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From: poisoniv1@hotmail.com (Poison Ivan)
Subject: Climbing (MF)
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-----------------------------------------------------------
Copyright 1998 by Poison Ivan. Copies may be made and
posted for personal enjoyment, but all commercial rights
are reserved.
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Climbing
By Poison Ivan
The sun peaked up over the top of the ridge as we walked along
the bottom of the big granite wall. The sky was cold and blue,
and my breath condensed in soft white clouds. It was still cold,
but with the sun was up, the day would quickly grow hot.
The granite wall was enormous, a gray slab towering straight
up. I had to bend backwards to see the top. At the start of the
climb, a thin crack in the face slanted up and to the right.
White chalk left by old climbers outlined the crack like a scar.
I ran my hand across the hard, rough rock.
I cinched my harness tight around my waist and checked my
protection rack. My collection of wedges, hexes and camlocks
jangled on their web loop.
The route would be two pitches to the top, with a belay point
on a big ledge halfway up.
"Ready?" I asked.
She began to uncoil the rope. "O.K." she said.
***
The first time I saw her, she was naked. It was in the gray
dim light just before dawn and I made a trip down to the river to
fill my water bottles. I followed the dusty path down through
the rocks and low brush. Birds in the fir trees chirped like
maniacs.
I came around a bend in the trail and there she was, facing
away from me, standing knee deep in the river. She stood out at
the edge of the heavy current, and the fast-moving water swirled
and sucked around her legs. She stood firmly, looking upstream.
Her light blonde hair was cropped evenly at shoulder length. Her
bare butt was clinched defiantly.
But it was not her nakedness that struck me hardest. It was
not unusual to see naked people in the river. A few hundred feet
upstream was "The Tub," a deep, still pool where long-term
campers often bathed, usually _au naturel_.
Instead, what struck me hardest was her bare back. The
triangular shape of her upper body. Her muscular shoulders and V-
shaped torso. She _looked_ like a climber.
I think I stood and watched for a few moments. I couldn't
figure out what she was doing. Could she be trying to ford the
river? But the current was too deep and fast, she would never
make it across. Could she be bathing? But The Tub was a much
superior place to get cleaned up.
She turned her head and I think she saw me. But she did not
make another move. She did not even confirm my presence. She
simply turned her gaze back upstream.
I turned around and went back to my campsite.
***
The "climbing rope" is misnamed. A climber always climbs
rock; he never climbs the rope itself. The rope serves as
emergency protection, a guard against falling. The only time the
rope is ever used is to stop disaster.
It is the lead climber's responsibility to anchor the rope
during the climb up. He does this by periodically wedging
various pieces of protection into cracks in the rock, and
attaching the rope through carabiners and webbing.
The lead's partner, the belayer, sits on the ground with the
other end of the rope. If the lead climber falls, the belayer
must hold the rope fast. A belayer must be vigilant. An
unprepared belayer may have the rope yanked suddenly out of her
hands.
It was my job to lead. It was her responsibility to catch me
in case of a fall.
Our roles set, we prepared to climb.
I tied the rope into my harness while she tied a belay line
around the thick stump of an old pine. She worked her knots
quickly and easily.
She sat down on the ground and wrapped the blue braided
climbing rope around her hips. The loose coils of rope lay near
her left hand, the brake hand. Her other hand, the feeling hand,
held the rope that came to me. She placed her dusty climbing
shoes up against two big rocks on the ground, bracing herself.
She pulled up the slack in the rope until it tugged at my hips.
I coated my hands with chalk from the nylon bag tied to my
waist.
"On belay?" I said, a mere formality. She was ready.
She looked me dead in the eye. "Belay on," she answered.
"Climbing," I said, and I put my foot up on the rock.
"Climb," she answered.
***
The next time I saw her was at the Safeway in town. I was
buying food for the next few days and I saw her from behind,
walking down an aisle. She wore cut-off shorts and a white
ribbed tank top. I would recognize her shoulders anywhere.
After I bought my food, she was standing outside the store
with a plastic grocery bag dangling from each hand.
"Hello," I said.
She looked at me and nodded. Her eyes were steely and her
face was deeply tanned. Her lips looked a little chapped. Her
white top clung tightly to her tits, and her nipple points were
clearly visible.
"I think I saw you the other day, down in the stream," I said.
"Uh huh."
"Are you staying in the campground?"
"Yes."
"How long are you here for?"
She shrugged. "Until we get tired of being here. I guess."
I didn't know what else to say, and I was about to turn to
leave, when she spoke up. "Do you have a car?" she asked.
"Back at the campground."
"Not here?"
"No. I rode my bicycle."
