Road Trip Pt. 06

... continuing from the previous chapters ...

Chapter 27

Road Trip - Idaho

My Army buddy, Craig Olson, welcomed me to his home in Coeur d'Alene with a big hug and much backslapping. I had contacted him weeks earlier about visiting and emailed him with updates about my travel and arrival dates. I called ahead from Montana to let him know I'd be arriving around seven in the evening after riding hard all day from Montana.

Craig helped me unload my motorcycle and move my things into his guest room. He had a town house in a nice area of town; later I'd learn that all the areas of town were nice. I scrubbed up, and we went out for dinner.

Like some of my other Army contemporaries, he mustered out about the same time I did. He'd had three tours of duty as a Green Beret. My last tour got cut short a few months due by to a knee injury. Over dinner, we caught up with a decade's worth of experiences since we'd last seen each other face-to-face. Craig had moved to Idaho, married, divorced, and worked in the offices of a mining company. He'd been single the past four years, and in high demand on the local social circuit - what there was of it, as he put it. He'd been an outdoorsman growing up, so the area was ideal for his hobbies.

Craig stood six feet four, and had a demeanor that commanded respect. That said, he had a 'Gentle Ben' air about him that had always appealed to women. In the Army, he'd acquired the nickname 'Boom' - he was our explosives expert, and that was one reason the mining company had hired him; he was exceptionally creative in using explosives and managed to do things with them few others could. Although he had an office job, he consulted to the field a lot as a sideline to his normal job.

I took a little longer to update Craig. Most of the ten years I'd been doing the same thing, year after year: computer systems development and web site design. He knew Karen has died, and commiserated with me. He also knew about my burgeoning music career and my motorcycle road trip. Craig looked impressed, as I told him about being a celebrity. I shifted and told him about one downside of being a celebrity - being stalked by the paparazzi. I told him briefly about Bart Kenesis, the Branson photos, being stalked, vandalized, and shot at, and giving the paparazzo the slip in Montana. Craig listened with concern.

After I told Craig the gist of the Kenesis story, he helped me by asking some insightful questions. I told him about Tama - the shaman, and her visions, and how she 'saw' Kenesis as a physical threat to me. I told him about hiring a private detective to research the man, and find out how to get under his skin if I had to. After I had finished, Craig affirmed he was sure I'd have further confrontations with Kenesis. The lone bullet that hit a wall near where I stood in Utah worried him a great deal. He said, "You can count on me if you need help with this snake. I'll go anywhere to back you up if you decide to go head to head with this guy."

I knew Craig was sincere, as would be George and a couple of dozen others who had been 'brothers' in the same Army Special Operations unit. We went through a lot together in strange lands, and we stopped many senseless killings and genocides, and saved the free world more than once. Most of us got too old to continue in that line of work, so we mustered out and wisely left the tougher missions to 'kids' a decade or more younger, more skilled, and in better shape than we were.

Craig thought for a minute and suggested an idea that would grow in my mind; "Jim, you might think of putting yourself back out there in public again so that Kenesis can get on your tail again. This time, however, I'll bring a few of the old unit along to set the guy straight - to get him out of your hair once and for all." I told him I would consider that seriously.

We called it a night after dinner. Craig had to work the following day, and I wanted to write some long emails and planned to make some telephone calls the next day. I missed Crystal and wanted to check in with her and make sure she was OK.

Just before he disappeared into his bedroom for the night, Craig got a humorous look on his face; he said, "By the way, tomorrow afternoon and evening I may have a little surprise for you." He turned and shut his door. I was left to wonder what kind of surprise he'd put together.

* * * * *

In the morning, I took a long run that took me to the City Park and Beach. I'd brought with me a small envelope of Karen's ashes. The beach was deserted, no doubt because of the freezing temperature. I allowed Karen's ashes to fly in a small dust cloud across the large lake. Even in the city, mountains surrounded the entire area and made the spot picturesque. Karen had liked mountains and small cities. If she'd lived, we probably might have moved to somewhere like this once we had children. Tears came to my eyes this time when I thought of her and the children we might have had together; I hadn't cried about her for several weeks. After the sadness passed, I sat at the edge of the water and meditated until sitting still in the cold became a distraction.

