Chapter 8

And then there was Muley Point, an isolated sandstone precipice jutting far above the surrounding desert scrubland. From atop this pinon and juniper covered summit, one could see the majestic ochre colored buttes and spires of Monument Valley and even several far off mountain ranges dotting three other states -- some of them over 100 miles distant. Closer in was the rugged and pristine San Juan River canyon carved deeply into two billion year old bedrock, known locally as the Goosenecks for its entrenched sinuous meanders.

The four-person seasonal ranger staff had been introduced to the place early, by way of an evening barbecue back in late April hosted by our boss just after we'd all been hired. The occasion was a bonding exercise, and oh, how we all bonded all that summer! Getting to the place wasn't easy. After departing the paved road, there was still an eight-mile drive along a dusty backcountry track out to this narrow escarpment. But Muley Point had a hundred places where it was possible to pull over and park right atop the edge of sheer 1,500-foot cliffs.

It was a wonderful spot to fuck, and I'd reamed Brooke out there at least a half dozen times, whenever our roving ranger patrols took us near the place. And although it was against policy for backcountry rangers to screw visitors, I'd managed to lure a lone city girl from San Francisco out here for a quickie while acting as an unofficial tour guide — my seed a fond memory of her first visit to canyon country. Brooke and I rarely saw anybody else as we bounced along narrow ruts leading down to the vista, and I'd gotten into a very bad habit of stripping her ranger outfit completely off right in the Jeep cab even before reaching our destination.

In a fit of candor, the girl admitted this was exactly what Mitch, the rangeland ecologist, always did when they were alone in his government truck and off the paved highway. She was going to get screwed anyway, so why not get an early start! We started this risky form of behavior early during our summer seasonal stint, and as I drove, the naked wench's ministrations on my exposed cock at times got me so hot and bothered that we'd ignore the spectacular views and end up fucking just as soon as I could roll the Jeep to a stop.

Other than that first get acquainted cookout, I don't think Brooke ever again wore a stitch of clothing at Muley Point when I was alone with her! Of course, what's good for the goose is good for the gander, and as we hiked over the slickrock I'd strut alongside her wearing nothing but my birthday suit. In the aftermath of one of these bang sessions back when spring was still edging into summer, Brooke and I lounged in the shade of a small juniper tree exchanging some more bio about our lives. Mine was pretty standard fare — parents who'd never got divorced, varsity letters earned doing high school sports, and relatively good college grades. I'd even managed to graduate on time.

My colleague's story was far more heavy duty -- shortly before her sixteenth birthday, her mom finally caught on to the multi year affair she'd been having with her younger half brother, and in the ensuing blow up Brooke ran away from home. The girl stayed wherever opportunity presented itself, with friends, with strangers, in hotels, at one point in a car. There weren't many jobs for a fifteen year old, and she had no money. Brooke said she'd begged people for food at different high school cafeterias throughout the Denver area, while fucking lots of people she didn't want to in order to have a place to sleep.

Brooke told me these antics got her busted and placed in a foster home, which she ran away from several times before her eighteenth birthday knowing that nobody really cared where she went. But even before that, she'd begun to earn money stripping at college fraternity parties where they didn't give a shit if she was underage. Her first real job was a bartender at a sleazy topless club, gotten through the recommendation of a fellow stripper. Still underage, Brooke couldn't drink, but the law allowed her to serve the stuff.

She'd worked there only a day when the bar owner asked if she would serve drinks topless at a private party for $100. That was a lot of dough. But Brooke consumed much of the vodka she'd meant to serve, and afterward joined the other strippers up on the bar collecting tips like crazy, earning $300 bucks. The little tart said she'd become a stripper because the money was so good! With a nearly flat chest and full-blooded Japanese ancestry, I imagined she'd been very popular!

Brooke told me she'd become a regular dancer at Denver's local go-go bars, at times working seven nights a week and pulling down tons of cash. Most of this went up her nose as fine white powder.

Eventually drugs and continued abuse at the hands of different guys took their toll, and she'd fled the big city for the safety of the much smaller Rocky Mountain town of Durango, enrolling at Fort Lewis College. The school's motto, Brooke said with a smile, was "Ski Fort Lewis and pick up a degree in your spare time." And this is just what she did, using the six-year plan to gradually earn a four year undergraduate diploma.