"Too bad," she said. "I could use a ride."
I looked her in the eye, and a faint smile touched her lips.
"Then how did you get here?" I asked.
She stuck up her thumb and waved it. "Hitched."
I stuffed my groceries in my bicycle panniers. I rolled my
bicycle over and stood at its side. "Do you climb?" I asked.
She nodded. "Some. But nothing hard."
"Maybe we could climb sometime."
"Sure." She shifted both grocery bags into one hand. She
glanced off towards the road. "Well, I need to find a ride. I
got to get going."
"O.K. See you."
I got up on my bike and peddled back towards camp.
***
The first few moves up the rock were easy, simple finger jams,
easy foot placements, and up the crack I went. I paused at a
nice finger-wide ledge, placed a hex nut into the crack, and
clipped the rope in. A good, bomb-proof placement for
protection. This piece would hold a hard fall. I looked down.
Her face was pure concentration, the rope securely held around
her hips.
I looked up. The crack dwindled off to the right. Straight
up, it looked like there was a big handhold. I tried to remember
what I had read about the route. There should be a permanent
bolt somewhere up there where things began to look impossible.
I twisted my hand into the crack, felt the security of rough
granite against my fingers, brought my feet up, got tension in my
legs, and pressed upwards.
***
I looked for her down at the stream every morning. But for a
whole week, she was never there. I thought she had gone back to
wherever she had come from.
My climbing partner then left to go back to work, and I was on
my own. My first day alone I walked through the campground and
found one other person without a climbing partner, but he was not
interested in climbing that day. So I practiced on the boulders
around the campground and checked over my ropes and equipment.
Mid-afternoon came and it got hot. Black biting flies buzzed
all around, a real nuisance. It was uncomfortably hot and there
was no one to be seen. I decided to go to the river to cool off.
And there she was again, standing in the river, water flowing
around her knees. And again, she was stark naked.
For a moment, I considered turning to leave. But I didn't
want to leave. I wanted to stare for a moment. I wanted to look
at her nakedness, her tanned, sinewy body, her pert breasts with
big dark nipples, the voluptuous curve of her muscular hip. Her
rounded shoulders and shapely thighs.
But I also didn't want to spy. If I was intruding on a
private moment, she had the right to know. Saying something
would be the polite thing to do. I walked up closer to the
stream. The water roared. "Hello," I called out.
She turned to look at me. She stumbled a little in the swift
current but caught herself. Water splashed up to her thighs.
Her whole body was deeply tanned; she obviously sunbathed nude.
She had thick, blonde pubic hair. She made no effort at all to
cover up.
"What is it?" she yelled over the roar of the water. I could
barely hear her over the roar of the river.
"Nothing."
"What?" She cupped her hand to her ear.
"Nothing!"
"I can't hear you!"
"I said `Nothing!'"
She scrambled towards the bank. I was embarrassed. A naked
woman was fighting her way through the big rocks in the streambed
for the stupidest possible reason: because I didn't want her to
think I was spying on her. I wanted to just turn and leave her
alone, but now that she was making the effort to get out of the
river, I had to stay. I shifted my weight from side to side.
She got within a few yards and was close enough to hear me.
"What did you say?" she said.
"Nothing. I'm sorry. I just wanted to say hello."
"Oh." She ran her fingers back through her hair. Her
pectoral muscle flexed, and my gaze was drawn to her naked
breast. I wished she had some clothes on.
I was so uncomfortable I wanted to run away. But now that she
had made the effort, I had to say something. "What were you
doing out there?" I asked.
She shrugged. "Nothing."
"I was just going to cool off in The Tub."
"Oh. O.K." She looked back out into the roaring river.
I fidgeted. I had to get out of there. "See you," I said.
"Bye," she said.
And I turned away. Turning away was a relief. I didn't like
standing there talking to her while she was naked. It would be
easier to get in The Tub, wash off, and soak in the cold water.
And maybe think about climbing.
***
The rock was not completely vertical, there were frequent
dents and bumps, so the climb upwards went easily. I built up
some momentum, I was soon holding onto a knob I had seen from
below. There was a good crack there, I placed a big wedge,
another solid piece of protection.
I looked ahead. Two parallel cracks ran up towards a
permanent bolt that had been drilled into the rock. The bolt
marked the start of the most difficult part of the climb. My
route book described that section above the bolt as "awkward."
Other climbers had called it "a bastard."
I pinched my fingers and toes into the two vertical cracks and
shimmied up towards the bolt.
***
I stripped naked and lowered myself down into the cool river
water. The initial contact with the water was shocking, and it
tightened my skin. But I slowly grew accustomed. It felt good
to be out of the heat.