Back at Craig's home, I dashed off some emails, including one to Mils Cartwright, my private detective friend, giving her an update on Bart Kenesis and how we'd sent him in the wrong direction in Montana after we talked to her about what to do about the tracking device. I'd seen no sign of him since Livingston, Montana. I told Mils I'd telephone her after lunch.

Then, I called Crystal to update her on Bart Kenesis. I still worried deeply about having been shot at, and I'd have put money on the fact that the shot came from the perverted photographer. I told how I'd discovered the tracking device on the motorcycle, and how we'd sent the device one way while I went another. I warned her that since he no longer knew where I was, he might return to Nashville and start stalking her again.

Crystal and I talked about my impromptu visit to a Montana ranch in a snowstorm where I met Jillian and her three daughters. Crystal was one of five women who loved to hear about my sexual exploits, and obtained a lot of sexual gratification from thinking about them and egging me on. They were all as horny as I was. When I sent them lurid emails, I'd often get replies suggesting new things to try the 'next time' or asking for more details. In my calls to Lauren and Crystal, I elaborated on meeting three other motorcyclists in Wyoming, spending a few days in their lodge, and attending the Erotic Halloween Costume Party. I described the costumes, and lack thereof, in detail, described the open and permissive atmosphere as the night went on, and told of how creative Todd, Eve, Lil, and I had been about delivering sexual pleasure to one another as well as sharing ourselves at the party.

Anna now routinely received my explicit X-rated emails. I couldn't be sure, but I'd sent her enough of my erotic 'progress reports' that I was sure I would have received a rebuke from her if she wanted them to stop. The emails I did get from Anna never mentioned my exploits or my emails, only updated me on her life and for a few weeks some questions about selling our parent's home. From a statement here and there, it was clear that she'd read them; she just didn't comment on them. More likely, as emails about my sexual situations got more graphic, I assumed her silence was her tacit approval and that she wanted to hear exactly what I was doing. Thus, I became more graphic and detailed. Because of the Halloween party, this email might be over the top; well, except maybe for sharing with her my exploits in Oklahoma.

I had a growing desire to see Anna, and end my road trip. What I missed most of all was a sense of home. I'd given up the Cambridge apartment that Karen and I had lived in. After living in it a few months, I'd put my parent's home on the real estate market and the house sold a couple of months later. I didn't have a home except maybe for the tent on the back of my motorcycle. That was both good and bad - I liked having no burdens but was concerned about my lack of roots and permanency. I'd become a vagabond with no compelling idea on what I'd do after my trip ended. I'd started to think about that. The logical thing to do would be to follow the country music career and see where that took me. I'd had enough time on the road that traveling didn't hold the fascination for me that it once had. I was in my mid to late thirties, and it was time to decide what to do with the rest of my life - my new life.

* * * * *

I called Mils Cartwright, my detective friend in the early afternoon. She quickly told me about what she'd turned up in her research about Bart Kenesis: "He's fifty years old, alcoholic - been in and out of AA programs for decades, lives in a rundown apartment in East LA, and travels widely as a freelancer. He gets to fly for free - get this, his sister is a flight attendant for United and her nearest kin can go for free if there's room on the flight, so your paparazzo can scoot around the country pretty much at will. His sister lives in Chicago. He's got two brothers: one outside Atlanta, and the other in Virginia, outside DC. I'll email you the addresses."

"Is he close to his sibs?"

"Apparently. I'm told they let him come and mooch off them frequently. Oh, more about him: he never finished college, did a little over two years at U. of Illinois studying, of all things, art and photography. He's actually a good photographer - has won awards, but not recently probably because of the booze. He became a photo-journalist about fifteen years ago for the Chicago Tribune, but he got canned about seven years ago for letting his alcoholism interfere with his work. They let him be a freelancer, and helped him expand his contacts into Hollywood and Nashville celebs, so he's still got an 'in' with them."

"Do we know what scares him or motivates him?"

"Not really; money I suppose. He was married for about ten years, but is long divorced. He lives modestly. Trying to figure out his fears and hopes is harder to do ... but, I'm on it. Just remember, fear and greed are the basic motivators of men like this. You got him on the money angle, now try 'fear.'"

