0 comments/ 24984 views/ 6 favorites Tales of a Mountain High Ch. 01 By: Moonraker_Bond007 Hello folks, This is the first chapter of a new series. I haven't written anything in over a year and a half, so it's nice to actually get back to being creative. Something I plan to do when writing this series is listen to music as I start working on each chapter. Given that I'm a lifelong musician, I figure that the right song can give me the right way to go with the story – as it definitely did with this chapter. So, at the beginning of each chapter, I'm going to put my "recommended music" for the chapter. If you listen to it as you're reading, I think it might help put you in the right mindset for the story. Anyway, hope you all enjoy, and it's good to be back! Tales of a Mountain High Chapter 1: The Big Fish Recommended music for this story: "Tribute", by Tenacious D My name is Jack Bauer. No, not that Jack Bauer. No, not any relation to that Jack Bauer. In fact, Kiefer Sutherland can blow me. You know in Office Space, when Michael Bolton always has to deal with the fact that he has the same name as that no-talent assclown? Well, that's about what my life turned into when FOX put that godforsaken 24 on the air back just after the turn of the century. I was pissed. There I was, a junior in high school, and suddenly I was thrust into the spotlight by a crappy action show. Some people suggested I go by my middle name. Too bad my parents were both crazy military buffs who had decided to name me for historic generals – Jackson Tecumseh Bauer. Jesus, if General Sherman had it bad for having that middle name, he had no idea what it was like for me. Class of 2003, and my name was JACKSON TECUMSEH? My parents fucking sucked in January of 1985. But I digress. Much as that name may have sucked while I was at St. Bonaventure High School in downtown Vallé Salado, it all changed in the fall of 2003. It was a bit of a shock when I went off to college. I had been born and grew up in Vallé Salado, which is the fifth biggest city in these Untied States of America. By the way, yes, I said Untied. Fucking "George Walter Shrub" as our President. I mean, you've gotta be bad as a President when a fictional Kazakh journalist makes fun of your ass. It's like he's the next coming of Ulysses S. Grant, except Grant was a war hero while, Bush shirked his duty. Oh, and I have ADD, in case you couldn't tell. Lovely thing, Attention Deficit Disorder. When you combine it with a photographic memory, you remember every damn thing you see, the only downfall being that you can't focus on any of those things! Anyway. Like I was saying, off to college. Leaving Vallé Salado and going up to Ponderosa for school was a bit of a culture shock. I had originally planned to go out to Orange County and attend Chapman University, but lo and behold, it turns out I would've left Chapman plus a bachelor's degree and minus an arm and a leg. So, I headed off to Mountain High University. Mountain High University is in south Ponderosa, which is to north Ponderosa as Beverly Hills is to West Hollywood. In other words, it's separated by all of about half a mile. Ponderosa is a tiny college town – 50,000 people during the school year, 50,000 during the summer, except that during the school year, 15,000 of those people are students, and during the summer, 15,000 of those people are retirees and tourists. Now here's the funny thing about Ponderosa – if you're on or around the MHU campus, you're in what a former state governor once called a "cesspool of liberalism". Strangely, that governor was impeached a month after that. Anyway, the MHU campus is massively liberal. It's all about smoking pot and having "Bush is Not My President" bumper stickers on your car. Okay, maybe it's not ALL about smoking pot, but that tends to be a big part of the culture. You get more than three blocks off the MHU campus, though, and it's like Red City. Gun racks, red necks, and country songs make up most of north and east Ponderosa. Somehow, though, everybody gets along. Okay. Getting back to topic, I moved up to Ponderosa. My crap managed to fill both my mom's station wagon and my dad's sedan. Actually, check that – my crap filled my mom's station wagon, my dorm fridge and my sisters filled my dad's sedan. But whatever. On move-in day, I was assigned to Walter P. Bullhorn Hall. Apparently, Dr. Bullhorn had been one of the movers and shakers in getting MHU turned from a state teachers' college into a full-fledged university back in the '60s. Whatever. I managed to mostly tune out the orientation geek who was telling all us uninterested freshmen about the history of Bullhorn Hall. While I was tuning out Captain Dorkwad, I did manage to notice that there was a surplus, no, a veritable bounty of beautiful women on the campus of Mountain High University. A respectable number were among the twenty-five people currently sitting here in the hall conference room. There were more walking by outside. What the hell was this madness? Was this some sort of cruel trick, or had I landed on the campus of the best university EVER? Later that night, at a hall wing meeting, the R.A. told us that MHU had a five-to-one women-to-men ratio. That explained a LOT. Anyway, I do believe I was trying to make a point about going to MHU. Ah, yes. The difference having the name Jack Bauer made. Having spent four years in the St. Bonaventure marching band, I had immediately signed up for the MHU marching band. There was only one small difficulty. I marched, of all things, electric guitar. That's right – I'm a fucking amazing guitar player, if I should say so myself. No false modesty here; I can do things on the guitar that would amaze Jimi Hendrix. And so, the band director at St. Bone had put a wireless transmitter on my guitar and designed rock marching shows around my ability. 