I gave myself a soap-less wash, using my flat hands to rub the
grime and dust that had built up on my skin. Afterwards, my skin
felt cool, clean and responsive.
I soaked shoulder-deep and felt good for a few moments. I
tried to steal a peek downstream, but I could not see her, an
accumulation of stones blocked my line of sight. Which was just
as well. I closed my eyes and relaxed and thought about nothing.
I concentrated on my heartbeat, the sound of it, the slow
thumping. I thought I might even doze off but I heard the
scramble of feet on rocks. I opened my eyes and she was standing
there on the rocky bank. My view gave me an angle up between her
legs, at the wild tangle of white-blonde pubic hair, and an
exciting glimpse of a fold of skin there.
"Can I join you?" she asked.
I took a nervous breath and sat up straight. "Sure."
She stepped down into the water. Like a sex-starved teenager,
I peeked at her bare breasts with their stiff nipples. She sunk
down slowly until her chin touched the water. She blew air out
and the surface of the water rippled under her breath.
She settled back against the bank and closed her eyes. She
let out a long, easy sigh.
If the water had not been cold, I'm sure I would have had an
erection.
When I get nervous, I have a tendency to babble. I could not
stop myself from saying something. "Are you here with someone?"
I asked.
She opened her eyes and looked at me. Her eyes were light
gray and her pupils were tiny. "Yes. My boyfriend."
"Is he a climber too?"
"Yes."
"How come you aren't climbing with him?"
She shrugged. "He has his buddies. They're stronger climbers
than I am."
"Then what do you do all day?"
She didn't say anything.
"How hard of a climb can you do?"
She shrugged again. "I'm good with my feet. But the climbs
here, they take too much upper body strength." She raised her
arm up out of the water, and the muscle of her shoulder tensed.
***
The tips of my fingers found a tiny crack, the rough rock tore
at my calluses, my arms throbbed, and I could not find a spot for
my foot. Everything I put down on, I slipped off. It was not
working, so I stepped around, rearranged myself until I had both
feet securely against the rock, but then I was pointed in the
wrong direction, and my arms really ached and I my thumb and
forefinger were scratched to bleeding. And then there was
nowhere obvious to go. I had maneuvered my way into a bind.
I could try to drop back and regroup, but I didn't know if my
arms would hold up. I could see a tiny horizontal crack straight
up from me, but I couldn't judge its size from below. And it was
a long lunge. And I had no recent protection placed, and nowhere
to put any now. I had clipped into the permanent bolt below, but
that was a long way down.
If I fell, how far would I go before the bolt caught me? And
was she strong enough to hold a hard fall?
I didn't see anywhere else to go. My leg began to bounce up
and down like a sewing machine. I couldn't hold the position
much longer.
I made up my mind to go for it. I didn't even weigh the risk
completely, and before I knew it, I drove myself upwards as hard
as I could, a full leap. There was a moment where I felt sus
pended in air, no pressure on my hands or feet, and I was unsure
of whether I was rising or falling. And when my fingertips found
the crack, I felt that wonderful surge of excitement in my chest.
I grabbed with my fingers and tapped every bit of strength I had
and clawed into the rock.
I swung side to side for a second, dragging my toes against
the rock, until I finally settled motionless, hanging by three
fingers on each hand. My forearms felt stiff, but I was out of
immediate trouble. The crack was bigger and deeper than it had
looked from below, nearly an inch of space to hold. I got a good
hold with one hand, rechalked and got a good secure grip.
I pulled myself up and got my toes into the crack. My heart
pounded in my ears. My whole body trembled.
***
"I think I do O.K. in a lot of climbing places. Especially
ones that aren't so popular. And I've done a lot of
mountaineering and glacier travel. But I haven't done much
technical rock climbing. I'm kind of new to this."
"I would think you would do well."
"I hate this place. All the silly overhangs. It's all a test
of upper body strength. You don't need technique. You need raw
muscle strength."
It was true. Many of the climbs were famous for their
overhang moves.
She slipped down into the water until her head was completely
submerged. And then up she came, and she wiped her hands across
her face, flicking the water away and slicking her hair back. I
couldn't help but notice the contraction of her biceps and her
deltoids. And the flex of her pectorals, and then I caught
myself staring at her breasts through the water.
***
I made it the rest of the way to the big ledge without
incident. There were two permanent bolts at the ledge, placed
for belayers to clip in. I dropped my protection rack, tied
myself through the bolts and sat down. Now it was her turn to
climb. From the ledge I could see most of the route below, so I
would get to watch her. I pulled up the slack in the rope.
Her high voice filtered up. "On belay!"
