After The Train
Part 5, Chapter 1: After The Trains - A Hopeful December - New Skis!
New Skis Day
It was December 9, 1985.
After dropping my son off at school, I drove to my office in Durham, NC. To the rest of the office personnel, it wasn't unusual that I was out of the office for long periods of time. And I wasn't advertising that I was dating someone in Chicago. There were a couple of people who knew I had met a woman on the train in September. None of them knew the extent of our involvement with each other or this radically different sex life I was engaged in. The afterglow was evident as I was very relaxed. I went through the stack of my recent mail and thought a lot about Catie and the previous two weeks. The experiences at Catie's parents' house with Abby (and her friends) almost seemed like something from a distant past. Yet they were also so vivid...in the moment experiences.
And then to cap it off with a spur of the moment trip to Minnesota for a group sex weekend. It was hard to wrap my brain around all the experiences even as I wrote down what I remembered (and relived through the words I wrote). I later joked with Catie that my balls hadn't produced that much cum to be spurted out of me over a two week span in my entire life. "I might get blue balls just from the sudden stop," I told her. She promised that she would help me with nightly phone sex sessions to slow my sperm production down a notch or two.
The day at the office wasn't unusual. I left to pick up my son from school at what would be the usual time. But tonight I was picking up my new skis, boots, and poles from a local ski shop. My son and I went grocery shopping after I picked him up from school. It was about 7:00 PM when we went to the ski shop. After waiting a couple of minutes, the manager of the ski store got my ski package out and went over a number of things with me. The bindings were mounted and set already and he showed me some of the essentials about the bindings. I bought a ski carrier/lock and a couple of other items, paid for them and was ready to take them all home.
My son had wanted to go skiing with me the year before when I was first learning and I had promised to take him this ski season. I talked to the store manager about that and the best approach to doing that. It didn't include buying him skiing equipment, but certainly the clothes and other essentials like good gloves and goggles.
I had purchased a ski rack and already mounted it on the roof of my car. I placed the skis in the rack, and put the rest of the gear in the trunk. I was now the proud owner of skis. I wasn't really much of a skier yet, but I had the symbols of being a skier. They looked so big (190 cm) compared to what I had skied with before (160 cm as a beginner, 175 cm on Mount Hood). Although they were there in front of me, it was like a lot of things that had occurred recently. There was a certain disbelief in their existence.
What was funny about that was when I called Catie later in the evening after my son had gone to bed, in addition to talking about how our days were, it became a highly sexualized and erotic conversation about skiing and equipment; about how LONG my skis (boards) were, where I'd like to plant my "pole," and, of course, "bindings." And how I'd love to find us a place where we could make love in the snow and watch the steam rise off our bodies.
"You should see me in my stretch ski pants," I told her. "They really emphasize my assets."
"I think I'd be busy trying to strip them off you!" Catie said. We bantered back and forth this way for a while before saying goodnight.
On Tuesday night, our conversation was more forward thinking around Christmas and New Year's. We pretty much decided that going to Minneapolis for New Year's, while offering a wild and sexually adventurous time, was probably not what we wanted to do to ring in the new year together.
Catie's travel plans looked like she was going to leave Chicago on Monday, December 23rd to fly to Portland, Oregon. She had tentatively planned to fly back to Chicago on January 1st. One alternative we were discussing was her flying to Washington, DC on the 28th to Dulles Airport to meet with much of my family and then for her to ride back to Raleigh with my son and I on December 30th. Catie and I could then celebrate New Year's with me in Raleigh and then fly home on New Year's Day. That was the alternative I liked the best.
Another alternative we were considering was me driving my son back to Raleigh on Monday, December 30th and then catching a late flight to Portland or an early morning flight on New Year's Eve to Portland and celebrating in Portland with Catie and her family. I understood Catie's desire to be with her family at Christmas, and particularly with the medical scare her dad had earlier in October. But Catie's brothers would be gone by Sunday and it would be Catie's mom and dad, Catie, myself, and Abby who would be there (and Abby's friends who would all be age 18? I tried not to dwell on that). I could either fly back to Chicago with Catie or fly back to Raleigh. There were lots of variants to these ideas, too.
