Mountain West

"Yes, they are!" answered Syndee with a wry smile. "I think they will prove quite satisfactory for our purposes! I'm told they've cut rugs across the better part of the Upper Midwest!" she bragged sarcastically.

"Now, hold on," Greg argued back, smiling as he did so. "I never said anything of the sort!"

"I'm just teasing you, sweetie!" Syndee said. And with that, she and Patty began introducing us to the other girls. The tall blonde was Heather, and she lived with Patty. She was an education major from somewhere out west, Boise maybe, but I gathered she had really come to Montana State to ski. She was long and lean, and hidden beneath her oversized shirt were, I would soon come to learn, a pair of surprisingly modest breasts.

Next to Heather on the sofa was Patty's other roommate, a short-haired brunette named Dillon, who was named after the town in Montana which she called home. She was really petite, but she sported a cute face, and a wicked sense of humor. She was dressed more like a coed that the others -- wearing a plaid skirt and a dark sweater that covered a conservative patterned blouse.

Two other friends were also scattered around the room. The one that caught my attention was a tall, wavy-haired brunette seated in a gaudy, red wingchair named Sylvie. Sylvie was wearing a stylish pair of brown, riding boots, high-waisted bellbottomed jeans, and a sleeveless, low-cut, vest-like blouse with only the middle two of its four buttons buttoned. Sylvie's spectacular cleavage jutted out from the blouse, making her appear as an absurdly younger version of Wonder Woman Lynda Carter! At one point, I think she caught me staring at her prodigious pair.

The only girl in the room that was standing was Kylie, who was leaning against one of the oak bookcases. She was short, had medium length blonde hair, and was far and away the most quiet and reserved of the bunch. Though she was appealing enough, she was the only one that I would not have described as hot, though in any other setting, I'm sure I would have been attracted to her. Her hair was dirty blonde, and not terribly stylish, but underneath her plain clothing lurked what I could tell was a remarkable body. She seemed very nice, and smiled warmly when we were introduced to her.

After the introductions, Patty went on to explain that a band was playing the following Saturday night in Big Sky at the famous ski resort there. The Castle Mountain Jug Band was a local favorite in Montana, and though they did not exactly play western swing music, the audience would surely be jitterbugging away the night.

It appeared to be a big time event for the girls, and with the university largely deserted over the summer, they were seriously lacking male dance companions. That is apparently where we came in. Without Greg and I having anything to say whatsoever about the matter, it had been decided that we would be accompanying all six girls to Big Sky on Saturday. Not that we wouldn't have accepted the offer had we been consulted. We would have been crazy to say no -- two guys and six girls; those were pretty good odds.

Patty determined that we had four days to practice for the big event, and so without further ado, some furniture was moved around; a Commander Cody album was thrown on the stereo; and Greg and I took our places on the makeshift dance floor.

I was jealous when Greg was first paired up with Patty, while the consolation prize was Heather. She grabbed me by the hands, and waited for the first song to come on. I only knew about two or three jitterbug moves, a simple right hand twirl in which you spin your partner under your right arm, the exact same move, except done with the left hand, a behind the back glide, wherein you release your partner's hand as you spin around and then catch her other hand behind her back with your opposite hand.

I was at least grateful when the first song was "Hot Rod Lincoln," a cover of an obscure 1950s rockabilly tune, that the Commander had had a minor hit with three or four years before, and one that was played at breakneck speed. Heather had no idea what she had gotten herself into. By the time the three minutes was up, she was glistening with sweat, and her roommates were screaming their approval.

"Holy shit, Steve! Take it easy on a girl!" she said breathlessly afterward, and then she surrendered her spot on the dance floor to Syndee, while Greg was paired with Dillon. I figured that pretty well evened the score between Greg and me.

The next song was a Cajun classic, another cover, this time of an early 60s country song by Rusty and Doug called "Diggy Liggy Lo," which I was familiar with through Doug Kershaw's later solo version. It was also extremely fast, and I can't say that I was displeased watching Syndee's big tits bounce as I spun her all over the room.