This was a sad story but helped explain why the pint sized wench was so totally fucked up. But I really didn't give a shit about her attitude, and throughout that summer my only real focus was getting my rocks off as many times possible. The prospect of a long-term relationship with Brooke never entered my head -- whatever her problems were, I wasn't the answer. The little nymphet absolutely loved to fuck, and I was there to scratch that itch!

On one of those visits to Muley Point, we'd walked about two miles along the cliff's sandstone cliff edge wearing nothing but stout hiking boots and a greasy lathering of Skin So Soft to ward off depredations of biting gnats. This stuff had a SPF rating of something like minus 5, and despite my Aryan blood, I'd developed quite the all over body tan by this time of the summer. Due to Brooke's Japanese ancestry, her natural skin pigmentation was light brown to begin with, and she became so dark from Skin So Soft that when viewed from behind, the girl could easily be mistaken for a lithe little Black chick. But when looking at Brooke straight on, her long black hair and pronounced Asiatic facial features evidenced her true ancestry.

During our walk, we stuck to the narrow band of exposed bedrock along the cliff edge where rock gives way to sky and there was little risk of bare skin getting poked or scratched by prickly cactus thorns. Rain engorged thunderheads scudded overhead -- impressive behemoths glowering orange in color while disgorging jagged shards of lightening. Brooke and I took this in while smoking a fat joint right down to the point it burned our finger tips, giddy from the fireworks show above us.

Before walking away from the Jeep, I'd had foresight to grab a government-issued digital camera normally used to document archaeological vandalism. While clicking away at distant horizons, I saw to it that Brooke's thin nude form worked its way into the pixels. Before long she was the principal object of my attention, the distant clouds and mesas becoming mere backdrops. Brooke played along with me, posing ever more provocatively with each new frame. Adding to the erotica was the pair of hiking boots and thick wool socks she insisted on wearing. I fed her lots of stoned out nonsense, saying things like light and beauty go together as do the sky and the sun. I told the girl she was a goddess. Brooke ate this shit up, and with no additional prompting on my part, she began to pinch and toggle those little golden barbells that pierced both her nipples.

These nubbins were well greased with Skin So Soft, and as Brooke milked away, they engorged with a suffusion of blood to unbelievable proportions. This self imposed erotica was too great for Brooke and she lay down, prone on the sandstone. The camera's digital imagery showed one pair of fingers embedded deep in a vagina and another pair tugging hard on an oily nipple raised above my colleague's otherwise flat chest, which I artistically lined up with the rocky spires of Monument Valley playing out below us on the horizon.

Standing right over the stoned out girl, I stroked my elongated dick, still using my free hand to click away with the camera. Brooke was not shy, and half a dozen frames captured her in an intense and rollicking orgasm. She loved every moment of it!

But I hadn't yet cum, and lay down beside her on sun-warmed bedrock. We locked lips and entwined tongues, our fingers mutually probing both cunt and stiffened rod. Rolling onto my back, I pulled Brooke's light naked frame atop my face so that her pussy could kiss my lips. Just a touch of the tongue and my fellow ranger had a second explosive climax, aided by many fingers working in conjoined assault on her exposed nipples.

Quivering in the aftermath of orgasm, Brooke collapsed my chest, and we lay there torso to torso. Her oily pelvis slid down to my hips and as the tip of my penis brushed a very sensitive sphincter, the girl jumped and gasped. She was willing, and the full length of my well oiled cock slipped up her anus without any additional foreplay. Despite the rapture of the moment, I still had moxy enough to grab hold of the camera and capture a bunch of crazy images of Brooke and the cloud speckled sky above her as she got anal fucked. Hypnotized by the erotic sensations pulsing through her, she completely ignored the camera!