2000, '01, and '02, we had had the highest score at the state competition and damn were we proud. But then I got to MHU, and they were doing a fucking Broadway showtunes show. Well, not much room for a marching electric guitar there. Fortunately, they needed a keyboard player in the pit. So, I resigned myself to doing something so pedestrian. We had band rehearsal on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoons, and Friday of the first week, I had brought my guitar down to the L. Johnson Runon Stratodome for rehearsal. Okay, before I go any further, a word of explanation. L. Johnson Runon (pronounced run-on, like the improper sentence form) had been president of the university back in the '60s and '70s. In 1978, the university had decided that it was time to build a proper athletic facility for the football and basketball teams. So, since it snows a shitload in Ponderosa during the winter, they decided to build a domed stadium. Well, in 1978 when they built it, it was the largest free-suspension dome in the world, so they gave it the lofty name of the Stratodome. Anyway. I brought my guitar to rehearsal, and during a break, I plugged into the amp for my keyboard and started just messing around. Before long, I had attracted a crowd. I didn't realize it until I looked up and there were twenty people standing in front of me. I was a little embarrassed by that, so I took a brief bow, and then put the guitar away. After rehearsal, while I was packing up the keyboard for transport back to the Fine Arts College, I heard a very female voice behind me say, "You're really good, you know that?" I turned around. Now, like I said, the MHU campus has a lot of hot women. This girl was definitely up there toward the top. She couldn't have stood more than 5'2", 5'3". She was blonde, had bright blue eyes, and, well, to put it bluntly, an enormous rack. Now, I always feel bad when I say something about that. I think that intentionally objectifying women is very much not cool, and guys who do need to have a bit of testosterone removed from their system. However, sometimes... You just can't help it. This was one of those cases. Fortunately, despite the fact that I was sitting there taking in her absolute hotness, I was able to make my mouth work as well. "Thanks," I replied. "I've been playing guitar since I was four years old... my parents were going through a musical history phase... and so they got me playing guitar." Then, I realized why she stood out in my mind. "Wait, you're that tuba player, aren't you?" "Yep," she said with a smile. "I play an instrument that's almost as big as I am, and I'm damn good at it. My name's Trina Zapata." "Jack Bauer," I replied, extending my hand. "Wow," she said, "like Kiefer Suth-" "Yes," I interrupted, "like Kiefer fucking Sutherland." She stopped for a moment. "Sorry," I said quickly. "It's just that I've been hearing that for the last two years, and I'm a little tired of it." "No, that's okay," she replied with a smile. "But with a name like Jack Bauer and the ability to play the guitar that well, I bet you fuck pretty well too." Now, let me just say that it's practically impossible to make me speechless. But Trina did. I had absolutely no reply, no comeback – nothing. I just stood there, with my mouth hanging open. "Well, I'll see you on Monday!" she said cheerfully. "Bye!" I did see her on Monday, and every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday afternoon for the next few weeks, and sometimes on Saturday – you know, football games and all that. However, we didn't really talk other than to say, "Hi" – pit percussion and tubas just don't interact that much. The last Saturday of October, that all kind of changed. Saturday, October 25th, 2003. I had to get to the Stratodome at an ungodly hour, well before dawn – it was MHU Band Day. I remembered MHU Band Day well – St. Bone had gone every year I was in high school. We got an excellent my freshman year, superiors my sophomore and junior years, and a superior with distinction my senior year. I had also gotten one of the MHU drum majors alone in her dorm room for an hour after Band Day was over. Don't ask me how I did it, because if I knew, I'd be using the same moves on every attractive girl I came across. To this day, though, the St. Bonaventure band director still thinks that I was off visiting my Aunt Clara that night. Aunt Clara lives in Boston. Anyway. I showed up with a massive cup of coffee in my hand, and one of the gradasses (graduate assistants, for those who aren't in the know) sent me up to the concourse to set up one of the check-in tables. So I get up there, and one of the tuba players – we all called him "Bear" because his parents were Hungarian and his name was practically impossible to pronounce... although, he did also look like a bear – was already there. We started setting up the table, and got to talking about, of all things, Airsoft guns. Airsoft guns are these little plastic guns that fire little plastic pellets. They hurt like hell when you get hit by one, but they're completely harmless if you take the right precautions. The thing is, they look incredibly realistic. So, Bear was telling me about this Uzi Airsoft he has and how it can shoot out 100 pellets a minute. I don't have anything like that, but I do have an Israeli Defense Industries Desert Eagle .50 caliber Airsoft. I was telling him about it, and one of the features I mentioned was, "It has an eight inch barrel, which increases accuracy like you would not believe." That's when I heard a voice behind me say, "You have an eight inch barrel, huh?" I turned around, and who should be standing there but Trina, with a smile on her face that reminded me of a cat who had swallowed a canary. "I think we should find out," she said, and with no warning, proceeded to grab my crotch. In my defense, it had been a very, very busy semester for me. I didn't have a girlfriend at the time, and I honest to God hadn't really had the chance to look. So, while the fact that Mr. Happy immediately sprang to attention was mortifyingly embarrassing, it also really wasn't too surprising. Now, obviously, Trina noticed. But her smile simply got bigger. Her eyebrows went up a tad. "Perhaps we should take care of that later," she whispered, squeezed gently, and walked off. Bear just stared at me. "You lucky bastard," he laughed. So, I was assigned to be the escort for the St. Bonaventure High band that afternoon – which made sense, as it was my alma mater. They were on the field at 4:40 PM, which meant I