Rifle Range Road

I don’t know who snapped that photo or how it got into my mailbox. Plain white envelope, no note, no return address.
Your truck. You and me in black and white. Not like this grey area we exist in right now. So, when the shock subsided, I grabbed my journal and flipped through to read, but I knew…
It was that last afternoon of the first time in forever. And until you debark that plane, I’ve only a photograph and these words I wrote to keep me warm. Until you’re safe in my arms again.


28 August…

… It was very hot and brilliant sunshine. You picked me up, not your Dad’s car this time; I smile to myself at the thought, and we’re driving down a familiar tree-lined dirt track road, I can see sun shimmer on the water just beyond the scrub that surrounds this part of the beach at the river. Nostalgia, like a shot of Forty Creek whisky in my belly, washes through me. Warm and sensual. It’s good to be with you and driving again, on the Rifle Range Road.

We’ve been talking but right now I’m watching you manoeuvre to a stop in a tiny, tree covered turnabout just off the road. I like how the muscles move in your arms, while you turn the wheel and pop the keys out of the ignition. A little puff of dust settles behind us and I can hear the buzz of a cicada and the rustle of leaves all around us.

You turn to me, hand draped over the knee that’s propped against the back of the seat and smile. That smile could always make me do anything. I’m acutely aware of how close your hand is to my shoulder. “So… a beer?” you say, smiling as you reach into the lunch cooler, over the back of the seat, close enough to brush my arm as you reach and cause a shock of desire. My nipples stiffen against the thin cotton of my sundress and I feel the leap of liquid flame in my sex.

We talk. There is a lot to talk about, a lot to catch up on but it’s not long before the electric feeling in the air make us both stop… the moment spins out in the heat. You, looking at me with an intensity that is adding fuel to the fire. Me, eyes downcast… just taking you in. You look  so much the same but there’s an easy self-assuredness, even command that wasn’t there when you were a boy. Tall and a mile of legs. Your dark hair, not dark anymore but silvered, it suits you and those eyes… a dark, fringe of lashes round deep topaz. Still irresistible to me…

In the moment of silence, I start to say your name, even as you slide closer, cup my chin and whisper “K__”. Your touch is gentle, voice rough with emotion. I  lift my eyes to yours as you rub your thumb over my lips. Again, I feel that shot of liquid lightning and a moan escapes me as I reach behind your head and lace my fingers in your hair to pull your mouth to mine.

It’s like a cloudburst, the storm that’s been building between us hits me. Your hands… are everywhere, stroking, kneading. I can’t get enough of the taste of you, I’m drunk on your scent. I can feel your heart tripping, driving my breathing faster. Your kisses and hands becoming insistent. Pulling me into your lap to straddle your hips and… My breath catches at the feel you so hard against me, memory and desire take me completely. No thought, just touch. I reach between us to squeeze you. Already… I’m aching, wet, almost frantic to have you inside me… “Help me with this”… ragged words, breathed into your ear as I’m tugging with anxious fingers at your zipper. Stopping only to pull your tee over your head and then help slide your jeans off your hips.

Kisses, kisses… the taste of you drives my need. Your hands locked in my hair… Mmm… I want – need your mouth and I tear loose the halter tie behind my neck, thinking “suck my nipples!” but all that comes out is “please…” as I pull your mouth to me and feel your teeth. Your fingers… kneading my ass and oh god, you are so fucking hard in my hand, your hips straining against me. We don’t break the kiss, as I move up onto my knees to let you pull aside the wet silk and I stroke you against me, loving the sharp inhale of pleasure, the slip of your cock between my palm and the wet velvet of my sex.

“Christ! I want to fuck you…” your voice is raw need, your hand insistent over mine, rubbing your head against my button. My fingers on yours, guide you into me…
Can’t… Catch… My breath… Staring, falling into your eyes. You hesitate and I know the force of will it takes for you to hold back… It’s an  Is it OK? I don’t want to hurt you… that I feel when your thrust meets the resistance of enforced denial. Resistance that only aches to yield. All I can manage is to breathe a soft “Oh, oh, oh”, as I lean in to catch your lip with my teeth, rocking my hips, pushing down, trying to take you all at once. Tears come, when you answer my whispered “Just do it… please…” with a short, hard stroke, an arrow of fleeting ache and intense pleasure, shot and arching my back, forcing my hands to the roof.

Our bodies find that rhythm… Your voice in my ear, a low growl, unspoken demand that translates to every stroke, … your sweet cock filling me up, I feel your insatiable desire like a heartbeat inside me. Mmm… feel it… I feel it, waves coming from… “Ohhh… fuckkk… you feel so… good”. Words barely moaned to the ceiling but they hit their mark and your hips drive into me and I’m held, pinned, hands on the roof… screaming my love into the ceiling, driven by your voice, “that’s it baby, cum for me… cum for me…” Then your arms tighten round me and you stop – perfectly still for a second – groaning “Ohhh… fuck …” “K__…” and it comes, the pulse and then your sweet, hot spill inside me…


You will always be mine, I hate this distance. Come home…

~ kei
… to be continued