"Belay on!" I yelled back. I set myself to handle the rope.
"Climbing!" she yelled.
"Climb!"
***
I shook out of my staring stupor. I caught her eye, and she
smiled at me. Was she flirting? I am sure I blushed.
The urge to say something overtook me. "Why don't you come
climbing with me?" I said. "My climbing partner is gone, I could
use another partner."
"I've never done a lead. Don't you want to climb with someone
who you can split the leads with?"
"You don't know how to place protection?"
"I've never done it before."
"That's O.K. I can do all the leads."
"And I can't do hard climbs."
"I'm sure you can do _some_ hard climbs."
"I don't want to slow you down."
"If you don't climb with me, I'll just have to go bouldering
around the campsite."
"I could go bouldering with you."
"Wouldn't you rather do some real climbs?"
"I know the boulders around here pretty well." She suddenly
stood up and got out of the water. Again, I was aware of her
nakedness and I blushed. "Come on," she said, "I'll show you
something."
I hesitated. She stood at the bank and looked down at me.
Her tanned body dripped cool river water. I did not have an
erection, but I was afraid I might get one. I took a deep breath
and stood up.
She grabbed our towels and took off downstream. She hopped
from rock to rock, her arms out for balance, a towel dangling
from each hand, her bare butt flexing.
She was lovely. I took another deep breath. There was no one
else around. I left my clothes behind and took off after her.
***
She climbed like a dancer, limberly and with rhythm, using her
legs and feet to get out of trouble. She could raise her foot to
shoulder height and still get leverage to push up. At the most
difficult point, the part where I struggled hardest, she found a
foothold I had not seen, and made the finger ledge in two
separate moves.
She moved evenly upwards, pausing only to remove the
protection. When she reached the ledge, she was winded and her
shoulders and thighs bulged.
"That was great," I said.
She sucked in air. "Thanks."
"I didn't see that foothold down there."
"Uh huh."
"Do you want to rest for a minute?"
"Yeah."
The ledge at the halfway point was big enough for several
people to lie down on. We drank water and ate bananas. We
rested in direct morning sun and it was already getting hot.
The second pitch was supposed to be easier. There was a
spectacular overhang near the top with a shoulder-width crack
through it. I scouted the route while she rested.
I figured out the approximate path to take, and just as I
turned back to face her, she pulled her shirt up over her head.
Underneath she was naked. Her whole upper body was wet with
sweat. She used her shirt to mop her face and chest.
"You're not very shy, are you?" I said.
"Hmm," she grinned. "Do you mind?"
"Oh, no!"
"I didn't think so." She looked down at her own breasts, and
wiped her shirt across them. "I'm not uptight about it. I don't
have the kind of tits men ogle."
***
We walked downstream until we reached a big boulder. The
boulder was about ten feet high with a nice crack running up one
face. It was a nice example of a layback move, an elementary
technique, but one beginners have a hard time with.
I had never seen this boulder before. I never occurred to me
to look for bouldering exercises down by the river. The crack
was not coated with the usual accumulation of climber chalk, so I
was not the only one who did not know of its existence.
"Spot me," she said.
She hooked her fingers into the crack and stepped her bare
feet up on the vertical surface of the rock. In a layback, you
use your legs to push your body _away_ from the rock, and you use
your arms to counter-balance the outward force. When done right,
the inward force from your arms exactly matches the outward force
from your legs.
I stood under her, looking up at her bare back and bottom, and
she quickly scooted right on up the crack to the top. Her
technique was flawless.
"Throw me the towels."
I tossed up the towels and clawed my way into the crack. It
was a nice exercise, but I felt funny doing it naked. I had
never tried to climb barefoot before, and my penis felt awkward
swinging freely between my legs. Still, it took only a few
seconds to join her on top.
The rock was flat on top, with enough room to lie down. She
had the towels spread out. She sat with her legs curled under
her, her hip thrust to the side. Her skin was already dry, and
sweat already beaded on her forehead and cheeks. She patted the
towel. "Lie down with me."
We lay down on our bellies, side by side. The hot sun beat
down on my back and my thighs and my butt. We turned our heads
so we could look at each other. She was very close. She smiled.
"You're good," I said. "Go climbing with me tomorrow."
"But I'm not very strong."
"You're strong enough," I said.
"I try. I workout. There's a place down the street from my
job that has a climbing wall."
"You could do most of the climbs around here."
"I do six pull-ups and I'm exhausted. And my neck aches for a
week afterwards."
"I think you can do it."
"Easy for you to say. Look at your lats." She rolled on her
side and grabbed the thick muscle on at my side with both hands.
I nearly jumped out of my skin. "Twice as big as mine."