When I was doing the behind the back glide, on several occasions my hand slide along Syndee's tight ass which was barely concealed by her Daisy Dukes until I caught her opposite hand. The first time she may have thought it was an accident, but after I did it two or three more times, she was pretty sure of my intentions. When we finished, she smiled at me seductively before sitting down in a big recliner.

In the next round, Sylvie jumped up to take Syndee's place, and Kylie joined Greg. I sensed that Sylvie wanted to get thrown around like Heather and Syndee had. When I first clasped hands with her, I looked down on her blouse/vest to realize that she was not wearing a bra beneath it. I suspected that meant that everyone was going to get a show.

But instead the classic Buck Owens song, "Crying Time" came on, and so rather than bouncing her tits all over the room in a feverish jitterbug, I was pressed up against them in a sensual, slow dance. I could feel her hard nipples through her blouse.

For the rest of the night, this routine played itself out over and over again with the girls teaching us a whole collection of really complex jitterbugging moves to complement the simple ones we already had down.

Just before I was about to turn in, I went upstairs to use the bathroom, only to find it occupied. I waited patiently in the hallway, and a minute or two later, the door opened to reveal Sylvie standing in the doorway. When she saw me, a depraved look swept across her face, and she grabbed me by the hand and pulled me into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind us. Without saying a word, she dropped to her knees.

It took her no more than five seconds to unbuckle my belt, unzip my jeans, and pull them and my shorts around my ankles. She quickly engulfed my flaccid cock with her mouth, taking all of me inside her wet orifice, so that her unbelievably soft lips were pinned up against my pubic mound. Then, applying as much suction as she could muster, she began to pull her head back, sliding her lips exceedingly slowly backward down my cock while she maintained a vacuum cleaner-like suction on my dick, until suddenly an audible "pop" escaped her when her lips released my head. My nearly erect cock fell out of her mouth and was pointing directly at her face. It had taken her one stroke to make me hard.

Then, Sylvie dropped her hands to her vest to unbutton it. She only needed to unfasten two buttons until she was able to slide it from her slender shoulders and drop it to the bathroom floor. My cock stiffened fully the moment I saw them. Her tits were stunning, the biggest I had ever seen in real life, and so perfectly round that I could not tell whether they were the genuine article or not. Her areolas and nipples were dark, almost ruby-colored and big. At first, she said nothing.

Then, she grabbed my spear, and taking two steps backward, sat down on the lid of the toilet. My cock was level now with her tits. She looked up at me with her incredibly sensual, bright, blue eyes, and slid my phallus between her massive globes. Her tits were so soft that I was quickly able to draw a conclusion about their origin -- they were real alright. Finally, she broke the silence, "I saw you staring at my tits tonight! You want to fuck them don't you?"

It seemed like a rhetorical question, so I didn't bother answering. Then, Sylvie pushed her tits together, making a tight channel at the base of those orbs for me to fuck, and I started sliding my length into that tight canal, so that my head nearly left her tits' warm embrace on the underside before plunging back into that conduit until my head and an inch of my shaft burst through her cleavage at the top. Her fleshy boobs were so soft that I didn't need lubrication to continue my thrusting.

She stared into my eyes for 10 solid thrusts, and that, in and of itself, almost brought me off, but then, Sylvie dropped her head to begin taking me into her wet mouth on every upstroke. I came to learn that the tit fucking was only a prelude; it was in her mouth where she really wanted me.

But now I worried that maybe this wasn't the ideal location for this liaison. I didn't want anyone to find us. Besides, the bedroom that I had been given was just down the hall. So, in between my quick breaths, I posed a stuttering question, "Sylvie... maybe... we should... go into... my bedroom."

She looked up at me again and shook her head. "Why bother? I'm just going to give you some quick head; I'll have you cumming in two minutes. We'll save the bedroom for later, okay?"

"Okay," I said, breathlessly. And with that she released her tit hold of me and began to take me deeply into her throat, while she used one hand to massage my balls and the other to Greg my shaft. I had my doubts about the two minute challenge. She seemed overly confident. But when she started throating me so deeply and using her hands on me as well, she quickly had me on the verge. "Oh my god!" I soon said, "I'm really close."

I was involuntarily thrusting into her throat now, and I began to wonder how this would end -- did she want me to cum in her mouth? But there was no time for the question to be asked, much less answered. All I could do was to announce the inevitable. "Oooohhhh," I grunted, "I'm gonna cum."

