0 comments/ 20444 views/ 3 favorites Tramping By: Katherine English 2 I closed my eyes…the sparks from his fire ring flashing erratically against the soft, velvet interior of my eyelids. A rush…a hot, viscous flood of my juices flowed heavily into my palm as my voice rent the still fabric of the night once more. Rapidly I thrust my fingers into my quivering core…trying to satisfy the driving need that screamed through my very being…two…three times. Lunging…thrusting against my plundering fingers I cried aloud…until the wet flow of my passion dripped heavily against the fabric of my sleeping bag…until I lay trembling and gasping within the heated womb of my own desire. This can't be happening, I thought…it can't. But it is… * * * * * Earlier that evening: It was good to get off. Leaving college with all its aggravations far away in the valley below had been the best decision I'd made in a long time. Life had been pressing in on me of late…filling in the room I needed to move…to breath. I had to reclaim some space, if only for a weekend. Even a woman of my tender years could feel the pinch eventually…and this retreat was sorely needed. Slowly the road wound northward, leaving Phoenix in its wake, taking me into the high country filled with towering Pondorosa Pines, alligator juniper, cedar, and giving me the occasional stolen glimpse of my ultimate goal…the ancient escarpment known as the Mogollon Rim. My small "bug" struggled as the road began to climb, narrowing and twisting as I passed the towns of Payson and Tonto Village…Koll's Ranch, until finally I spotted the turn-off for the "260 Trailhead" nestled invitingly in the shadowed vale beneath the Rim. I had arrived. My valiant little vehicle struggled bravely past the ruts and potholes that scarred the narrow track back into the forest, until finally, and with great relief, I found myself in a small clearing where another dusty conveyance sat patiently awaiting its owner's return. Quickly I checked my watch and then cast a worried frown upward at the darkening terrain. It was only 5:00 but already the sun, obscured by the erratic jut of the cliff beyond, was failing…threatening to withhold its much-needed light and warmth at any moment. I needed to be on my way…and soon. Unlocking the luggage compartment in the front of my aging Beetle, I wrestled briefly with my blue nylon pack…youth-sized because of my diminutive stature. I glanced cautiously about…careful to scan my surroundings in case any undesirables should happen to notice me…a woman…hiking off into the wilderness alone. The only visible signs of life for miles around were the long-eared Kaibab squirrels that scampered among the underbrush, and a brief glimpse of red just vanishing into the growing gloom of the trail beyond. It was probably the owner of the dusty Jeep that was to keep my own lonesome vehicle company for the next two days. The deepening shadows reached their greedy fingers across the clearing as I hurriedly stuffed my long, red hair beneath my slouch hat and hit the trail. It would take at least another two hours before I approached the rustic camping area at the base of the cliff that was to become my first night's lodging. There, according to my map, I would find a few crude fire rings designed to keep campers from setting the forest ablaze, a small, but usable pit toilet, and…luxury of luxuries…a pump from which to replenish my water supply before heading along the next day. I was in my element! Already the air had a heady taste to it…a liberating quality that sent my senses soaring. This time was mine…and mine alone. For two whole days the social and academic pressures of Arizona State would be relegated into obscurity. I was on my own… …and loving it. The trail wove almost imperceptibly upward into the foothills, the thin air causing me to stop and take an extra breath every now and then. Each time I did, my eyes would catch a glimpse of "Red-Pack" (as I had rapidly come to think of him)…my elusive trail companion just slipping beyond the next hill or behind the next copse of trees. Would "he" be camping at my destination tonight, I wondered? The thought was disconcerting. I'd seen no other sign of hikers on the trail this evening…no other cars waiting sleepily at the dusty trailhead. Would "Red-Pack" and I be sharing the small, primitive campsite alone tonight? Brief, disturbing memories of recent headlines forced their way into my consciousness…banners heralding yet another rape… murders of women who chose to hike the wilderness alone. Perhaps I should turn around and head back toward the parking lot…try again next weekend. But no…there wasn't time. The daylight was almost gone…the trail behind me too rugged to hike without it. I would be lucky indeed just to make the campground by nightfall. There was no turning back. I was committed. Warily I struggled along for another half an hour, then finally broke through to the well-worn but seemingly abandoned camping area. Perhaps "Red-Pack" had chosen to forge on ahead…to cover as much ground as the dwindling daylight allowed. Could it be possible that I had been concerned for no reason at all? Then I heard it…the sound of a pump handle rhythmically drawing its chill, wet load from the depths of the earth. He was here. Quickly my eyes searched the area for some sign of his campsite…a glimpse of his telltale red backpack…and then I spotted it. The