The sun was almost a little too hot as it past through its zenith, nevertheless, Rebecca lay quite motionless on the old sun lounge, drifting off every now and then for a few moments as she listened to the birds cry out as they flew lazily overhead on their way to the lagoon not far away.
It had been a long night of raucous laughter and drinking and although she did not think she had drunk too much, her head ached a bit -- well more than just a bit. Of course it may have been the result of the long, hot drive out to the camp the day before that had left her somewhat dehydrated -- and not the cheap red wine that had flowed freely, too freely. Yes, just a bit dehydrated, Rebecca thought to herself without conviction, smiling at her hazy memory of the previous evening.
Rebecca opened her eyes and even from under her wide-brimmed straw-hat the sunlight glared harshly. It was a hard country, but at this time of year it could be almost pleasant, and one of the best times to top-up an almost perfect tan.
She squeezed a great dollop of sunscreen onto the palm of her left hand and applied it quite liberally over her thighs and stomach, massaging the excess in slowly. Then, holding the bottle just above her chest, Rebecca slowly dribbled the white cream onto her breasts, making a figure of eight around each of her brown nipples.
With each hand, she gently rubbed the soothing liquid into her mounds of flesh and smiled at the feeling of her own breasts. Although not large by any stretch of the imagination, they were still quite firm -- and quite sensitive.
Rebecca gripped a nipple between each thumb and forefinger, taking pleasure in tweaking them gently till they were fully engorged. Then looking down at them she smiled, her husband said they were probably the largest nipples he had ever seen, and yes, they were big; Rebecca had to admit to herself somewhat proudly.
Taking a deep breath as she laid back it was only a matter of seconds before she began to totally relax, life was good and she felt pretty much at peace for a change. The men were not due back until late that afternoon and Rebecca had the camp completely to herself, with no-one in sight for miles she could run around entirely naked if she cared too, and although the thought had occurred to her, she opted for some form of modesty, however brief.
So with nothing on but a small bikini-bottom Rebecca revelled in the freedom of the moment. Normally it was hard to not only find the time in her busy life, but also hard to have a moment or two of privacy at home with her teenage son hanging around with his mates. So now to lie around -- almost naked -- and tan up in a wonderfully remote part of the bush was a thrill to be enjoyed!
Rebecca lifted the rim of her hat and peered down toward the lagoon some five hundred metres away. She could see the sun glinting off the tranquil body of water through the gap in the trees by the waters edge, just near where the men had launched the dinghy only hours before. Apart from some water birds wading along the edge of the bank catching small fish, she felt she was totally alone.
Feeling bolder, for a few moments Rebecca toyed with the idea of removing her remaining piece of clothing to sunbake completely nude. She giggled like a naughty schoolgirl at the bold thought and felt little tingles of excitement flutter through her stomach; it was something she had never done before in her life.
"It's sooo nice," she crooned, enjoying her solitude as she toyed with the small orange bows on each hip.
Although tempted to pull the end of each bow and allow the bikini to fall open, Rebecca opted to leave the little thing on. Instead, she slid her fingers along the waist-band of the small piece of black lycra and pulled the triangle upward, so it narrowed to within a centimetre.
"Mmm..." Rebecca murmured, as she felt the taut material slowly sink in between her smooth labia.
"Just ten minutes or so should be enough," she whispered softly to herself, as she laid her head back against the old sunlounge and parted her knees a bit. The sun warming her recently bared pale-flesh in an instant.
* * *
It had been touch and go as to whether Rebecca was going to come along on her husband's weeklong fishing trip. Her friend Susan had promised to come along for company, but had changed her mind at the last minute when she had learnt her daughter was coming home for the week from Uni.
Even though she had ummed-and-aahed, Rebecca's husband, Doug, had not discouraged her in anyway, saying he would like to have her for company. And so she had come along.
The trip out to the remote lagoon was arduous to say the least for the last forty kilometres! That part of the trip had taken nearly two and a quarter hours along a rough, narrow track winding through mostly open sclerophyll forest and not another vehicle to be seen!
Cranky had taken them out in his old four-wheel-drive. Cranky was Susan's husband. But he had only stayed the night, before heading back home early in the morning, so he too could catch-up with his daughter.
Rebecca probably should have given more thought to where they were going to be staying for the week. All she knew was that it was the Dry-Season home of a rather infamous poacher, set up high on the banks of a crocodile-infested lagoon that was some eight kilometres long. The fishing was said to be brilliant, not that that triviality concerned Rebecca at all!
She probably should have also packed less provocative clothing too, but did not think of it at the time. How was she to know that two of the three men staying at the camp had been there for almost three months!
When they had arrived Rebecca was pleasantly surprised by the little oasis carved out of the bush. Large, shady mango trees and a few palms along with some patches of recently mowed green grass were a welcome relief from the austere bush they had just travelled through. Rough, but insect proof, with generator power and fresh water pumped up through a poly-pipe buoyed twenty metres from the water's edge, the corrugated-iron and fly-screened camp oozed character. Loads of old photos and rusty bits of memorabilia lined various parts of the walls of the five-roomed abode.
All three of the men had made a big fuss of the new guests upon their arrival -- well they had certainly made a fuss over Rebecca, offering her their seats and even their beds to stay in too!
Her husband, Doug, didn't really know the other three men. Big Tom, the poacher, was in his fifties, Craig she guessed was mid forties and the third man Johnny was not much more than a boy, probably only twenty if that. Tom was an old associate of a good friend of Cranky's, but that was as close as it got.
Cranky had brought out a few casks of wine for them, along with cartons of beer and fuel for the generator. He had a large portable fridge in the back of his vehicle that was loaded with supplies too, once emptied; they had filled it with stacks of frozen fillets cut from recently netted fish.
Then they had all started drinking.
Rebecca at first did not notice the strangers' eyes glancing her way every now and then as they drank and talked animatedly amongst themselves and she had no reason at all to feel self-conscious, she often wore similar clothes to the short floral-designed skirt and pink tube-top she had on; after all it was the tropics.
As the night wore on Rebecca felt obliged to move around the table and fill the men's glasses. Big Tom told one funny story after the other and had her in stitches of laughter, making her feel further at ease -- that and the fact that she had consumed three or more reasonable-sized glasses of Shiraz! Several times she had to steady herself on one of the men's shoulders as she shimmied in the confined space between the wall and the chairs topping-up glasses.
Almost unnoticed, Doug disappeared for a half hour or so at one stage, mumbling something about setting up a tent for the two of them to sleep in. He had thought it inappropriate to bed down with his wife in the limited space of Tom's 'house' he called a donga.
"So...how about 'nother refill lil'lady?" Big Tom slurred, lifting his empty glass yet again.
Again, Rebecca stood up from her rickety chair and collected the men's glasses to take over to the small bench where the wine cask sat.
"Tha's a nice lookin' butt you got there, Bec. Ya don't mind if I call ya Bec?" Tom said cheekily.
Rebecca felt her face flush slightly at the compliment, "No, that's alright, my friends sometimes call me Bec," she replied, with her back to the table while filling the glasses.
"Whada you reckon, young fella, better 'an some a them tramps back in tha big smoke, hey?" Tom asked Johnny.