She let go of my side, but my heart raced from her brief
touch. It had not been a shy touch. I thought it might mean
something, that maybe she would let me fuck her. I searched her
face for a meaning. Her eyes darted.
I almost forgot I was trying to convince her to go climbing
with me. I needed to continue the argument. She had said
something about the merits of muscle size. "But you weigh less,"
I said, "you don't need to be as strong."
She harumphed. "So how many pull-ups can you do? Twenty?
Thirty?"
"There is a lot more to climbing than pull-ups."
"Tell me about it. That's why I don't like this area. It's
like a giant chin-up bar."
"Why on Earth would you practice and workout and then not go
climbing?"
She sat silently, her forehead furrowed.
"If you get in trouble, you could just rappel down."
She didn't say anything.
"Come on. I need a partner."
She didn't say anything.
"You can belay, can't you?"
"O.K.," she said, slowly. "I'll climb with you."
***
I got ready to lead the second pitch. She put her shirt back
on and got herself into a good belay position. My hands were
dry, my arms and legs felt strong. She checked over the rope one
last time.
***
"You never told me what you do all day."
"Mostly I go bouldering and I hike all the trails. And I like
to lie in the sun."
"By yourself?"
"I don't mind being by myself."
"Why don't you go with your boyfriend? You should be out
climbing."
"He gets mad at me if I can't do something. It's just a lot
easier if he goes with people who are as good as he is."
"Is that why you came here? To wander around the campground
by yourself?"
"Oh," she groaned, "I don't know why I came here. Look," she
said forcefully, "let's not talk about my boyfriend."
***
The second pitch was easy. The rock was near vertical, but
there were big horizontal cracks and shelves at convenient
intervals. It was series of reaches and pull-ups and mantel
moves. I got a good pump going in my arms and shoulders and
back.
***
She curled up into a sitting position at my side. "Give me
your hand."
I felt nervous. I rolled up to face her, my penis, now
exposed, hung down across the top of my thigh, and I gave her my
right hand. She held it in both hands, close to her face. She
studied my hand closely, flipping it over once, then back. She
ran her fingers along my thick calluses. Her fingernails were
trimmed neat and short. "You climb a lot," she said.
"During the winter," I said. "I work all summer."
She rubbed the heel of my hand with her thumbs, then she
kissed my palm. My cock began to stiffen, and I shifted
uneasily. She noticed. "Don't be ashamed," she said. "It's a
natural body function."
I breathed deeply and she traced the outlines of my fingers.
My cock hardened.
She looked me in the eye and drew my hand to her sternum.
"Touch me," she whispered.
***
When I got to the overhang, I felt good and strong, so I
decided to try something showy. The wide chimney up through the
overhang was the obvious path. But this spot on this route was
famous for an easy, but spectacular move. There was a big hand-
sized hole on the top side of the overhang, one you could grab
and hold forever if you wanted to. The trick was to reach around
the lip of the overhang, grab hold, and swing out into open space
until your feet dangled freely. While you hang from one hand,
the spectators ooh and ahh. A simple pull-up and you are past
the overhang.
A crack on the underside was a place to hold onto while I
leaned away from rock. I reached around the lip of the overhang
and fished blindly for the hole. I found it right away, got four
fingers into it. It was as secure a hold as you ever find.
I carefully let loose of the crack with my left hand and swung
out until I hung in mid air. I chalked my free hand, moving
slowly to avoid swinging, and reached up and stuffed both hands
into the hole. It was a simple matter to pull myself over the
edge and back to solid rock.
***
She lay back and closed her eyes. My hand trembled as I
placed it over her face. I was afraid my calluses would be
rough, or that I had lost sensation in my fingertips. So I
touched her as light as I could, the softest possible touches
skimming her forehead, and down, over her closed, twitching
eyelids, down her nose, and across her lips. She swallowed. I
feathered across her lips and they parted, and I felt her breath
on my fingers. My hand traveled down her neck and the muscle in
her neck jerked and tensed, then slowly relaxed.
I felt clumsy. My thick fingers were more attuned to granite
walls than to a woman's body. And so I imagined her body was a
rock, and I slid lightly across her skin, searching out hollows
and bumps and creases. I found comfort in her collarbones,
behind her knees, the upper slope of her breast, the cleft of her
butt. I hooked a finger in her navel and she laughed.
I touched her and I explored her. Sparse wispy white hairs
grew all over her legs. And a small blonde tuft under each arm.
A small round mole on a forearm. Firm muscles in her calves and
thighs. She stank of her briny sweat.
Her thick, crinkled nipples perked up in the branch of my
thumb and forefinger. She groaned and stretched out and my cock
jerked up straight.