clearing, measuring no more than 40 feet across, was rife with hidden pockets of seclusion. Here, true to the nature of the trail itself, the trees and thick underbrush of jojoba and juniper seemed to separate one site from the next. It was obvious that we were indeed isolated and alone…far from the bustle of civilization where a cry in the night…a scream might be heard. A slow, instinctive coil of apprehension began to grow in the pit of my stomach. This man…this "Red-Pack"…what if he… "Looks like we're all alone here tonight, Miss…" I jumped! Where had he come from? Hadn't I heard the pump handle off to the south…? I coughed, my nervousness almost palpable in the growing darkness of the clearing. He was big, this "Red-Pack"…at least 6 feet tall…tanned and muscular. His hand, now grasping the canvas handle of a collapsible camping pail appeared large and strong…capable of almost…anything. I swallowed, my voice failing me as I took in the maleness of him…the commanding masculinity…the distinctive accent that tingled deep in my subconscious. Was he from Australia…New Zealand? I couldn't tell. My mind reeled. He was so close…so close… "…name's Doug, Miss…Miss…" I coughed once more, my nervousness robbing me of anything approximating normal speech. Then finally…gratefully… "S-Sarah… Doug. Nice to meet you." "Likewise," he smiled, his warm grin filling the clearing with a disarming glow, his hazel eyes banishing my fear. "You better get set up quick, Sarah. Not much daylight left, ya know. Kinda hard to get settled in a new place in the dark. Give us a yell if you need any help…ok?" Mutely, I nodded, an unnamed attraction stirring in the pit of my stomach, then headed toward the furthermost campsite and shrugged off my gear. I groaned. My body ached. It had been a long time…far too long since I'd shouldered my pack for a hike like this…and already I was paying for it. I wouldn't bother with a fire tonight. I wouldn't even bother setting up my tiny one-man tent. The sky was clear and I had a sack of sandwiches in my pack… I'd just lay out my bedroll and let nature take its course. Again my mind wandered to the magnetic, dark-haired stranger who sat cross-legged mere yards from my nest among the pines. Why was I so drawn to him? Why did my pulse quicken at the brief flashes of him beyond the trees? Did he know? Could he tell? Was he secretly yearning for… NO! I had to stop this! He'd been nothing but polite…a gentleman in fact. I was the pervert here…just me and me alone! It was my probing stare that was invading his privacy…not the other way around. I took a deep breath, calming myself, bringing my surging hormones under control. This man, Doug…what would he think if he knew? What would my friends think…my family? This wasn't like me, not sane and proper Sarah…the perpetual voice of sanity in an insane world. This wasn't me…not me at all…and yet… Well, I was under control now…brought up on a "short leash". The rules of civilization…my rules…once more prevailed. The darkness, now seductive and complete, embraced the clearing as I clicked on my tiny flashlight and swept a space free of pebbles for my ground cloth. Then, after "scarfing" down a hastily scavenged sandwich I slipped out of my clothing and slid into the softness of my sleeping bag. It felt good. Too good. Its silken caress against my naked body brought on a fresh spate of longing…a slow, uneven throbbing between my thighs. What was he doing? Was he eating? Were his lips, so full and inviting, now wrapping themselves around the "nipple" of his canteen? I bit my lower lip, stifling a soft moan…the thought slithering across my flesh like a thousand tiny fingers. My hand, as though driven by a mind solely its own, now crept upward to cup my left breast…the hard thrust of my passion pressing hotly against my palm, and I moaned once more. I had to see him…I had to… Quietly I shifted, coaxing my sleeping bag through the darkness to a better vantage point, my eyes piercing the still darkness…searching for his silhouette against the stark relief of his campfire…denying the voyeuristic nature of my actions. And then I froze. He wasn't eating…not setting up camp. Instead I watched as he brought his fingers up to the tiny blue buttons of his denim shirt and began to release them, one by one until the firm, tanned surface of his chest lay bare in my view and my heart began to pound in my ears. A small pot of water lay warming within his fire ring… a bar of Irish Spring at his side. I knew what came next…I knew…I knew… Trembling now, I watched as he dipped his hand into the tepid liquid, lathering it with the greenish soap and smoothing it across his chest. My lips parted, my breathing becoming shallow and irregular as I watched the firelight flicker against the firm, tanned planes of his body…his nipples hardening in the chill of the forest. Dimly, my hand began to mimic his slippery palms …stroking as he stroked, caressing my body as I watched him caress his own until every atom in my being screamed out for his touch. And then he reached for his belt buckle. My heart froze in my chest…my breath forgotten in a cloud of blinding lust. I felt the hot flood of my passion flow thickly between my thighs. My God…oh my God…what was happening to me? My head began to pound until once again the air filled my lungs in ragged relief. What was he doing now? What… Slowly I pressed my hand between