tagGroup SexDavy's On The Road Again Ch. 14

Davy's On The Road Again Ch. 14

byoldhippie1949©

"Oh, freedom land, Can you let this go,
Down to the streets where the numbers grow,
Respect Mother Earth and her giving ways,
Or trade away our children's days,
Or trade away our children's days.


Respect Mother Earth and her giving ways,
Or trade away our children's days."


Yosemite. Say the words "breathtaking", "spectacular", "cosmic", or any descriptive adjective and you say nothing. It is something to experience, to absorb and to wallow into otherwise it is just pictures. Oh, but what pictures! Ordinarily, the mind goes to Ansel Adams and his monumental images. But not me. Do you remember your old Viewmaster, you know, the plastic binocular viewer with the wheels of tiny pictures. You clicked the side lever and the picture advanced in the viewer, right? We all had one. Among the reels of images was one of Yosemite. Those reels were pretty indestructible under normal usage and why mine didn't fall apart is a mystery of the ages because that one was my favorite. To me, it evoked the western wilderness of the nineteenth century, it was explorers, pioneers, adventurers and seekers - all people I yearned to be. Now, standing in Yosemite Valley and in the presence of El Capitan, I was inside the Viewmaster and I was hyperventilating.

We awoke at dawn and drove south to Route 140 into the High Sierras. As the park opened up to us, a silence pervaded Big Chocolate. Our final destination was Camp Curry where Amy had reserved their largest cabin weeks ago. And while it wasn't far up the road, it took us nearly all day to get there. It was impossible not to stop and walk around within sight of majestic Sequoias or Half Dome or Bridalveil Falls or the amazing Yosemite Falls or El Capitan. See what I mean? We intended to stop at The Ahwahnee for lunch and maybe a horseback tour but we never did make it, stopping instead for galley-made focaccia sandwiches under the Royal Arches.

By the time we reached the cabin, we were exhausted from the sheer volume of being dazed, or maybe it was the other way around. As the sun set and the clean air surrounded us, the stars emerged in a mystical light. We sat on porch rockers as the sounds of other campers drifted through the forest. Mark got out his violin and I my Martin and we began to improvise on all sorts of Americana themes, from country to cowboy and all sorts of sounds between. Unbeknownst to us, we attracted other campers who sat under the mighty trees. They quietly listened to our music. I only realized they were there when I saw the lit tips of cigarettes appear in little flashes. I understood that we were casting a spell and weaving magic in this holy place. Amy surprised me when she pulled out a harmonica and ably added another texture to the sound. As Santo lay stretched out beneath her feet, I closed my eyes and let my guitar express my feelings. We played for almost an hour before a Park Ranger arrived. He was very hospitable and he thanked us for our impromptu concert but asked that we end it as it was bedtime for humans but not for bears and other sorts of unwanted visitors. We stopped playing and listened as people drifted off. The Ranger asked for our autographs before he, too, walked into the night.

Our cabin was homey and rustic. We stayed up for a while playing whist and getting a buzz before we snuggled into our cozy beds. Sometime in the night, we heard the calls of animals (perhaps coyotes?) and I had to settle Santo down. He decided to hop on the bed and sleep at our feet. In the morning, we rose early and had a good breakfast before hiking down toward the Misty Isles. First, we took the trail to the Ulilouette arriving at an amazing panoramic point which opened up the vast wilderness to us. As we were alone, I passed the peace pipe. Mark found a bear loping through a meadow in his binoculars. We then followed down along the river on the John Muir Trail to Vernal Falls, past rapids and boulder-strewn streams to Emerald Pool, Nevada Falls and Mirror Lake. By this time, we were pretty exhausted and were stopping more often to rest and have pleasant conversation with other hikers. Somehow we dragged ourselves all the way back to our cabin. I walked Santo, showered and collapsed for another good night's sleep. The others actually ate some dinner and stayed up but I was down for the count.

The next morning, we pulled up stakes and drove back west toward 49 North. We stopped for some chachkas and momentos in Yosemite Village and took some group pictures. Heading west through the park was nearly as exciting as driving in. Waterfalls, deep verdant valleys, grand meadows, ancient giant sequoias, all exposed this vast wilderness park as the marvel it truly is - a national treasure. We spoke about the place a lot and I noticed that since we arrived, we'd spoken in hushed tones so as not to invade the tranquility.

