How the Coronavirus Jump-Started my Sex Life - 23. Chapter 23

The day was very clear and the sunshine was the strong, direct, and unblocked sun the Southwest is known for. Some people find the area just dusty and brown, but I have always found these desert areas beautiful because there are so many unusual features just everywhere.

It was around ten a.m. when I directed Alan to turn off US 550 onto NM-4 for the short drive to Jemez Springs, our destination. We had driven north about ten miles from Albuquerque, past the Sandia Hotel and Casino on the Sandia Reservation, and through the small city of Bernalillo. There we had passed a dollop of Las Vegas called the Santa Ana Star Casino at the edge of the Santa Ana Reservation. Twenty-five miles or so later, we turned onto NM-4 in the San Ysidro Reservation.

“I had no idea there were so many reservations around here,” Alan said a little incredulously.

“There are a bunch,” I responded. “I think there are 19 pueblos still in existence here in Central New Mexico. Jemez Springs is only a few miles away but it’s in a different reservation to this one. Out here almost every town is a unique reservation.”

“Wow.”

“I guess hundreds of years ago, each little settlement was a separate and independent society. So, we have the modern reservations that generally include a few thousand Native Americans who all descend from those ancient peoples.”

“That’s cool.” He said as we drove the crooked road through the sparsely-populated and obviously poor town of San Ysidro. In no more than 2 minutes, we had reached the edge of the settlement and passed the sign telling us we were leaving the reservation.

A few minutes later we entered the Jemez Reservation. To our right lay a mesa that was 100 feet or so higher than the road. The mesa had an irregular rocky edge created by eons of wind and occasional waterflows that would come down from the flat top of the mesa and cross a small valley before joining the river, which ran to our left. This was the Jemez River, which was very small at this time of the year when the snow melt in the higher mountains had not yet begun. Along the river was a continuous stand of beautiful cottonwood trees or alamo trees if you prefer Spanish. Alan commented on the dark bark of the trees and the almost neon glow of the tiny yellowish green leaves that were beginning to pop out in the cool March sunshine. The scenery was unique and beautiful. And no humans could be seen anywhere.

As we drove, we were climbing in elevation as we followed the river upstream into the hills.

“This is a narrow valley that would take us up several thousand feet in elevation into the Jemez Mountains,” I said, “and eventually into Los Alamos, where we could continue on and go down out of the mountains towards Santa Fe.”

“Oh. Will we go that far today?”

“We could, but it will be more relaxing to just concentrate on seeing Jemez Springs and the nearby area today. Maybe we could do the whole loop another day.”
“I think I’d like that. I don’t want to hurry and not have all the time we might want at the hot tub!”

I chuckled. “I vote for plenty of soaking time.”

He reached across to pat my knee, then left his hand there for a moment. “You got it.”

Soon we passed a school high on the mesa above us and then a community center and a few homes. Everything looked like rural middle class but certainly not new and fancy. The edge of the mesa gradually became more pronounced and became a beautiful red sandstone. About 10 minutes from our turn off US 550, we passed a small gas station on our left near the river. Across the road from the station was a sort of park-like area with a row of small wooden structures facing the highway in back of a gravel parking area. At the far end of the parking area stood a shiny new Ford F-250 with a young family milling about the structure.

“What is this?” Alan asked.

“It’s like a marketplace,” I said. “Locals bring their wares and sell them in these booths. Mostly Indian jewelry, pottery, blankets, or food.”

“I wish they were here today. That would be pretty interesting.”

“Well, it looks like those people may have a booth. We could see if they do.”

We turned slowly into the gravel and pulled up a few yards from the pick-up. There was an older woman with gray hair pulled tight into a bun, a woman I guessed was about 30 with long black hair hanging free and blowing in the breeze, an old man, and two small boys who looked to be about 6 and 8 but quickly went to the old man when we got out of the Durango. I noticed as we began pulling into the parking area, everyone picked up a face mask and put it on.

As we came up, everyone backed away from the front of the booth to give us space. This particular family had two lines of products, some rather simple jewelry made from colored beads strung on liquid silver necklaces or bracelets and some exquisite pottery. No one spoke as we moved quickly away from the jewelry and began looking at the pottery.

“This is beautiful!” Alan exclaimed with surprise.

I reached towards a pot that he was looking intently at. I looked at the younger woman. “May I?”

The young woman nodded while everyone else continued staring.

Carefully, I picked up the pot and held it close to Alan so he could see the intricacy of details. He gently touched the surface to check the texture.

“It’s gorgeous,” he said. “I need to get one for my mom. She has several pots from the First Nations in Canada. She would love this.”
I tilted the pot so we could see the unglazed bottom. “$50”

Alan looked at the pot a bit more.

In a soft but clear voice, the young woman said, “Forty.”