my thighs as I watched him slide the remainder of his clothing down the length of his trim, strong legs. He must be a runner I thought distantly, his firm, well-formed muscles catching my penetrating gaze. But it was not the sight of his thighs that captured my rapt and unwavering attention…not his tanned and well-toned chest. There, in the tightly curled thatch at the juncture of his legs jutted his manhood…proud and erect…massive…compelling. I closed my eyes, the very nearness of him more than I could bear. My nipples, now painfully hard, pressed maddeningly against the soft inner surface of my sleeping bag. I licked my lips. What would he taste like? What would it be like to wrap my lips around… Then, as though by some act of sublime perception, he began to lather the rigid surface of his erection…as if to cleanse himself…but more. He closed his eyes briefly, pausing to take in the hush of the clearing…to ensure his privacy…his seclusion. Another gush of hot, sticky fluid seeped unbidden between my thighs…against my palm. Slowly, my index finger penetrated the moist, quivering auburn thatch of my sex. Seeking… finding… …massaging the hard bud of my lust as I watched him continue to stroke himself before the fire. I was lost…my body shaking uncontrollably… stroking in unison with the dark, mysterious man before me. I moaned…loudly now. Could he hear me! I flushed, my mind telling me once again that what I was doing was wrong…so wrong…and yet I couldn't stop…not now. His eyes filled with a hunger that I knew was mirrored in my own… a low, primal sound sweeping the clearing…was it me…was it him? Then, as I watched, he raised his head and peered deeply into the flames, his gaze far away and lost in a moment beyond his vision… a memory? His grip tightened on his slippery shaft…stroking rapidly now…faster and faster as my body responded in unison with his ancient rhythm. Suddenly, I froze… my gaze caressing his turgid flesh as he shuddered…his thick, heavy cum erupting into the flames before him…sizzling upon the glowing rocks of his campfire as his lips parted in primitive abandonment. I closed my eyes, the sparks from his fire ring flashing erratically against the velvet interior of my eyelids. A rush…a hot, viscous flood of my juices flowed heavily into my palm as my voice rent the still fabric of the night once more. Rapidly I thrust my fingers into my quivering core…trying to satisfy the driving need that screamed through my very being…two…three times. Lunging…thrusting against my plundering fingers I cried aloud…until the wet flow of my passion dripped heavily against the fabric of my sleeping bag…until I lay trembling and gasping within the heated womb of my own desire. At that moment I would have said anything to feel his hands on my shuddering flesh…done anything. But I couldn't…I couldn't… And so, torn and overcome I crawled away, my eyes now seeking the solace of the darkness beyond…a necessary eclipse to the uncontrollable passion that still swept through my veins like wildfire. "Red-Pack" no more, I vaguely heard Doug pour the remains of his wash water on the fire, stirring until the embers cooled…settling himself into his sleeping bag for the long night ahead. And it would be long indeed, I thought… the memory of his body…his lusty passion forcing the sleep from my body…from my mind. Dimly, I wrapped the warm intimacy of my sleeping bag tightly around me and stared into the night sky…at the canopy of stars that smiled tauntingly at my shameful condition. "Doug", I thought as sleep finally closed my eyelids…his name is "Doug". ---------------------------------------------- The morning sun pried mercilessly into my subconscious long before I was ready to greet the dawn. How long had I lain awake last night, my hands pressed tight and trembling between my thighs…how long? And what about Doug…? Doug! I was suddenly wide awake. Was he up…strolling about his campsite with the long, easy gait of a man who knows where he's going…what he wants? Quickly I rolled to my side and searched the clearing for signs of his backpack…to my dismay. He was nowhere to be found. Doug, unlike the obsession that had driven me to undiscovered heights the night before…was gone. I'd come here to the wilderness to be alone, and now I was…completely alone. As quickly and unexpectedly as Doug had come into my life, he'd vanished, leaving a void in the pit of my stomach that only he could fill. I had to see him again…it couldn't end so abruptly…so unresolved! It couldn't! Then I smelled it…coffee…but where? Turning back toward my own fire ring I saw it…a cup of blue speckled enamel…warm and inviting…and a note. "Wake up, Sleepyhead," it began. "I didn't want to intrude on your privacy, so I'll see you at Christopher Creek…or before… and don't forget to bring my mug!" I smiled. Christopher Creek…the next campsite along the trail. He'd be there…waiting…for me. Quickly I downed the coffee and stuffed a few granola bars in my breast pocket. Within minutes I was on my way, my objective firm and unwavering. Christopher Creek…and Doug. The trail became steeper…more demanding as the day wore on. Finally, fashioning a walking staff from a stout branch, I ascended the last rise separating me from the green and verdant glen that harbored Christopher Creek. I paused, looking behind at the vast, seemingly untouched patchwork of evergreen and poplar that