Passing Through

There have been many, but only a few are remembered, why those few I can't say, but there are others who are remembered but their names long forgotten. In the bottom of some dusty box there is a letter from her written from Jackson Hole, in the spring of 1978. Her story happened in another State, in another range of mountains, in another year. November 1977 saw me taking a Greyhound Bus to Boulder Colorado. At the time there was a youth hostel there. Hostels are commonplace in Europe but not the USA, so it was a surprise to find one in an out of the way place like Boulder. You were allowed to stay no more than 7 days, which was fine with me, enough to get a few hot showers and a good night rest. The first night was eventful, it was bitterly cold and I was not prepared. A girl from Boston gave me a red brown flannel shirt, and suggested I buy a down jacket. I headed over to a K-Mart on the edge of town and bought a screaming white and red jacket, which I was teased unmercifully about. My second day was even more eventful, I lost my travellers checks, and unfortunately they were not American Express, they were Lloyds Bank of London, and the only place I could replace them was in San Francisco, some 2000 miles away. I asked around the Hostel as to what to do, and one guy told me to come down with him to the Job Bank, a place in Boulder they hire day laborers. For the next couple of days I hammered in fence poles getting paid at the end of the day. My situation brought out the best in people, the Hostel agreed to extend my stay so I could accumulate some cash, it also allowed me to meet her, I will call her Linda, she looked like a Linda, high cheekbones, blue grey eyes, angular, wearing jeans and Timberline boots, as close to a ten as I had seen in the US. She was traveling from Michigan with her boyfriend, a chef. He looked the part, a bit overweight, rotund and dark, she was definitively too hot for him, but I guessed that he was her ticket out of Michigan and to better things. I became one of those better things for a few hours. One night her boyfriend decided to go out with some guys and left her alone. I was looking for somewhere to eat and someone to go with me, and she agreed. We headed into town, had a few drinks then she suggested going for a drive. I had never driven in the US, so she threw me the keys. Cars are bigger here, and after bashing both the car in front and the one behind, we took off in some huge boat down the road intending on going to a small Cowboy town outside Boulder called Netherland. My driving was such that she suggested, that on the way home she would take the wheel. We found a small bar, a real bar with real Cowboys and had a beer or two, then headed back to the car. By this time, we had progressed to French kissing and fondling. As we started to drive back she began to tease me about my driving, but I noticed she held her hands tight on the steering wheel. As we drove I slide down between her legs, she still held onto the steering wheel. "What are you doing", she asked, and quickly found out. I undid her jeans, pulled them and her panties off. "Your crazy", she shouted, as the sound of a horn blared from a car going the other way. I barely heard it, my head was between her thighs and my tongue in her pussy. Some women have a wonderful taste, and she was one, it was a sort of slippery, sweet texture and it gushed out, a sweet taste that I can never get enough of, which meant I was down there a while until she pulled over and let me lick her to orgasm. We fucked in the front seat then as the windows were completely steamed up went outside and fucked again on the car. It is always gratifying to have a woman come when you make love, I felt that after months of forcing herself to fuck the fat chef, she was having a fuck with a guy she thought hot, someone who turned her on and who maybe nuts as well, in a fun way. I could have fucked her all night she was so hot, but she suggested returning to Hostel.
The chef was there, she told him we had gone to Netherland, to show me some real cowboys, I had become the mascot for the Hostel who needed to be taken care of, clothes, jobs, a place to stay, help for the good humored basket case Brit. I stayed back, leaning against a wall, in case he smelt her wonderful pussy smell, that was still in my nose and covering my face. He said you should come to Jackson Hole with us, you could find job there with your British accent. Then the rest of the assembled crowd, said, better still Aspen, they will love him in Aspen. "Where's Aspen" I asked. Feeling the need to help this lost soul they told me in the Rockies and added there is a bus that goes there. Linda thought it was a good idea, if I wasn't going to Jackson Hole I would go to Aspen she said, look here is our address, write lets us know how it is going and we may stop by. What she was really saying was, "I will come and see you, when I dump this guy". Guess its a done deal I said.
She did dump her boyfriend in Jackson Hole, went to live with a girl she met, wrote to me to tell me how much she loved the Tetons, and wanted to take a trip to Aspen in the summer, by that time I had gone, but her scent and her memory has lingered down through the years.