What a Long Strange Trip

Four museum-quality pieces of history were laid out in front of me and I was finding it hard to breathe.

"The StG-44 and PPSh-41, I inherited from my father," John started to explain. "Bring backs from World War II. Made sure they got NFA registered. The Thompson and the Sterling, I bought, after I got back from Nam. I was getting serious about collecting when they passed that stupid FOPA piece of shit in '86 and froze the market. Prices went through the roof, so I quit with what I had. Of course, they've made a nice investment and they'll get passed on to Angie at some point. Or sold, if I'm dead and she needs the money."

I was looking at not only the Thompson, but a German StG-44 machine gun, which the Kurz was for, a Russian PPSh-41 submachine gun, which was the Tokarev, and a British Sterling L2A3 (or Mk IV), which used the 9mm. $85,000 worth of hardware. And I'm going to get to shoot them! I remember thinking. Oh, sweet Jesus! Thank you, Thank You, THANK YOU!

"God, John, I wish I'd brought a pair of gloves," I told him. "I don't want to get my sweat all over these babies..." He didn't say anything. He reached into his range bag, pulled out a pair and tossed them to me.

"I've got eyes and ears here, too," he told me. "You'll want 'em. We'll go over each one of them before you shoot, but I'll tell you right now, all four have one thing in common. If you don't keep her tight to your shoulder, she'll climb up and right, every time. You two come on over here and get set up. I'll open some ammo."

I was in hog heaven. We spent almost three hours out there shooting those guns. He was incredibly generous with his ammo, though it had to be costing him a fortune. Angie was pretty damned good with them, too. She confessed later that she already had some experience with them. Figured.

At one point, while I was rockin' the Chicago Typewriter, I asked John, "So, when were you in Vietnam?"

"'69 to '72," he told me simply. "1^st Air Cav, Garryowen. Greywolf after we got back." Then he handed Angie another stick for the Sterling.

Holy shit, I thought, deciding to shut up and not push. Most decorated unit, highest casualties of any Army unit over there. Maybe let's change direction. "So, are you retired Army?" Subtle, Steve... really subtle.

"Nope," he answered in the same level Sam Elliot voice. "They inactivated us in '80. Did my ten years, didn't feel like doing another ten. Got my honorable."

"Met her mother a year after I was out," he changed the subject for me. "I'd come out here, looking to ranch or something. Get away from people. Fell on my face a few times, but lucked out when I met Ginny. Virginia, she was christened. Family was British, living in India. Moved here after the Second World War. Met her at the feed store and lost my heart. That simple."

"Sounds like she was a special lady," I nodded, appreciating the idea of losing one's heart.

"She was, til cancer got her five years ago," he agreed. "Worked with me to start this ranch. Gave me Angie and Gil... that's my boy, Gilbert. Ginny said it was after Gilbert and Sullivan, but he always preferred Gil. Lives in Spokane now. He's a lawyer. Deals in real estate."

"I'd like to meet him sometime," I told John, and I meant it.

"You probably will," was his cryptic answer. "Want to try to hit something moving?"

Is the bear Catholic? Of course... so he showed me how he put a piece of plywood inside an old tire and set it up in a cradle at the top of a gully. He walked back with a rope that was attached to it and had Angie and me get into position at about ninety degrees to the tires intended direction of travel. The rules were simple. When John pulled the rope it would release the tire, which would begin to roll and bounce its way to the bottom. Angie and I were to try to put as many holes in the plywood, and not the tire, as possible before it came to a stop.

Awesome game. Especially because the tire didn't just roll. It bounced every which way. I did alright, but not great. That is to say, if it were an active threat, I would have died about half the time and maybe survived the other half. It was a hell of a lot of fun, though. And a lot of exercise, since we had to go down in the gully to retrieve the tire each time. It was mid-afternoon when we decided to knock off.

"Now you get to experience the other half of the fun," he told me and I would swear I saw the proverbial twinkle in his eye.

"He means cleaning the hardware," Angie told me as she put her arm around me and sent an entirely different kind of thrill through me. "You shoot 'em, you clean 'em, right Dad?"

"Yep," he nodded. "Let's pack it up. I'll run you through it between now and dinner."

