Gail is the best lover I have ever taken to bed, anticipating every sexual whim, fulfilling every lusty desire. That same sensitivity had made her aware of my restlessness recently, and she confronted me one night after unusually ardent lovemaking. We were nestled cozily together and I was curled against the curve of her back.

“You’ve been a little jumpy and subdued lately; what’s bothering you?” Returning to scenes of my Sante Fe childhood is a periodic necessity for me in order to survive in the Big Apple.

Gail listened patiently while I waxed rhapsodic about my favorite memories. “Backpacking to that rocky peak the Indians named Old Baldy is a heady, almost sexual experience you’d love: Holy Ghost Canyon, Spirit Lake, Valley of the Rocks, and finally the summit, Lake Catherine herself — I’d love to share that with you.”

Gail rubbed my renewed erection. “If remembering is affecting you this way, think of the effect it would have on both of us.”

Our hunger and heat were more intense than before as Gail guided my cock inside her and slowly lowered herself to take me to her very core. Flames blazed higher as we moved together, our bodies melding and greeting with each new thrust I made inside her.

I could feel her clitoris making contact with the bulging vein on my cock’s underside with each thrust. Then Gail was rocking and squirming in response, loud cries signifying her soaring pleasure.

Without interrupting the rhythm of our arousal, I pulled her down onto her back and rode her while the waves of her orgasm still rippled through her. Gail wrapped her arms around my waist, and I thrust into her even harder. My entire body glowed hotly. As we began flying high together, her vagina clasping, caressing, stroking, urging me on, my body stiffened and my own orgasm took me up to a wonderful new height. The muscles of her cunt milked my cock dry, refusing to relinquish me until I became limp.

“Wait until we make love at Lake Catherine,” I assured her.

When we arrived at Santa Fe, it was love at first sight for Gail. We idled for two days before our trek, and I showed her the picturesque and historic influences of Spanish and Indian cultures on America’s oldest city. She loved it all, the adobe-style architecture, the native artifacts sold by Indians sitting like statues along one wall of the Palace of Governors on the town plaza, Canyon Road, where art studios and boutiques selling hand-woven materials abounded. But I could hardly wait to reconsummate our relationship at Lake Catherine.

Leaving long before daybreak, we took a jeep to Santa Fe’s ski basin and hiked in from there. By the crack of dawn, we were already high enough to see tiny people — dots scurrying far below when we stopped to rest. Gail drank thirstily from my canteen, her body melting into mine for warmth as she drank with my arms wrapped around her. Already I could feel our hearts pounding from exertion. We continued the ascent.

Finally we leveled off into a tiny knoll of greenery where we could hear water rushing over rocks in a brook that was safe to drink from. Breaking her stride, Gail ran forward and stretched herself prone on the ground to kiss the stream. She drank eagerly.

I delayed quenching my own thirst ready wanting her right then and there on nature’s soft bed of moss. Early morning’s bright sunlight put golden glints in her blonde hair, that long, lithe body sensuous even in the jeans and hiking boots she had initially refused to wear. My mind’s eye saw her stretching there in nude splendor, her face drinking in the sun. The imagery was so vivid, I could feel my cock stirring. I was as hot as the sun.

Sensing my lust, Gail gave me a drink of the cold, refreshing water from her own mouth. All her delicious odors were accentuated by the crisp mountain air. Then I drank from the stream and pushed my head under the crystal flow, the coldness sending shock waves through me.

We trekked on upward until our climb was interrupted by another level of land: Holy Ghost Canyon. The trail was narrow and overhung with dense foliage. “It’s rumored that the ghosts of Navajo Indians haunt this trail,” I told Gail solemnly.

We stopped for a lunch of fruit and cheese at Spirit Lake, where the overgrowth was so thick, only thin streaks of sunlight could filter through. Gail shivered and pressed close while I told her the Indian lore about the lake being the resting place of water spirits who emerge under the cover of night to cast evil spells.

Next and last before Lake Catherine was the Valley of the Rocks, where gigantic boulders perched precariously. We were well above the timberline and now descending a saddle connecting Old Baldy with another peak. 

I pointed ahead. “Around that bend in the trail is the lady of all lakes, Lake Catherine herself.” Summoning her second wind, Gail ran ahead of me to see for herself. I rushed after her. What a picture greeted my eyes.