As soon as the words left my lips, she pulled me from her throat and began jacking me in front of her chest with both hands, saying, "I want to see all your cum! Shoot it on my big tits!"

It wasn't like I had any control of this situation; again my actions were involuntary, but I complied with her demand nonetheless. Rope after rope of thick jizz erupted from my cock head, coating her sexy cleavage and ruby-colored areolas and nipples. She kept jacking me for a least another minute even after my juddering subsided, milking nearly every drop of spunk from me. Then, she dropped my spent cannon, and said arrogantly, "I told you it wouldn't take two minutes, and you shot a lot more cum than most guys do."

Then, she picked up her blouse, stood up, used a big wad of toilet paper to wipe my cumshot from her tits, threw the paper in the toilet, wrapped the blouse around her, buttoned the two middle buttons, unlocked the door, and opening it, walked out. She left me standing there with the door open, my jeans and shorts around my ankles, and my vulgar, depleted erection losing its last drop of cum to the bathroom floor.

At that very same moment, Syndee, having just passed Sylvie on the stairs, arrived on the landing at the top of the carpeted staircase. The landing led down the hallway past the bathroom to the second floor bedrooms. As she turned her head, Syndee got a quick peek of my de-pants frame through the open bathroom door, before I lunged to close it, nearly tripping myself with my pants around my ankles.

I quickly pulled up my pants and fastened my belt. I knew Syndee was standing outside the door waiting for me, so I figured I had to do something. I peed, which, by the way, is a messy proposition when your dick is half erect and residual cum is still inside it. I used some toilet paper to wipe up my errant spray, washed my hands in the sink, dried them, and opened the door and started to exit.

Syndee was leaning against the railing on the other side of the hallway with a wry smile on her face. "That goddamn, Sylvie," she said shaking her head, "she works fast! I was kind of hoping I would beat her to the punch! But I see I've failed again! I thought after the way you were feeling up my ass, it was going to be my lucky night, not hers!"

I didn't really know how to process what had just happened to me, but I knew that I was really attracted to Syndee and didn't want to spoil any chances that I might have had with her. Because I didn't really know what to say, I thought it best to say nothing at all. I mean, I had just literally been caught with my pants down. So instead, I just smiled lamely and walked downstairs again to say good night to the others. By the time, I got there Sylvie and Kylie were gone.

We spent nearly all of the next few days dancing. Sylvie and Kylie came back each day, and a couple of other female friends stopped over as well. There was a lot of sexual tension running through that house, and on the second night there, Greg spent the night with Patty, and I was jealous. I kept thinking that Syndee was going to pull me into her bedroom, but it hadn't happened yet. In addition, Sylvie sent me no more overt signs that she intended to 'go into my bedroom' with me.

Finally, Saturday night rolled around, and about 7:15, we all piled into Heather's old, massive boat of a car for the drive to Big Sky. It's about an hour's drive, but the highway climbs 2500 feet before you reach the famous ski village. With eight people in the car, the strain was just too much. About five miles outside of Big Sky, Heather's Oldsmobile started making an alarming sound, began spitting out thick smoke, and finally just died. It became obvious to all of us, it had driven its last mile.

So Heather put the hazard lights on; we all got out of the car, and in the mountain gloaming, we tried to decide what we should do. It was too far to walk at that time of the day, and we had no way of calling for road assistance. We would have to flag down the next car that came by.

Before anyone had even vocalized that idea, a cream-colored Pontiac hatchback came rolling toward us and pulled over. It hadn't yet come to a stop, when I recognized its South Dakota plates. At the time, South Dakota labeled all of its license plates with a number that designated its county of registration. Minnesosha County, from which I hailed, was the most populous in the state, so it was numbered -- 1. The Pontiac also sported a 1, indicating Minnesosha County.

We ran to the passenger's side of the cream-colored hatchback, and a tall, pretty, blonde woman greeted us, "Car trouble, huh? Are you headed to Big Sky?"

"Yes," responded a chorus of voices.

"Are you going to see Castle Mountain?"

"Yes," we said again in unison.