I'd wanted to take Route 120 through the Sierras but the road was closed due to rockslides and rain damage. Given the high elevation of this road and the perils of driving it in our bus, it was just as well to travel a safer route further north to 108. Passing through little cowboy villages, you could almost imagine Conastoga Wagons passing by. Good God, this was beautiful land. We took the long drive into Sonora Pass through the mountains (and this was another spectacular passage) to Sonora Junction and Route 395 North. We passed into Nevada at Topaz Lake. Night was falling by the time we reached the Zephyr Cove RV Resort on the southeastern shore of Lake Tahoe but we made it just in time for the last moments of a glorious sunset. By the time we set up, the reflection of the moon upon the water had the makings of a very romantic night. We walked along the shore hand in hand and dog on leash. Several times, I had to stop and take Amy into my arms. Back in the bus, we settled into our beds and made some mad passion. Listening to Mark and Deb in their bed made for a very stimulating soundtrack.

The next morning was a disappointment. We had intended to take a touristy boat tour of the Lake but rain showers rolled in and a mist rose off the lake. Instead, we decided to keep heading north to Carson City, then to Reno and I-80. We considered stopping on the way to visit the Cartwright's Bonanza Ranch out side Virginia City but passed because we could always see them on nostalgia channel reruns. And anyway, they're all up on Boot Hill these days.

Much of this trip progressed slowly since the road was a route of steep inclines followed by riding the breaks down. South of Reno, we stopped to check out Indian ruins and to pick up the vibe. Reno, "The Biggest Little City In The World" seemed like a big honky-tonk. We liked Sparks better because it looked more Victorian and and like the set of a TV western.

We talked about stopping a casino for a very short break and while no one was really wild for the idea, I remembered my previous luck and agreed, Aw, what the hell. What the fuck, it's only a buck, right? We decided to walk in the $100 each and see what happens. After walking Santo and stretching my legs, I joined the others inside. Mark had won $75 and he was done. Amy and Deb pooled their money and were playing different games and they were losing. Finally, they decided to kill their last few bucks at Roulette. This was a good choice. After four spins, they were up about $300 and chose to quit. Walking past the Big Six Wheel, they put twenty dollars down and won another $400 just like that.

Now it was my turn so I did what I usually do to see where I might be sitting on the bell curve at that moment. I hit three Blackjack tables in a row losing at each. At the fourth table, I won back my losses. I figured I was on a twenty-five percent roll so I decided to push one more time. I won two hands in a row and folded. I was $40 ahead and we could all walk out winners. So we did.

As soon as we got into the bus, I asked if anyone would write something down for me. As we tolled back onto I-80 I recited:

"The earth quakes when they walk through the door,
Dealers shake when they strut cross the floor.
Johns ache because they know the score,
Tell the tellers to start counting the greens and make way for the Casino Queens,
Stay out of the way of the Casino Queens."


"That's all I got!" Light applause followed and the ladies went to work on it. Mark said that he had something rolling around his head, too. He pulled out my guitar and started to play a rolling lick that ran in time to the engine and the wheels of the bus. When he had it going in a progression, he began to sing the words of "Big Chocolate" And it worked. It worked great. Soon we were singing along and I knew we had a good one, one that would just freak out Begley. We went on like this for a while. The girls soon tired of leafing through the Rhyming Dictionary and put their notebook down.

I was driving steady under dramatically cloudy skies. I-80 was cowboy country. We sang "Wild Horses" and "Mustang Sally" playing a contest of who could come up with the next song in the series. Poor Deb, she can't sing a lick. She has absolutely no musical talent al all except exquisite taste and intelligent ears. But she did come up with some good songs like "Chestnut Mare", "Cowgirl In The Sand" and "I Want A Horse" although she did get booed for "A Horse With No Name." Amy pulled out "Which Way Does That Old Pony Run" and "Dig A Pony." Mark came through with "Ride Your Pony and "Space Cowboy." We all agreed that it was a better car game than License Bingo.