***
The top of the overhang was like a platform to stand on. The
climb was practically over. I placed one last piece of
protection and scooted up over the final edge.
I was on top!
***
She lay back and spread her legs and her crotch was all
plastered with wet and hair. She ran her hand up and down the
inside of her thigh and her pussy opened up, showing off the
crimson inside.
I crawled up between her thighs. I ran my hands over the
inside of her legs and she sighed. Her hands landed on my hips,
and she pulled around and grabbed my ass, curling her fingers
into my butt crack. I came up closer and we kissed.
I swiped my hand across her pussy, felt the steamy heat, and
rubbed her until she groaned deep in her throat.
My dragged my hands up over her ribs, she let out a gasp and
her breath quickened. I could feel the deep beat of her heart.
Her eyes glassed over and her tongue slipped out over her lips,
leaving them wet. I kissed her, her mouth opened and our tongues
slithered together. My stiff cock poked her belly. She kneaded
my butt with both hands.
I took hold of my erection and guided it downward. She
reached between her legs and held herself open like a split-open
fruit. I penetrated slowly and she groaned and moved her legs up
and her heels rested on my lower back. Her pussy felt warm and
thick.
***
I could not see her climb the second pitch. The overhang
blocked the view down, and my belay anchor was away from the
edge. I had to handle the rope by feel.
And this time she climbed very slowly.
She was shorter than I was, and she had an obsessive concern
about her arm strength. So the second pitch, while not
technically difficult, would likely be a lot of work for her. I
did not think it would be too hard, though.
But it went slower than I thought. She did not move fluidly,
she stopped frequently, she never got a rhythm going. It was
like she would get to each horizontal crack and stop.
And then there was a long pause. The rope vibrated taut
between my hand and the edge, but there was no motion. I held
for a long time. I listened for any sound but could not hear a
thing.
"Are you O.K.?" I yelled down.
"Yeah," she yelled back.
"Do you need help?"
"No. I just need to rest a little. I'm real tired."
"Do you want to rappel down?"
"I'm fine. Just give me a minute."
After a few more minutes, the rope slackened. She was moving
again.
***
She clutched my shoulders and pulled herself up until her nose
nearly touched mine. She was so close I could barely focus on
her face. Her eyes shone blue with pinpoint pupils. Her moist
breath tickled my lips. I thrust faster and deeper. Our bodies
slapped together.
She rocked her hips strongly, long upward swings with every
downward thrust of my cock. Her breathing turned shallower and
our noses bumped.
She let go of my arms, got her shoulders set on the ground,
and humped back hard. She used her fingers, loosely separated,
and brushed them back and forth over her clitoris. She whimpered
and her jaw dropped open, her eyes fluttered closed, and a
tremble overtook her.
All of a sudden I felt my own pressure rise.
"I think I'm coming," I grimaced.
I pulled out and placed my shiny trembling cock on her belly.
My cock slid across her stomach, she reached out and fingered the
head, and her touch set me off, my cock expanded out and spat its
thick semen, depositing it more or less into the cup of her
navel.
***
I felt her struggle in the tension and slack of the rope. It
is an odd way to feel somebody, through a rope. You can not see
a thing, and you make up images based on the subtle pulls and
slackenings in a braided rope. If the rope moves easily you
imagine a smile. If the rope vibrates with tension, you imagine
a grimace and a wrinkled brow.
Her rope moved by inches. At times I wondered if it moved at
all. I would pull another inch up, and I would wonder if I had
simply pulled out an inch of slack between us. But slowly, ever
so slowly, I added loop after loop to the coil at my left.
As she got closer to the top, I heard her. She did not say
words. She made low animal noises. A growl and a curse and I
pulled another six inches of rope up through my hands. The
scrape of feet on rock. A whimper. And then a long extended
groan, and an exhilarating two feet of rope. A pause and another
inch. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck." And
another three inches. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck." And
another two inches. And then, out of nowhere, a whole foot.
And then the long pause. I could hear her breathing. I
looked at the coil of rope that had already pulled through my
hands. She should be near the top. Perhaps stopped in the shade
beneath the big overhang.
"I can't do this," she said.
"Sure you can."
"My arms aren't long enough. I can't do the reach around this
overhang."
And all of a sudden, I knew I had made a mistake. I should
not have made the fancy overhang move. I should have taken the
easier route through the chimney. If she could not follow my
route, she would need to traverse to the big crack, work her way
up, then traverse back to pick up the protection. Traverses can
be dangerous business. When protection is not straight above
you, if you fall, you pendulum across. And it is not easy to
hold a swinging body. If I remembered right, the traverse could
be tricky. Not an easy section for a tired climber.