had to meet them in the upper parking lot at 4:20 PM. At 3:30 PM, I was sitting at the check-in table, when Trina and Bear came walking up to me. "Hey Jack," Trina said. "I need you to come with me real quick. Bear's gonna take your place for a few minutes." I should've suspected something was up. But given that I'm Captain ADD, and given that I was tired as hell, even if I'd thought about it, I still would've gotten 2+2=watermelon right at that moment. I dutifully followed the tiny tuba section leader (yeah, even though she was a freshman, just like me, she had become a section leader, while I was pathetically wallowing in pit percussion). When we reached the hallway to the athletic offices, she turned left. We stopped in front of Coach Sweetzer's door – and Trina reached under her uniform and pulled out a key. Now why in God's name would she have had a key to the head football coach's office? Again, though, it didn't even cross my mind. She opened the door, pulled me across the threshold, and then shut it and locked it behind her. Then, without warning, she pressed her body against me and kissed me like a hungry man goes for water. Was I surprised? Yes. Was I complaining? Hell no. I kissed her back with an equal hunger, and then Mr. Eight Inch started coming to attention. Since I was pressed so tightly against her, she immediately felt my erection pressing against her leg. "Very nice," she murmured. "I think we should take care of that, don't you?" If I'd been able to form coherent words at that moment, I probably would've said, "Do pigs like to muck in shit?" or something equally sarcastic. Instead, I just kind of moaned, "Uh-huh..." She reached behind me and unzipped my uniform jacket. Pulling it off me, she slipped the straps of my uniform pants off my arms, and slid the body-length pants down to my knees, leaving my lower half clad only in basketball shorts and boxers. She slid the basketball shorts down, and then unbuttoned the button on the fly of my boxers, allowing my now fully erect cock to spring out. I had never seen my cock in a state quite like this before. It was angry, menacing, and red, with a vein standing out on top. The head was slick from the pre-cum that had already leaked out in the brief sixty seconds since Trina first pressed herself against me. "My God," she said. "That is an absolutely beautiful cock." And then, she said no more, for she had her lips wrapped around said beautiful cock. Oh sweet Jesus, I was in heaven. Her head bobbed up and down on my cock, her little blonde ponytail bouncing off the back of her neck with each thrust. Now, when you haven't gotten any in a while, your endurance tends to be limited. And so, less than a minute and a half into the most amazing blowjob of my life, I felt the impending eruption. "Oh shit," I gasped. I tried to warn her, but when I attempted to say, "Trina, I'm about to cum, perhaps you should hide yourself, because this is gonna be like a nuclear eruption," all that came out was "Gahhhh..." My cock pulsed in a way I'd never felt before, and six months worth of built up sexual frustration came boiling to the surface and blasted out of the head of my cock in a gooey white stream – or at least, that's what I assume, since I couldn't actually see it. When the first spurt hit the back of Trina's mouth, she jerked in surprise, her eyes shooting up at me with an almost accusing glare. Nonetheless, she kept her lips sealed around my cock until I stopped firing sperm bullets, swallowing every drop. After she finished, she released my still-hard cock from her lips, looked around, and went behind Coach Sweetzer's desk. Grabbing a sealed bottle of water, she opened it, and took a drink. Then she looked at me. "Normally," she said, a stern edge in her voice, "I hate having guys cum in my mouth. The face, the hair, the tits – I don't care. But the mouth – not so much." Oh shit. "I... I..." Then her face softened. "But in your case, you so obviously needed that orgasm, and you so obviously couldn't control yourself, that I'm gonna give you a pass this time." She laughed at the look of relief on my face. "It happens from time to time," she said. "When was the last time you came that involved somebody other than Rosy Palm and her five friends?" Wow. Talk about a metaphor I hadn't heard since junior high. Nonetheless... "Uh, just after Easter." "Holy shit," she said. "You've gotta get laid more often." And it was true. But what could I do? I'd like to get laid every single night, but the fact of the matter is, I'm a busy son of a... She interrupted my reverie. "Looks like your Eight Inch isn't done yet." I looked down, and sure enough, I still had a rock cock. Trina went behind Coach Sweetzer's desk again and rolled his office chair out onto the floor. "Hey," I said, my fatigue and ADD catching up to me again, "he's got the same chair as me, and he takes the arms off, just like me... I guess he must be tall... you know, it's hard for tall people to sit in office chairs with arms on them, simply because we've got bigger frames, and you kind of have to squeeze yourself into them..." With a gleam of amusement in her eye, Trina interrupted. "Shut up, Jack. And sit down." Who was I to say no to a section leader. "Yes, ma'am." I sat down in Coach Sweetzer's chair, my uniform pants, basketball shorts, and boxers still around my ankles, my cock sticking up in front of my band t-shirt, the relative paleness of it providing an odd contrast to the black fabric of the shirt. Trina stood in front of me – and started to strip. I never knew a strip tease out of a band uniform could be sensual, but good God... Now, first of all, you have to understand, tuba players in the MHU band didn't wear the uniform jackets. Instead, they wore football jerseys that had "03" on them, with "Mountain High" on the front and their name on the back. What's that? You don't care? Okay, back to the striptease. First, she peeled off the jersey. Under it, she was wearing the uniform pants, but had no MHU band t-shirt on under the straps – just a black Victoria's Secret bra. And yes, I know what a Victoria's Secret bra looks like. I worked at the Pima Fashion Square mall my senior year of