“Have you ever been on a cable car before?” I asked her.
“No,” she said, “I’ve never even been skiing.”
It was my first day in Andorra, a tiny mountainous nation in the Pyrenees wedged between France and Spain. It was my first new country of 2016, kicking off a long overdue trip after two years hustling in NYC.
“The views are incredible,” I told her, “and at the top they have bars and restaurants with beautiful panoramas of the mountains.”
The next cable car came into the station.
It was already mid-day, and most of the skiers had already ascended. A mother and son were the only other people waiting in line.
We hopped in the car first, expecting them to join us, but the mother hesitated.
“Let’s get the next one for just us,” she said in to her son, leaving the lassie and I with the car all to ourselves.
Up we went, climbing high above the forest below, over the hillside, and climbing again towards the snowy peaks in the distance.
“Fuck it,” I thought to myself, “We won’t get there for another five minutes.”
And with that, as my girl stood starring out the window, I ripped down her pants.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she protested, clutching her undergarments.
“Come on. Nobody can see us. I always wanted to do it in a cable car.”
“No!” she said, pulling up her pants. “Look! There’s two kids in the car coming towards us.”
“They won’t even look this way. They’re focused on the view,” I told her. “We can just pretend we’re hugging. And even if somebody does see us, so what? It’s not like there’s going to a police escort when we get to the top.”
The car passed us, and as I suspected the kids didn’t even notice us.
“Trust me. Usually nobody comes down at this time. Look,” I said, pointing at the approaching cars, “The next two are empty.”
“But we can’t,” she insisted.
“Shut up,” I said, spinning her around her around and disrobing her once again.
Wasting no time, I slipped my meaty skipole inside her, the excitement causing a slushy avalanche of vag-juice.
I ferociously pounded her as we neared the station.
Tick tock, clock against cock.
In the midst of passion, I took a brief moment to take it all it: admiring how her plump brown buttocks gleamed and contrasted with the sunlight, streaming into our car over the glorious mountainous backdrop, the great big tits of mother nature.
Suddenly, I was face to face with an old man starring at me in a passing car, his face was a mix of disgust and envy.
“Screw ’em,” I thought, and I went back to business.
Oddly enough, knowing we were being watched just turned me on more. And even odder, the closer we got to the station, the greater the chance of being seen, the more aroused I became. My pelvis was piston-like, and before I knew it, I released a frothy load upon the car floor.
I finished buckling my belt just as the doors opened.