lay below me. I'd been right to come here…so very right. And now…with the prospect of sharing this with someone who so completely set my mind ablaze with a passion I'd never experienced before… Once more thoughts of Doug…his hands...his body…the soft caress of his voice filled my mind as they had done countless times along the trail. Would he be there? He had to be…he had to! And then I saw it…far below among the dense foliage…moving rapidly along the creek bed…a flash of red. He was there! A slow flush crept upward from my neck, across my cheekbones…moisture already dampening the cotton lining of my satin panties. What would I say to him? What could I say…after…last night? Following the path, I wound my way slowly into the valley below, my pulse racing…perspiration slick against my palms. Would there be people here this time…others…or would we once more share this small, green sanctuary between ourselves? Again the sound of our passionate encounter filled my mind as it had so many times since last night…accompanying my step along the path…filling my senses until I longed for the sight of his red pack once more in the distance. His blue mug, hooked to my belt, clunked for the thousandth time against my walking staff…the sound echoing in my ear…"I'll see you at Christopher Creek…at Christopher Creek…at Christopher Creek…" ---------------------------------------------------------- The remote campground at Christopher Creek was a thing of beauty…a place removed from the busy world beyond. Unlike its popular counterpart, miles downstream, this portion of the creek was inaccessible except by foot, and only the most determined of hikers would ever know the pristine beauty that lay here at the very foot of the escarpment. Carved by a millennium of gentle persuasion, Christopher Falls poured its way through the still air to fashion a pool of modest proportions at its base. From there the stream meandered past the shaky, rock-strewn dam that now lay before me…challenging me…laughing at my ineptitude as I placed my right foot before me and attempted the tenuous crossing. At first it seemed as though my insecurity was all in my mind. Many feet had used this passage before mine…why would I fail when they hadn't? Gently I positioned the lug soles of my boots…one before the other…feeling the solid purchase of the rocks beneath me as I made my way along. It was easy…no problem I thought… And then… Suddenly I heard a "snap" as something gave way…the rock beneath my foot pivoting crazily…throwing me to the right. I felt my weight shift downstream…my pack tipping…threatening to pull me with it onto the moss-laden rocks below. I had only one choice. Quickly I threw my weight to the left…toward the calm blue depths of the ancient pool…and felt myself Immediately engulfed by its sun-warmed depths. I gasped as I hit the surface, my pack filling with water…becoming heavy…pulling me backward toward the bottom. Frantically I tried to regain my footing, but the rocks below were slick with algae, and my feet slipped maddeningly from under me. I struggled…trying to release the wet hip belt from my pack…to slide out of the thick, padded shoulder straps, but in my panic the slippery nylon just slid between my fingers. My head began to pound…my air supply giving out…my mouth filling with the silt and tiny bubbles that my efforts churned from the rocks below. And then I felt him… …his hands strong and competent…lifting me to the surface…forcing the buckles of my pack to release their hold on my body. Tramping "Are you okay, Sarah?" he shouted over the din of the falls. "Do you need me to…" Dim, as though in another space…another time…the rest went without saying as he lay me on the ground, straddling my hips…his hands pumping rhythmically beneath my breasts. Then his mouth covered my own, and I could taste the sweet flavor of him against my tongue…his warm breath filling my body. I gasped. Sputtered. A stream of tepid water drizzled from the corner of my lips as I coughed and cleared my lungs. It was good to be able to draw a deep breath again…so good. The clear air was like ambrosia, cheesecake and heady wine all combined into a rich intoxicating concoction. Doug rolled me to my side, holding me in place with his strong hands… grasping my shoulders until my coughing subsided and I lay chilled and shivering on the ground before him. As I looked upward I could see his face assessing my own…judging the tone his voice would take. And then he spoke, his words light-hearted, belying the troubled look in his eyes. "Great pool," he began, a slow smile creasing his lips, "But I suggest you take your pack off next time. Come on over here," he continued, "My camp's all set up, and I've got a fire going. You need to get warm and dry out your gear." Taking my hand in his, he braced his foot against mine and levered me upward into a standing position once more, then led the way through the trees toward his campsite. I'd only gone a few feet before my knees began to shake, a cloud of swirling black dots clouding my vision, my stomach rebelling as it spewed yet another stream of foul smelling water onto the ground before me. I fell heavily against a tree, clinging to its comforting solidity until I felt his arms around me…lifting me…carrying me along the path…then ever so gently laying me atop his bedroll near the fire. "You better lie still for a while," he murmured, his