high school, so I've seen a few. Good Christ. So she now had a pair of dark blue uniform pants on, with a black Victoria's Secret bra peeking out from underneath. She slowly slid off one shoulder strap, and then the other, and at an agonizingly slow pace, the pants collapsed into a pile around her ankles, exposing a matching black thong. At this point, I think that if my cock had been a dog, it would've been jumping around the room and howling at the ceiling. However, it stayed put except for the occasional twitch, while I just stared at Trina, with my lower jaw hanging four feet lower than the rest of my head. Looking at me, she put an angelic smile on her face, and then stepped out of the uniform pants. She now stood in front of me, clad in the bra, thong, and black socks and marching shoes. Now, as I think about it, that particular image based on my description seems a little silly-looking, but at the time, no model, no pornstar, no goddess of the silver screen had ever looked hotter than Trina did, standing in Coach Sweetzer's office. Keeping the smile on her face, she stepped over to me, and straddled me, her thong-clad pussy just inches above my fit-to-burst raging hard cock. She reached up to the front closure on her bra, and with a simple flick, it popped open, exposing her absolutely magnificent breasts. Tales of a Mountain High Ch. 01 Now, I'm a sucky judge of size, but these had to be at least a large C-cup. Without even thinking about it, I grabbed her back, and buried my face in her boobs. I was in heaven. I was about to motorboat her when she pulled back, a now somewhat more devilish smile replacing the old angelic one on her face. Sliding the bra off her shoulders, she gave me this piercing look and said, "I want you to take off my thong... with your teeth." Didn't have to ask me twice. I was immediately on my knees in front of her - not the least part because as I tried to stand, I tripped over the tangle of clothes around my ankles, but it was okay, because it put me in the right place. Grasping the edge of her thong between my front teeth, I slowly pulled it downward. As I uncovered her pussy, I saw that it was shaved bare except for a small "landing strip" right above her clitoris. In addition to that, it really also was the nicest looking pussy I had ever seen, and I've seen a few. I got the thong down to her ankles, at which point she instructed me to go back to sitting in the chair. I didn't think twice – I went back to sitting in the chair. She stepped out of the thong, now clad only in her socks and marching shoes. Trina stepped to the chair, and straddled me once more. Very, EXCRUCIATINGLY slowly, she lowered her body until her outer labia were just barely in contact with the head of my cock. Putting her hands on my shoulders, she held herself there, rubbing the wetness of her pussy on the head of my cock. Then she pulled up a bit, breaking contact. Slowly, she lowered back down, until the head of my cock popped inside of her pussy. You know, here's the facts. If Osama Bin Laden himself had walked through the door behind me just then and put a bullet in my head, I would've died a happy man. However, fate decided that I was going to be a lot happier than I was just at that moment. Trina slowly pulled up again, letting the head of my cock slip out of her pussy. Holding just a moment, she smiled down at me, and then dropped back down, SO slowly, until my cock was half into her pussy. She stopped there and just stood – her leg muscles must've been incredibly well developed an toned to pull something like that off. Now, being the ADD King, my brain immediately told my eyes to look. So, I looked – and yes, her thigh and calf muscles looked like something straight out of a fitness video. Then, my cock demanded attention again. Trina started swiveling her hips ever so slightly, moving her pussy in a tiny circle around my cock. I gasped with pure pleasure, and then the logic centers in my brain kicked in again. "Uh, I'm not gonna last too long if you do that," I managed to say past the fog of hormones screaming through my brain. "Sure you will," Trina giggled. "You just came ten minutes ago. You've got it in you." I suppose she had a point, because she kept swiveling, and I didn't lose it. Then, she pulled herself up again. This time, after the head of my cock popped out, she kept her outer labia still in contact with the head, rubbing back and forth on it. After a few seconds of that – which felt like an hour – the smile on her face got even bigger, she relaxed the tension in her leg muscles, and let her entire weight drop onto my cock. As her pussy enveloped every last bit of my cock, my brain just went into overload. I will tell you right now, there is no experience, no alcohol, no drug, that can provide as much stimulus to your brain as mind-blowing sex. Her pussy was like a tight, warm, soft, wet velvet glove. I swear to God, I had never felt a pussy like hers before. The logical part of my brain commanded my mouth to ask her exactly how she had developed such muscular control, but all that came out was, "Guhhhhhhh..." "Oh, you like?" Trina asked. Then, she truly started to fuck me. It wasn't hard fucking, like bouncing up and down and threatening to make the chair break fucking, but it was far better than that. She started to gently rock back and forth, lifting a little tiny bit off of me with each rock. I had closed my eyes and leaned my head back, and just sat there in absolute ecstasy as the friction of her pussy on my cock sent me over the Stratodome, over the rainbow, over the fucking St. Louis Arch. Then I heard her moan a little, and I opened my eyes. At that point, I decided I wanted to get a look at this, so I looked down at my crotch. With each thrust, about a third of my cock would come out of her pussy. It was slick and gleaming wet with her juices. Then, she would envelop my entire cock once more, and as she rocked back, the lips of her pussy stretched tightly around my cock as it was partially exposed. I looked at her face, and close as I was to going over the edge myself, I recognized the look of a person approaching orgasm. So, I decided to be a little proactive. Pulling