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Chapter Two: Julie
Julie was wonderful. She was blonde, about five foot three and built the way a blonde ought to be: slim without being skinny, hips that curved out into a bum that was somehow voluptuous and slinky at the same time, high-set breasts about 32 or 34b, and really light blue eyes that seemed to see right through you. She was about my age, single, and travelling with her older brother and his in-laws.
I didn't actually meet her, not to talk to, until the fourth or fifth day, but we hit it off right away. Normally I would never have fancied my chances with a girl like that. I'm just a bookish sort of person with glasses and a bit of a stoop. That makes me sound ugly. I'm not, just kind of average, and pretty shy around girls, though I certainly wasn't a virgin.
Luckily, I met Julie just after the Deputy Caravan Master had complimented me on the way I was shaping up and asked if I'd mind standing an extra watch tonight because this was Marsh Tribe country and I knew how to keep my eyes open. This left me feeling so good about myself that I clean forgot to be shy around a beautiful girl like Julie and we just kind of clicked right away.
Before I knew what was happening, I'd arranged to take a walk with her the following evening. Then I had to hurry off and stand my watch. (Nothing at all happened and we ended up travelling all the way through the Marsh territory without ever seeing a tribesman. I didn't know that at the time though.) I couldn't wait for the night watch to finish and the next day's march to be over. I'd told her about a beauty spot that I'd read about called Banjo Springs. It was supposed to be only a couple of miles off the caravan route and within easy walking distance of tommorow's campsite, so we were going to take a look.
The caravan had been working its way down a long, gentle river valley for the last couple of days, and we were due to camp at the junction of the Foundation River (that's the one we were following) and Banjo Creek. Everyone was feeling a bit frustrated because the days were hot and dry and dusty but the river was unsafe for swimming - streams tend to collect radioactive particles from the surrounding catchment area and we were getting close to some of the minor southern glass deserts. So all we could do with Foundation River water was look at it. But Banjo Springs water bubbles up from underground: pure and clean and ideal for swimming.
In planning this Julie and I had shared a sense of secret adventure because we weren't really supposed to go off on our own like this. I planned to let a couple of people know I was "going for a walk" and carefully not tell them how far I was going. I certainly didn't tell anyone I was going with Julie - this was going to be our little secret.
The caravan had made a good run that day and there was still a half-hour or so before sunset by the time we had pitched camp and attended to the animals. As arranged, Julie and I unobtrusively wandered away and set off up the steep, rocky track leading to the springs. At first we were a little awkward together: I was tongue-tied and nervous and trying too hard not to show it, Julie seemed reserved and standoffish, as if she was regretting wasting her time with me. It didn't help matters that she had changed from her normal practical trail-gear into some multicolored wraparound Indian cotton thing that only came down to mid-thigh and wasn't quite see-through. This made her more beautiful, and me more nervous.
We set off side-by-side but soon had to go single-file as the track wound steeply up the side of the valley. This would have exhausted us not long before, but after a week on the trail our muscles had toughened up and I coped with it fairly easily. Julie seemed to have no trouble keeping up, but it was pretty steep and we were both panting by the time we reached the top of the spur. There was quite a view from here, and the sunset was magnificent. I suggested a rest break and sat down on a large flat rock.
With the whole mountaintop to sit on, Julie choose to sit right by me, almost touching, and we recovered our breath in silence, not awkward any more, the companionable silence of shared toil now. The setting sun no longer had any bite in it but the air was still hot and our sweat dried slowly. We passed a water-bottle back and forwards and splashed a little on our faces.
"Is that the path to the springs?" she asked eventually, pointing to a vague trail leading steeply down the other side of the spur.
"I think so. I guess that green patch of trees around to the left is where we want to end up."
"And we can really swim there? You've got no idea how much a girl misses clean water." she said, leaning across me to peer down at the springs. "Let's go."
