The two lizards were locked in combat. Standing on their hind legs, propped up by their powerful tails, they embraced, front legs bearing sharp talons holding onto each other as though they were dance partners, not territorial rivals. The ends of their tails lashed from side to side as they tangoed, flailing noisily through the dry leaf litter. Long, forked tongues periodically flicked from their mouths.
The reptiles paid me no mind, partly because their focus was squarely on their fierce battle and partly because I was concealed within my portable canvas hide.
My PhD research on the ecology and behaviour of sand goannas regularly brought me out to this patch of eucalypt woodland on Sydney's North Shore, where I spent endless hours following goannas around and watching them do very little. This battle was exactly what I had been hoping and waiting to see, and I frantically took notes on postures and behaviours.
And then, suddenly, it was over. The smaller lizard clearly realised that it was outclassed and released its rival before rapidly retreating, the larger lizard in hot pursuit.
Just as I was finishing writing up my notes, I heard something off in the distance. Footsteps, the crunching the brittle sticks and leaf litter, getting louder. I peered out of the small slit in the hide and watched as a woman came into view. She was about my age -- early twenties -- shoulder-length mousy brown hair, pale, almost translucent skin, dressed for bushwalking in jeans, sturdy walking shoes, a t-shirt and fleece, a day pack on her back.
She stopped at the base of a broad, smooth-barked eucalypt not far from where I was hidden, dropped her bag and unzipped it, pulling out what looked like a small picnic rug. After opening up and laying out the rug, she took off her shoes and socks, and then she surprised me by beginning to strip off the rest of her clothing, carefully folding each item and placing them in a neat pile on the rug's edge. Eventually she stood there in just her bra and knickers. Her underwear was strictly functional -- plain cotton without even a hint of lace to sexy things up.
Squatting, she rummaged around in the day pack, pulled out a bottle of water and a book, and then sat down, leaning back against the tree. For a while she was still, eyes closed, soaking up the warmth of the sun. Then she took a swig of water from the bottle, picked up the book and began to read.
Now that she was still, I took a proper look at her, scanning her through my binoculars. Quite plain, bordering on the unattractive, but wow, what a body. Slim and taut -- I could even see a hint of a six-pack -- but with a set of very nice-looking breasts. Big but not too big, C-cup I guessed -- a nice handful. That thought sent a jolt of electricity to my cock, which responded by beginning to fill with blood.
I could see why she had chosen that particular spot. It was in a slight depression, with thicker undergrowth curving around behind the big tree, creating a proper sun trap, warm on what was otherwise quite a cool morning, and also very secluded. I wondered how she had chanced upon it -- we were quite a long way from the nearest path.
Obviously, I couldn't really get up now -- I would scare the shit out of her and probably also embarrass the hell out of her -- and frankly I really didn't want to. Watching goannas fight was all very interesting but watching a gorgeously stacked young woman lie around in her underwear was on a whole other level. I settled down to wait, something I was more than used to doing.
And then, finally, perhaps half an hour after the girl had appeared, my patience was rewarded as her right hand dropped from her book and began to idly caress her left breast, moving down from her upper chest, over the curve and then stopping, cupping the breast from below as her thumb slowly moved back and forth over her nipple.