her chest closer to me, I took the nipple of her left breast in my mouth. I sucked on it gently, and then VERY gently nipped at it with my teeth, which caused her to gasp, and her pussy to contract even more tightly around my cock – and I really didn't think that was possible. Now, apparently, she was right on the doorstep of an orgasm when I did that, because it clearly sent her over the edge – and good holy Christ did she have a loud orgasm. She slammed herself down onto my lap as hard as she could, moaning – nothing coherent, but all very loud. Her pussy started quivering and contracting erratically, and, well, that was enough to push me over the edge too. I grabbed her ass and tried to pull her even more closely to me, as my cock erupted for the second time. I could feel jet after jet of cum firing out the end of my cock as I filled her with, as Liz Phair would've said, my "hot white cum." Finally, we both came down from the mountaintop. We just sat there for a moment, as my cock finally began to soften. beep beep beep beep beep beep What the fuck? Then I realized. It was 4:15. "Oh shit!" I shouted. Then, realizing I might be able to be heard outside the office, whispered, "Oh shit!" "What?" Trina asked. "That's my watch alarm going off," I said. "That means I have five minutes to get to the upper parking lot and meet the St. Bone marching band." Trina looked me in the eye and smiled mischievously. "What if I don't feel like getting off your cock?" she asked. Now I was getting a little desperate. "As much as I would love to stay and have this argument with you," I said, "I have got to get up there or Dr. Smythe is going to barbecue my balls for breakfast, and this will definitely never happen again!" "Well, okay," Trina said, a disappointed tone to her voice. She stood up, releasing my cock, and at the same time, putting her hand under her pussy so that anything that dripped out wouldn't get on the floor. Now I was curious. As I hurriedly pulled up my boxers, shorts, and pants, I asked her, "What are you going to do to keep from dripping everywhere till you can get to a bathroom?" "Very simple," she replied. Reaching with her dry hand into her uniform pants, she pulled a tampon out of the interior pocket, unwrapped it, and slid it into her pussy. "That's ingenious," I said. "I never would've thought of that!" "That's because you're a GUY," she laughed. Then I stopped again. "Wait, you had that tampon with you... then you were expecting something like this? You were expecting to get laid on Band Day?" She looked me in the eye as she pulled her bra on. "Absolutely," she said. "And I expected it to be you. I searched you out this morning. I've been waiting for an opportunity to do this since I first talked to you back at the beginning of the semester." Well, I almost pulled my pants back down and fucked her again right then and there, but a look at my watch told me I had a whopping two minutes to get to the upper lot. I grabbed my uniform jacket and opened the door. I was halfway out the door when she grabbed my arm. Pulling me back to her, she whispered, "We'll have to do this again sometime, Eight Inch." She kissed me, snaking her tongue inside my mouth, and almost convincing me again to stay in the office with her for Round 3, but I was gonna be in deep shit very shortly, so I broke the kiss and started running, tossing a "Bye!" over my shoulder as I went. I struggled to get into my jacket as I ran down the concourse, going through all kinds of contortions to get the zipper up in the back as I went. I got a lot of strange looks, but the strangest of all was when I skidded to a stop in front of the St. Bonaventure band in the upper lot. Jerry Marks had been a friend of mine since we were in preschool, and he was now the St. Bone drum major. Looking at my rumpled uniform, my flushed face, and what was clearly my mussed hair, a grin cracked his face. "Glad you could join us, Jack," he said, a laugh hiding under his voice. "Although, it appears that you had an acceptable reason for being late." Now of course, being Jerry, he had to say this loud enough for the ENTIRE Matador Marching Band to hear. Most of them knew me, and they all had a good rollicking laugh at my expense. What could I do? I just smiled and flashed them a big thumbs up, while the smile on my face got even bigger than it had been. About an hour later, I waited just next to the south end zone with the rolling cart that contained my keyboard. Normally, I entered the sidelines from the north end zone, but circumstances had forced us to switch things around a bit tonight. I noticed a shadow fall over me – the unmistakable shadow of the bell of a sousaphone. I looked back over my shoulder, and there behind me was what I had always thought to be one of the strangest blocks of our opener – the tubas and the alto saxophones. And there, her cheeks still pink, but her hair now covered by a dark blue beret, was Trina Zapata. The alto sax standing next to her was no taller than her, with red hair and smaller boobs, and also a much smaller instrument. I made eye contact with Trina, and she smiled and waved at me. I waved back, and then turned back to the keyboard. As I did so, I heard Trina say sotto voce, but still loud enough for me to hear, "You see the keyboard player, Jen? That's Jack Bauer. And he's got eight inches..." I didn't hear the rest, as the drumline came to attention at that moment and did a massive drum hit that would've woken the dead. But as I pushed the keyboard forward onto the sideline, I stood straighter at attention than I had all season, with a big smile on my face. Here's hoping the rest of my college experience will be the same. Tales of a Mountain High Ch. 02 Chapter 2: The Open Road Recommended music for this story: "Nausea", by Beck "John Kerry is a slick, conniving son of a bitch." Or at least, that's what the message of the political ad on my TV seemed to be trying to get across. "JESUS H. CHRIST!" I shouted, throwing a fruit loop at the television. My roommate, Mike Sars, turned and looked at me. "What the hell, dude?" "Fucking political ads," I snarled. "It's an entire fucking year until the next presidential election, and