In the course of my conversations with Rick and Marissa, I told them, as I've told the reader, about my thoughts concerning nature, spirituality, the universe and things like that. Rick found my ideas so interesting that he suggested I start a blog, and I did. It caught the attention of Gerald at the National Park Service. I forget his title, but his duties included the agency's educational functions. He invited me to apply for a ranger position.
I got that job, and it eventually led to a career with the Park Service. I have other duties that the average visitor doesn't see, but I won't bore you with those. I was stationed at Yosemite. The director of this particular park was a woman named Leslie. Her hair was the shade of blonde that you only get by being in the sun a lot. She kept it cut short so she'd look authoritative, but she was very friendly. She explained on my first day that every Ranger has to come up with a presentation that they can do as a nighttime program for the visitors who camp there. Given why Gerald asked me to apply, I wrote one explaining various religions' creation stories. She was so impressed by how I managed to be respectful that she immediately approved it. (Perhaps most importantly, I didn't once refer to them as "creation myths.") As a newcomer, I was also required to attend other Rangers' presentations to get a sense of what they expected. Leslie and I also became good friends, sharing our thoughts and experiences about many things.
When I wasn't performing my official duties, I took advantage of the opportunities to photograph the flora and fauna. One of the first photos I took was of myself standing next to a fallen sequoia. Later on, a helicopter pilot flew me over so I could snap the same tree from high enough to give perspective to the first picture. He was cute and nice, but there was no chemistry between us. As the summer progressed, I replaced some of the pictures in my presentations with new ones of my own and others that people shared with me. One of my originals was an upward view of an opening in a sugar pine grove. As luck would have it, an eagle flew overhead while I was there, and I had the presence of mind to snap several times in a row, getting a picture as it dove. It looked like he'd made eye contact with me.
Around the end of July, a guy introduced himself as George after my presentation. He looked about the same age as the dads I saw with young kids, so I guessed he was around thirty. From his appearance and the questions he'd asked at others' presentations, I figured he was a fellow nature lover, but not someone who made his living outdoors. He asked me where the sugar pine grove was, and I told him. Then he asked if I'd show him.
I was somewhat taken aback. After four months on the job, I'd only had one or two dates with people around me, so the prospect of developing something was pretty appealing. Rabbits and giraffes don't care if one of them has been sexually mature for, I was estimating, twice as long as the other, so why should humans? Or maybe all that time without intimate contact had just made me imagine what he had in mind. I thought all of this in an instant and said yes. I told him to meet me at 1:00 the next afternoon at the entrance to Benjamin Harrison Campground.
It rained most of that morning, but I made it a point to be there, and he was there at two minutes till, carrying a backpack. "You still want to see it?" I asked.
"If the opening's still there, I'd still like to see it," George answered.
"One little thing first," I said. I took a picture with my cell phone and said, "Text to Les," as I did so. Then I explained, "I'm not breaking any official rules, but I just let my boss know what I'm up to in case anything happens to me."
"She'll probably be relieved that you remembered," he said. "Lead the way."
It was a twenty-minute hike to that spot. We talked about other things, and I found out he teaches Russian at San Rafael, a Dominican college north of San Francisco. When we got to the clearing, I wanted to find out his intentions, so I told him, "I like to take a blanket here and study the life forms around me while I work on my all-over tan."
"Aren't there better places you could do that?" he asked.
"You mean places where there aren't any trees between me and the sun? Yeah, but I like being surrounded by nature while I'm
au naturel
. Plus, pilots sometimes fly over those spaces."
"And you don't want anyone to see you naked," he continued.
I corrected him. "I don't mind if people see me, but I know most of 'em would misunderstand. It's not a sexual thing; I'm just communing with nature."
"That's too bad," George said. "You'd think the people who come to the parks to see nature would understand that our bodies are part of nature just as much as the other animals."
"Yes, exactly. You get it!" I said happily.
"Does anyone ever join you when you do this?"
"I've only told two other people. One was a guy who didn't pick up on my hint, and the other was my boss, only I left out the part about being naked." (I actually did tell Leslie, but not until I'd gotten to know her better.)
