Quirky Romance
Quirky Romance
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Welcome to Rojero de Blanco’s daydreaming. You’re here for some storytelling from ol’ Rojero, right? Well, best you keep in mind that these are an old man’s fantasies, and this old man likes stories where boy meets girl, boy catches girl, boy ties girl up … and in the end, she is very happy it all happened. In my stories, the ladies are swept off their feet, and at first they don’t quite know what’s happening. Sometimes they’re even a little afraid, a little unsure, a little worried that they might need rescue. But the only thing these ladies really need is “rescue” from their own inhibitions. In my opinion and considerable experience, catching women is a blast—but unless you make that woman real happy (and keep her happy), ain’t no one happy in the end. And if you’ve got a problem with these kinds of stories, well, I’d suggest you just move on (and stay the hell off my lawn while you’re at it). But if, like me, you like this kind of story, I invite you to come on in, get comfy, and strap yourself in for the wild, sexy, and deliriously scandalous ride that is Quirky Romance.
hen the cloud bank reached the moon. It was like night and day, no pun intended. With the moon behind the cloud, our light level went way down. At the same time the wind picked up to a serious level, and it was cold!
“Use your skirts as ponchos!” Yelled the man over the rising wind. It was a good idea. My legs got cold, but my chest stayed a little warm.
We climbed some more. It was really hard now. My legs and fingers were getting numb from cold. It was so dark now, that in places I needed to feel my way up the trail. I was helping Nancy, and the man was helping both of us.
Alma fell. ... She was OK. Others were falling .... Resting didn’t help much because it was sooo coold!
It was an hour. I know it was! But we weren’t there yet! The man had lied! How could he! The clouds had thickened. It was even darker! And there was a mist in the air now. Now I knew what “bone chilling mist” meant ... sort of... I was having a hard time even thinking.
Suzanne found us a little sheltered spot. One by one she and the man lead us to it. “Snuggle up tight,” she said. We did, and we didn’t get cold quite so fast. We put our skirts and ponchos around us and snuggled together with our bare bodies to share warmth. We all shivered.
“We are close,” said the man over the wind, but his voice was slurred from cold, “Suzanne and I—”
“No,” said Suzanne. She was crying. I think it was because she wanted to be strong, like the man, but she was too cold and too tired. I think this is what she meant when she said, “We need strong men” to Jeannie.
“... I will take you, one at a time, to the top,” the man said. He started with Nancy. She whined a little and couldn’t stand. He pulled her onto his shoulder—fireman’s carry—and walked off, following the trail up.
We got colder. I was getting sleepy. I was saying to myself, “I don’t think sleeping is good right now.” Then I heard Suzanne say, “Everybody up! Wave your arms around! We all need to generate some heat!”
It seemed like a silly idea, and at first my arms wouldn’t wave, but then I warmed up a little and I felt better. I helped Alma get her arms waving.
The man came back. He looked tired.”Who’s next?”
“Should you rest?” asked Suzanne.
“Not in this weather,” he replied.
“Yes, you should. You’re hypothermic,” she said, “Girls, gather round! We are going to warm our man up!”
“No... No...” He stopped protesting as we gathered round on all sides of him. We needed him. I could feel that now. And he needed us. I was feeling somehow deeply satisfied inside me as we all rubbed around “our man” and gave him our love and warmth. He was strong, but he needed our love and warmth. ...
Rojero De Blanco has been around some. He’s been from tropical beaches to ice-cold mountain tops, from big Eastern cities to remote Western townships. In 1968 he got to take a one-year, all-expenses-paid journey to Vietnam, courtesy of Uncle Sam. He flies planes and had a hand in engineering the Space Shuttle.

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