I've got Howard Fucking Dean on my fucking t.v. screen calling John Fucking Kerry a fucking douchebag. Why should I have to fucking see this at 7:45 in the fucking morning?!" Mike just stared at me with a shocked look on his face. "Well… fuck," he uttered. That broke the tension. I laughed, and he said, "Why don't you just turn it to the Weather Channel or something?" "Nah," I replied. "I actually have to get going… the marching band is leaving at 8:30, and I need to get over to the Fine Arts College." Friday morning, and we were about to hit the road for Sacramento. The football team was playing Sacramento State University the next day, and for some reason, the marching band was going along. What the hell – it was a road trip to California – fun, right? Well, the only problem was that it meant driving across the state on Route 66 and then up to Sacramento on multiple other highways. It was a trip of nothing but lameass cities – Ryder, Landisman, Queenlady, Laughlin, Bakersfield, etc., etc. Oh boy, oh howdy. So, uniform bag in hand, I headed out the door. The Fine Arts College was just across the street from Bullhorn Hall, so I had plenty of time to find my way through the maze and pick up the keyboard. On the way there, we had been told that the tubas and the percussion would be riding on the same bus. I was looking forward to that – it meant I would get to spend a few hours with Trina, and there had been precious few hours spent with her since Band Day. In fact, despite both of our hope for a repeat performance of what had happened in Coach Sweetzer's office, the most that had happened was just some making out and groping. Of course, that wouldn't be happening. As I was exiting the band room into one of the many back passages of the FAC, I heard a voice very softly call my name. "Jack!" It was Trina. "Jack, come here for a moment." I set the keyboard down, turned around, saw her standing, strangely, in a fairly dark corner. I walked over to her, embraced her, and kissed her hungrily. She returned it for a moment, and then pulled back. "Jack, listen," she said. "I have to make this quick, because I could get in trouble just for talking to you." "Huh?" I was just simply confused. "I'm being initiated into the Alpha Delta Pi Sorority," she said. "Part of my initiation is that this weekend, I can't have any boys or any booze." It took me a moment, and then – "Aw, GODDAMMIT!" "Shhhhhh!" she said. "I know, this sucks, but I really want to join the sorority." I let out a big frustrated sigh. "Dammit, dammit, dammit. I was really looking forward to this weekend." "Really?" she asked. "Tell me, Jack, why?" Hmmm. What did I say here? Because I was planning on banging you senseless all weekend, that's why? "Uhhh…" She breathed in, and then let it out slowly. "Listen, Jack, I love you as a friend, but…" She paused. "What?" "But, if you were just looking forward to this weekend because you wanted to have sex and lots of it, then maybe we should rethink that part of our relationship." Wow. This weekend was off to a fantastic start. "Sorry," she said, walking off. So, I stuffed myself into a corner in the back of the bus with my laptop and my DVDs. Fortunately, the school had just replaced the bathroom in the bus, so it didn't really smell in the back… thank God. The buses stopped several times. The longest stop was in Queenlady. As were pulling off onto Andrew Sacred Blvd., one of the buses blew a tire. So, we were there for about an hour while that was getting fixed. All the while, I just sat fuming at the stupid ADPi initiation bullshit, not to mention the fact that I was missing out on a weekend of hot band geek sex. Of course, that's when I realized that that might've been my problem. Right at the moment, I was only in this relationship with Trina because we had, ONCE, had amazingly hot sex, and I was hoping for a repeat performance. Quite honestly, Trina was much more than just that, and I needed to treat her as such. Properly self-chastised, I returned to the back of the bus. Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back would do the trick for the next leg of the trip. Earphones on, I settled in for some Kevin Smith madness. We finally got into Sacramento around 10:00 PM. We were staying at Holiday Inn, which was a plus. However, there would be FACulty (as we called them) roaming the halls till 2:00 AM, and it was made quite clear that if anybody wasn't up to snuff at rehearsal the next morning, there would be hell to pay. I, for one, was exhausted. I climbed into bed, and was out before all of my roommates actually even got to the room. The alarm went off at 7:00 the next morning, and I crawled back out of bed. Dressed in my black band t-shirt, a black jacket, and blue jeans, I headed downstairs for breakfast. As I sat in the dining area eating my donut and drinking my coffee, I saw Trina come into the room. Even in the tracksuit she was wearing, she still looked damn good. I felt a "stirring in my loins", as they like to say, but I told myself to calm down. Rehearsal was oh so much fun. I spent half of it figuring out why I couldn't get the keyboard working and then the other half of it chewing a gradass up one side and down the other for bringing the wrong FUCKING amplifier. So, after rehearsal, while everybody else was headed off to SacState, that particular gradass got to go rent the right type! Fortunately, we had a good team that year. Our quarterback, Jared Temecula, hailed from Burbank – not the one where NBC's West Coast studios are, but the western suburb of Vallé Salado. He was a freshman, but a freakin' amazing quarterback. The MHU Bobcats were a good team this year, and they really brought their A-game against the Sacramento State Hornets, but SacState was good as well. The Bobcats finally pulled it out at the end, winning the game 24-21. The band brought its A-game as well. Last regular season game of the year meant our last performance of the show we had worked so hard on all year. So we went and played our hearts out. They keyboard was working, and I was pleased. After the game, we got back on the buses. They didn't so much care who was on what bus on the way back – you see, they