Catie was also beginning to look at transfer opportunities as well as looking at changing employers to move to Raleigh to be with me. That was looking like the March 1986 time horizon. Catie asked me when my wife could file for divorce. I told her that it could be any day since we had just passed the mandatory one-year separation period.
"Can you file for divorce?" she asked.
"Yes, now that the separation period is completed," I said.
Catie asked me if I would file for divorce if she was moving in with me and my estranged wife hadn't filed. I hadn't really thought about that because everything had been contingent on what my wife wanted / planned to do and that I hadn't planned on getting involved with anyone. I told Catie that. After a moment, I told Catie that "Yes, I would" because it wouldn't be fair to Catie to make the big leap without the legal issues resolved and truly making my ex-wife my ex. We had already agreed, in principle, to the other issues of custody and property and so it was just a matter of filing paperwork and serving the papers for the divorce, and the court to issue the documents for the divorce to be finalized.
I realized that this was different than the way everything looked like it might go between my ex-wife and I in the beginning. And my ex-wife would always be a part of my life because of the son we shared. But it also gave Catie and I a clear path to move forward with our life together and for whatever our future held. Catie told me that she wasn't rushing me to get divorced or to get married (nor was I rushing to remarry) but sometime in the next year she wanted us to have a serious conversation about her being the mother of my future children and us sharing in being parents. She told me that she really hadn't thought about being a mother and a parent until she met me.
"I promise I'll let you be the great dad I already know that you are," Catie told me. The memory of her telling me that still brings tears to my eyes.
The end of our conversation was about my next day. Catie told me to have a great time but to be careful. I told her I would.
I set my alarm to get up early on December 11th because I had a nearly four hour drive ahead of me. As I drifted off to sleep I had pleasant and erotic thoughts of having Catie in this bed with me. I imagined what Catie would look like and be like, particularly late in pregnancy. It was a very pleasing thought. Out of the depths of depression and serious consideration of suicide just a year before, I was looking towards a future that excited me. We did belong to each other.
The next thing I knew, my alarm was going off at 4:30 AM. I fixed myself some tea and an English muffin. I got ready to leave and put my skis on the roof rack of my car. I ran through my checklist to make sure I didn't forget something critical. By 5:00 AM I was on my way to Beech Mountain. I drove past my office in Durham, NC on the way to Interstate 85 and Interstate 40. Once past Winston Salem, it was US 421 to Boone. Thankfully, the routes to the various ski areas around Boone, North Carolina were well marked.
It was nearly 9:00 AM when I arrived in the parking lot. Although it was supposed to be a warmer December day, it was cold at the base of Beech Mountain and they were making snow. I gathered my gear, found the ticket office and bought my lift ticket. Before heading to the slopes, I decided to get a more definitive breakfast, and headed to the cafeteria. While there, I studied the trail map. I figured that because I had skied well at Mount Hood's Palmer Glacier and it had an "Intermediate" rating, I should be able to handle that here, as well. But I thought I'd start at with the "green" easiest runs before moving to the more challenging terrain.
I was wearing a white turtleneck with an acrylic sweater that was black at the bottom and transitioned through some black and the gray stripes to a cream color around the shoulders. I wore black 4-way stretch Lycra ski pants that had gray gaiter protection padding below the knees. I wore a black jacket with gray trim, black gloves, and black ski boots. My Rossignol skis and poles were a metallic gray with a stainless steel lower portion at the base of the pole.
As a skier, I looked like a million dollars. I skied like five cents.
The 175 cm skis that I had found that were so friendly and forgiving in Oregon were probably just the correct length for my ability on that day. The extra 15 cm of the 190 cm skis attached to my boots were just...awkward. They were too long and hard to maneuver around. For the first few hours on the snow, my skis and I were not friends. In fact, I was thinking I made a huge mistake by going with skis this long. These weren't the modern skis of today's design. These were skis that were mildly stiff with narrower shovel (front section) of the ski consistent with the designs of the time.
I made it to lunch without seriously injuring myself. But I was flailing away and feeling miserable. I was thinking I should call it a day, drive home and turn the skis in for a different length or set and get whatever money back that I could from their used skis sale.