voice rife with concern. "I'll fix you some hot chocolate…'Milo'. But you need to get those wet clothes off in the meantime," he paused. "How're we gonna do that, Luv? Any suggestions you'd feel comfortable with?" Vaguely, I assessed my options. There really weren't many. Either I stood up and did it myself, or I asked for help. And what would I wear then? Already Doug was spreading my spare clothing and sleeping bag over the nylon clothesline he'd strung along the edge of the clearing. I couldn't wear them…not for a while at least. Then, in a heartbeat my question was answered. "Here," he said, his eyes scanning the wet curves of my body with more than a detached interest, "I know they won't fit, but maybe the elastic in the waist and cuffs'll help a little." And with that he placed a fleeced jogging suit on the ground beside me and turned tactfully away to resume his efforts at the clothesline. Slowly…testing my limits, I rose to my knees, then stood upright attempting to undo the buttons that held my wet flannel shirt in place like iron padlocks. They wouldn't budge! I tugged again, almost tearing the fabric before another swirl of black dots filled my vision and I found myself unceremoniously landing on my bottom atop the sleeping bag once more. Frustrated, I closed my eyes allowing the swirling mass to subside, then turned to my rescuer for help once again. "I…can't…get this DAMNED thing!" I gasped, my patience at an end. "I'm afraid I'm gonna need your help a second time. Could you?" With an uncertainty that surprised me, he crossed the clearing and stood staring down, pausing as if testing his own resolve…then lowered into a deep knee-bend before me and began to struggle with the buttons of my shirt. I trembled…my body warming in places he'd never touched as his fingers released first one and then the next of the hard, rounded buttons from their almost unshakable grip on my breasts. I swallowed…deeply…my breathing once more becoming labored as he moved slowly downward…parting the sodden fabric…peeling it from my body. Then, laying my shirt atop a convenient rock, he wrapped his arms around my upper torso…pressing his body closely against me…reaching around behind to release the clasp of my bra. My breasts tingled, my nipples taut and hard against the firmness of his chest. Could he feel them, I wondered? Did he know the effect his hands were having on my body? It was a moot point, for mere seconds later my bra followed my shirt on the soggy pile, my desperately distended nipples exposed to his gentle and impassioned gaze, my breasts surging against him, begging for his touch once again. The hair-roughened knuckles of his right hand grazed the underside of my breast as he drew away. An accident I wondered, or were the gods of the forest taunting us…throwing our weak adherence to convention back in our faces? My belt was next, its firm restraint parting…leaving me unprotected and vulnerable…open to…what? My eyelids closed…my heard pounding as I heard the soft rasp of my zipper…my jeans loosening about my hips…opening to exposing the silken fabric of my sodden panties. Doug (were his hands shaking?) rocked back on his heels, removing my shoes and socks, and in a strange monotone began to speak. "Ya need to lay back, Luv…and lift your hips…okay?" I nodded, then laying back atop the sleeping bag once more I placed my heels on either side of his knees and lifted my trembling hips upward into his waiting hands. It was as though the earth had suddenly come to a screeching halt…ceased to spin…to revolve. The very air itself froze in its invisible pathways as I felt him slip first one finger and then the rest beneath the waistband of my jeans…beneath the elastic of my panties. I heard him moan…softly…almost silently as he tugged the last of my clothing downward over my hips...exposing my quivering flesh...the wet thatch of my sex...my trembling thighs. I watched him then, my eyes taking him in, my mind tugging at the memory of him kneeling before the fire ring…his seed running hot and steaming across the stones that lined its depths… And I wanted him. Deep down, in some primitive, uncontrollable way that my conscious mind could never grasp, I knew that I wanted him to touch me…to run his lips across my heated flesh…to fill my body over and over with the rigid thrust of his manhood. I wanted the taste of him…the scent of him…the pounding intimacy of him to overwhelm my very being, wrenching cries of abandonment from deep within my soul. Nothing "polished"…nothing "correct"…just raw, unbridled passion flowing from every pore…like two beasts in the wilderness…drawn together by an attraction as old as time…succumbing to a primal urge that defied denial. And he felt it too. I knew it the moment it flashed across his eyes…the second he paused, hovering above me as he closed the sleeping bag to enfold me within…he wanted it too. If life could be played in slow motion…if I could have preserved each heartbeat that passed between us at that moment, I think we might have become statues frozen in time, a testament to the lost but not forgotten origins of the species which spawned us. We were no longer two people bound by the conventions of society…hamstrung by years of righteous upbringing… centuries of Puritan ethic. We were here…we were now…and we would have our way… Silently, as evening crept over us once more… the purple shadows of