Still pistoning up and down on my cock, Brooke slowly leaned backward until her shoulders touched my bent knees, her bare chest and thighs now pointed skyward. While in this position, it was easy for me to reach down and toggle her clitoris with the thumb of my free hand. Her mouth opened wide and from the way she now sucked for air, I knew Brooke was seconds away from yet another climax! I kept score of these events, deciding it would be her fourth since climbing out of the Jeep not all that long ago. As the thigh muscles of her legs became rigid with the onset of orgasm, I managed to let go of my own juices and planted gobbets of milky seed deep inside my fuck partner's anal orifice. While a ranger's paycheck may have sucked, the fringe benefits were truly outstanding!

Now, what should I do with all those images ensconced inside that digital camera? Downloading them into a computer at the ranger station was out of the question. Our sole source of electricity — a cast off Army surplus generator prone to power surges -- had already caused two computers to melt down, and in response to mounting bills the headquarters in Cortez stopped sending replacements. So there was no possible way to conveniently transfer those nasty images of Brooke and me fucking from the camera's memory stick. If these were job-related pictures, the normal routine would be to drive over to Cortez, a hundred miles distant, and do the download there. But this was porn, captured on a government owned camera!

The prior year's ranger staff had all been fired because the conservative local Mormon populace caught wind of ongoing sexual shenanigans, precipitating the infamous "flat rock incident." And now, here was digital proof that the same problem was occurring big time all over again with a brand new crop of seasonal rangers! There was no way I'd download this stuff anyplace where the boss could be standing over my shoulder!

To top it off, Brooke had second thoughts about all those pictures and demanded I give her the camera's memory stick. I complied, deceitfully handing her a blank, keeping the one with the pixels of her masturbating and getting butt fucked hidden deeply in my pocket. My search for a computer finally resolved itself on a weekend trip to Salt Lake City to visit Chuck, a fraternity buddy from my home state of North Carolina who'd also landed a post-graduation job out west. With the two of us seated in chairs in front of his home computer while sipping beers, I watched as the guts of the thumb sized memory stick spilled its guts to a hard drive folder my friend truthfully labeled "Slutty Brooke".

Later, Chuck took me out on the town, boasting he could get us both laid! But after hitting three bars, it was apparent we were shit out of luck. Damn those Mormon chicks! They'd hit age 21 and doll up all whore like, but what they actually wanted was to marry one of their own kind and then settle down to raise a crop of kids just like their parents had done. There was always the option of lying to one of these babes and tell her I was Mormon, but Chuck warned me that this behavior had gotten him into messy entanglements when the chicks wanted to drag him back home to meet mom and dad! So after the bars closed, we ended up back in my friend's apartment, drunk and horny and lonely.

After bidding my buddy good night and waiting for what seemed an eternity, I crawled out of bed and tiptoed into the spare room where Chuck kept his computer. Well, my old frat brother had beaten me to it, sitting there in the darkness bathed in the blue glow of a computer monitor with dick hanging out, hammering away to shimmering images of a well fucked Brooke. It was my co-worker all right, but these images were not what I'd captured a week earlier out on Muley Point. Rather, they looked far more professional, depicting a guy I'd never seen before getting a sloppy blowjob from this little Japanese tart.

Realizing he was caught, Chuck handed me a bottle of greasy lotion and motioned to grab another chair and sit down. This wasn't a gay type of thing since both of us were avowed heterosexuals. Even still, masturbating right next to my friend gave me the creeps; soon however, I was matching my friend stroke for stroke. It seems Chuck was in the nasty habit of surfing the Internet, honing in on batches of free images depicting straight couples nailing one another. He'd recognized Brooke immediately from past sessions, and in quick succession showed me three different series of her getting sexed in dozens of positions. Gosh, I'd not known she'd liked it up the poop shoot so much!

The girl was far wilder than I'd imagined, doing serious professional porn for money. I already had an inkling of this, having poked around to discover nude photos secreted away at the bottom of a drawer in her tiny ranger station living quarters, but those were far more artistic than the raw porn I now gazed at. And although my co-worker admitted to becoming a stripper in Denver even before turning age eighteen, I'd never bothered to put two and two together. But it seemed logical she would eventually end up doing porn shoots. Wow, what a trip!