The Nevada desert was bare and lifeless. Boring, too. It was nice and flat though and I was making great mileage. With a few stops for fuel, dog walks and stretches, it was just a haul, even snow-capped mountains began to seem ordinary. Things turned green around Lovelock but it was short-lived. I drove and drove. Amy had selected a couple of RV parks near Elko but after checking them out we moved on. One was a dustbowl, one didn't have a big enough pull-in for us and one was just a dump. We drove on deciding to head into Idaho rather that head toward the Bonneville Salt Flats and Salt Lake City. Route 93 was a more scenic route anyway. We finally ended up at a KOA near Twin Falls and I was punchy. Fortunately, the camp was relatively deserted and we found a large pull-through, working hook-ups and good wi-fi.

As we settled in for dinner in our screened patio, George called to tell us he'd meet us at Yellowstone in two days. Immediately after, Annie called and said that she'd be there also in two days. We told them both that we'd be parking the RV at the Wagon Wheel in West Yellowstone, Montana and they agreed to meet us there. From there, we would all enter the park together. We'd made two RV reservations at Fishing Bridge. Amy had also thought ahead to purchase full passes for all National Parks. Annie said that she'd already cleared all the permissions for photographs within the park wherever we wanted to set up. It looked as though our preparation for Yellowstone was complete. We now had two full days to wander through Idaho and Montana.

It was a cool and quiet evening. Halfway through dinner, we decided to move back into the bus as the evening chill intensified. Maybe it wasn't that cold but we'd become used to warmer climes. I turned up the heat and in a few minutes, as the floor heated up, the rest of the bus followed. Santo really liked that floor; he was rolled up in a ball snuggling his 'nice blanket.' We'd been dressed in our UC Berkeley sweats but we slowly began to remove layers. Maybe it was the good Rutherford Ranch wine we were going that raised our body heat. We were smoking some of Larry's weed which was mighty snappy and we were feeling no pain. Still, it was pretty warm in there.

"Ok, I have something important to announce. It's very important!"

"Ok, Davy, we all ears."

"What I have to say is that my balls are itching me. Been like that all day."

"Oh, I understand. The short and curlies are returning. Well, we'll have to take care of this immediately. spread 'em!"

I dropped my sweats and sat back on the recliner. Amy put a towel under me and then poured Eucerin all over me. Mark and Deb just sat and watched as she lathered my balls with the lotion.

"Does that feel any better?"

"Yes and no. Yes, my balls feel better and don't itch. But now, what I do with this woody?"

Amy stroked my greasy cock while she rubbed more lotion onto my balls and ass. Several times, her index finger popped into me and that made me feel even better. She slowly stroked me until I began to flex and then her speed picked up. She was working me with one hand in a ring around my shaft and the other pulling at my crown. Her fingers tightened until I could hold out no longer. The rocket was about to launch and the countdown was nearing its climax. She opened her mouth a few inches from the crown and I started shooting ropes which spattered her face. The second and third ropes made it into her mouth and she licked her lips. I was done. Happy but done...at least for a few minutes.

"Mark, you're next!"

Deb placed a towel under Mark's butt and proceeded to lotion him up and jerk him off. She squeezed his dick which not only slowed him down but also increased the size of his crown, now fat and bulbous and about to launch itself. Mark began to shoot onto Deb's face. Instead of swallowing any of it, she enjoyed the facial.

We bantered for a while until we wearily passed out. In the morning, we awoke a bit startled as Mark was sprawled out on the couch and I was in the recliner The girls were asleep in the bedroom. I walked Santo, made coffee and took my shower before Mark. We let the girls snore away. They didn't awaken until we were already on the road heading east along I-84. I stopped to fuel up and commented to the station attendant that Idaho was strange country. He said that Craters of the Moon Park was the strangest place in all of Idaho let alone the rest of the country. Back on the road, I checked the GPS and asked Amy to make reservations for the night near Arco. When I saw the turn-off for Craters of the Moon National Park, I turned in.

While we'd all heard of this place, we were not prepared for the adventure ahead. This place turned out to be one of our most memorable stops. A huge dry basalt plain off the Snake River, the terrain and the environment was eerie and weird, like really being on another planet or maybe even the moon. Amy read to us that the Astronauts make trips here during their training and that NASA tests space rovers on the dry sandy hills and flatlands. After lunch, we took a hike into the craters. It was a lonely and desolate place. With a warm wind blowing under a clear and cloudless sky coupled with the utter silence, we were on some distant planet. I reminded everyone of the Twilight Zone episode entitled "I Shot An Arrow" and how similar it felt.