the trees caressing us like long-lost lovers…I reached for him. My fingers lingering brazenly on the tense jut of his sex against his jeans…my eyes warming the space between us…giving my wordless consent to whatever the night might bring. He hesitated but a moment…a flicker in time before he rose and began to shed his clothing, dropping his shirt with focussed deliberation on the rocks by my own…his hands reaching for the buckle of his braided leather belt. I gasped…my impatience almost tangible in the still mountain air, then whispered…"No…let me…please…" Again I rose to my knees, this time as one who would worship…a pilgrim who has sought and found her goal…a physical presence for whom pleasure is the only objective in life. Slowly I slid the zipper downward, my lips becoming dry…my eyes hungry as I inhaled the masculine scent of his body. I trembled…my fingers slipping slowly within the aperture I'd created…my hands seeking and finding the hard, strong length of him begging for the release that only I could offer. Exhaling loudly, I continued to strip away the last barrier between us. In awe I slowed, my vision of the night before hadn't done him justice…not at all. I'd thought him merely large…but he was massive. I'd imagined him hard, but the steely shaft that pressed demandingly against my lips was more than that...so much more. Slowly, I closed my eyes, blocking out all sensation save that before me…and parted my lips. He smelled of soap and sex…musk and masculinity as my tongue curled around the tip of his shaft, lapping gently at the tiny dewdrops that escaped unbidden into my mouth. I cradled him between my palms…stroking, caressing as he swelled in my moist, dark recesses. Then, reaching behind to cup his firm rounded buttocks… I buried myself against him. His fingers, strong and unerring, now wove demandingly through my hair, drawing me closer…urging his rigid member deeper and deeper into my mouth, thrusting massively into the depths of my throat. I felt my lips grind against his pubic hair, his scrotum throbbing against my chin as he drove over and over again deep within me. I moaned softly, the taste of him flowing like a small stream over my tongue now, his shaft trembling between my lips as he continued to thrust. Then he froze. Painfully winding his fingers into my long, red tresses he gave one final lunge deep within my throat, filling me with his thick, hot juices…flooding my being as no other man had ever done before. I lapped…gulped as he continued to gush far into my throat…swallowing all he had to offer and begging for more until finally…drained, he withdrew and stared down at me…his look of passion undimmed by the soft denial of his physical being. Gently, he touched my face with the palm of his hand…cupping my chin…wiping the thin trickle of semen from the corner of my lips with his thumb and placing it between his own. Ever so tenderly he lay me back against the soft down of his sleeping bag and knelt between my thighs…his hands parting me…caressing me in ways that left trails of fire in their wake. And then I felt his weight pressing me down into the soft "nest" below…his tongue exploring the dusky interiors of my mouth…his hands arousing my nipples to peaks of hard, sweet agony. I arched my back, my hips grinding against him, urging him to fill me once more…but it was too soon. Instead he buried his lips against my throat…enticing…licking…downward until his mouth formed a perfect seal around my nipple, driving me to heights of wet, flowing madness. "Sarah…" he murmured, his voice deep and husky, "I want to watch you." I paused…"Watch me…watch" me? " What did he mean? And then I knew. There, in the dim flicker of the campfire he rose above me, and taking my hand in his, he gently licked my fingertips. "Will you do that for me, Sarah?" I flushed. How could I respond…what could I say? No man had ever asked me to "touch" myself in his presence. And yet here, at this moment, I wanted to…I wanted to experience it all…do it all…to leave nothing wanting when the night was through. "Yes," I whispered, my voice sounding alien to my ears. "Oh, yes…anything…anything…" It was then he smiled, his lips curving tenderly in the dim light, and kneeling between my outstretched thighs he reached far to his right and grasped something long…and cylindrical. A click…sharp and solitary, and then a radiating beam of light warmed the trembling thatch of my womanhood. His hand reached between us…bridging his sex and my own…laying the source of illumination between us like a symbolic joining. Then, caressing my moist curls, he pressed his thumbs deeply within…parting them…exposing my most intimate of places to his heated inspection. He paused, stroking the slippery hub of my desire once…twice with the edge of his thumb, then guided my hand between my thighs and gazed expectantly. I hesitated, my hand trembling with the newness of it all…and then I began. Slowly I ran my finger downward…downward, to the small, tight tunnel that yearned so longingly to feel his masculine invasion. I dipped…one finger…two…deeply until I felt the wet, slippery moisture that oozed from my "source" coating my fingertips. A groan…his? And then, as he held my "lips" apart like the wings of a butterfly, I began to stroke…to fondle the hard, rigid extension that brought me so much pleasure. In seconds I began to respond…the touch of my hand…the