I set myself hard, braced my feet, and tried to remember if I
had set a solid belay line. Fortunately, I am usually very
careful about that.
"Traverse to the chimney," I said.
I heard her mutter. "Fucking son-of-a-bitch I'm going to
fucking kill myself."
***
We froze for a moment, staring into each other's eyes. Her
face glistened with sweat. Her lower lip trembled, curling
under, and for moment I thought she would cry. But she let out a
long ragged breath, kissed me, and sat up.
She dropped down off the rock and quickly washed off in the
cold river water. She scrambled back up and we settled down next
to each other, on our sides, face to face. I felt like I should
say something, but I couldn't think of anything to say.
"Lie down," I said, finally, patting the towel. She grinned
and rolled onto her belly.
***
I had to let out rope while she traversed towards the chimney,
giving up all those precious inches that had been so hard to come
by. My muscles tensed up. I felt the rope for the slightest
change.
There was a loud scrape of feet against the rock.
"Falling!" she screamed.
I felt a rush of panic. I grabbed the rope tight, whipped my
brake hand across my body and tensed my legs for holding a fall.
The rope slowly tightened. She was not free falling. She was
slipping slowly downwards. I held on, but there was no sudden
jerk, just an increasing tension on the rope.
And then just the light, constant tension. I held for what
seemed like a full minute. Was I holding her weight? I did not
think so, she had caught herself. I imagined her toes pressed
against a small bump in the rock, her fingers clutching hairline
cracks, her chest and cheek pressed against the rock face.
"Slack!" came a muffled yell.
Gingerly, I let some rope out, and it went slack. She had
found a secure spot.
***
I moved her hair away from her neck. The entirety of her
naked back was there for me. I reached out and placed my hands
on her.
I massaged her back muscles, searching each one out
individually. The firm deltoids around her shoulders, the big
fan-shaped trapezius below her neck, the ripple of teres major
and infraspinatus, the latissimus dorsi covering her ribs, the
erector spinae along her backbone. And her round and firm
gluteus maximus.
She moaned as I drew my hands down her back to her waist. My
hands could span the entire width of her lower back, my thumbs
over her spine, the fingers flaring out to press into the lower
back muscle. And back up, over her shoulders, around to her
arms, drawing down her lats. "Look at these lats," I teased, and
I grabbed her. She jerked and giggled. "That tickles."
***
She came up over the edge dripping sweat. The veins in her
biceps bulged against her skin.
For a moment she remained poised there, on her hands and on
the balls of her feet, panting heavily, tensed like a bobcat.
Her blue-gray eyes shimmered like the heat rising off hot pave
ment. Her pupils were dark and dilated.
And then she vaulted forward on top of me. Her shoulder hit
my chest with a thud, and the force of her threw me back on the
ground. "Off belay," she whispered, and then her wet tongue
filled my ear. Her body trembled all over.
***
I rubbed her back and ass and legs.
"We don't really have that much in common," she said.
"Who?"
"My boyfriend and me."
It looked like we were going to talk after all. "You must
have something in common. Why did you get together?"
"I guess because he excited me. He was an adventurer, and he
had lots of good stories. He could be fun to be around."
"But not any more?"
"I guess the stories get old after a while. And I think he's
bored of me."
"Really?"
"We never have spent much time together. We don't live
together, so we sometimes don't even see each other for a week or
so. Before this trip, I couldn't tell you the last time we spent
the night. And even here, we sleep in the same tent, but he
doesn't usually come to bed until after I'm asleep."
"It doesn't sound like much of a relationship. If you don't
mind my saying it."
"No," she sighed, "it doesn't seem like much of a
relationship."
I was tempted to ask her what about me, but she sighed heavily
and she fell quiet.
***
We struggled with the knots and buckles of climbing
paraphernalia. I got my harness off, pulled off my shirt as she
wiggled around on top of me. Her fingers were still
uncoordinated from the exertion of the climb, and she had a hard
time loosening her end of the rope.
She stepped off me to get her harness off. I threw off my
shorts, not even bothering to take off my climbing shoes. My
cock jutted freely, and she gave up struggling with her clothes,
dropped down and grabbed my cock with both hands. I grabbed her
breasts through her shirt and squeezed up the swollen nipples.
She kissed me and she stroked my thick erection.
She sunk down onto my lap, trapping my cock between her
thighs, and I rolled upwards and we hugged each other close. We
kissed hungrily, wet, full-mouthed kisses, our arms crushing us
together. I wanted to squeeze the air out of her. She grunted
and squeezed me back, and our mouths sucked.