just wanted to make sure everybody actually got there. If somebody didn't get back – well, they were adults, and that was their problem. I got on the same bus anyway. It didn't smell, and I needed an area of privacy anyway – I had some work to finish on the way back. So, as I settled into my seat in the back of the bus, I looked up. Trina was getting on the same bus, too – and this time, she had Jen Cavendish with her. Jen Cavendish is an alto sax player. She's a redhead about Trina's height, but her body's built a little differently – she doesn't quite have the curvature that Trina does, but that's okay – she's still hot. The funny thing about it was something that had occurred on Band Day. As we were getting ready to enter the field for our demonstration show, I had heard Trina make a comment to Jen that "Jack has eight inches…" At that point, there had been a huge drum hit and I hadn't heard any more of the comment. But, I really didn't care right at that moment. I got to work. Around 2:00 AM, as we were passing through Bakersfield, one of the gradasses asked if it would be okay to put a curtain up by my seats, since I was still working and I had lights on. I said fine, and he hung a curtain from hooks installed in the ceiling. Around 3:30 AM, we hit the city of Barstow, if you can call it a city. As we were leaving the east side of Barstow, my curtain was pulled back a bit. It was Jen Cavendish. "Hey Jack," she said. I took of my glasses and set them down on the laptop. "Wow, you're up late," I replied. "I couldn't sleep," she said, as she sat down next to me and let the curtain fall shut. "I think I drank too much caffeine at the game." "It's entirely possible," I said. "I'm a little surprised, though… after long enough in marching band, you learn how to regulate your caffeine intake. Or, at least, I did." "Well," she replied, "that's the thing. This is actually my first year in a marching band." Now THAT was curious. "Really," I said. "You didn't do marching band in high school, and so you came up here and just decided to join marching band?" "Well," she began, "I've been playing the sax since I was in fourth grade, and as a music education major, it was this or symphonic band. I'm sick of symphonic band, and so I decided to go for something new." "That makes sense," I replied. "So, what did you think of your first season?" "It was fun! I will say, though, that it has wreaked havoc on my sex life." I nodded agreement. "Boy, do I hear you on that," I said wryly. I had gotten laid exactly once all semester. "I heard you had fun on Band Day," she said with a giggle. I stopped short and looked up. "Oh, REALLY. What else have you heard?" "Don't worry," she said. "Yes, Trina told me. But I'm almost certain she didn't tell anybody else." I started to sigh in relief – "Not that she would've had to, though. You guys made so much noise that there was a crowd of about twenty people was gathered around the door of Coach Sweetzer's office by the time your alarm went off." "Oh, shit," I breathed. That wasn't good. But then… "Why didn't I see any of you?" "Well," she said with a smile, "as soon as we heard you shout, 'Oh shit,' we all knew it was probably time to go." I couldn't think of anything to say. I was mortified and yet amused, all at the same time. "There's something else I heard," she said, a grin spreading on her face. "Oh, what's that?" "I heard that you have eight inches…" She stopped. I heard a drumline hit in my head. "…of cold, hard cock." It takes a lot to make my eyebrows shoot straight up my face. That did it. "So, do you?" she asked. How did I even answer the question? "Well, yeah, thereabouts," I said lamely. "Can I see?" This was going way too fast for my exhausted brain to handle. "Uh, sure, why not…" I just sat there. She just sat there. "Uh…" She giggled. "So, are you going to unzip your jeans, or am I supposed to do it?" "I'm sorry, I'm just so tired," I replied. "But, uh, sure." I reached down and unzipped my jeans and unbuttoned the fly on my boxers. I pulled my limp dick out of my shorts – which, by the way, is something that I would not do unless drunk or exhausted. "Well, that doesn't look like eight inches," she snarked. "Don't worry," I said. "It'll get bigger." "Let me see if I can help," she said. Leaning across me, she gently tipped the tip of my dick, which caused it to jump and start growing right away. As it got bigger, she took more and more of it into her mouth, until my entire dick was in her mouth to the base. I was impressed. I knew that there were a lot of vocalists who could deep throat, but I didn't know that about reed instrument players. Or maybe it was just Jen. Now, unlike the last time I got a blowjob, I was totally exhausted, and I didn't have six months of sexual frustration built up. So, I didn't blow a huge sloppy load in Jen's mouth like I had with Trina, and after about two minutes, she came up for air and said, "I think I can do something else you'll like even more." Well. That sounded fantastic, because getting a deep throat blowjob had been pretty damn nice, too. Cautiously, so that she wouldn't bump the curtain and give away what was going on in the back of the bus, she unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them down to the floor. She was going commando, and so I got a great view of her tiny ass as she bent over to pull the jeans off her feet. She turned around, and I got an even better view. She had a neatly trimmed small triangle of curly red hair on her pubic area. My old friend Kris used to call redheads "firecrotch", and now I saw why. Pulling her sweater over her head, Jen revealed a very nice set of tits. Not huge – maybe a B-cup – but very, very nice nonetheless. Picking up her jeans, Jen reached into a pocket and pulled out a Trojan condom package. Tearing it open with her teeth, she pulled out the condom and, with amazing speed, rolled it down over my fully erect cock. When the condom was fully on, she turned around, and with her back to me, gently sat on my lap. My dick rubbed against her slit, brushing through her pubic hair. She rubbed up and down for a few seconds, the head of my dick bumping her clit, and then moved