The park was hardly busy but we saw some hikers off in distance places. We saw little animals scamper into holes. We finally took a break on the rim of a crater where there was a small lookout pavilion. We broke out our water and were discussing how out of body and disoriented we all felt when a pair of hikers came up the ridge. They, too, seemed a little disjointed and we had a strange kind of stoned conversation with them. It turned out that they were long-time RV travelers who had ventured up from Salt Lake City deep into Montana and were now heading back. Alan was a stock broker and Anna was a hospital administrator, both in their late thirties and into their second and third marriages. They both looked a little too hip for Salt Lake City and sure enough, when he pulled out a joint, we all became better friends.

Alan kept looking at me strangely and finally blurted out, "I know you but I can't place you. You're what's-his-name..."

"Yeah, you right! That's me!"

"No...I mean you're a singer...Danny...Davy..."

I introduced myself and his eyes opened wide. He apologized to me and I told him it was quite okay. After we introduced ourselves around, he recognized Mark, too. We all spent the next couple of hours stoned, laughing together on the moon and having a great time with these people. We came across a small group of building and tents surrounded by barbed wire with a "Keep Out - Area Under Armed Guard - Federal Property" sign and we wondered what kind of 'Area 51' stuff went on inside. At half past three, we headed back to our RVs as the park was soon to close. Their RV was a small affair similar to the rental I'd first started out in. They simply freaked out when they saw ours. They asked where we were spending the night and it turned out that they would be at the same place, Mountain View, in Arco. We chose to meet there and make a pot luck dinner. As I drove out of the park, the wackiness of driving Big Chocolate across the moon was apparent. Arco's sudden greenery only made the feeling more peculiar.

The RV camp was empty. Our RVs were the only ones in the area where they provided 50amp hook-ups. Toward the other end of the camp, about 150 yards away, were a bunch of smaller camper/tent combos and, except for a couple of Coleman lamps lit within them, it was a pretty dark, quiet space and we were all alone. The evening chill wasn't bad under our screened porch. Alan brought over their outdoor firepit and it heated the space well. Amy and Deb prepared veal parmesan and broccoli. Anna made Pasta and Vegetables. With flowing wine and warm garlic baguettes, it was a tasty dinner. They were a very loose and open couple. They were also warm and funny. We got along very well. They couldn't believe all the amenities we had and they were both fascinated by the green aspects of the bus. It was a subject they had been discussing for weeks; how to make the RV trips more eco-friendly. As the sun set, we took turns climbing the ladder to the terrace. Not surprisingly, the sunset across this odd land made for an interesting vista.

Anna was fascinated by the fact that we had a portable hot tub so after dinner, a clearly whacked out bunch set it up. It was an easy job since the inflation valves had compressed air tanks attached. I took the water hook-up and filled the tub while we drank some more vino with our dessert of ice cream and angel-food cake. When the tub was about half-filled, I followed the instructions and added some chemicals and then turned on the small heater. It didn't seem too long before it was filled and the water was at 102 degrees raising a mist into the air. I turned on the jet switch and with a low hum, the tub began to flow and bubble.

"Let's put on our suits," said Anna pulling Alan to their camper.

"Um...how do you feel about no suits," asked Amy, "we prefer it that way."

"Great, me too," Anna said happily, "I wasn't sure where you all were coming from. What's the point of bathing suits in a hot tub! We'll just get our robes and some towels."

When they returned, we were just getting into the tub which was just big enough for six to sit on the built-in seats with the water just up to our chests. Anna dropped her robe and hopped in. Her slim body was cute with small breasts and pert nipples. You could describe her athletic body as boyish except for her lightly tufted vagina. Her legs were nice and long. Alan was also in runner's shape with a well-defined hairless chest. His cock was very long and thin and I guessed about nine inches.

Deb, whose nipples floated on the water, broke the ice. "Alan, your cock looks a lot like my favorite vibrator."

"Thanks, Deb. I modeled for it. And your body looks like my favorite inflatable doll."

"You mean, our favorite inflatable doll. Don't you, dear."

Between laughter and innuendo, we learned that they first met at a group sex party thrown by mutual friends. From what they were telling us, it seemed like Salt Lake City had a lot of group sex parties.

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