My lady and that other lady, Lake Catherine, were united at last! For such a very long time now, it had been one of my secret fantasies to someday make love at the lake by moonlight with someone who appreciated its beauty as much as I did. Gail removed everything and stood high on a rock that jutted into the deep blue water. Brilliant sunlight glittered on the blueness surrounding her nude beauty.

No longer able to contain myself, I discarded my own clothing. I was ready and hard with relentless lust. She beckoned for me to join her. The rock was warm, but it couldn’t compare to the lush warmth of Gail’s nudity arousing me as we kissed passionately, hungrily, frantic for everything we had to offer each other. A light mountain breeze riding the sun’s rays bathed us, charging with passion every sensation, every touch, every scent. I eased Gail gently down on the hard rock made soft with a blanket of velvety moss.

“God, I have never wanted you this much before,” I whispered hoarsely. The unspoiled beauty surrounding our solitude was giving me that peace and serenity I had craved such a long time. “I need you to make everything complete.”

A sensuous smile formed on Gail’s face as she allowed me entry into that other valley of paradise. Her pussy closed tightly around my shaft as I penetrated to the hilt. Then we rocked together, clinging tightly to each other. When we began making love, it was at a leisurely pace. Our bodies were meshing, rolling in a relaxed rhythm of perfect unison. Neither of us wanted it to end. But a natural acceleration, a need to keep stretching for the sky above, overtook us and I began pumping into her so hard, my pelvis was rubbing against her clitoris. Gail’s whole body became a stormy turbulence that kept me gasping as her pussy, now pulsating with spasms, felt like smooth velvet.

Our spontaneous release was an overwhelming experience of ecstasy. Loads of my hot semen were exploding from my cock into her, wave after raging wave filling her as our cries echoed over the lake. Her body was arching high in the air to drink in every drop before we both collapsed, limp and spent, on the rock’s velvety surface.

Storm clouds appearing from nowhere jerked us back to reality. You can set your clock by the afternoon mountain showers. We grabbed our clothing and ran for cover just as it began to pour.

The rain ended as abruptly as a water spigot being turned off. With the sun shining again, we made camp with the afternoon light bathing an appealing wilderness. By the time our camp fire flamed high enough to cook a sparse meal, we were starving and ate like famished wolves and then retired to a large, downy sleeping bag for two. Flames from our camp fire were still burning brightly in the now cold, crisp mountain air of black night, and a blanket of stars glittered overhead. Gail snuggled in the curve of my arm with a happy sigh. She was ecstatic. “What a glorious sight! I don’t think I have ever seen so many stars sparkling like tiny diamonds.”

Gail’s groin thumped an invitation against my crotch, and she giggled. The cocooned intimacy of our close confinement certainly made me crave her pussy. My mouth nipped at the nape of her neck while my hand eased its way downward to stroke the warmth radiating from her valley. The folds of her pussy bloomed, and when my fingers worked their way into her, Gail’s thighs were like a soft yielding cushion. My hardness was throbbing rhythmically against these beautiful specimens of woman-flesh.

“I haven’t felt you inside of me for a long time,” she said, her hands groping between us to feel my cock’s thick hardness. As my fingers reached down to caress her lips before curling inside, Gail’s muffled moans of delight filled the sleeping bag. Her in sides were wonderful. The walls of her vagina were soft, warm and deep. Sheer exultation streaked through me as I stretched flush against her crotch area and eased my hardness between her lips, pre-come greasing my shaft as I pressed forward. Her inner walls gripped me. It felt great, and my cock continued inching its way inward and upward.

I remained motionless, thrilled by the blazing hotness of having my long hardness embedded in her. Then I began stroking in and out, my hands clasping her tightly. The thread that always keeps me climbing snapped fast. It always does because of her heat. My shots went deep into her and my fingers rubbed her stiff clit to keep her climaxing with me.

“I’ve creamed many a sleeping bag playing it solo while thinking about being here with someone like you,” I confessed afterward in the afterglow.

Morning came all too soon. I secured our equipment and we turned for one last, lingering look at the jewel, Lake Catherine, glittering in the sunlight. I knew it wasn’t goodbye. Gail had vowed that we would periodically return together. “To have our batteries recharged,” as she phrased it.