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Effortlessly Average

Sort of half-heartedly leading the charge into mediocrity since, oh, let's say around 1987 or so.

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Location: Roaming (additional charges may apply), Argentina

Proof that with internet access and a powerful laxative, even insipid people will blog; the place where your excellence and my mediocrity collide; where my Karma whips ass on your dogma.

Sunday, March 30, 2008

Sometimes "Vigorous" Can Be Misleading

So where I grew up, there's a lot of open range, dotted with ranches and farms. One of my favorite past-times was to jump in my truck (or on my dirtbike, depending on the mood) and head out into the open desert to explore. The beauty of living in such an area is that it's never more than 1/2 an hour from total solitude. From my house in the north valley I could head in virtually any direction and with only five bucks in gas ($432,854 in today's dollars and at today's gas prices) I could be totally alone.

On one such excursion I crested a slow line of hills about 15 miles north of my house and discovered a long, narrow valley stretching a few miles out from me, toward another ridge on the horizon. The line of hills I'd just overcome turned out to actually be the southern end of a ring of stubby mountains encircling the entire narrow valley. Running almost through the middle of the valley was a small stream, to either side of which grew about thirty feet or so of deep, lush, green grass before again surrendering to the sage and bitterbrush of the desert landscape. The scant dirt road I was on continued down the inside of the hills and traversed the valley where its eastern edge met the west side of the hills. To the left of where I stood was the only proof any man had ever been there (aside from the dirt road on which I was travelling): a long, two-wire range fence stretching the length of the valley on five foot tall wooden posts, each spaced about fifteen feet apart.

The scene was beautiful. On more than one return trip I would sit on the hillside with Pete, my golden lab, and watch wild mustangs lazily walk through the valley, pausing to nibble the grass or drink from the cool water of the stream. I figured the valley must have had a name and knowing what I did about land in Nevada, it was probably owned by someone, somewhere, but as is true to Nevada culture, if there ain't some specific reason to have it closed off (like for a bombing range or a place for hookers to run free), nearly all land is for public use.

But I was also a teenager. So I had more reason than just the wild mustangs, frolicking prostitutes and a serene landscape to return to "my" valley. About halfway along the east edge of the valley was a place where the road turned to the left and headed west toward the stream. Being a small-ish stream flowing along nearly flat ground, there was no need to build a bridge across it; you simple drove through, which, over time, flattened the banks of the stream, allowing the water to spread out into a cool, refreshing pool - a perfect spot for picnicking and demonstrating to those of the female of the species that I was a romantic bastard.

From the other direction the range fence turned east, meeting the road not far from where the road crossed the stream, turning to parallel the stream, about ten feet from it's western bank. A great many days were spent leaning against one of the wooden fence posts, tossing sticks and pebbles into the stream's clear water as the sun warmed my body and soul. And in all those times, I never, not once, saw another human being come down that road from either direction. It was easy to imagine I was the only person on the planet.

Eventually, of course, I convinced a girl that I was worth dating and -since we both lived at home and therefore did not have unfettered access to a private place from which to get our rocks off- it wasn't long before oh, let's call her "Heidi," was frequenting the valley with me.

Each time it was the same: we'd grab $5 in gas and snacks from the neighborhood 7-11 (yes, ladies, I am a romantic fucker) and make our way into the hills to what had become our special place in nature.

We'd spread out our blanket, spend a few moments soaking our feet in the water or the sun into our skin, exchanging light conversation as we cast sidelong glances up and down the road to check for visitors.

Without fail, the road was always empty. And so within about 45 seconds "Heidi" and I had ourselves mostly naked, banging away on the blanket spread out on the carpet of deep green grass between the fence and the water's edge. With the vigor of those of the teenage population, we experienced every single position we could conjure in our minds, most of which requiring one or both of us to grip the fence for balance or leverage.

Forty minutes Twenty seconds later, it was usually over. Since she'd had no greater experience than I did, that was just about the required amount for her to get her toes to curl as well, so it worked out good on all fronts. As adolescent relationships usually do, "Heidi's" and mine eventually ended and we went our separate ways, but I continued to frequent the spot where we'd shared so many trysts.

Some years later, when I was in my first few years of college, I ran into "Heidi" again, at a frat brother's BBQ. Aside from a bit longer hair and somewhat bigger boobs, "Heidi" hadn't really changed much at all. Unlike myself, who had actually filled out and was much hotter than the pizza-faced, scrawny kid she'd been conned into dating before.


Two weeks later I called the phone number she'd given me at the BBQ and invited her on a hike I was going on with another friend and his girlfriend, not far from where "Heidi" and I used to escape to have sex. Yeah, what you're thinking now is the same thought that crossed my mind back then, too. Lucky for me, she agreed to come along.

The four of us drove out. My buddy and his girlfriend started out into the hills while "Heidi" and I decided to hang back at the truck and get caught up on the last handful of years we'd been apart.

We chatted.

We laughed.


We exchanged perfunctory pleasantries.

Our eyes stole sidelong glances up and down the road, in addition to the spot on the hill where our traveling companions had just gone.

We smiled that wicked smile at each other; the one that says "yeah, I know what you want. When are you planning to shut up and go for it?"

Ten seconds later we were rolling in our same spot in the grass, tearing at each other's clothes while trying to keep our lips on each other. Finally naked (mostly), "Heidi" lay down on her back and pulled me over top of her, raising her legs to wrap her legs around my waist, locking her ankles together.

I was instantly ready. With her ankles locked behind my waist, she pulled me into her with one fluid motion. She let out a soft moan as I filled her completely. I reached forward to grip the fence for support. Following my queue, "Heidi" raised her arms to brace herself against my forceful thrusting. For the next several minutes we lost ourselves in wild, sweaty sex. We were like ravenous animals. There was much screaming and grunting. Our eyes locked. Our brows creased in amazed rapture. It was as if every nerve in our bodies was alive and screaming with carnal desire. Our bodies moved frantically against each other. Words were reduced to clipped grunts. Sweat immediately poured from our bodies, quenching the parched desert earth. Finally, in a rush of sexual release, I pushed myself back from the fence, "Heidi" wrapped her arms around my shoulders as we both collapsed into a sweaty, quivering heap.


We lay for several minutes, gasping for breath. Finally we got up and began gathering clothing, just finishing dressing and settling into the bed of the truck when the other two of our party re-emerged from the wild.

Several quiet minutes passed before my buddy's girlfriend could stand it no longer.


"Um," she stammered. "I don't mean to embarrass either of you, but we sort of saw you two."

Her boyfriend nodded his agreement. "We didn't mean to pry. We were just returning and hear you two calling out, so we thought something might be wrong. We were halfway down the hill before we realized you were actually in the throws of passion. We didn't know what to do so we just crouched down to wait it out."

"Heidi" and I looked at each other for a moment.

"I guess we were a little louder than we used to be," I said.

His girlfriend grunted. "I'm surprised either of you can walk!"

My friend laughed. "You two used to come here a lot, huh?"

"Yeah," we both replied.

"But this time was different," I added.

"How's that?"

"Heidi" and I looked back toward our old love nest between the stream and fence and exchanged an exhausted smile that said we'd both be sore the next day.

"Well," she said, "when we used to come here before, that fence wasn't electrified."

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