Bravo by Erotica: Dighton & Forrest: Rushmore

Sasha Forrest checked her climbing harness. Then, she checked Peter’s harness, and he checked hers. After this double checking, they knew that their gear was properly rigged and they would have no problem rappelling down George Washington’s head.

Sasha held onto the rope and gazed down over the dome of Washington’s head. Straight down, one could only see his brows and a bit of his nose, but by moving her gaze a bit she could look out over a vast plain of Joshua trees, with their eerie branches reaching toward the sky. The ground was only 60 feet below, just right for novice rappellers.

Sasha was not a rock climber. The thought of hanging her body off a cliff thousands of feet in the air while using her fingertips and toes to climb up did not appeal. No, what she enjoyed was the rappelling down….a respectable distance like 60 feet. With a properly equipped climbing harness, one could walk down the surface, or float down, light as a feather.

Sasha had first learned to rappel about ten years ago, when her sister had invited her to go along on a caving journey, in which one had to learn how to rappel, as there were three vertical tunnels of between ten to twenty feet down which one had to rappel, in order to get through the cave. Sasha had hated the caving, but loved the rappelling. Her opportunities for rappelling had been limited after that, since she would only rappel down something that she could easily reach the top of!

Such was the case with the miniature Mount Rushmore set out in the California desert. One could walk up a looooong series of steps at the back of the replica, and then rappel down the front.

“Okay, Sasha,” said Peter, “are we ready to go down?”

“I’m ready,” confirmed Sasha.

They both turned their backs on the Joshua trees and looked back at the climbing station, where the ropes down which they would soon be sliding were securely fashioned. Then, they started walking backward over the head.

In rappelling, one could either walk all the way downward – if the vertical surface permitted, or slide downward in thin air. A hand behind the back, holding the rope which was run through a descender, controlled how fast or slow one could move down the rope. Such rappelling took no upper body strength at all, only an ability to coordinate with one’s rear hand, and the leg strength to balance oneself on the climbing surface.

By the end of the day, Sasha and Peter had rappelled down Washington, Roosevelt, Jefferson and Lincoln…several times.

They’d made a special point of stopping just underneath Washington’s nose to sneeze. (In a well-known piece of Hitchcockian lore, Hitchcock had wanted to film a scene where Cary Grant had done this, but finally decided against it.) One of the “North by Northwest’s Rushmore” attendants would take your photo of this fantasy re-enactment.

At day’s end, Sasha and Peter returned to their hotel suite, divested themselves of their clothes, and walked into the whirlpool bath, where they soaked for half an hour. It was not the rappelling that had turned their legs into noodles, but the climbing up the 60-foot staircase 8 times.

Peter stretched out his legs, enjoying the bubbling heat of the whirlpool, but knowing he’d nevertheless be sore the next morning. “Tell me,” he said, “Why are you so good to me?”

“It’s just my angelic nature,” Sasha murmured.

They rose out of the whirlpool bath. Peter caught up a fluffy towel and dried off his wife, her shoulders, her arms, tweaking her breasts, then down her long legs to her feet. He dried himself off much more quickly, then they walked into the bedroom.

Sasha took her vibrator from the end table, then plumped up some pillows and made herself comfortable. She turned on the vibrator and began to rub it up and down her clitoris. Peter lay with his head propped up on one arm and placed his other hand on Sasha’s right breast, kneading it gently.

“Get behind me,” she murmured.

“My legs are like noodles,” he complained. “You get in front of me.”

He propped himself up on his own pillows, and spread his own legs. Sasha sat between them and leaned back against Peter’s chest. Sasha resumed her attentions with the vibrator, while Peter now availed himself of both her breasts, at the same time nibbling on her neck. Sasha took her time, as usual, drawing herself almost up to orgasm before delaying it…holding the vibrator hard down against her clitoris until she could feel the tell-tale fluttering, then starting to rub it up and down to main the feeling…then finally she gave in and brought herself to climax. Behind her, Peter could feel her body shuddering with the pleasure of it.

“Now you,” she said, and she and Peter switched places. She spread her legs and Peter rested between them. He used his left hand to encircle his engorged cock, and began rubbing up and down briskly.

Sasha encircled his flat belly with her hands and massaged him as he worked. He was slouched down a bit so she could look over his head to see his hand working on his cock, and she’d lain next to him, and above him and under him, enough times to know that his eyes were closed and his cheeks pouched like a chipmunk’s as he held his breath.

“Ahhh..” he murmured. “Ahhhh.”

Then he began to shudder, and the cum came up over his hand onto his belly.

“Ah, god,” he said at last. “That was good.”

“I think we need to take another bath,” said Sasha.

“Yeah,” said Peter. “Let’s go.”