I came back out after lunch and it was (still) bright and sunny. Most of the snow making guns had been turned off. I still couldn't figure out what was making this so damn difficult. Yes, the ice "ball bearings" at Mount Hood also made it easier to ski in warm soft conditions but I couldn't get the skis to turn unless I yanked them around. I was taking one of the shorter lifts because I was hesitant to get on the longer runs.
And then it happened!
The first time I executed a committed pole plant and the turn "just happened." It was the moment the light bulb came on. Yes, I was still twisting the ski to get the turn to happen. But, it happened much easier. Over the next hour I played with the pole plant and my balance on the skis. It was the first time the skis were bending in the turn making the turn easier. After playing with the pole plant and turn, I moved to a different run, much longer and a bit steeper. It still worked. It was the first "Ah HA!" moment of many on my pairs of skis.
I wasn't a great skier yet, but I was no longer flailing away. By the time the afternoon came and then the night skiing began, I felt much better about the nearly $500 I had spent on a ski package. I packed up my gear and called Catie from Beech Mountain to let her know how my day had gone. She had just gotten home, told me that it sounded like I had a good time, and to be careful driving home. She wanted me to stop someplace overnight if I felt tired like I was going to fall asleep. I told her I would if I did and then got on the road to home.
I made it home safely around 11:00 PM. Catie had left me another XXX-rated answering machine message for when I returned home. It was all about where she wanted my "pole" to be planted in her and how. She spoke a lot about how she loved to be filled with cum (at least as much as she could tell me in a 2 minute message). Before I called her, I went upstairs and selected one of the videotapes that Abby had recorded of Catie and I in bed together and put it in my VCR.
I called Catie. "Hi there! I got your message," I said.
"You sounded excited about pole planting when you called earlier. I hope you weren't planting your pole après ski," she said.
"No," I replied. "But if I had, I would have liked for it to be you in a warm, bubbling hot tub with a couple of glasses of the bubbly while I was inside you and the hot tub was working its magic to relax our tired muscles. We could watch the steam rise to the stars to celebrate our naked union in the hot tub."
"I like the sound of that," she said. "What are you doing now?"
"I'm downstairs getting undressed and I've got one of our videotapes in the VCR."
"Which one?" Catie asked.
"The last one that Abbie taped of you and I," I said. Catie told me to wait and that she'd get her copy to play so we could "watch together." She set down the phone and went out of the bedroom towards the living room. A few moments later she picked up the phone in the living room and I could hear her putting the tape in the VCR. I heard the bedroom extension phone get hung up and then Catie was finally back on the phone.
"There..." she said. She told me that she was on her couch with a towel under her and a blanket beside her. She had her feet up on the edge of her coffee table while leaning back, legs spread, knees bent. "I'm ready for you," she said.
"I wish you were here to attend to my pussy. Me holding your head between my legs, your mouth and tongue working their magic. It needs your loving attention." I heard her take a couple of deep breaths and guessed she was having an orgasm at the thought and the tracing of her own fingers.
"Tell me again what you'd be doing with me," Catie asked. And I described, in detail, what I'd be doing as I explored her pussy with my mouth and my tongue, a millimeter at a time, which side I'd be attending to, where me tongue would be in the folds of skin of her vaginal lips, when I'd be circling her clitoris, and when and how much I'd be applying pressure of suction to it. Like the actual oral act, describing it for her to listen (aural sex) was a slow, scintillating process.
"Is my card still on your table?" I asked.
"Mmmm, yes."
"Pick it up. See where I wrote 'I LOVE YOU!' on the card."
"Yes," she cooed.
"I want you to imagine I am going to spell that out with my tongue on your pussy. Ready? I" and I described the tracing of my tongue for the letter "I." I proceeded to do that with the remaining seven letters of the words "I LOVE YOU" up to the exclamation mark.
"And now the exclamation point. My tongue tip is on your clitoris, ready to slide all the way the down to the opening of your pussy. Ready, here is goes. It's sliding down. Almost there. It's about to go deep. Deep in. Coming up the other wall. There at the bottom fold." There was heavy breathing on the other end of the phone.