We chatted some more, and Mils promised to email all that she'd just told me about Kenesis. Mils liked to talk dirty, and she gave me a hard-on before I suggested we save her choice words for another time and place when we could do something about them. She agreed but seemed disappointed, so we ended the call.

The rest of the afternoon I worked on my journal on my laptop. I had many life situations and friendships I didn't want to forget. I thought at the end of my trip I might publish a book. I backed up my files on a secure CD, and mailed it to myself at my sister's home.

Craig arrived home at four-thirty. He hustled into the house, and told me my surprise had arrived, but that I had to play a little game before I got to fully enjoy my present. He had a lecherous grin on his face.

He had me sit in a dining room chair, and then he blindfolded me, making sure I could not see out of the double-wrapped scarf at all. He promised me I'd like my surprise, but he said I had to sit there and not use my hands or any part of my body unless he told me to. I heard the front door open again, and some whispering. I discerned the other person was female; however, I couldn't begin to guess her identity from the undertones.

I sensed Craig and the other person drawing near. A female tongue touched my neck and ran up the side of my face to the edge of the blindfold. The tongue then seductively darted into my ear in a highly seductive and erotic gesture, and then she kissed me. Whoever this was, she had my full attention.

Craig said, "Lean forward a little and stick your tongue out, and keep your hands at your sides - no hands! Even sit on them, so you're not tempted."

I did as instructed, and my tongue came in contact with a full-size, bare breast - in the first few seconds, I could sense the curve of her breast and recognize a generous helping of luscious flesh. I also felt a nipple that got increasingly excited as I licked and sucked on the one tit I'd been offered. I hummed and gently bit the nipple, I even heard a low moan from the female to whom the equipment belonged. I kept trying to guess who my 'surprise' might be, but all I could do based on size and texture was eliminate Crystal, Ellen, and Lauren, and I suppose a few others.

Craig prompted me, "Come, Jim, you know these breasts. I'll give you a hint - you discovered these beauties back a few states."

I started to go through each woman I'd been intimate with state-by-state going backwards by the women I'd encountered: Jillian, Jesse, Jean, Josie, Eve, Lil, Ann, Dorrie, the other women at the Halloween party, Tama, Tina, Ellen, Crystal, Heather ... maybe some of her friends or debutantes from Oklahoma? I'd think of a woman and try to remember what tasting her breasts had felt like. The problem was that using only my lips and tongue gave me limited information to work with, and, of course, there had been over seventy women since I'd started my road trip.!

Craig said, "OK, Jim, hold up one hand near your face and you'll get to feel our mystery woman." After a pause, he added, "Man, you sure know some hot women! This pretty woman is getting to me really fast." I could hear him panting. I could imagine a female friend half-naked in front of this ladies man, as she teased me blindfolded, she must have known she was also teasing Craig in the process. Something told me they hadn't met until a few minutes earlier.

I held a hand up, and a few seconds later a whole breast nestled into my palm and defied me to guess who the naked tit belonged to. I had to admit the heft and feel of the female breast felt delicious, and had started to give me an erection. I kneaded the mound and held the nipple between two of my fingers as I twisted and turned the nub like a radio dial. That move elicited another low moan.

The breast pushed back to my mouth, and I could knead the full mound with my one hand and attend to every facet of it with my lips and tongue. In a minute, my 'surprise' allowed me to fondle and kiss her other breast. Whoever it was had removed their shirt and bra. I felt certain the sexual temperature of the room was approaching the boiling point.

Craig was laughing amid some more whispering, but I couldn't identify the voice or even the accent from the whispers. He told me, "Jim, keep your hand out in front of you but a little lower; we'll let you feel something else."

I heard the rustling of clothes, and then felt a woman's hand guide my hand to her pussy. The pussy was naked beneath a woolen skirt of some kind. I was guessing that Craig couldn't see the details of what was going on, but then I heard Craig say, "Damn and fuck. This is one of the hottest things I've ever seen. Lady, you sure do understand foreplay."

I heard a little hum of acknowledgement from our female friend. I could imagine Craig and the girl smiling at each other as I rubbed the bare flesh.