intensity of his gaze transporting me to heights beyond belief. Then, in a mad rush I felt myself slipping, sliding into a mindless swirl of sensation…my body jerking uncontrollably beneath my hand and his…my cries filling the clearing with unbridled passion as the hot rush of my cum flowed heavily against the covering below. I moaned…thrusting my hips against his fingers…pleading in the darkness for the completion I needed so badly…and then I felt it. The hard cylindrical source of his illumination…the warm lens that enclosed it…pressing against my moist opening…entering me…filling me…bringing me the relief I craved so desperately. Again he thrust…and again until my moans filled my head with throbbing intensity…my juices flowing thick and hot against the object which penetrated my body. The last sight I beheld as I closed my eyes, welcoming the sensations that washed over me, was the expression on his face…deep and intense…heated with the scene before him. And then, as quickly as it had begun…it was over. In a rush, Doug tossed the flashlight in a slow arc atop the pile of clothing by the fire ring, its beam casting a crazed abstraction against the trees as his lips replaced it between my trembling thighs. His hunger was unquenchable… sucking… lapping… feasting on the sweet flow of passion that gushed without end as I moaned beneath him. [No more, no more] my body screamed…pushed beyond endurance…my vaginal muscles clenching…grasping until they ached with an intensity I could have only imagined. Still he persisted…my hoarse cries filling the night…my sensitive flesh pleading with him to stop…to stop…never to stop, but to continue until I could scream no longer, until I surrendered my body and soul in intimate agony beneath him. And then I felt his hands beneath my legs…lifting them…pressing them upward against my chest as he thrust abruptly between them…his massive shaft cleaving me, plundering me as nothing else could. My hands, now taloned weapons, clawed against the smooth surface of his back, raking long red welts into his flesh. I was a she-demon, swallowed whole by the passions that drove me…primal as I bayed my heated abandonment to the crescent moon above. Again my climax washed over me…and again until sanity fled and my body quivered beneath his intimate assault. And then…in one quick motion I found myself on my hands and knees…my lover kneeling between the rounded orbs of my buttocks. Reaching between my thighs he thrust his hand into my oozing slit and wet his fingers…moistening my narrower passage…pressing his thumbs inside to ready me for what was to come. I trembled. He was so engorged…so hard…I'd never… And then he thrust within my wet and clinging core one last time, coating himself with my moist, slippery effluent before pressing his massive knob against the tight, virginal entrance before him. I shivered…I squirmed, but he held me fast, one hand pressing against the small of my back as the other guided his rigid tool past the narrow ring of muscle which guarded my quivering tunnel. I screamed. The pain…the pain! And then he was inside of me…his heat filling me in a way I'd never experienced…his rhythm exciting me….leaving me prostrate and whimpering in abandonment before him. Faster he thrust…harder yet, and then he circled my hips with his free hand and began to fondle the hard nub of my passion deep within my wet, dripping slit. I cried out once more as the stars crashed about me in wild, crystalline patterns against the backs of my eyelids. Pounding…pounding…air…I couldn't breath, but yet with my own dwindling consciousness I could hear myself gasping raggedly in the clear still night. Dimly, the world began to fade…the universe spinning madly out of control… and as I felt his hot cum shoot in gushing torrents deep within my body I collapsed beneath him. Limp. Sated. Drained. ----------------------------------------------- I slept deeply that night, curled in my lover's arms, nestled against his chest under a canopy of stars. Twice more we woke, reveling in each other's nearness…touching and exploring as only lovers can…until finally the warm glow of dawn peeked over the eastern horizon and we began to stir. I smiled as his fingers once again traced the outline of my breast against the thin contours of the sleeping bag. He should have it memorized by now, I thought, reveling in the tingle that had so rapidly become a part of our budding relationship. "We need to get a move on, Sarah," he murmured into my hair. "I don't want to move…not ever, but I have no choice. We have a long tramp ahead of us today, and I have friends meeting me at the top of the track…at Woods Canyon this afternoon to drive me back to the trailhead where I left my car. How're you planning on getting back?" he questioned, his lips leaving a wet trail along my collarbone. "Tramp?" I smiled, the connotation raising a slow flush along my cheeks. "'Hike', you mean? I'm meeting the Mogollon Stage…the bus at 4pm…so I need to get going too." Scowling, he checked his watch. "Nine hours," he calculated grimly. "Not very long. Why don't you repack your gear while I make coffee. You're food's all ruined, but I have enough scroggin to see us both through, I think." "Scroggin?" I laughed. "Sounds disgusting…what is it?" He smiled once again. "Scroggin? It's a mix…like nuts, berries, chocolate, dried fruit…" "Gorp…trail mix!" I laughed, the ingredients