Into the Bush

In Part One, I introduce Paula to my farm by taking her on a walk, aiming to show her the patch of bush on it. I go with her to the pond and then beyond to the pond meadow, which leads to the bush track.

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The Bush Track becomes darker and damper and more enclosed as we walk along it. There is a worn path that we follow, left behind from the times that the cattle have passed this way and from my semi-regular visits to these parts. Large ferns bow over the track, throwing dappled shade before us.

Glow worms live here. At night, along the bank to the right, in amongst the ferns and other plants, their small twinkling lights can be discerned.

There is a spring just ahead of us to the right. We can hear the trickling of its issue as it spills out of the bush across the track on its way to the stream below. At this point, the track is muddy, an extended section of soft clay. It is slippery and bumpy, tricky to negotiate safely and cleanly.

I am wearing gumboots. You are wearing open sandals. You hesitate about going forward. Without warning, I scoop you up off your feet, gathering you into my arms. Your arm automatically goes around my neck to stabilise yourself, then to hold yourself close to me. My left arm is under your thighs, my right is around your back. I stand while you settle solidly into my body.

I slowly venture out onto the clay. From experience I know where the firmer ground is and I know where the slope can be treacherous. At one point I slip a little and have to pause and choose a better platform before moving on. I can feel your trust and confidence in me. I don't entirely share it, but I am doing my best and taking care.

I can feel your sweet warm breath on my neck. I have to work hard to focus on my footing.

Nearly across. Then one of my feet gets stuck in the mud. As I struggle to release it from the sucking cloying clay, so my weight goes onto my other foot and it starts to sink.

You can feel the tension build in my body. I might need to abandon the gumboots. But I manage to free my trailing boot and plant it on firmer footing so that I can release the other. With relief, I make the other side of the soft clay.

Still in my arms, you turn your face up to mine. I look into your eyes, then at your mouth which is partly open, so inviting. I bring my lips to yours.

Gently I kiss you. Then I seal my mouth to yours more firmly and slowly open it to offer my tongue. I feel your tongue emerge to meet it. They touch. They caress. We breathe deeply and then raggedly at the small electric shivers being sent into our bodies. Then we taste each other.

And now my arms and back tell me that I need to put you down. Reluctantly, I disengage my mouth from yours and lower you to the ground, placing your feet back on the track.

I stretch, ease the muscle tension, and place a quick kiss on the top of your head. "Next stop, another meadow." We carry on towards the end of the Bush Track, the Bush still to our right, a large patch of blackberry now to our left.

Here, right at the far end of my farm, are a couple of small areas of grass that are less enclosed than the Pond Meadow, less encircled by trees, more open. There are large old kahikatea (native swamp cypresses) on the stream side - the poplars do not continue this far - and a scattering of tall eucalypts on the up-slope.

You can't resist the invitation of the long lush cool grass. You run out to the middle of the meadow and fling yourself into it. You lie there, face-down, drinking in the freshness, feeling its cool caress, seeing the sunlight at the bottom of the buttercup plants, filtered and soft and yellow. You smell the clean earth and you know that if you listen closely you will hear earthworms and beetles and bees.

You sense me kneeling beside you. You feel me lifting your skirt and exposing to the bright sunlight and my gaze your legs and then your pink panties and the narrow strip of skin above them. You feel me tap the inside of each of your knees with a finger, and you understand - you open your legs for me, spreading them as you lie there. You feel my cool hand on your ankle, moving up your calf, lingering behind your knee.

You feel my beard on your thigh, in between your legs, my tongue darting out to lick you, time and again, as you feel my beard moving up, up, up towards the crotch of your panties. You can feel my hot heavy moist breath soak into then penetrate the crotch of your panties.

The outside of your pussy feels flooded with wet warmth. It is encompassed by it, held by it, swelling subtly within its embrace. You feel yourself enter into a deep warm darkness pinpricked with distant dim stars. Then you feel your clit start to come alive, and the stars start to become clearer and brighter.

But, all too soon, you feel the warmth dissipate and the stars blink out one by one as you feel my beard leaving, my hand removed from your leg, my body starting to rise.

I place my hand gently on your head. "Come along, Paula. We're nearly there." Reluctantly you pull yourself back together and stand up, brushing yourself off, running your fingers through your hair, pausing to provide time for the blush in your face and neck to seep away.

Heading up the slope from the Manuka Meadows is the Zigzag Track. In places it is quite steep and narrow and nearly overgrown. So although we start to climb it hand-in-hand, side-by-side, we soon have to go in single file. You go first, and I enjoy the sight of you - the sensual sway of your skirt, the movement of your hips, your flowing hair.

However, the bottom of your skirt keeps getting caught in the blackberry bordering the path to the left of us. After we have stopped a couple of times to free it from the blackberry's grip, I make a suggestion. "Bunch up your skirt around your waist, Paula, and see if that helps." You do so, pulling it up to your knees.

"No, higher," I say.

You look at me for a few seconds, trying to see what's in my mind. Then you raise it higher, up to midway between your knees and your butt. You raise your eyebrows at me. "Yes, good," I say, smiling. "Now give me your panties."

You hesitate at such a bold request, although I have made it often enough in the past. You like the thought of it, it excites you, and you are getting used to doing what I tell you. You turn awkwardly on the narrow slope and pull down your panties, handing them back to me. I put them in my pocket. You turn and continue up the slope. I pause for three heartbeats, and then I follow.