Brooke still looked youngish at twenty-six, but in these Internet photos there were no tattoos so she must have been barely legal. To think that she was fucking on camera while still too young to buy a bottle of beer! And in no case was the girl depicted with any body piercing, meaning that those little barbells now jutting through the flesh of her nipples and clitty were newer additions. At with this thought, I ejaculated into a towel that Chuck thoughtfully tossed me just after he'd cum in it.

Afterwards, a nasty scheme was hatched — I'd invite Chuck down to the ranger station to show him the desert canyons and ancient cliff dwellings. We'd ask Brooke to ride along with us in the Jeep, get her stoned, and then tag team the little bitch somewhere out in the middle of the desert. My friend was a camera buff and said he'd bring along some fancy equipment to capture the desert and mesas. Only later did I realize that Chuck was no mere amateur photographer, and that his plan of action was to turn this sexual foray into a bundle of money for himself by selling the images online!

Chuck's visit went even better than planned. I'd deliberately not given the girl a heads up, so it appeared my friend arrived unexpectedly -- just passing through the area, he said. Brooke and I were putting some supplies together before starting out on a day-long Jeep patrol, and I suggested to Chuck that if he had time, tag along. I excused myself to go top off the vehicle's fuel, watching my friend Chuck followed Brooke into the ranger station's living quarters ostensibly to help repack the lunch cooler with more provisions. Observing my fellow ranger's behavior over the summer, I knew she'd be the provocateur, intentionally getting into trouble with virtually every guy she spent any time with, even total strangers.

This occasion was no different. So after gassing up the Jeep, I crept over to the side of the trailer and peeked through slated glass window panes, doing a double take as my co-worker bent over the kitchen table and pulled a long line of cocaine up her nose. Now that wasn't part of the plan I'd worked out up in Salt Lake City with my buddy Chuck! He must have brought the drugs with him! I deliberately took my time before joining the two of them, pausing first in the small office to shuffle some headquarters paperwork into the circular file. When I finally entered the kitchen, there was no physical evidence that any illicit drug that had just taken place. But Brooke appeared glassy eyed and she sniffled and rubbed a reddened nose with her fingers. And my big city friend had a shit eating grin plastered across his face.

Brooke had been wearing a long pair of denim jeans, but shortly after Chuck's arrival she'd changed into a pair of cut-off denim shorts that barely managed to cover her nicely shaped buttocks. She'd stuffed her uniform shirt into these shorts but left a couple buttons undone, simultaneously appearing both casual and official. Just gazing at Brooke got us guys horny. She knew it too, throwing out flirtatious innuendo as we followed her around like a pair of overgrown pet dogs!

So off we went, ironically headed toward Muley Point! For once, Brooke did manage to keep her uniform not only on, if not fully buttoned up! On the drive down the mesa, we each popped open a beer that Chuck had brought from Salt Lake City. These quickly disappeared and we all downed another before capping off the road trip with a big fat joint from the stash provided by Mitch, the government's rangeland conservationist. The cliff edge panorama was so spectacular that Chuck, now totally buzzed on drugs and beer, literally jumped out of the slowly moving Jeep before it came to a standstill. Spreading out his arms out and twirling around and around, he announced that this was the most magnificent place on Earth! Brooke and I couldn't disagree.

Rooting around in a large bag of camera gear, Chuck pulled out an expensive looking digital SLR camera, screwed on a 270 mm zoom lens and began popping off photos of distant polychromatic horizons. He'd sold some pictures to magazines back when we were in college, and this continued to be a profitable sideline. After getting his fill of scenery, Chuck showed Brooke and me how to work the camera and we pretended to be competent at something we knew little about. I ended up getting final dibs on the thing and in a buzzed state, slowly wandered northward along the edge of the cliff and away from the Jeep.

Ten minutes went by before I noticed that Chuck and Brooke had not bothered to follow, so I headed back to the vehicle only to discover that I was still alone. I figured the two of them had followed the cliff edge in the opposite direction, and soon was rewarded by the discovery of Brooke's buff colored ranger shirt tossed casually into a low bush. So I was hot on the trail! Sure enough, all their remaining clothing was scattered along the path they'd taken! My favorite bad habit was voyeurism, so rather than rush ahead and literally stumble atop them, I stealthy put one foot in front of the other as if tracking a wild animal.