Touching the Moustache... a cc.com love story
just look at the admiration in her eyes... as she glances deeply into his blue blocker sunglasses.... the glasses, yes the glasses make him mysterious, his thoughts and amitions shrouded from the world by the glasses and the protective sun cap.
she can't help but wonder what force drives this man, but she knows for sure that this force is what makes her come back for more..
they first met a few years ago during a downclimbing practice at leavenworth....
....
The intensity with which he focused on perfecting his downclimbing and angled-slab walking techniques spoke to her of an overwhelming passion for life. She yearned to tap into the well of energy that drove him to walk up and down slabs until he got it just right. The caring with which he taught others to walk up and down slabs touched her deep inside: he had a soft side underneath the rugged exterior that excited her. She would visit his tent when the sun went down and they would speak of life, love, and angled slabs...
...somehow, in the presence of this man among men, she felt empowered yet protected. As if she could do anything. With Herbert watching over her even dirt rapelling seemed possible.
...the real questions that burned in her mind, and in her loins, were "did he give mustache rides for free?" and "How did he keep that hat so gosh-darned clean?"
....
that night after everyone had eaten their horsecock, and retired to their tents, she ventured over to his tent and saw him writing in his journal by headlamp light. he was stripped down to his REI tightey's, yet he was still wearing the hat and sunglasses.... his moustache still perfectly clean, even after all the dirt rapelling and moustache rides, her mind began to wander... now more than ever the enigma known simply as 'the low angled slab man' was simply errisistable.
Lust burning inside her, threatening to consume her very being, she knew she must act. She removed her Salomon SuperGaper plastic doubleboots and donned her Salomon Fukame stilettos. Drawn as a moth to a flame, she nervously approached his tent...
Her throat went dry as she envisioned herself kissing her way down the low angled slab of his rock hard abdomen towards HIS horsecock...she snuck away to her tent to pleasure herself...
As luck would have it, her Salomon Fukame stilettos complimented her Capilene thong over polypro from Patagonia Intimates with matching Synchilla push-up bra. There was no way he could resist her now...
...and then catbirdseat showed up out of nowhere, rallying for a latenight scrabblefest with triscuits and grape juice, followed by an epic discussion involving obscure climbing scenarios and inappropriate knots.
Suddenly, he produced his massive shaft. "My, that's huge!" she exclaimed. "Well..." he blustered, "tomorrow we are embarking upon a July ascent of the Old Mt. Si trail, and you can never be too prepared as I am with this 95 cm ice axe". "Can I touch it?" she asked coyly...
She was enamored with low angled slab man, and spent many a night fantasizing about him; her hips moving in time with his rest step.
However despite her best efforts she could not shake "glissading in shorts man". She knew he was no good for her, yet he still visited her in her most vivid dreams.
She was so distracted by the firm cherry red posterior of glissading in shorts man that she completely erred in positioning the head of her ice axe while practicing glissading. Though the dagger sharp pick of her axe was safely wrapped in multiple layers of duct tape, it was still pointed at that most delicate portion of her anatomy.
He gently corrected her hand position, and suggested that after the wrap up meeting she retire with him to his well constructed snow cave for some instruction in the art of horizontal glissading. “How will I know its you?” she asked. He replied that he had his name written on duct tape in a place only the most privileged of students would see.
...alas this story ends sadly for low angle slab man. For during a night of intense mustache riding, the combination of heart racing lust and altitude caused him to die from a pulmonary edema. She closed his eyes,carefully draped her capilene thong over his face and dug a snow pit. By the time she made it to high camp, she was already falling for polypropylene-and-shorts man...Many had doubted that being a world travelled trustafarian with a pretty face and a bank sponsorship could get her to the top, but now she knew she could prove them all wrong!!