sounding more and more familiar. "I guess 'gorp' doesn't sound any more appetizing than 'scroggin' though, does it. Good thing the food doesn't taste like it sounds." In no time we'd stowed our gear and begun the steep trek up the mountainside toward the crest of the escarpment. The air began to thin as we made our ascent, the beauty embracing us, and soon we found ourselves pausing along the path to take an extra breath and regain our bearings. "So where are you from, anyway?" I asked, feeling foolish that I knew this man so intimately, and yet knew nothing of him at all. "New Zealand," he answered briefly. "Different towns. I've been shifting a lot lately. Needed to stretch my legs a bit. And where do you hail from?" I smiled, his bright, friendly accent washing over me like warm spring sunshine. "Most recently from Tempe…just south of here." I replied. "I'm at the college… Arizona State. I guess I needed to stretch my legs this week-end as well." "I'm glad I met you, Sarah," he replied, his eyes taking on a faraway look. "Ironic, isn't it…the two of us meeting here…in the middle of nowhere when we started out from places so far apart?" Sadly, I lowered my lashes, knowing what had grown between us had been sudden…like lightening…but like lightening it had been just as devastatingly powerful…and would end just as quickly. "Yes…it is," I agreed, my voice small and dwindling…surrounded by silence. In a mere four hours we'd be saying good-bye, our "relationship" over…a passing memory to warm the chilly days beyond. His silence spoke volumes as he focussed his gaze on the horizon… searching for words that couldn't come…solutions that didn't exist. The realities that defined our everyday lives were far away, waiting impatiently for our return. And then, almost by tacit agreement we brightened. We still had four hours…four hours to last a lifetime. To waste them would be a shame. Tramping With renewed vigor we shouldered our packs and attacked the trail ahead at a pace that was incredible to behold. We wanted that time…at the top… for us alone… and the sooner we got there the more moments there would be to share. It seemed like no time at all before we reached the rim and stood staring downward at the majesty below us. The marker read 7,700 feet above sea level here, the verdant green of the high country spreading out as far as the eye could see. Small pools of blue broke through the canopy here and there…Christopher Creek…Tonto Creek, and far to the south the watershed of Roosevelt Lake. Tiny ribbons of asphalt wove between the hills, beaten into submission by the forces of nature, and every so often a tiny insect-sized car would make its tentative way upward toward the escarpment. But they wouldn't see what we'd seen, I thought…find what we'd found. We sat huddled along the rim, leaning against each other, counting the minutes by the muted beating of our hearts until the realities of the dwindling day forced us to deal with the inevitable. Then, laying his groundsheet among the ferns. My lover slowly, tenderly removed my clothing for one last time…one last intimate expression of what we'd found and were about to lose. Gently he held me, stroking his fingers over my trembling flesh, swallowing my heated sighs as they escaped from my lips. His voice, a hush in the wilderness, touched me in places that no physical act ever could as he murmured sweet intimacies into my hair. And so he continued, until my longing for him became unbearable, and his touch became the only thing in the world that mattered…a union of flesh…a bonding of souls…a memory forged of timelessness. We joined then, his sweet presence filling me, driving me…consoling me, and when his essence had once more mingled with my own we lay together, embracing as though no earthly power could possibly separate us. But it was a myth…a fantasy. For, even now the the Mogollon Stage would be on its route, weaving its way along the road from Winslow to the Rim…ready to take me back to my small car a lifetime away. We paused…the words that might postpone the inevitable forming on our lips, then dying in the light of reality. What we'd found had been special…something borne of the moment…its fleeting heartbeat not meant to withstand the rigors of the world beyond. We knew it …and we mourned. And so we sat that way…lost in each other's embrace…offering no promises and asking none until finally the bus pulled into view and it was time to leave. I wavered as I climbed the stairs…boarding the bus for the return trip back to civilization…to my life as I'd known it before my "tramp" into the wilderness. I paused. Something deep within me wanting to follow him to wherever his 'track' might lead …but I knew it was a foolish fantasy. Ours had been a moment removed from the persistent tick of the clock…a pure pristine memory that the real world could only tarnish and adulterate. Our moment was over…it was time to say good-bye. And so, as he faded away into the distance, I knew he would always be a part of me, and I of him…preserved in perpetuity by the selfless act that tore us from each other's arms. Though we were parted…he would never be gone. He would remain as he was just at this moment…young and virile…strong and passionate until the end of time…perhaps on a mountaintop in New Zealand…waiting…waiting… A dream. A memory… …of the days when I once went "tramping" in the wilderness...