Adam Ash

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Tuesday, April 25, 2006



Her backpack was a cooler. She wondered what was inside it. Soda pop? Beer? Wine? She hoped wine.

They hiked single file. He led the way at first, and whenever the pathway looked clear, he ushered her in front of him to lead the way.

“Ladies first,” he said.

Eve was fit, and led at a brisk pace. Adam stayed right behind her, every now and then reaching out to touch her back, or nudge her elbow.

After an hour the hike got really steep, and before long she found herself climbing instead of hiking. Now he touched her waist, and sometimes even brushed a palm against her behind or her legs. He wasn’t even conscious he was doing it. It was a way of keeping her real. A natural way of saying, here I am, right behind you, my body next to yours, the two of us climbing together up this little mountain.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

“Can’t we go any faster?” she teased.

“Absolutely,” he said.

It soon became some kind of contest – about who’d get tired first. Neither of them did. They were both in excellent condition. Periodically, Adam’s hands grazed gently over her back. They didn’t talk during the hard climb; his hands were their only conversation.

Adam began to feel really fine. He was alone on a mountain with a woman he was preparing to fall in love with. What more could a man want? The view was superb. He had no choice but to watch this splendid woman’s gorgeous body move gorgeously above him, every step of the way. Whenever he wanted to, he could reach out and stroke it.

For her part, Eve was in her own throes of excitement. She had the continual awareness that Adam was behind her, a gentle force pushing her onwards and upwards. She felt him touch her delicately every now and then, his hands landing like butterflies on her back, waist and behind, and all this touching on the back of her body made the front of her body ache for him. Sometimes she couldn’t stand the tension and stopped to look around. Then, over her shoulder, she saw his eyes follow her. They penetrated. Their intensity swept her on.

Heavens. My oh my. She could hardly believe what was happening to her. Here she was, a non-orgasmic sex therapist with great ambitions, with a sexy man hot on her heels, heading up a hill he called Sugar Mountain. She climbed faster and faster, and he kept coming after her, as relentless and implacable as fate itself. All the time she waited for the next touch of his hands, wondering where it would come, and then when it landed -- sometimes where she least expected it, sometimes where she most expected it – her entire body would tremble with a supple thrill, sending a fabulous tingle reverberating through her. She’d turn around, and there he’d be, his eyes fixed on her body like she was some important traveling beacon by which he set the sights of his soul. His head bobbed right behind her, a constant companion, regular like clockwork. This was not the man she wanted to spend the rest of her career with, but for now, at this moment, he was close to some sort of ideal. He wanted her -- that was what counted. She imagined his head following her right to the top, and then starting another, more intimate journey – rubbing his way up her belly to her lips.


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