Smoke Jumper - Sex Stories

Smoke Jumper

Jake stood in the middle of a bar, the front of his shirt soaked in beer, ponderingHow on earth did I get here?Then his arms shot forward like pistons, burying his hands into the chest of the braying jackass in front of him. That’s when all hell broke loose.

Had he had a more than that fleeting second to think about the question, he might have recalled that his journey to that saloon, which smelled of fifty years of stale beer soaked into the floorboards, had begun more than a year ago. That was when his girlfriend announced that she was breaking up with him to date a football player. So horribly cliche was the breakup that one might imagine that it couldn't get any worse. Except that the football player in question was a backup quarterback on a Division III team that hadn’t won a game in three years. So yeah, it was worse.

That sent Jake into a downward spiral. Well, not everything went down. His beer consumption certainly went up. But his mood, his determination, and his grades all plummeted as he tried to cope with what had happened. By the end of the fall semester, he was on academic probation, and by the time May arrived, his academic scholarship had been yanked.

While college was much less expensive in 1981, tuition at his small, private liberal arts college was still much more than he could afford and, frankly, he didn't think his focus would improve at a large state school. Unsure of what to do next he decided to head west to chase a childhood dream spurred ...

... by a series of books he had found in his middle school library. He was going to become a smoke jumper. Somehow, the prospect of leaping out of an airplane and into the heart of a wildfire in the Rocky Mountains seemed less daunting than facing the disappointed looks on the faces of his parents.

So he scraped together what little money he had and bought a ticket on a train headed west, where he quickly discovered that the smoke jumpers had no need for out-of-shape twenty-year-olds with a beer gut and little experience in the great outdoors.

But he managed to catch a break. While they had “little interest” in him, it wasn’t none. Recruits tended to wash out of the program in high numbers, so they needed a supply of warm bodies to keep up appearances, and that was enough to get him through the door.

Realizing that he had backed himself into a corner, Jake threw himself into the program. He replaced nights spent boozing with extra hours of physical training so that he could better compete for one of the coveted spots on the plane. Of course, before he got anywhere near that, there were weeks spent learning about forestry, chainsaws, and the wonder that was the Pulaski, a half-axe-half-hoe implement that was expected to become an extension of every smoke jumper’s arms.

And that meant very sore arms. Hours of digging simulated firebreaks and cutting up and dragging away deadfalls were dreadful, exhausting work. But in it, Jake found an outlet for his frustrations. His ...