Chapter 6

Despite a fall off in hikers and backpackers during the midsummer's heat, a small cadre of folks regularly visited the little government ranger station. Having no real business being there, they stopped by periodically just to say hello as they drove by the place. This happens in the wilderness — for safety's sake if nothing else, people tend to keep an eye on each other.

One of the usual customers was Mitch, a rangeland ecologist based out of our headquarters office in Cortez, responsible for ensuring the vegetation and soils remained sustainable for both cattle and wildlife. Since southern Utah was then in the midst of prolonged drought, he spent lots of time trying to keep desiccated grassland from eroding away due to overgrazing. Until I met Mitch, I hadn't any idea that this profession existed, and he proved to be a fountainhead of knowledge about the region's natural history.

Originally from Texas, he'd moved to the high desert while in his early twenties and like me, initially found life in this sparsely populated part of the country to be very lonely. So he'd done the logical thing and joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, in the process becoming a very eligible bachelor (I'd already decided never to make that leap!). Mitch explained that prior to this religious "awakening," he'd been virtually invisible to the Mormons, who along with Native Americans comprised most of the local population. The guy was now about age thirty, seemingly happily married, had two young children and a third as he said, "in the oven."

Mitch sized me up as a kindred spirit and periodically invited me out into the backcountry to keep him company while he performed vegetation inventories. As we got to know one another, he admitted that our boss Jerry over at the headquarters in Cortez asked him to keep an eye on us. He told me not to worry, and that all his reports so far had been favorable. My newfound friend also confessed that he was not a devout practitioner of the Mormon faith, but that it served as decent cover for his somewhat hedonistic lifestyle. I didn't understand what he meant but kept my mouth shut, admitting nothing about my own bad boy behavior with the two female rangers I worked with.

The third time we headed out together, Mitch decided to take me further into his confidence. After finishing an inventory of scrubby looking desert plants along one of his many study transects, the guy pulled out a fat bud of marijuana, cleaned out the stems and seeds and rolled up what was left in some cigarette paper. I tried to be witty, observing that Utah was going through a drought, and it wasn't just a lack of rainfall! Haven gotten stoned throughout my college years, I'd not forgotten what it was like and greedily sucked in a big hit of the stuff. I'm not sure how effective I was assisting him afterward, but it was certainly fun helping out!

Getting stoned became part of our regular work routine and a couple weeks later after swearing me to secrecy on pain of death, Mitch drove to a small isolated spring literally in the middle of nowhere, noteworthy only for unusually lush vegetation that surrounded it. I had no idea why the guy brought me way out here, but after Mitch parked the truck and told me to follow him through a dense thicket of stubby willows, I was astonished to discover an elaborate drip irrigation system leading to about one hundred of the most robust marijuana plants I'd even seen! Geez, it wasn't even half way through the growing season and the things were nearly up to my shoulders.

The guy obviously had a green thumb and under his care, the cannabis was thriving in the fertile desert soil. Mitch said he had been growing pot at this location for half a decade and had the system down pat, attributing much of his success to Miracle Grow. Since he was both a government employee and a good Mormon, who'd suspect that he was actually an outlaw? He admitted that only his wife and a couple of close friends knew he got stoned, but that other than me nobody else in Utah was aware of this little patch of illegal weed.

Now that I knew where it was, Mitch suggested I could help out by keeping an eye on things. Oddly it wasn't humans that caused him to worry. Rather, it was mule deer — two years ago he'd lost nearly an entire crop to those pointy-hoofed varmints! At the end of a good season, about fifty pounds of the stuff could be harvested. A brother living back in Texas sold it for him, and Mitch told me with all sincerity that he was saving the money for his children's college fund. I believed him.

To buy my silence, the guy set me up with my own private stash from the prior year's bumper crop and since Brooke, my Japanese American co-worker also loved to get high, I liberally shared the stuff with her. The only problem was that Mitch provided me with so much marijuana that it didn't have to be rationed, meaning that Brooke and I could get stoned whenever we wanted, which turned out to be four or five times a day until our lungs couldn't stand it anymore.