In the spirit of the evening, I only moved my hand a small amount as I tried to guess my mystery friend. The area between her legs had been shaved; I sensed a slight stubble betraying a trim only a day or so before. Along her pubes, I felt a small tuft of hair; first I thought it was a shapeless mass of pubic hair, but as I traced the outline, I realized the outline formed a heart.

I ran my middle finger into her slit, finding a more than willing female. I commented, "Oh, you are so wet. You've evidently been thinking of sex for more than just a few minutes today. I know you're my kind of woman."

My female 'surprise' wiggled her hips, made a little moan to acknowledge my comment, and shifted to emphasize my finger's contact with her sex. I gently sank one knuckle and then another of my middle finger into the lady's moist vagina. I could hear her sharp intake of breath, but by her body language I could tell this was what she wanted.

A few feet away, Craig said, "You two are so fucking hot; I'm going to have to go take care of myself after you guess who this is."

I felt my unknown sex partner sway in Craig's direction, and pull him closer. I sensed the two of them were kissing, no doubt at my lover's behest. I could imagine whomever this was holding his shirt and pulling him in for a French kiss. I could imagine Craig's hands suddenly latching onto those magnificent breasts I'd been kissing a moment or two earlier.

Craig's voice whispered to her, "Babe, you are something special. When you're through with him I hope you stay around." I heard more kissing.

I brought my finger from the damp pussy to my nostrils and inhaled the aroma of pure, unadulterated, lustful sex. I knew this aroma. I tasted my finger, allowing the feminine musk to coat my tongue and reach my taste buds at the same time the aroma floated rich in my face. The next I knew, I felt my confederate unzip my jeans and unfasten my belt. With my help by boosting my ass off the chair, she pulled them off my hips and down to my knees. My briefs were the next to go. I felt two chilly hands fondle my penis and ball sack. Since I'd started on an erection, my unknown friend found a more than willing partner preparing for her latest tease.

My companion gave me a credible hand job, bringing my dick to full attention. I wondered if Craig were embarrassed by what had turned into an overtly sex-filled cocktail hour. I listened carefully as well as sensed the peripheral movements of the woman and Craig, knowing for certain that the two were making out and he was molesting her breasts. I wondered what else was going on that I couldn't see.

A pair of female lips wrapped themselves around my erect cock, and with her hands started a talented blowjob. Her tongue went wild when most of me got exposed to the air. She demonstrated her talent for deep throating my cock and that narrowed the field some.

Craig whispered in a hoarse tone, "Come on, Jimbo, guess who our friend is. Think, man, think!"

I went back further to the women I'd been with in the central part of the country: Midge, Connie, Mils, Shaye, Brite, Ashley, Sally, Gail, Lena, and Tori. I got back to Illinois and still didn't have any epiphany of recognition.

One of my partner's hands left my groin area and shifted to Craig's crotch if I weren't mistaken. Craig gasped, "Jim, you've got to guess this one. She's a winner."

I went back further in my travels: Tina, Pam, Daisy, Julia, Summer ...

"WAIT," I practically shouted. "I have a guess, but you have to promise if I get it wrong that you won't be mad or anything."

I blurted out, "Julia! You're Julia!"

In answer to my comment, my entire cock disappeared down the woman's throat, and I heard a little affirming sound from Julia.

* * * * *

I felt my fellatrix rise, and then we went into a French kiss that probably set the house on fire. As we parted, Julia's fingers came up to my face and peeled the blindfold from my head, tossing the cloth onto the coffee table.

Julia stood before me nude from the waist up. Her full breasts shimmied as she moved one hand back to my erection. She wore a short tan woolen skirt, which had been tucked in her belt. Her bare crotch was visible to me, and most likely to Craig. I saw her clothing on another nearby chair.

I glanced at Craig. Julia had unzipped his pants and had her other hand inside his pants, no doubt fondling his dick as well. Craig shot me a look that tried to communicate that he was just an innocent in what had happened. I noticed he had no intention of stopping her.

I'd met Julia in Michigan on Mackinac Island. She'd been my waitress, and an aspiring actress, and daughter of a wealthy socialite who had sent her off on her own so she'd get serious about life. While in Michigan, she was one of the women that I spent some intimate time, probably more with her than all the others there put together.