“What?” Alan whispered to me.

I nodded at the woman to let her know I understood. “She’s telling you she’ll sell it to you for $40. You can bargain.”

“Oh.” He considered that for a moment. “Cal, would your mother like this pottery?”

“Yes, she would. She has a pretty big collection from a lot of the different reservations.”

“I’d like to get her one.”

“Why?”

“To thank her for all the stuff she’s giving us for the loft.”

“That’s sweet of you.”

I could tell from his twinkling eyes that he was grinning behind his mask. “I’ve got my good points.”

I chuckled. “Yes, you do.”

He selected another pot and gingerly picked it up himself. I started to set the first pot back. “No,” he said. “I want that one.”

He picked up the other pot, studied it for a moment, and tilted it up to read the price. “$60”

The young woman spoke. “75. Both pot.”

Alan handed me the second pot and reached into his pants pocket to extract his wallet. He handed the woman four $20 bills and said, “For you.”

She nodded and the money disappeared into her skirt somehow. The old woman handed two plastic Walmart bags to the young woman, who handed them to us.
I accepted them and said, “Thank you.” We put the pots into the bags and returned to the Durango.

As we backed up and returned to the highway, Alan chuckled, “Why do I feel like I just bought a hot stereo system out of the back of a van?”

I laughed. “You’ve been watching too much ‘Law and Order.’”

“It’s just a different way to do business, I guess.”

“Yes. I think mostly they expect to negotiate the price. You didn’t negotiate, but you could have probably gotten the two a little cheaper or gotten her to throw in a necklace for free.”

“Well, they’re probably hurting for business. We’ve seen no one else who might be a customer, so I didn’t want to be cheap with her. I mean, without even asking, she gave them to me for $75 when the price was $110. That’s cheap enough.”

“You know, Alan,” I said a little pointedly, “you act like this tough, domineering guy, but you have a very soft center.”

Alan grinned at me. “Don’t ever say that to anyone else. I’ll have to beat you to a pulp to prove how dominant I am.”

I laughed. “I guess my lips are sealed, then.”

“You’d better unseal them when we get to the hot springs.” He said sternly.

I chuckled as we passed Jemez Springs High School.

Soon houses and guest cottages and a dude ranch appeared along the road, sandwiched between the highway and the river with a substantial rocky bluff rising on the other side of the small river, perhaps 150 to 200 feet from the eroded mesa on our right.

“It’s starting to look like a canyon,” Alan observed. “This is so cool!”

The little town consisted of a couple of small pre-World War motels, a couple of fancy guest ranches, 3 or 4 little restaurants, a raucous-looking bar with ristras hanging from the roof of the porch, and a few dozen houses along the highway. We only saw one person collecting her mail from the mailbox. Across the highway from the bar was the Jemez Hot Springs, which had a big “closed” sign in front.

I pointed out the Hot Springs to Alan. “You can pay, I don’t know how much, 50 bucks maybe, to sit in a big tub full of water that’s drawn from one of the springs, or you can go a couple of miles and take a short hike to find a private pool in the mountains away from everyone. And it’s free!”

“Oh, that sounds much better!”

Just ahead was the Jemez State Monument, which is the ruins of the original Jemez Pueblo. It was also closed. The Jemez Springs Bath House was closed.

About a mile further along the highway, we reached the area known as the Soda Dam. I explained to Alan the dam is a naturally occurring deposit of calcium carbonate that has been left here by the river where it flows through a slow spot. We parked along the highway. One other car was parked there, too. A young couple and their two pre-teen girls could be seen climbing around on the rocky structure of the dam.

Carefully, we avoided the nuclear family as Alan and I walked around and eventually found a cave in the downstream side of the dam. It wasn’t deep, but the cave was an interesting feature in a spot that seemed quite unique. When the strangers left, we scampered up to the peak of the structure where we could see upstream and downstream both.

“It’s like climbing around on a giant wedding cake,” Alan chuckled.

“I know,” I nodded. “Isn’t it weird?”

We snapped a few photos with our cell phones. “Mom will love these,” he said.

He allowed me to take a very nice shot of him and then surprised me by snapping one of me.

“How far is the hot springs?”

“Not far. Couple of miles, I think.”

“Good. You ready to go?”

“Yes,” I said and within a few minutes we had gone back to the car and headed out for the short drive to the natural hot springs area. Along the way we passed “Hummingbird Music Camp” which got a laugh from us. Not far past another camp, the “YMCA Camp,” we found the turn-off, parked, and pulled out our knapsack containing our lunches and some water as well as towels.