As a rule, we first got buzzed just after opening up the place at 8:00 AM. Sometimes we'd have to wait if early-bird hikers were there to get information about which canyon to explore. If the folks seemed particularly hip, we'd pull out the joint and get stoned with them, a risky thing to do indeed! But since it was now summer and the mid-day desert heat was oppressive, only the most intrepid hikers now bothered to stop by, and even these folks did so in early morning. So Brooke and I pretty much had the place to ourselves after that. The pot was heavy duty and smoking it always got my co-worker and me horny, so of course right after getting stoned, the next order of the day was to copulate.

We never were all that discrete about when and where we screwed, and smoking all that pot led to very lax discipline — given the girl's exhibitionist tendencies, she often ran about the place naked without even bothering to see if the parking lot was empty. Because she always slept in the nude and the fact that the ranger's office was merely a room in the trailer containing her living quarters, Brooke would often show up for work wearing nothing at all. She claimed that the 100 degree heat made it more comfortable to stay in the buff, but in truth the girl wanted to be seen. Several times she was caught that way by visitors coming to the ranger station, deliberately wandering by the door leading to her adjoining quarters while I handed out trail maps.

Our supervisor's warning about the prior year's "flat rock incident," an action that resulted in termination of several rangers caught flagrante delicto, went completely unheeded. Quite simply, I found it too easy to grab Brooke and bang her while the little tease was running around the ranger station bare assed naked and stoned. We'd been lucky so far that those who caught us were from out of state and didn't bother to file a complaint. One lone guy actually beat off while staring at the freak show, pushing Brooke's lust to its highest level — she loved being watched! So it was only a matter of time before another government official discovered us. It happened in the office one morning as my colleague stood nude on top of the desk facing toward me. I had yet to take off my own ranger uniform, but my penis was out and erect and had developed that deep, sweet ache.

After sliding my hands down the bare brown skin of Brooke's back, I cupped her small hard buttocks and drew her close. She came to me willingly, and knowing what would happen next positioned herself so that I was looking straight at her pussy's slightly spread cuntlips. With her well-toned legs straddled on either side of my face, I had a wonderful view of her flat abdomen and naked chest towering above me. Then Brooke pressed herself onto my mouth, her moist cunt gently kissing my lips.

I began to lick, suck and nibble for all it was worth, using the girl's motions, moans and expressions to guide me. She seemed to like it particularly when I suckled the pierced and protruding nubbin at the front of her vulva, but 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, getting my nose into the act as her movements became more animated. In truth, I enjoyed eating her out. Letting out a continuous open-mouthed moan as she climaxed, Brooke quivered, twitched and humped for nearly a full minute before finally stopping.

It was only afterward that I first noticed Mitch standing in the open door to the ranger office, a huge shit eating grin spread across his face. My God, I had no idea how much of this performance the guy witnessed, but he had apparently been there awhile, Brooke lustily gazing straight at him the entire time! She hadn't said a thing! My first rational thought was that the jig was finally up — my partner and I would now get fired for our indiscretion. Although the paychecks were paltry, it was still money in the bank!

Then, without saying a word, Mitch turned away and strode purposefully back down the narrow dirt path leading to the parking lot. With Brooke still standing naked on the desktop shuddering in the aftermath of an intense climax, I chased after Mitch, finally catching him just as he reached the government pickup truck. Without missing a beat, he told me to hop in and help him with the day's rangeland inventory. My brain twitched in terror and I complied without argument, sitting next to the guy in abject silence until we were a mile or two down the road. Then he began to laugh — big time!

I expected a lecture about the inappropriateness of government employees fucking, but instead received an effusive thank you for putting on such a daring and entertaining show. Things were boring out here in the desert, he said, and this spiced up his week! No, it spiced up his year!

Mitch then got serious, saying he'd suspected that Brooke and I were having sex and catching us in the act just confirmed this. He said that if it had been anybody else who'd caught us, there would be hell to pay.

For the thirtieth time, I was reminded of the infamous "flat rock incident." It was a fair warning and I almost told him that Brooke and I would never again have sex. But he'd know this was a lie, so instead I simply promised in the future to be more discrete. Later, after we'd returned to the ranger station, Mitch pulled my co-worker aside ostensibly to have a similar talk with her down in the cab of his pickup truck. He took his sweet time about it and after the guy departed, Brooke slinked through the door on the way to her living quarters, a garnish of still drying semen embedded in her long black tresses. That was fast!