"Hop in," she said, "It'll be a tight fit, but we can do it."

We looked in the backseat, which was now occupied by a beautiful, pure white Samoyed, of considerable size.

"Blue! Jump in the back," the blonde commanded the dog, pointing and snapping her fingers. The dog obeyed dutifully. "I can get two people up here with me," said the blonde woman, "preferably tall ones."

We sized up our group. "Well, the guys are the tallest," Patty said.

"No, keep them in the backseat," said the blonde, somebody is going to have to lie across them." Greg and I looked at each other, and we both had the same thought -- we were sure to get a lapful of something good.

It was quickly agreed that Heather and Sylvie were the two tallest females. They joined the blonde up front. "Now, the two shortest are going to have to jump in the hatchback with Blue," she ordered from the driver's seat.

We looked at the remaining four girls, and it was obvious that Dillon and Kylie fit the bill. I opened the hatch, and the two crawled in on either side of Blue. Other than having to bend their knees, they didn't look overly uncomfortable.

That left the two sisters, Greg and me. "Whoever is the shortest between the last two girls should lie across the top. The other one can get in between the two guys," our blonde Samaritan explained.

Patty was just a little taller than Syndee, so she crawled into the middle of the back seat. Greg walked around to the driver's side door and took his seat on Patty's left, and I took a seat on the other side of Patty and closed the door. Syndee followed Greg in crawling her way toward me, and lay down on her back. Greg closed the door.

I didn't think it would be possible, but we were all in. The blonde started up the engine, and we crawled tentatively out on to the highway. Small conversations started as we continued climbing. Dillon was talking to Kylie about Blue. Heather and Sylvie were also talking, but about what, I could not tell.

Meanwhile, Syndee's head was in my lap, and I had a good view of her big boobs spilling from her low-cut blouse. While Patty and Greg began an intimate tête-á-tête, no doubt picking up where they left off a few nights ago, Syndee looked up at me with a devilish grin, and said, "Too bad you're not sporting that rocket like you were the other night! All I'd have to do is turn my head to get a face full!"

I was certain the whole car could hear her, though I doubt that anyone except our blonde driver did. Everyone else was talking. But I still recognized that it would be wise to change the subject. Besides, no one was talking to our host.

"So are you from Duluth?" I asked the pretty blonde whose face I could see in the rear view mirror.

"Yeah," she said, kind of surprised, "how did you know?"

"I saw you had Minnesosha County plates."

"I do? I didn't know that. How do you know Minnesosha County?" she asked

"I'm from Duluth too." I answered.

"Where did you go to high school?" she asked, obviously interested now.

"O'Brien," I said, figuring that would bring a swift conclusion to our little conversation.

"I know tons of guys from there!" she answered excitedly.

"Who do you know?" I questioned.

"God! A whole bunch of guys! Let's see - Mark Fleming, Tim Hannigan, Rollie Prince, Steve Minton, Tom Threadwell.... I could keep going."

"I graduated with all those guys," I said excitedly. "Most of them are really good friends of mine! How do you know them?" I asked with genuine interest.

"I knew some of the when I was high school, but more recently I've been skiing with a big group of them out here in Montana, in fact, at Big Sky. And I just spent the summer in Duluth, and hung out with them almost every night." This all sounded oh-so-familiar.

"Where did you go to high school?" I asked as the picture began to reveal itself to me.

"Kennedy," she answered. What were the odds? I tried to calculate them. I was 1000 miles from home. Our car had broken down on the highway, and who is in the first car to drive by...?

"You're going to think this is pretty weird, but are you by any chance Ellie Lundberg?"

"How the hell did you know that?" Ellie screamed incredulously. She was looking at me now in the rear view mirror, and I knew that something had just happened that would prove fortuitous at some time in the future. When exactly -- I had no idea.

"I don't know. We just saw those guys a few days before we started our trip out west, and they we're all talking about you. They kept telling me that I should look you up. I think I have your phone number in my wallet."

"All of you guys are from Duluth?" She seemed stunned.

"No, just me, but let's see, half of us" -- I counted, Patty, Syndee, Greg, and me -- "are from South Dakota."

"What's your name?" Ellie asked.

"Steve Byars," I answered.