We did exactly that, and I got a major education on what went into maintaining those pieces of history. Every one of them was lovingly field stripped, cleaned and then cleaned again, lubed and reassembled, function checked... right down the line. Tedious, but worth it. This was turning out to be a far, far better trip than I'd originally thought. First Angie, and now her Dad. Your basic good people to hang around with.

We beat Juanita's dinner call by about fifteen minutes. Just enough time to get scrubbed up for dinner. As we were getting ready to sit down at the picnic table again, John paused and offered me his hand. I took it.

"Thus endeth my day of vacation," he told me. "Steve, I'm glad you could take the time to have some fun. It's been good meeting you."

"Likewise, sir," I told him. "I mean, John. I haven't had this much fun in a long time. Send me the bill for the ammo." I know I was grinning like an idiot.

"You just take care of my girl," he told me. His tone was low and even... and had a lot of compulsion packed behind those few words. "We'll call it even."

"You've got it, John." We broke the handshake and sat down to dinner... and Juanita surprised me. I was expecting more Tex-Mex. This was roast chicken in an apple sauce, veggies, bread... reminded me of Midwestern, not Mexican. It was great and I told her so. Gus and his family were there again, and he and John got into discussing what had to happen over the next few days. I took the opportunity to have an aside with Angie.

"What do you think about roughing it?" I asked as we were eating.

"In what way?" she asked with a smile. "A little light B&D?" Okay, that got a surprised look and a chuckle out of me.

"No, I was thinking more like sleeping in the back of my truck," I explained.

"Why?" She genuinely looked puzzled.

"Because it's 8 hours from here to Billings," I told her. "Overnight there and 2 hours down to Cody." I saw her start to light up as she understood where I was going with this. "We could do 2 days at the museum and back to Billings, then 10 hours to get to Sioux Falls and 9 hours to get home. The bitch is, no way we get a hotel anywhere around Cody without making reservations 3 months in advance."

"Hence sleeping in the truck," she interrupted me. "Yes! Oh, yes! Yes, definitely!" John paused in his conversation with Gus and looked over at me.

"You ask her to marry you?" he asked. I think I looked horrorstruck, based on Gus' laugh.

"No, sir," I spluttered. "She's still married."

"No, Daddy..." Angie had to throw in. "He only asked me to sleep with him."

I'm not sure the embarrassment was showing, but I was sure feeling flustered. I was trying to figure out what to say when Angie decided to fan the flames.

"In the back of his truck."

John just fixed me with that no-bullshit gaze of his and told me, "then you're going to want some padding. Angie, take that old quilt of your mother's. And maybe a couple of your old sleeping bags. I don't use 'em anymore."

"I was planning on it, Dad, but thanks for offering the quilt. I think I'd like to have it."

"It's in the cedar chest, girl," he told her as I sat mute and watched the byplay, like a tennis match. "I'll have Juanita get it out for you."

"That's okay, I can get it myself, in the morning, before we leave."

"You're leaving tomorrow, then?"

"Yeah, we want to make it to Billings with time to get a room. The truck is for Cody."

"Alright, then," John nodded and turned back to his discussion with Gus.

"Angie, you're going to kill me," I told her under my breath.

"Why?..." she drawled, taking my arm and looking at me all doe-eyed.

"Terminal embarrassment," I told her. "You keep dropping innuendos like that, especially in front of your Dad, and I'm just going to go find a hole to crawl into and pull it in after me."

"You don't get it, Steve," she sighed, leaning up against me. "He likes you. He really likes you. And that is pretty damned unusual. I really don't think you've got anything to worry about, and especially when it comes to teasing. He may be gruff on the outside, but inside there's a heart of gold. Down there at the gully today? I don't think I remember the last time he had that much fun showing off his babies to someone who could actually appreciate them. Personally, I'd say you're in."

"And no quips about being in what," she hurried on before I could say anything. "I'll take care of that piece of business later."

I just sort of smiled to myself and shook my head. Living in her world was going to take a bunch of adjustment on my part. I was really starting to think I could do it, though. Not just could, but really wanted to do it. To fit into her world. Hell, if I ever decided to get off the road for a living, a place like Wapiti Run Ranch would be exactly the kind of place I'd like to hole up.

And, part of me started thinking, even if I were still traveling, Spokane's airport could get me anywhere I needed to go via a number of hubs. Yeah, multiple legs took longer, but since I usually traveled out on Sundays for Monday meetings, and came back Fridays late, it could be done. As soon as I caught myself thinking that, I realized I was in trouble. I was really falling for Angie, and for John's lifestyle, and falling hard. Did I, at 50, really want to make that career change?