Without admitting to the sin of fellatio, Brooke later told me that yes, she'd received a cautionary lecture from Mitch, but to her surprise, also an invitation to accompany him on future floral inventories. And then there was the deal she cut with the man — highly favorable reports sent to the boss regarding the ranger staff would continue, provided she put out whenever he needed sex. The little whore said she readily agreed, thus guaranteeing that we'd all keep our summer jobs!

There was resignation in the way Brooke said this, tacitly acknowledging once again that her stab at abstinence was a dismal failure. Just one more guy's penis to service, but at least she'd get paid with marijuana for doing so! So it was a combination of bribery and blackmail! Later that summer in a fit of pique, I pulled Mitch aside and asked why he did it, given that we could have him busted for growing all that pot. He admitted this was one possible outcome, but he'd keep right on fucking my co-worker regardless of the consequences.

And sure enough, several days later when Mitch again pulled up at the ranger station, Brooke was already outside at the picnic table waiting for him, wearing her sexy little cut-off denim shorts along with an official short sleeved ranger shirt. The girl had packed up a lunch large enough for two people, and it didn't look like the two of them would be doing very much work out there in the backcountry. Mitch saw my dejected look and pulled out a joint thinking it would cheer me up. I got very stoned with the two of them, but afterward it just left me horny and all alone with "Mr. Hand".

Visitation that day was nonexistent and the last thing I wanted to do was paperwork or general maintenance. In actuality, there wasn't much "spit and polish" one could do around the ranger station, since it was nothing more than a mobile home set atop a ridge overlooking a dirt parking lot. I mean, how many times could one sweep the floor? I knew Brooke would be gone for many hours, so out of boredom I did something both wrong and reprehensible — entering the girl's living quarters, I systematically sifted through each of her bedroom dresser drawers, taking a mental inventory of their contents. While doing so, I reflected back to my childhood, thinking of a time in the fourth grade when I pawed through my father's drawers and discovered a box of condoms. That was the day I learned my parents had sex whenever they wanted, not just those few times as they conceived my siblings and me!

I was still smiling to myself over that naive long ago discovery when I came across a large manila envelope buried at the bottom of a drawer full of socks and thong underwear — did the girl wear any other kind? Sitting down at the edge of Brooke's bed, I spilled out the contents — a stack of color and black and white photos of my colleague posing in scanty clothing or completely in the buff. She was now twenty-six years old, and it appeared that these pictures had been taken a half decade earlier when she had been closer to my own age. At that time, she sported fewer tattoos and had not yet pierced her nipples or clitty.

The images were all professionally staged rather than a collection of snapshots, seemingly derived from a number of different photo shoots. I'd not realized she'd done a stint as a professional model! Leafing through these photos, I came across one sequence in which Brooke masturbated for the camera. So I did the logical thing, pulling out my own meat and began to beat off. However, I'd stroked my cock just a few minutes before this reverie was interrupted by several voices calling from the office, asking if anybody was home.

With a curse and guilty conscience, I stuffed my penis back inside my pants and then greeted a couple of day hikers, trying very hard to act nonchalant while answering their predictable questions. In my haste to get back to the collection of porn now scattered across Brooke's bedroom, I threw some printed maps their way and literally pushed these poor folks back out the door.

After dropping my pants and underwear, I grabbed a bottle of hand cream from the bedside table and slathered up my dick. Without further interruption I jerked off to this trove of erotica. The girl was a natural in front of the camera, seemingly at ease with her nudity. In fact, in one series of photos she was so caught up in masturbatory reverie that it appeared she was unaware the photographs were even being taken. The dildo she was making love to was absolutely huge! Gaping at this image pushed me over the top and I squirted sperm all over Brooke's bed sheets and pillow.