forward, and settled her pussy down onto my cock. Oh, wow, did that feel good. Even though I was on the verge of falling asleep, it was still an extremely pleasant stimulus. She settled my cock completely into her pussy, wiggling around a bit to get it situated just right. Slowly, she lifted her ass up, and then slid back down. My cock slid nearly all the way out of her pussy, and then back into its velvety warmth. She repeated this maneuver, and kept repeating it, over and over, but never speeding up. I grabbed her hips and tried to get her to speed up, but she resisted. Turning to look at me over her shoulder, she said, "If I go any faster, people will hear." "I've apparently had it happen before," I grunted. "Please?" She thought about it for a few seconds, and then relented. With a smile, she said, "Okay, but you're going to have to take control." Jen turned to face back front. I grabbed her hips, and started slamming into her as fast as I could. I tried to make as little noise as possible, but there was still the faint sound of flesh slapping against flesh with each contact between my lower belly and her ass. She was now gripping my forearms with her hands, and the closer she got to orgasm, the tighter her grip became. Jen's breath came shorter and shorter, till she was finally breathing in a series of repeated gasps. Her hands gripped my forearms so tightly that I thought my arms would break, and her head dropped backwards. Meanwhile I was still a bit off from an orgasm, but I could feel it approaching. However, I knew I needed to get at least close before she finished – but looking at her back trembling, I could tell she wasn't anywhere close to finishing. I sped up as much as I could. I pounded my cock in and out of her warm, wet pussy. She was leaking all over my jeans and the seat beneath us. This could be interesting to explain. Finally, I felt the pressure build up in my balls to the point of no return. I slammed my cock into her pussy as deep as I could go. I would swear I felt the tip of my dick come into contact with her cervix, as I let go and filled the condom with cum. When I finished, I relaxed, sitting back down on the seat. My cock was still inside of her, but was starting to soften, so she got off quickly before the condom spilled. She turned around and removed the condom, carefully trying not to spill any cum, and while she managed to not get any on me, she spilled about half of it on the floor. "Oh, shit," she giggled, putting her hand to her mouth to try to keep from being too loud. "Don't worry," I whispered. "I'm sure this is far from the first time this has happened on this bus." Her body shook with laughter as she now had her hand fully covering her mouth. I honestly didn't think it was THAT funny, but shit – it was 4:00 in the morning! Jen set the condom on the floor and redressed quickly. I put my dick away, zipped up, and said a quick prayer that my jeans would dry before we got to Ponderosa. Jen picked the condom back up. She leaned in and kissed me quickly, said, "Good night," and walked back out past the curtain. The bathroom door opened and shut. I heard a flush as, I assume, she sent the incriminating evidence into the bus's sewer tank. The bathroom door reopened, and then she ducked back behind the curtain. "It looks like Trina fell asleep across both our seats," she said. "Mind if I sleep back here?" "Sounds good to me," I said, on the verge of sleep myself. I tucked a pillow behind my head and leaned back against the window, as Jen put a pillow on my lap and laid her head down. Five minutes later, I was asleep. At about 7:30, light peeking in through the window woke me up. As I came to grasp where I was – and who was lying in my lap! – I realized that, like every other morning, I had pretty serious morning wood. However, this particular morning, it was uncomfortably wedged under a pillow that had somebody's head on it. I tried to move the pillow gently to keep from disturbing her, but she woke up anyway. Looking up at me, she had a confused look on her face at first, but then she broke into a sleepy smile. "Hi," she said. "Good morning," I whispered. She sat up, and pulled the pillow off my lap. Of course, she looked down as she did so, and saw the bulge under my jeans. "My, my," she said. "What have we here?" She unzipped my jeans, letting my cock spring out, and leaning down, took it in her mouth again. This time, she didn't let it go after a minute. She was all over it, gently applying suction with her lips, licking it, and letting it slide all the way to the back of her throat. I leaned back, in heaven. Suddenly, a head poked its way around the edge of the curtain – Trina! Oh shit! "Jack," she whispered, "is…" Then she looked down and saw Jen's head bobbing up and down. She looked back up at me, and a huge mischievous grin split her face. "…Jen back here?" she finished her question. Jen obviously heard her, because she lifted her left hand and waved, all the while continuing to perform the most exquisite fellatio of all time. Then, being mischievous yet more, Trina pulled out her RAZR, took a picture of Jen's head in my lap, and departed. Meanwhile, Jen's oral ministrations were having incredible effects. Just like a few hours earlier, I felt the cum building up, ready to explode. However, I was determined to warn her. "Jen," I gasped, "uh, get ready?" I didn't want to say anything explicit, because I never knew who might be listening. She got the meaning, though, and just gave a thumbs up. It was like that Dane Cook standup where the girl just said, "Uh-huh," as he gasped that he was about to cum, except EVEN BETTER. Dane Cook doesn't have shit on me. So, finally, it was just too much to take. My cock started spurting, shooting semen into her mouth. It wasn't a very big load, because I'd just dumped a huge one into the condom a few hours earlier. Either way, though, she swallowed it all. She sat up, licked her lips, smiled, and said, "Well, I better get out of here. I'll see you later!" And like that, she was gone. So, there we had it. I had had hot band geek sex this weekend. Sure, it wasn't with the person I had expected, but I'll be damned if it wasn't fantastic!