I let Julie lead off this time, mostly because the proximity of her warm damp body had made me want to look at her: as she'd leaned across me I'd noticed the curve of her shoulders and the pattern of tiny gold hairs on the back of her neck, now it was her short, precise movements, her slim, muscular legs, and the hinted-at shape of her sex through her multicolored dress against the last of the evening light.
We soon discovered that Banjo Springs were deservedly famous. It's a really beautiful little spot: there's an irregular series of rockpools leading up the valley, some of them no bigger than a bathtub, the biggest one nearly fifty metres across and so deep you can't touch the bottom. The water is clear and clean and just cool enough to be refreshing. We ended up at a sort of sandstone "beach" on the eastern side of this largest pool.
I expected Julie to go off and find a tree to change behind, and I was kind of hoping to see her in a swimming costume, or maybe bra and panties, but she disappointed me by staying fully dressed.
"Aren't you going in?" I prompted.
"Not just yet. You go first."
I stripped off my overalls and gun-belt, my shirt, my watch, and, feeling embarrassed by the way she just stood there fully dressed and eyed my semi-naked form, turned my back on her and waded in. The feel of cool, clean water after four or five days on the trail was sheer bliss. I waded out on the flat slippery sandstone bottom till the water reached past my knees, then slipped easily underwater and swam out with a gentle breaststroke till I had to come up for air. I dove and swam again, and again, until I reached the steep little wall at the far side. When I turned, Julie was no longer on the stone "beach". She had moved around to this side of the pool and scrambled up onto a rock platform at the top of the wall, about ten or twelve feet above the water.
"How deep is it?" she sang out.
"I can't touch the bottom here, but it's shallow on the other side" I answered, wondering why she had walked all this way from the camp if she wasn't going to swim. Perhaps she was waiting for me to get out and turn my back.
"You really can't touch the bottom?"
"No. Not over here."
"Good."
I turned back to look up at her in the twilight. Still standing on that rocky platform above me, she quickly stripped her dress off over her head, dropped her knickers, kicked them over to one side and, suddenly starkly, magnificently naked, made a perfect swan dive. I had just enough time to glimpse her profuse curly blonde pubic hair and full, upright breasts before she hit the water and broke the spell.
She could swim like a fish, and we made the most of it; laughing, splashing each other, doing handstands underwater, just feeling free and cool and clean for the first time in what felt like weeks.
It was almost dark now, and the air was still and very quiet. I knew we should have been much more careful out here in wild country. One of us should have stood guard while the other one swam, we shouldn't have made so much noise, and we should never have left our guns unattended. Julie knew that too. We just didn't care. We were having too much fun.
Somewhere in that riot of water-play I lost my shorts. Julie had laughed at me saying:
"If you're going to skinny-dip, do it properly" and then she spent the next five minutes chasing me to rip my shorts off. Naturally, I didn't run too hard. She eventually got them off and threw them into the darkness somewhere - I never did find those shorts.
Now none of this was sex-play, we weren't kissing or anything and it was pretty dark by now, this was just pure, innocent skinny dipping. Well, almost. I know I kept wondering how to "break the ice". I was really happy to be with her like this but I wanted more. On the one hand I wanted to make the most of any chance I had with her - and I didn't know where I stood but I figured tonight had to be my best chance - but on the other hand I didn't want to loose her respect by treating her confidence in me and her willingness to skinny-dip as if it was a sexual come-on.
I don't know how I would have resolved this dilemma, probably managed to get the worst of both worlds if I'd been left to make the running myself. Luckily, Julie is a girl who usually knows exactly what she wants, and usually gets it too. I was standing in water up to my chest, partly getting my breath back and partly wondering how to get it together with Julie - after supper maybe? - when I felt movement under the water, her hand on my thigh, my groin, her mouth around my penis, warm and smooth and incredibly sexy.
This was possibly the fastest erection in history. One moment I was small and shrivelled (you know the effect cold water has?). Within the space of two heartbeats I had an erection like a railway sleeper. (Later on she told me that she was really afraid that I'd turn her down - that was never on the cards.)