Man, I had a lot to think about. And I guess it showed because Angie asked me what I was thinking.

"I'll tell you about it later," I told her. "Let's finish dinner and then kick back for awhile. I'm starting to feel today's fun and games in my back and shoulders."

"Trade you massages?" she offered, but with a look that let me know she was thinking back to the trailer. I couldn't help it. I grinned.

"You've got a deal."

Somehow, and I'm not sure how, Angie and I got roped into some Xbox competition with Gus' kids, and to be honest, Cole and Betsy whupped us. They were better at the racing games and they were better at the shooter games. Angie and I finally acknowledged their prowess as the undisputed King and Queen of the Xbox, made our excuses and headed back to her room to soak in her en suite and then rub some of the kinks out.

This time, it really was serious massage. We were both sore and quite willing to forego the sexual side of our touching until the pain levels had gone down significantly. Of course, medication helped with that, too. The time spent working out the tightness was also an opportunity to discuss the drive home.

"So you're figuring two days in Cody," she told me as I worked on her neck, shoulders and back. "What did you have in mind to do? There's quite a bit."

"Well, figuring we'd get in sometime Wednesday morning, hopefully early, I thought we'd do as much of the Center of the West as reasonable -- after all, there are 5 full museums -- and still leave time to hit the Nite Rodeo. Then we overnight in the truck and go back to finish the Center of the West, heading back to Billings in the evening."

"Any particular order for the museums?" she asked.

"Do you have a preference?" I asked in return. After all, one of the rules is Keep The Women Happy.

"Probably the Cody Firearms museum first," she decided, "and then the Buffalo Bill museum. We could do the Whitney Western Art museum, if there's time. We can save the Draper Natural History museum and the Plains Indians museum for Thursday. What about the Dug Up Gun Museum?"

"The what?" I'd never heard of it.

"The Dug Up Gun Museum," she iterated and I could hear the smile in her voice. "It's a free admission collection of all kinds of old guns that have been dug up. Literally. Out of the ground."

"Sure, that could be fun," I agreed. "Pencil it in." She laughed and I loved the sound of it.

We kept at each other for several hours and it was after 10pm when we wandered out into the house, specifically looking for the liquor cabinet. We found John and Juanita sitting in the Great Room, watching the news. When I asked about alcohol, he told us Angie knew where the booze was and to help ourselves. We said our goodnights and headed back to Angie's room with a couple of very tall Margaritas.

We settled in to bed and a night of wonderfully gentle, unhurried lovemaking. The frantic edge was gone and we were exploring each other, learning each other, taking the time to feel good and feel it deeply. She started with giving me a long, easy blowjob, not trying to make me cum -- just making me feel good. I reciprocated by going down on her just as gently, looking for all the places that felt good and that I could tease forever. Eventually, though, she started climbing and I decided to go for it.

I got her off for about three or four low-key rolling cums before she decided it was her turn to go back down on me. She got me very close a couple of times, but eased up, letting me back off. Finally, she got me good and hard, swung her leg up and over me and sat down, spearing herself with my very turgid manhood.

"Oh, God, that feels so good!" she murmured as she bottomed out. "I swear, Steve, it's like you were custom made for me."

"Maybe I was," I teased. "Purpose-built to be your entertainer and possible protector on a long and otherwise boring journey home."

"Mmmm... but which home?" she smiled as she rocked. "This trip showed me a couple of things, Steve. A couple of surprising things. Like, am I really doing with my life what I want to be doing?"

She paused. Not her rocking. Her talking. I wasn't about to interrupt either. She sounded like she was moving into Serious.

"The thing is, I thought I wanted to be an Accountant and climb the corporate ladder and make a name for myself. I'd look at all the wealthy in the world and their fancy toys, and I'd think 'Wow... I want to be able to do that!' Hollywood... Wall Street... hell, even Tokyo and Zurich! They all seemed so exciting and so attractive. I set my sights on being a multi-millionaire before I was forty, when I'd retire and enjoy the rest of my life traveling around the world."

"And now..." She paused and looked down at me with those bright green eyes, and I started getting lost in them.

