The story jumps from when Mike was discovering the pleasures of RV travel to his experience at Wilson Peak.
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I started out easy: loaded the coach and headed out for three or four days at a time in the Rockies near my home. Then I ventured out a little further, Kansas, Nebraska, Wyoming. Always looking to make the experience a little more interesting, the coach and lifestyle more comfortable and efficient. I started eliminating things that I didn't use and adding things like a security system, that I would. I chose a fun and interesting system that allowed me to mount GoPro cameras on all corners of the roof, with the feed inside, to your phone or even uploaded. That might prove to be fun.
I toyed with the idea of putting in a washer/dryer, but after a few interesting experiences at laundromats, decided against it.
I learned that on the open highway, operating my coach was like driving a billboard—wind is going to play hell with you so I found a way to get accurate weather information wherever I was. And slow down. I went through a bunch of mountain passes and open prairies at 30 miles an hour because the wind could blow you right off the road if you went too fast.
Finally, when I felt I'd learned as much as I needed, I decided it was time for my dream trip. I rented out my house, sold most of my stuff and put the rest in storage. Then one fine spring day, I pointed her toward the Pacific Northwest, and took off.
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Dinner was grilled salmon, broiled new potatoes and asparagus with a dill-lemon sauce. I was glad to see Eve had an appetite and even got seconds on the potatoes and salmon. She looked impossibly cute with her blonde hair wild and no make up, wrapped in just my robe and some thick socks because it was comfortably warm in the coach. All through dinner I would get tantalizing peeks at her perfect breasts when she would lean forward.
After cleaning up the kitchen, I asked her if she wanted some coffee. She gave me that look again.
"Got any whiskey?" she asked with a smile.
"Yes, but alcohol will lower your core temperature," I said, as she looked very disappointed, "unless I put it in coffee."
"That works," she said, smiling again. I noticed how dazzling bright her smile was. Even with no make up and under bad circumstances, she was stunning.
"Wait a minute," I said, putting the kettle on, "how do I know you're old enough to drink?"
She laughed. "Oh I'm old enough," she said, "to do whatever I want."
Was that a double entendre? Or was it just my middle aged mind wanting to think this beautiful child was interested in me?
"Hmmm. In your current state of clothing I don't think you have proper ID," I said, giving her my best stern look, "so I guess I'll just have to trust you."
I pulled a bottle of Jameson Irish out of my bar. "How's this?" I asked.
"Oooo, I love Jameson's!" she answered.
"Well then you should be ecstatic," I said as I added shots to our coffee.
We talked easily for the next hour, listening to the wind howl through the mountains, sometimes even shaking the coach. She was funny and charming and laughed easily, a far cry from the frightened, confused, wounded child I had found in the snow. I talked about my failed marriage and how I got here. She asked all about my plans and where I was going next. Finally, after we had enjoyed three cups of hot Irish coffee, she looked at me and said,
"Listen, Mike...I really want to thank you—first for saving me," she said very seriously, "second, for not trying to take advantage of me, and last, for taking such good care of me."
This time she smiled a little girl smile from behind a lock of blonde hair and I just melted.
"I'm glad to do it, Eve," I said while brushing the hair away from her eyes, "I hope that you trust me enough to tell me what happened to you up here."
A look of pain darkened her blue eyes, and I immediately regretted mentioning it. "I do," she said, "but not tonight."
She lowered her head with the thought and I gently put a hand under her chin and lifted it. "No pressure," I said, "I just hate the fact that someone hurt you."
She looked deep into my eyes for a moment, as though trying to resolve an important issue, then brought her lips to mine. We kissed softly, gently for a moment. Then she pulled away and looked into my eyes again, finally whispering one word:
"More."
I pulled her head to me to me and tenderly kissed her again, opening my mouth a bit after a moment to coax hers open with my tongue. She sighed and leaned her upper body toward me as she began a spirited tongue duel with me.
I brought my right hand up to gently stroke her lovely face. After a few minutes, she pulled back to look at me again with a hungry, almost desperate look in her eyes. Her faced changed to that dark, enigmatic look and she stood up, took my hand, then led me to the bedroom.
When she reached the bed, she dropped my hand, turned to face me and pushed the robe from her shoulders to the floor. She was naked, that glorious body on display for my enjoyment.
I learned long ago that most men have no idea how to make love to a woman. More accurately, they don't know what women want or how to give it to them. For instance, most men (including the 30 years younger me) would just rip off her clothes, push her on the bed and start fucking her. But by talking to women and trying different things, I found that most women are more excited by the gentlest of touches, the faintest of sensations.
Of course, the primitive part of my brain screamed "TAKE HER! SHE'S OFFERING HERSELF TO YOU!" And my cock would not have resisted.
Instead, I took her softly in my arms and kissed her, barely brushing my lips on hers before slowly lowering my mouth to plant kisses on her ear and down her neck. My hands started on her taut waist and traveled up her ribs to her breasts, which they circled without touching.
She gasped and put her arms around my neck. I took her hands and moved them back to her sides and she understood they were not to budge from there. With my fingertips, I made little circles around her nipples, barley touching the skin while I continued licking and kissing her neck. I felt her breathing quicken as I moved my fingertips and mouth closer to her nipples. Meanwhile, I slipped my leg between her muscular thighs and started rubbing the outside of her pussy with my pants. For the next few minutes I kept up this tease until she was breathing harder and humping my leg.
Suddenly, I grabbed and pinched her right nipple while biting her left.
She squealed "Oh god!" and came with a scream.
I immediately stopped touching her in any way. When she had recovered from her orgasm, she looked up at me with disbelief.
