us that reflects the sunbeams rather than absorbing them.
The opportunity to move our conversation to the topic of sex, came to me not from any devised strategy, but from the sky. It was in the form of two eagles.
An eagle pair floated together in the wind. The wind lifted them effortlessly in the sky. Slowly and gently they turned in circles, running with the wind for a time and then, as they turned their wings slightly, climbing again.
Anya and I paused by a snowless patch of dry meadow grass to watch the eagles.
It is February, mating season for eagles.
I inch closer to Anya, slightly behind her, so that we are almost touching. Each of us is mesmerized by the flight of the eagle pair. Together we watch the pair until they float past the ridge of trees on the horizon. I rest my hand on Anya’s shoulder and she smiles slightly but doesn’t look at me. I think she understands what the eagles are up to and what we are on the verge of.
I begin to massage her shoulders. She sighs with pleasure. As my lips approach her bare neck I deepen the massage and watch her breasts heaving with her deep breaths.
“Those eagles have it right coming together in the winter” I whisper in her ear “keeping each other warm.”
I move my hands down her back, massaging as I go.
“Everyone needs that” I whisper as her lips rise to meet mine.
We kiss and I run my hands around her slender waist and thighs. My bulging cock strains at the seams of my pants. Anya moans and purrs as I fondle her thighs and ass cheeks.
I rub my hands together to warm them up and drop them in Anya’s waistband, slowly working their way to her pussy. She flinches at the cold at first, yet allows me to double finger her wet pussy. I kiss her and press against her with my erection. Her warmth as well as the sensation of touching her, has my cock fully erect, moist with pre-cum and aching to be in her. I stroke her pussy, kiss her repeatedly and tell her I want her. She fidgets and moans with my touch.
With our skis still attached we make our way awkwardly towards the open grass, which is brown yet warm and dry, releasing our skis and dropping our packs, gear and poles as we go.
In the patch of sun-warmed grass we kiss face to face, I grip her ass and she shoves my pants and briefs down far enough for my massive bulging cock to emerge fully into the sunlight.
“You want my pussy don’t you?!” she teases. She smiles slyly as she begins to stroke my cock. I wince at the cold sensation, yet it passes quickly as she vigorously strokes me and my warm pre-cum coats her hand.
“You want it don’t you?” Anya continues, jerking my gigantic cock all the while, “you want my pussy don’t you?!”
“Give it to me” I plead “I need your pussy Anya, give it to me, give me your pussy!”
“OK, but first I’m going to suck you.”
Anya drops to a squat, grabs the lower part of my shaft, looks at me with her emerald eyes and wraps her lips around my purple head, gradually taking my full length into her mouth and throat. She thrusts my enormous wet pole back and forth in her warm and soft lips. I groan and sigh.
“I need your pussy Anya!”
She stands and I tug at her tights and black panties, pulling them down to her knees. Her dark bush stands out from her bright white thighs. She turns around, I grip her curvy thighs and step behind her bare ass, now turned pink by the cold. My wet, massive erect cock touches her warm thighs as I, with one foot, push her partially removed tights and panties to her boots.
Still standing, Anya fingers her pussy and moans as I reach my arms around her and draw down her top and bra so her breasts and nipples peek out. She turns her head sideways as we kiss. I hold her partially nude body against my own and position my wet cock near her muff as she continues to play with herself. I join in her play and encourage her.
When Anya is breathing heavily, twitching on and pawing at my shaft, she bends forward and directs my purple head into her warm, wet muff. As I slide my entire length into her up to my ballsack, I hold her pink ass and slender back. Her blond hair swishes on her bare shoulders as I repeatedly glide my cock inside her.
In a setting so peaceful that we hear the sound of the wind moving over the forest canopy, the rustling branches and even the wing-beats of birds as they rise, I listen to Anya’s sweet sighs, her moans and the slapping of our thighs as my gigantic wet cock repeatedly plunges into her warm and drenched snatch. Her bare thighs and pink ass cheeks jiggle with each thrust of my enormous cock.
My entire cock is immersed in our combined pre-cum as I hold her round red ass and fuck her furiously. She begins to vocalize her pleasure, louder and quicker in tempo with each stroke from my gigantic wet cock.
“oh, oh, oh!”
I watch my purple shaft disappear in her pussy lips up to my jiggling balls and feel her pussy throb.
“OH, OH, OH, OH!”
I tightly clench her waist and a vibrating red ass cheek, immerse my cock as deeply as I can into her soft, wet warmth, and hold her muff on me as she squirms in ecstasy.
My cock erupts in bursts of cum in her throbbing pussy. I hold her pussy tight upon me as we release our built up cum and angst, and my cock pulses in her muff.
Anya is still bent over with my cock inside her creamed pussy as I help support her with one arm, and with the other run my hands through her light hair and massage her bare skin. We slowly collapse in the dry grass, first on our knees and then our sides, her pussy wrapped around my cock.
Clouds change shape as they drift with the wind and appear light and dark in the alternating sunlight. A pair of eagles circles and rises on the edge of the horizon.