"And now," she resumed, "I'm thinking that the place I'd most like to be is back here at the ranch, helping Dad and feeling good about being alive, avoiding the crush of the impersonal city. Or maybe working with Gil and his business. And I've been daring to think..."

Again, she paused, and I had a feeling I knew what was coming. But I sure as hell wasn't going to interrupt. She held my gaze as she went on.

"I've been daring to think that you might like to live here, too. Together." Another long pause.

"Married."

I took a deep breath and let it out before I let myself say anything.

"Angie, you're not even divorced, yet," I started, keeping it easy. "I think you need to get bozo out of the way before you contemplate screwing your life up again."

She hit me. Honest to God, she picked up the Hello Pussy pillow and hit me with it. Hard.

"I would not be screwing my life up, married to or even just living with you!" she told me rather vehemently. Then she got her temper under control. Still sheathing me, I might add. "I do agree getting rid of Asshole first and then dating for awhile would be a good idea. But you go ahead and tell me you don't feel the same huge draw to me that I feel to you."

"I can't tell you that," I told her, "because I feel it, too. I've just learned to be very cautious these days and I don't want either of us getting hurt, jumping into anything before we should. There's a lot more complications, though, than if I were twenty years younger."

"Don't you dare wave that Age Flag at me, Steve," she told me and ground her groin down onto mine. "Anything age related can be overcome."

"I didn't say it couldn't," I agreed. "It just takes working at it."

"So..." and she went back to rocking on me and severely distracting me, "don't you like it here?"

"Oh, Jeez, Angie!" I moaned. "Of course I like it here! It's just... well, this isn't a fairy tale and we have to deal with reality, okay?"

"Okay," she actually smiled. "As long as you like it here, I'll work on the fairy tale part. Would you do me in the ass?"

Like I was going to say no? Hardly...

She dismounted, then lay down next to me, facing away.

"Spoon in from behind, Steve," she told me. "Dock. We can do a long, slow fuck that way..."

Who was I to argue? Especially when I was getting something that turned me on like crazy. I did exactly as she asked, and spent the next half hour or so buried in her hot tush and feeling her mini-cums roll over, and over, and over...

"Cum in me, Steve, please," she finally asked in a soft voice. "Then let's get some sleep. It's going to be a long drive tomorrow."

"As you wish, my Lady," I smiled from behind her, then increased my thrusting, getting that stimulation that was going to drive me over the edge. The fact that she was going to cum like gangbusters wasn't lost on me, either. In fact, I was counting on it. An A-1 guaranteed way to make me blow my load deep in her ass while it milked me dry.

I felt my balls pull up and my ass tighten about the same time Angie let out a low moan and pushed back into me.

"Cum in me, Steve," she told me. "You're gonna make me cum... oh, God! Fuck! Cumming!..."

That was all it took. As soon as her ass clamped down on me, I tripped over. And she just kept saying "cumming... cumming..." in a soft voice as I erupted in her. I kept pumping as long as I could. Long after all my jizz had been milked out of me by her fantastic derrière. I had to quit eventually, though, and I eased out her.

"Just stay there," she told me as she reached back to pull me into her. "Snuggle. We can clean up later." Sounded like a plan to me, so I did and it wasn't more than ten minutes later, we were both out.

* * * * *

It was a long drive to Billings, with stops at Missoula and Butte like we had on the way out. Eight hours, made a lot shorter by the entertainment Angie provided on the way. Between her teasing me by doing her and her teasing me by doing me, my hormones were getting a major workout. Oh, and we stopped briefly at Huson, to thank Ted, Tillie and Luke for their help, and to drop off a half-dozen jars of preserves, put up by hand, from the ranch.

We'd left a little later than we wanted to, mostly due to digging out stuff Angie wanted to take back, like her mother's quilt and the sleeping bags, and some other camping gear of hers that she thought she might use back in Illinois. John gave me a case of M2 Ball for my Garand, which I very much appreciated, seeing as how it would normally cost me about $400.

He took me aside for a quiet conversation before we left.

"I can't tell you what to do about Asshole, Steve," he told me in a low voice. "But you're a smart man. Figure out some way to fuck him up good. And for Christ's sake, don't let him get anywhere near my girl. She's tough enough to stand up to him, but I don't want to see her hurt because he's some kind of lunatic. And if she's going to blow you on the way back, tell her to keep her shirt on, at least. Too many smart phones with cameras, ya know?"