He was really tall. He was a firefighter. With a masters degree in fine arts. With big, weepy green eyes. With dirty taste in music.

He was clumsy, flirtatious and real. He was a kind little boy trapped in a lumberjacks body, clad in worn out tight jeans, with an ass like a statue, and a leather jacket with handmade patches, sewn on with care.

His name was Max.

We met at a very illegal marijuana trim farm somewhere off in the country roads of Hayfork, California. I was with my bus full of friends, who all filled into the trim tent, and there he was. Sitting there in a folding chair that was way too small for his build, bloodshot green eyes, and spilling a cup of scissors in rubbing alcohol. I sat next to him. He had a snifly nose and when it was his turn to choose the music, he always played it too loud, he always played it too raunchy. But I loved it. Secretly. The way he inhabited his body was artful, unique, so sexy.

My friends all thought he was a goon. And I had a crush on him. So it was under wraps.

We’d all have a break from trimming and go into the coffee shop log cabin in town. Northern Delights. There were these big, fluffy upholstered leather couches in the place. I threw myself over one, slurping up hot chocolate and free wifi, leaving traces of ganja leaves wherever I sat. Max sat down on the love seat next to me, and batted his long lashes while he struck up conversation. He pulled out his wallet and out fell a flipbook with photos of a miniature pit bull. His eyes welled up with tears as he told me that was his best friend, and that she died last year, and that he was nothing without her. The tears burst from his sockets like an earthquaken dam, and I had no idea what I was to do. I quickly made a move, decided to throw my lanky legs over his lap, curl my arm around his neck and draw him into me. Whispering dirty rap songs into his ear that we both liked could have very well been too suggestive of me, but it worked as planned and cracks of laughter interjected his public weeping wails. He snuggled against me, rubbing his manly, scruffy beard against my cheek and looked at me startlingly dead in the eyes.

He ran to his truck and brought back art photos of his dog, printed on priority mail post stickers. I was so flattered, they were badass and so special to him. I span around on my high socked toe and gave him girly googly eyes, which in turn, caused him to break his composure and scoop me up into his immense arms and swirl me around the coffee shop porch. We were beyond red-cheeked for each other.

The trimming season that year came and went, without further adieu from Max. Shortly after we got closer, he was kicked off the illegal ganja farm as suspect to thievery of a thimbleful of honey hash oil. (It wasn’t Max, the idiot boss misplaced it himself.)

~One Year Later~

Well, the bus found its way back into the same little dump of a town all over again. Working for the same shithead of a boss.

Soon after arriving, I got word that Max was seen at Northern Delights in the last week and my heart instantly began fluttering like a chainsaw deep in the wood. My best friend, Mandalin, gave me a few eye rolls and an “Oh God, Yoomz.”, to my giggly delight.

Within a few days time, on a bright cold autumn morning, the whole gang was posted up on the benches inside Northern Delights when Max walks in. We tackle each other. I jump and lock my legs around his waist in dramatic affection and he laced kisses all over my cheeks. I guess after we last saw each other, we came to terms with our crushy feelings and no longer needed to hide them. We sat across a wooden table from each other and stared into each other’s eyes giggling coyly and smiling contagiously.

We were the epitome of the hormone-rushed sixteenth year of human life.
He was 28. I was 23.

The gang called to me to join them in going to a ganja grower friends property. I asked Max if he wanted to go, and so we rode in his truck.

At our friends house, the older man was going on and on and on about how marijuana is more than just bong rips in high school, how earth shaking it’d be to be able to give the world free medicine, when Max gave me an eye. He strolled right out of the front door. Was it rude? My blood was jacked up with love serum, and I couldn’t tell.

I slipped out of the house and opened the passengers side of Max’s truck. We sat wordless. Playfully staring at each other out of the corners of our eyes, until it was too much. Heads slowly rolled toward one another, cheeks flushed, teeth bit the lips beneath them, smiles tried to stay stashed away for another time. The silence broke with a threat.

“If you don’t stop looking at me like that, I will kiss you.”
I said nothing. The air grew still. Silent. Hot.

Within the blink of an eye, we had our paws all over each other’s warm bodies, our mouthes moving in many ways, saying things that they could have never said. He laid me down on the wide bench seat of the cab of his truck, and growled in pleasure down the neck of my sweater, love biting up and down my milky, cool outstretched neck. My flower was secretly blossoming with dew under my skirt as he clumsily pushed up my top and kissed my heart tenderly before engulfing my pink nipples in his sweet mouth. His hunger drew him down my belly, tickling me all the way down with his beard. I pulled him up from the hem of my skirt, drew his lips in my mouth, swung my body up over him and straddled his thick, muscular lap.

Right there with my back arched up against the drivers wheel, I could feel his earthen wood pulsating under my thin skirt, and sexual frustration let my kissing swirl deeper and deeper into his loving mouth. My fingers curled in his thick wavy black hair, holding on like I’d just die if he disappeared. I sucked lavishly on his tongue, wishing it were his wood, and he moaned loudly while autumn birds tweeted their afternoon love songs above in the naked trees.

He threw me roughly off his lap onto the seat next to him. We stared at each other savagely, flustered, panting.

He wanted me bad. So bad, that he was bursting at the seams of his pants, oozing sweet and salty nectar for the whole world to see. He sat staring into my eyes. Asking me without words if we would let ourselves love each other, right now.

Staring at my saliva glistening on his pink lips, I instantly wanted to feel his mouth play on me, I instantly wanted to come on his face and hear his muffled moans as it happened.

Mandalin strolls out of the front door.
Cruises up to the window and askes with a huge, suspicious grin, what on earth are Max and I doing?

Ummmm, were going to the store. We’ll be right back!
He pushes his manhood shyly deeper into his jeans, and says, “So who’s driving?” and pulled me up by the waist onto his lap, like a little girl pretending to drive. I rolled over the ignition and he bit at my neck from behind. He pedaled the gas and I grasped the wheel and we took of at a break necking pace down the gravel road. Barely skidded to a stop, he squeezed my waist tight and we laughed hysterically at our dangerous manic. We managed to park at the gas station, and he disappeared inside.

A few minutes later, he came back out empty handed.
“Did they not have what you wanted?”
“Well what was it?”
“…You.” he shrilled, kissing me deeply all over again.

We got back to the friends house, Mandalin corralled me, somehow, back onto the bus and we left for our trim job.

And I never saw Max again.