"Would you like to?"
His meaning should have been obvious, but it went right over my head. "Like to what?"
"Have another person join you? You could share whatever inspires you, and someone else might see something you missed."
Now I got where he was going. "I'd love to."
George took a blanket out of his backpack. It had a map of Yellowstone, and it was big enough for two people to lie comfortably on it. "Then join me," he said.
I could tell from the tone of his voice that this was no crude proposition. I answered in kind. "Gladly!"
We spread the blanket out. It was thick enough, and it had been long enough since the rain stopped, that the moisture didn't come through. The map had a picture of a bear in the northwest corner and a moose in the northeast. We lay with our heads on those images and looked up. George asked, "Are you sure these are sugar pines? They smell like ponderosa pines."
"Someone probably tracked some ponderosa needles in with them. These are definitely sugar pines, though." We both took our shoes and socks off. I reached over the edge of the blanket to pick up a pine cone. "Ponderosas don't have cones anywhere near this size."
George took his shorts off. "I think a deer just walked past us over that way."
I took my jeans off and told him, "I didn't see it, but I think I heard it."
"I see what you mean about the all-over tan," he said.
"Yours is close," I said, pointing to his thighs. The tan line was only about a third of the way down.
"I've been working as a lifeguard this summer. The city cut their budget, so the pool's closed now."
"In July? That's stupid!" I unbuttoned my uniform top, then tossed it on top of my jeans.
"I thought so too, but I didn't complain 'cause it gave me a chance to come out here for a while." George took his shirt off.
"You must have rescued a lot of people," I said.
"Why do you say that?"
"Your pecs. They're ... they're perfect." For once I was having trouble saying what I was thinking. "Sorry, that's not the right word. It's as demeaning to men as calling Miss America 'perfect' is to women." I felt the need to caress one of them. He flinched a little, and I said, "Sorry. I couldn't help myself. You're the first guy I've seen in person that I'd describe as chiseled."
"Let me return the favor, and we'll call it even," he said.
I couldn't believe I was falling for a line like this. I took my bra off and sat facing him. Knowing where this was headed, I took my panties off too. I was naked with a stranger, but he didn't feel like a stranger. While he caressed the lower part of my left breast, I remembered the wood plaque I'd seen at one of the souvenir shops, "There are no strangers here, only friends we haven't met yet."
George caressed my cheek. "You are an amazing young woman," he said.
He took his underwear off while I insisted, "I'm nothing out of the ordinary."
"The fact that you think that is part of what makes you so amazing," he countered. He put his palm under my chin. I didn't resist as he kissed me. In fact, I was so relaxed that I let my hands fall on his bare hips. He kissed me harder and put his hands on my hips. I raised my legs and moved to sit on his lap. I could feel the hardness of his penis against my thigh. I moved my right hand between us and stroked the head. George found my pussy with his right hand and began stroking the lower area. I moved my legs to give him more access. His shaft got harder as his middle finger probed me deeper. "You really are this way, aren't you?"
"What way?" I asked.
"So free with yourself. You're like the hippies in the sixties that I read about, who talked about loving everyone, but you got there without drugs." He paused. "You did get there without drugs, right?"
"As far as I know, nothing's ever entered my bloodstream that wasn't legal ... somewhere in the U.S." He had two fingers inside me, and I could feel the last knuckle of each at my opening.
My mouth was getting a little parched. I got off his lap and separated his legs. George knew what I wanted, and he was eager to please. I knelt between his thighs and held his shaft up. I licked his sac and then kissed a line up the bottom of his shaft. I took his crown in my mouth and eased my way down, moving my mouth from side to side. "Oh, shit, you're good," he said. Hearing his approval inspired me. On the way back up, I swirled my tongue back and forth. "Oh, damn, Sonya!" When I had only the head in my mouth, he put his hand behind my head and stopped me from letting him out. "There's something else I'd like," he said.
I couldn't enunciate without letting his penis out of my mouth. "Mmm?"