I needed oxygen, I let go, broke the kiss, and I lay back on
the ground. She looked down at me from above, smiling, her lungs
heaving. She yanked her shirt up over her head, showing me her
pretty little tits. I arched back up and buried my face in the
shallow valley between her breasts, and I licked the salty skin
there, then up and across to suck up the nipple. She groaned and
held my head to her peaked nipple and I grabbed her other breast
with my callused hand.
She groped me, pinching my nipples, stroking over abdominals
and pectorals. I untied the drawstring on her climbing pants and
she was naked underneath. My hand searched its way between her
legs. Her pussy was hot and humid.
***
"Sometimes I get so frustrated. I asked him once, `When are
we going to fuck?'" She sighed and shook her head. "And he
yelled at me. `I don't want to hear you use that kind of
language ever again!' He was so mad, I was afraid he was going
to hit me."
***
She pressed me down onto my back and straddled my thighs. She
grabbed my cock and held it straight up, pointing it at the
sweaty tangle of blonde hair between her legs. She lowered her
self down with a sigh. Her hot pussy enveloped me.
Her hips revolved slowly, holding my huge erection deep inside
her, and she threw her head back and laughed. The corded muscles
in her thighs jerked and twitched. I ran my hands up and down
her legs and up over her pelvis to her ribs and up on her
breasts. Her legs tensed and strained.
She humped up and down and I squeezed one of her little tits
and used my other hand on her pussy, pressing my thumb against
her little clit.
Faster, she bucked up and down, quick jerky thrusts. Her
upper chest flushed pink, sweat trickled down her tanned belly.
I reached up and put my hands over her face and she groaned, and
she sucked my thumb in her mouth and I fingered her sensitive
lips. Her hips bucked, my cock swelled, and I drew my hands down
her neck across the hot skin of her chest, pinching up her
nipples.
***
"I think he might be cheating on me."
"Why do you think that?"
"I don't know. I just think so sometimes. But that isn't the
cheating part that bothers me. The thing I hate most is that he
takes me for granted."
***
She threw her head back and let out an enormous whoop. Her
voice echoed against the granite cliffs. My cock twitched and
gushed and filled her pussy with seed. She tossed her head back
and forth, her golden hair, damp with perspiration, swirled about
her face.
And we were motionless. My cock shrank within the confines of
her sloppy pussy, her hands pressed down against my shoulders.
She looked down at me from above, and a drop of sweat fell off
her chin and splashed against my cheek.
We breathed hard and stared at each other. A smile came to
her lips. She threw her head back and laughed.
She pulled off me, my cock drooped out, and she laughed again.
She leaned down and kissed me. She tasted of salt. I put my
arms around her, squeezed her close, felt her cool slick body
against me. I could hold her forever.
But she would have none of that. She stood up and my arms
slipped away. She stood and looked down at me, her lips set in a
huge smile. She turned and bounced a few steps away and she
laughed, her sweaty body shining in the late-morning sun. I sat
up and watched as she strode naked and confident to the edge of
the cliff and looked out over the valley below. And she threw
her head back and yelled out at the top of her lungs:
"I _did_ it!"
Her voice echoed in the valley.
"I got _fucked!_"
She whooped loud and threw her fists in the air. Her back
muscles pumped up. "_I did it!_"
***
She and her boyfriend left two days later.
I saw her more than a year later, at Yosemite. It was early
morning, and I was checking out the area. I followed a path down
towards the river, came around a big boulder, and there she was.
She stood hip-deep in the river, naked, surrounded by swirling
water. Her hair was longer, down to mid-back, but I recognized
the triangular shape of her back. The river flowed so strong she
had to lean forward against the current to keep from being swept
downstream.
"Hey!" I yelled.
She looked at me and her face lit up with recognition. A
smile bloomed and she yelled. "Hey!" And she dunked her head
completely under the water, her entire self submerged in the
roaring cauldron of foam and for a moment I panicked, I thought
the river had taken her. But then her head burst back up and she
lunged up towards the bank
She bounded out of the water and let out a whoop. Her whole
naked body was covered with goose bumps. "I can't believe it's
you!" she said. She ran towards me and jumped against me and
hugged me. Her cold, wet body was a shock. And she laughed and
stepped away. "I am here on my honeymoon," she said. "I can't
wait to introduce you to my husband."
She dried off while I watched awkwardly, and she put on a long
shirt. She held my hand and led me back to her campsite.
And she introduced me to her husband. And he was a very nice
guy indeed.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Copyright 1998 by Poison Ivan. Copies may be made and
posted for personal enjoyment, but all commercial rights
are reserved.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Climbing
By Poison Ivan
Comments welcome: poisoniv1@hotmail.com
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