Chapter 1

The Glen Canyon Dam impounds snow melt and rivers that flow westward from the Rocky Mountains, creating a vast watery oasis in the midst of an arid Utah desert. However, several years of sustained drought had lowered the pool elevation of this reservoir, exposing the remnants of numerous cliff dwellings constructed by ancestral Pueblo Indians nearly a thousand years ago. These archaeological remains had once been inundated by the rising elevation of this man-made lake, and the federal government was interested in studying the impacts to these sites caused by flooding before the drought ended and they were once again under water.

As a seasonal ranger, I couldn't have asked for a more perfect summer job than conducting this study. It beat out cleaning campground toilets, and was made even better since my archaeological survey partner would be a twenty-two year old, third generation Japanese American named Donna, who possessed a mane of thick raven hair extending nearly down to her well formed buttocks. Our assigned task was to float downriver in an inflatable raft pulled along by the current and stop wherever old maps indicated the presence of an ancient site needing investigation. But before the trip could begin, we had to drive a pickup truck and empty boat trailer over a fifty mile dirt road to a deserted riverside takeout point far downstream from where our raft would first be launched.

The day was very hot, and Donna wore a faded pair of denim shorts cut-off no more than an inch or two below her crotch that showed off virtually all of her well tanned legs, made firm by hiking desert canyons. It was also apparent that Donna wore no bra. In fact, during the few weeks I had worked with her, I had concluded that Donna did not even own a bra since her breasts were small to the point of being non-existent. But she did possess ample nipples that quickly formed erect bullet points through her shirt, particularly at night when desert temperatures became downright chilly. Although she seemed completely oblivious to this trait, it was not lost on my fellow male rangers and we privately discussed this and other presumed physical attributes of this girl. So far, nobody had been able to get into her pants.

Upon arrival at the riverside takeout point, a flat tire was discovered on the boat trailer we had been towing. The tire was in shreds and replacing it with a spare was a very messy job, exacerbated by 90 degree midday temperatures. I removed my ranger uniform shirt exposing a well tanned torso, and Donna loosened a few buttons of hers, tying it in a knot just above her midriff which showed off a taut coffee-colored belly and ribs. It was impossible to avoid looking down Donna's shirt as it hung loose from her body as she bent down to change the lug nuts. One small breast and then the other would peek into view, before Donna turned and her shirt again obscured them. Had she looked for it, this girl would have noticed a thickening rise behind the buttons of my jeans. Indeed, I had to turn away at one point to adjust my penis so its head would not jut out from the top of my pants. While pulling off the old tire, Donna backed directly into my crotch brushing her shoulder against my denim clad shaft which now extended down one pant leg. However, she seemed to notice neither it nor the effect her scantily clad body was having on me.

After changing the tire, we both were covered with axel grease and caked with sweaty dust. Rather than climb back into the truck in this condition, we decided to skinny-dip in the river and wash ourselves clean. I really did not know Donna well at that time, and since our relationship up to that point had professional, I quickly stripped off my pants and boots, and keeping my back to her so my penis wouldn't be seen, dove naked into the river. The water was shockingly cold, and I had only a few seconds to feast my eyes on Donna's trim body as she jumped in after me.

The current was stronger than expected, and it began to pull Donna downstream. I was the stronger swimmer and quickly paddled over to her, directing her to wrap her arms around my shoulders. Clutching me tightly, we made it to shore at the base of a cliff several hundred feet downstream from where we had first dove into the water. Now Donna was quite cold despite the heat of the day, and she continued to hug me, admitting between teary sobs that she never had been a good swimmer. I enveloped her in my arms, initially to provide her with much needed body heat. However, since they were pressed directly into my chest, it was impossible not to notice Donna's nipples, which in the chilly water had become reddened rock hard knobs sticking a full inch out from her nearly flat torso.

Quite beyond my control, my penis became absolutely rock hard and would have stuck straight out for its full 8 inches were it not wedged tightly upright against Donna's bare ribs. Embarrassed almost beyond belief and reminding myself that we were still professional colleagues, I disengaged myself and suggested we scale up the cliff face and return to the truck and our clothes. Donna started up the cliff first with me following closely behind, working our way to a small rock outcrop. A tiny thatch of straight dark public hair failed to obscure her pink clitoris which wiggled deliciously in front of my nose. About half way up, Donna slipped as a toehold gave way and I grabbed for her, stopping the fall when her head was directly level with my still turgid penis.