We found the trailhead and followed the trail into the quiet of the woods as we hiked into a cut along the face of the mesa we had followed all the way from San Ysidro. In the shade of the mesa and under the limbs of the trees, the air was noticeably cooler, probably in the low 40’s. Within 10 minutes we found the first spring-fed pool, gorgeous in its simplicity surrounded by clean rocks and a forest of pine and maple that had not yet put on any leaves. Fog rested atop the water, giving it an especially romantic look. Alan was blown away and ready to strip and climb in when I suggested we would find a better place if we went higher. Within a few minutes we’d found 3 other pools and took our choice of the one that seemed most secluded. It also seemed the most romantic to me. Carefully, we piled our supplies and our clothes near the edge of the pool. We stripped silently and both sported chubbies when we climbed in.

The temperature of the water was almost painful to our air-cooled skin as we ventured into the beautiful natural pool. We settled into the fog and found the water to be almost as hot as we could stand it to be. We sat quietly for a while, content to let the healing mineral waters do their thing for our skin and muscles while we let our minds idle in neutral.

I was almost dozing when I heard the water splashing beside me. Alan was standing and looking for a place where he could sit with his feet in the water. When he settled on a spot, he plopped his towel down and then put his cute butt on the towel.

He looked at me, smiling when he saw me watching him. “Come here,” he said, neither asking me nor ordering me. Slowly I stepped over to him as he spread his knees to allow me access. The sight of his erection sticking up for all of nature to see was a view to rival the best mountain vista I’d seen all year.

He held his dick with his left hand, looked at me with languid eyes, and pointed his dick at my face. I put my hands on his thighs to steady myself as I dropped down into the warm water and found his dick with my mouth.

Although we were in a very secluded spot surrounded by lots of trees and no one else around for miles, it seemed, the mere fact that I was blowing my buddy in a public place right in the middle of the day was a very sexy thought. My dick was loving the warm water and the excitement of Alan’s excitement. I worked his dick slowly and sensuously as we both enjoyed the calm but erotic act. Periodically, Alan would moan or grunt. Sometimes he would play with my hair or draw a hand along my chin. His breathing grew more labored until he stopped the BJ by lifting my chin so that my mouth naturally pulled off his enormous cock.

He dead-eyed me. “Did we bring any lube?”

I nodded. “Never leave home without it.”

He grinned. “Good boy. Get it.”

I moved around his leg to gain access to my knapsack.

“Get yourself ready, cause my cock needs the warmth of your sweet ass.”

“Yes, sir!” I handed Alan a condom packet and quickly worked greasy fingers into my hole to loosen and lubricate me to receive him easily.

Quickly, I was lubed and ready while he was sheathed and ready.

I backed between his knees until I felt his corona hitting my crevice. He adjusted the angle and I sat right down, taking him all the way. I cried out from the pain but sat right down on his cock until it was deep inside me. I rested only a moment so my sphincter and rectum could recalibrate. I rose from his lap and slid back down as I began to fuck myself deliciously on his steely shaft. Soon I was crying out but not from pain anymore. Now I was crying out from the erotic sensations racing through my body at the speed of light. “Oh, my god!”

“That’s it! Fuck yourself on my cock! Yeah.”

I began grunting each time I landed on his pelvis. Soon the grunts turned into a constant rising and falling moaning that only lasted a minute before transforming into a wailing as my body sang from the joy of movement deep within.

“Fuck!” I said needlessly.

“Fuck, yeah!” he echoed.

We came to a fever-pitch and then … I came. Amidst the exquisite sensations of semen racing up my urethra, I gasped and screamed as the milky white juice blasted outward and upward away from me. It arched across the bubbly water until it broke the surface on the far side on the hot pool of water.

Alan put his hands under my butt and lifted me up a few inches so he could take the lead to ram up and into me at an increasing rate as he began wailing with his release. He held me up as his cock began blasting within me, rapidly filling the condom with his life’s essence. He pulled his hands away and I sank back down onto his cock, still hard but beginning to soften within me.

Each of us caught our breath as one of his hands rested on my shoulder and his other arm went loosely around my heaving waist. When I could manage to do so, I slowly rose from my impaled position, my legs wobbly from the exertion. I turned to face him as he pulled the rubber off his penis. Simultaneously, I held out my hand so he would give it to me and I sank down onto my knees in the water, bowing my head and taking his deflating dick into my mouth, where I licked up the residue of his desire. When I was done, I inverted the condom into my mouth so I could lick his passion off of it, too.

After a short soak, we ate the excellent box lunches the dining hall manager had prepared for us. He’d provided ham, turkey, cheese, and bacon on dark rye bread with all the works. As accompaniments, we each had a bag of plain potato chips and a bag of Fritos, a large dill pickle (which we both found erotically comical), and two delicious chocolate chip cookies.

When we had feasted and polished off a couple of bottles of water, we lay back on the ground with our feet still in the hot pool.

“I’m very happy,” Alan said quietly.

“Me, too.”

He reached over and took my hand.