Chapter 4

On the last full day of our raft trip, Donna and Ellen continued to wear only their bikini bottoms and go shamelessly topless. This was part of a trend, as each day of the journey down river we collectively had become more casual and libertine in both dress and actions, and the naked breasts of the two rangers that accompanied me downriver had ceased to be a novelty. But I continued to find Ellen's round and full orbs a nice contrast with Donna's petite torso which was dominated by a pair of small exuberant and inviting brown nipples. However, we were the government's official presence on the river and our ranger uniform shirts had to be kept handy in case we encountered other private rafting parties. Today, this had only happened once and after we drifted some distance from this other group, the two girls' shirts were again stowed away. Even then, they could be considered over dressed by continuing to wear the bottom half of their bikinis on this clothing optional river that flowed towards Utah's Lake Powell.

Ellen beached the raft on a small sand bar dominated by a thick stand of willow so Donna and I could investigate our second archaeological site of the morning. We had passed through a narrow series of river meanders the day before, and now the canyon opened in width, its fertile bottomland having been an attraction to ancestral Pueblo farmers a millennium earlier. The map indicated the ancient sandstone cliff dwelling was about a half mile distant and one hundred feet higher than the canyon floor. We invited Ellen to accompany us on the hike, but she said she would remain with the raft since the sand bar we had beached on was narrow and she didn't want the raft to float away while it was unattended. So Donna and I trudged off in our hiking boots, me wearing a just pair of shorts and she in no more than the diminutive bottom half of a two piece swimsuit. I knew before we got to the Indian ruin that there wouldn't be much work to do. It was too high up the canyon wall to have been impacted by flooding, and too far from the riverside to attract the attention of many boaters.

Indeed, the site was nearly pristine and the ground around it was covered with a scattering of broken pottery shards, flint chippings and bits of corn cob. There where no other footprints in the sand, suggesting that we were the first visitors at least for that year. We quickly worked our way through the checklist of standard questions, Donna obediently following behind me taking notes as I described what we saw. God, what a job! I now had an archaeological assistant who insisted in doing her work in the buff, while my other ranger buddies were laboring away at tasks like cleaning up a campground or selling park day passes to tourists. Our work was finished ahead of schedule, so Donna and I relaxed in the shade out of the sun on a large flat slab of sandstone and watched the empty river flow slowly by in the distance. The view was spectacular, and we could look downstream for nearly a mile before the brown water was finally obstructed by tall canyon walls.

Marijuana was hard to come by in Utah's Mormon country, and I had been waiting for the right occasion to smoke the only joint I owned. Donna was delighted when I produced it from a pouch in my daypack, saying that it had been months since she had been high. After taking a particularly big toke, I leaned over and pulling her lips to my own, exhaled all of the still potent smoke deep down into her lungs. Donna thought this was wonderful and we proceeded to do this back and forth several times until the stub of the joint finally burnt away, our mouths and tongues lingering together between puffs of smoke. As we blew smoke into each other's lungs, Donna leaned into me pressing her nearly flat chest into mine. She was enjoying the closeness, so I gently rubbed my hand against her petite breasts and sucked her nipples into my mouth, relishing their hardness. She then gave me one of the most passionate kisses I have ever experienced. With her lips pressed fully against mine, mouth open, her tongue lashed about in my mouth. The marijuana was doing its work!

As my buzz expanded, so did my penis, which snaked its way further and further down one short pant leg, the tip its purple head peeping out into daylight. This did not go unnoticed by Donna, and her fingertips defined the outline of my erection before slipping beneath my shorts to cup my testicles, which had drawn up tight against my thighs and had developed a deep, sweet ache. I asked her to stand on top of the rock we were perched on and face me. My hands slipped down her back and cupped her small hard buttocks. I drew her closer to me and she came willingly. More than willingly. I tugged the bikini bottom down to her hiking boots, and found that I was looking straight at Donna's pussy, cuntlips slightly spread. With her well toned legs straddled on either side of me as I got into position, I had a wonderful view of her flat abdomen and naked chest above. She pressed her pussy onto my mouth, her moist cunt gently kissing my lips.

I began to lick, suck and nibble for all it was worth, using Donna's motions, moans and expressions to guide me. She seemed to like it particularly when I suckled the protruding nubbin at the front of her vulva, but she enjoyed it even more when I licked and probed her vagina with my tongue. The girl humped to and fro on my lips and chin, at one point getting my nose into the act when her movements became more animated. She began to let out a continuous open mouthed moan until she finally quivered, twitched and humped a few more times before stopping.