Girl/Girl Encounter on a mountaintop. "Then I lean in, and taste that first taste. I thrust my tongue into your folds, and inhale your sweet nectar. You taste gloriously different than I do! I’m almost surprised, but then I realize that this is such a personal observation, and there might be new flavors tomorrow."
The trail twists up the mountain. We hike upward, following the well-marked path. As the path sweeps to the same level as a creek bed, we hit a muddy section, and our boots squelch with the effort of each footstep. We enter a layer of fog--where dewdrops glisten on grasses–then catch a glimpse of the kaleidoscope of color as the sun finally shines down, breaking through the mist. The smell of wet pine hits us with its crispness.
Within the stillness, I catch the chatter of a Douglas squirrel, calling out to scold some annoyance. Higher yet, the sweet, clear whistle of a pika rings out to warn all of our passing. Finally, I stretch my jaw forward, purposely trying to...
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