"Wait, there's more. The little heart at the bottom of the exclamation mark and the radiant dot in the center. Where to put it? Oh, there. That sweet, puckered rose bud of yours. Put my tongue here, up and over, down the side to the point at the bottom, back up the other side, over the top and back to finish the heart shape. Now, for the radiant dot, plunge right to the center as deep as I can and then twist and swirl around as far inside you as I can."
I could hear and tell that Catie was cumming on the other end of the phone line.
I sat silent on my end. I was hard as a rock but I didn't want to spoil this moment for Catie. I didn't even know if the phone was still near her ear.
Finally, Catie spoke. "Damn, you are so good at that. We got really hot listening to you Sunday night."
"We?" I asked.
"Yes...Carol and I." Catie went on to explain that after I had mistaken Carol for Catie answering the phone, Carol realized that I wasn't just some random heavy breather on the phone. Carol had stopped by and Catie was missing having me around, they got to drinking some wine, I called with my very direct description of where I'd be putting my cock and what I'd be doing with it and....
"We girls will talk about you!" Catie told me.
"I know, I've been there," I said.
"Anyway, we got to talking about some of the things we did, including anal. And I told her that I didn't think of enemas as being part of sensuous sex until I met you. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was missing you. But we eventually turned down the lights, went to my bedroom, lit some candles, and undressed each other."
"I put her in our bed and gave her a nice warm enema. I fixed one for me, too, and crawled into bed beside her while I took mine. I told her that it wasn't just about constipation, menstrual cramps, or cleaning out for anal sex. It's the intimacy of sharing a taboo and I've found that I really like having you inside me when we are sharing enemas."
"What did she think of that?" I asked.
"Well, she really liked the enema I gave her and it made her and I hot. We were laying in bed together waiting for your call."
"I thought she might still be there," I said.
"Why didn't you say something?" she asked.
"I figured that if either of you wanted me to know that you were in bed together, that you'd tell me."
"You're not upset, are you?" she asked.
"Not in the slightest," I said. "So, tell me what happened when I called."
"She tried to follow your instructions and did really well. We switched positions after I came because I know exactly what it feels like you're doing when you're describing it. I just did what you described. You heard her cum, too."
"Have I met Carol?"
"Probably. She was at the party we went to after we met on the train. Long, straight blond hair, deep blue eyes, pouty lips. She's a natural blond."
"You're in the position to know," I said. Catie laughed at that. "What about when I was describing my cock inside you? I asked.
"Oh, then there was lots of vibrator and oral action," Catie said. I imagined that.
"That would have been a sight to behold," I said.
"No, it wouldn't," Catie replied. "You would have been doing what you were describing, not just telling us about it."
"You could have played one of our tapes for her," I said.
"I thought about it and decided that wasn't a good idea. I'd have to explain how my sister fits into that threesome."
"Good point," I said.
"I wish I was there to take your cum," Catie said. "Me, too!" I replied.
We decided to play the tape together in our respective players. They weren't perfectly synced, but they were close. Catie wanted me to describe what I was doing as I was watching and adding to it by including what she would be doing.
"Oh, Catie, here I cum" were finally the words she wanted to hear. I described how my cum was being shot up onto my abdomen above my navel.
"I love the way that sounds and love the way that it would look if I were there able to see it. But I'd rather have your cock and your cum inside me. And if I could, I'd slide my pussy down that cum trail of yours and slide that cock of yours right in me!"
I thought about that for a second and said "Maybe in a few months, you'll be here to enjoy such pleasure in person."
"I'm already working on that," she said.
We watched the rest of the videotape together and besides how hot the sex was, I noted that Abby did a really good job of recording us. "I love the parts where she's visible naked in the mirror with the camera. I think it really adds to the effect of the recording."
We finally decided to call it a night. I told Catie that I was going to take a nice warm shower to address my tired muscles and then crawl into bed thinking about her so that my dreams were filled with her and her love.
"I love you. I'd love to spell it out for you."
"You're so naughty! I love you, too. I'll talk to you tomorrow night."