I would repeat the same thing over and again that summer when finding myself all alone at the ranger station with time to kill. Afterward, I carefully slid the pictures back inside their envelopes in the sequence in which I'd found them and placed everything back at the bottom of the dresser drawer. My other discovery that day was a dildo, perhaps the same one that Brooke had used for one of those photo shoots. It was certainly big enough to match the one in the picture!

Five hours later, Mitch's government issue pickup truck slowly rolled into the parking lot below the ranger station. Brooke didn't get out immediately, so out of curiosity I picked up the big Army surplus binoculars that sat on the office desk and tried to spy on what was transpiring inside the cab. It appeared the two of them were talking, but all of a sudden Brooke's head disappeared from view save for the occasional bob of tousled black hair. It was hard to read Mitch's facial expression from that distance, but it was obvious what was going on. Fifteen minutes later, Mitch put the truck in gear and zoomed off leaving Brooke standing in a swirling cloud of dust.

The girl stumbled up the path leading to the ranger station, totally buzzed from all the pot she'd helped Mitch consume during their so-called vegetation inventory. Her lips and eyes were swollen, and right then she was suffering badly from Erect Nipple Syndrome. I wondered if she'd just been stimulated to a final climax by Mitch down in the parking lot as she gave the guy a blowjob. Despite having ejaculated into her bed sheets a short while earlier, fucking Brooke was the only thing right then on my mind. I could care less if she'd just had sex with somebody else. So I grabbed my co-worker and literally dragged her into the narrow hallway that joined the office with her living quarters.

This was the same place I'd first raped the slut a month and a half earlier, and once again her uniform shirt was torn off and thrown to the floor. Cut-off shorts followed, and by gosh, there were no panties beneath them! This must have added to Mitch's carnal delight at finally getting my fellow ranger all alone out there in the wilderness! I went after Brooke with wanton aggression, wrapping my lips around those elongated nut brown teats that jutted so invitingly outward from her flat chest. They tasted of sweat and salt from earlier sexual exertions. She struggled to break out of my grasp and work her way toward the kitchen. But I didn't let go.

Pressing Brooke up against the refrigerator and spreading her legs apart, I buried a couple of fingers deep inside her slippery wet cunt. She was well lubricated with sperm deposited inside her by Mitch, and I stroked in and out until she melted in orgasm. The thought of this little Japanese bitch fucking somebody else pushed me over the edge, and I spun her light frame around until that my penis made contact with the crack between her naked buttocks.

Again shoving her face and body hard against the refrigerator, I pinned her wrists and arms far up over her head and kicked her legs even further apart, much as a police officer would do while searching a suspect that was carrying contraband. But Brooke had done nothing wrong other than get stoned, and then get in the way of her co-workers' raging libidos. I was much larger than her, and she had no choice but to accept the fact that I would now pound her doggy-style from behind. Not that she resisted; rather, her vagina was slick and it greedily swallowed up my turgid rod. But since I had so recently cum, it took longer than just few minutes to mix my semen with seed already planted inside her by the government's rangeland ecologist. We both ended up sore from the effort.

Once and sometimes twice a week thereafter, Mitch showed up to collect his newfound sexual play toy and together they would head out into the field. I hinted that I would like to again get out on the road with him, but this rarely happened. And while Brooke never turned down an opportunity to drive off with the guy, this was not done with any degree of excitement since at the beginning of her stint as a seasonal ranger, she'd vowed this job would be an opportunity to get away from men and straighten out her life.

Mitch and I both saw to it that the little slut was kept under the influence of drugs nearly all the time thanks to his unlimited stash of marijuana, the trade off being that she would service us whenever we wanted it. And the girl never turned down an opportunity to get stoned or screw! Of course, by that time of the summer she was also getting fucked by Hiram, the other male ranger based at the station. Not that it mattered, but I was the only one having sex with her who wasn't married!

The black gnats that had attacked Hiram so badly were still out in force, so another morning ritual was to slather our exposed limbs with Skin So Soft. This scented body oil proved to be our only effective defense against these insidious biting insects, which locals called "No See Ums". We went through gallons of the stuff that summer! Once protected from these little bloodsuckers, there was no need for Brooke to put on long pants, so of course she chose to wear a tiny pair of cropped-off denim shorts when Mitch came calling.