It was like time stood still. I stood there almost forever with my hands in her hair gently fucking her head. It was an incredible feeling. I was almost on the verge of coming when she started to struggle, and it wasn't until she kicked me that I realized she had to breathe.
She came to the surface gasping, but one arm went round my neck, the other went down to grasp my testicles and as she panted into my ear she pulled herself close to me, lifted her loins up, and impaled herself on my penis.
Just like that.
I had hardly moved, just braced myself against her, and this little ball of female energy was wrapping her legs around me and fucking me with short, rapid little movements and fast soft grunts of pleasure into my ear.
This was all too much for me. I'd slipped into her warm little cunt like we'd been doing it for years but I was only going to last seconds.
"I'm going to come" I gasped, too far gone with pleasure to really care that I'd barely lasted 30 seconds yet.
Julie just pushed her tongue into my ear and started sucking on my earlobe like a small, irregular-shaped dick, and her free hand cupped and massaged my testicles, as if she was squeezing the sperm out.
As I came into her she made fast little hammering motions with her crotch against me. It was like she was coming too, she was certainly excited enough and I'd never known a girl move her hips with that distinctive short, rapid motion before. Eventually she sensed that I was starting to spurt more slowly and she let go of my ear and slowed her pumping motion down to match my rhythm. For the first time we kissed; kissed with a slow, slow penetration, kissed with a sudden tenderness as well as passion, and this long, wet kiss as we slowly drifted backwards toward the beach was somehow more intimate than our fucking.
"Oh God" I said, between mouthfuls of her, "that was wonderful."
"Don't stop now," she replied "I'm just getting started."
It was true. Me on my back, her astride me, we were still joined at the waist, and somehow I was still almost as hard as I'd been when we started. I'd never come once and then kept straight on going before, but that's what seemed to be happening. Julie steered us in towards shallower water until my shoulders were on dry land and she sat astride me as I lay on my back looking up at her shadowy beauty against the stars.
This was a long, slow fuck, starting out from almost imperceptible motions and gradually getting more intense. In the water, she had been pleasuring me, now she was pleasuring herself, thrusting against my miraculous second-time erection and (if she had known it) painfully abrading the skin of my back against the hard stone bottom. But I didn't care.
She had magnificent breasts, firm and upright, full and yet pointed, and it wasn't too dark to watch them undulate gently as she moved. Sometimes she leaned forward to swing them tantalizingly close to me, or to just brush my lips with her swollen, puckered nipples. As she slowly built up to her climax, she shyly dropped one slim hand between her thighs to manipulate her clitoris.
"Do you want me to come?" she asked, by way of excuse or apology.
But I had always wanted to watch a girl doing it to herself like this, and I tried to explain that she was going to make me come as well as herself by doing that. I'm not sure that I managed to explain it very well before we were overcome with the feeling and got a bit incoherent. She was doing that distinctive hammer-blow thing again, marking the rhythm with little grunts of pleasure which merged into an almost continuous humming moan as she got faster and closer. Suddenly she was arching backwards and pressing herself down against my pubic bone, motionless except for her flying fingers. I started pumping myself, squirting my sperm up into her for the second time in a night as I watched her orgasm, saw the quiver of her breasts, the curve of her neck, her circular wrist action as she reached her climax, throwing her head back and giving a sighing moan of utter satisfaction.
We were spent. For a long time we lay there without moving. Eventually I felt her tug her hand out from between us and rest it against my shoulder to help her sit up. I took it in mine and, one finger at a time, kissed away her sticky mucous coating. They had the fresh, gamey Julie's-cunt taste I was to get to know so well over the next few weeks.
"Stop it!" she laughed. "If you start that again we'll never get to eat."
"If I start it? Whose idea was this anyway?"
"Mine of course. Now let go and tell me what delicacies you've brought for us to eat."
(Part 2 of Chapter Two to follow.)
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