A Fishing Trip in the Rockies

 I have always enjoyed hiking, camping, hunting and
fishing -- with others or on my own.

That's why I happened to be camping alone one summer
day a few years ago at a secluded site on the northwest
edge of Colorado's Rocky Mountain National Park. In
fact, I was taking advantage of the remoteness of the
area since fishermen rarely hiked in to the high
valley. The valley's pristine mountain creek was
strung with beaver ponds that were teeming with unwary
brook trout.

For two days I didn't see another soul and I was almost
bored with catching and releasing fish after fish. The
afternoon of the second day I was casting lazily in a
pool about a mile upstream from my camp when I was
startled by the appearance of a girl in hiking clothes
on the opposite bank.

Making her way closer through the thick willows, the
girl called to me in accented English.

"My friend is injured! Can you come and help us?"

I left my fishing gear in a pile and found a place to
cross the stream. The young woman met me and, with
brief thanks, began leading me upstream alongside the
creek. I was soon thankful I was in good shape because
she set a grueling pace. We marched for a steep, rocky
mile, pausing only once to introduce ourselves and gulp
water from my canteen.

My companion was Dagmar "from West Germany" and she
briefly related that she was backpacking with two
friends and one had badly injured an ankle. Meanwhile
I couldn't help noticing that Dagmar was about 5'6",
with a pretty oval face. She also had thick, wavy
brunette hair falling to her shoulders, well-muscled
legs and, under her shorts, one of the shapeliest butts
I'd ever seen.

Finally we arrived at a spot near the tree line where
her friends, two german girls, were waiting. They were
Erma, a tall and thin pale blonde with a serious look
and a badly sprained ankle, and Angela, a short, black-
haired cherub with an olive complexion and full, pouty
lips.

On examining Erma's ankle, my EMT training told me she
needed care but not hospitalization. I wrapped it, but
knew Erma needed a couple of days of rest with the
ankle iced and elevated. My campsite was the nearest
spot with good protection from the powerful mountain
thunderstorms, so we headed there.

It was downhill all the way, but carrying Erma's pack
while helping her made it killing work. The path was
narrow, uneven and so steep in spots that we had to
pass Erma from hand to hand. We were all exhausted and
dripping sweat by the time we reached my camp. Luckily
I had some codeine in my first aid kit because Erma was
in considerable pain. I pitched their tent while Angie
and Dagmar made Erma comfortable and moved her inside.
Soon she was dozing in a sleeping bag with her leg
propped on a pack.

My muscles ached, I was sticky with sweat and my
clothes were dirty and clammy. The girls were in no
better shape. I told them I was going for a bath in
the stream even though it was icy cold. In a minute,
they eagerly decided to join me and we headed for the
stream loaded with towels and fresh clothes.

Once there, Dagmar and Angie surprised me by quickly
whipping off their hiking boots, sweaters, shorts and
underwear. Since they weren't inhibited by my presence
I followed suit and soon the three of us were wading
gingerly into the waist-deep stream of crystal-clear
Rocky Mountain ice water. Let me assure you I had no
fear of getting an erection even though both girls
looked good enough to eat.

Dagmar had creamy, pale skin contrasted by a very
abundant, curly patch of dark brown hair between her
legs. She also had a small brown clump of hair under
each arm and dark hair on her lower legs. Her gently
swaying breasts were C-cup sized with prominent
nipples surrounded by dark-colored areolae the size
of 50-cent pieces. Her tits pointed slightly outward.
I imagined her hidden pussy lips pursing against the
icy water as I watched her areolae contract and grow
almost purple with cold. I ached to run my hand over
the goose bumps covering her beautifully rounded ass.

Angie's fine olive skin was also covered with goose
bumps, but the hair between her legs was finer and
straighter than Dagmar's, and glossy black. Naked, I
could see that her thighs and buttocks were thick and
muscular without a trace of excess fat. Her waist was
slender by contrast, while her chest and shoulders
matched her athletic legs. Her wonderful, D-cup
breasts hung down slightly under their own weight and
and quivered prettily when she took a step on the
rocky streambed. Angie's nipples were about the same
size as Dagmar's, but her dark chocolate-colored
areolae were more than twice as big, even while
shrunken with cold.

Despite the effects of the bitterly cold water, my
libido raged inside me at the sight of these two
beauties hurriedly soaping and washing themselves. Was
there some reason they seemed to pay special attention
to their pussies and asses, or were they just being
fastidious after days of hiking and camping? I couldn't
tell in the brief glances I allowed myself. But I
clearly saw Angie spread her legs wide to give her
soapy fingers access to her hidden asshole, and Dagmar
used both hands for a long time on her thickly covered
pussy. The girls seemed to glance at my body naturally
as we passed the soap and shampoo, without showing any
carnal interest. Certainly there was little to see as
my cock and balls had shrunk almost to invisibility.

Finished with our icewater bath, the three of us
hurriedly left the stream, toweled off and pulled on
fresh clothes. We were shivering as we trotted up the
path to camp and my hands shook so much I had a hard
time putting a match to the fire I'd laid. Finally the
fire, several cups of hot tea and a simple meal helped
us stop quaking inside our sweaters and jackets. Dagmar
woke a groggy Erma and gave her two cups of strong,
sugary tea.

After the dishes were washed I suffered a couple of
hours of torturous restraint. I wanted both of these
young beauties, but hard as I looked I saw no sign that
either had any special interest in me. Our talk around
the campfire was friendly, but somewhat limited by the
language barrier. Dagmar, a school teacher, spoke good
English, while Angie, an office worker, spoke only a
few phrases and understood a few more. Still, our
conversation was lively.

The three girls, in their 20s, had been traveling in
the States for nearly six months, making their way
gradually from the East Coast to the West. They had
loved most of what they saw although some things
clearly baffled them. Dagmar noted critically that
american men seemed to be interested mainly in drink-
ing, sex, rock music and cars with no thought for art,
politics or ideas. Before I could mount a defense,
Angie laughingly said that most young german men were
the same.

Then it was time for bed and I reluctantly zipped
myself into my small tent alone. For a while I heard
the girls talking as they rearranged things in their
tent. I briefly considered just walking to their tent
and asking them to invite me in for the night, but I
discarded the idea as impossible. I was on the point
of masturbating when the long, strenuous day caught
up with me and I dozed off.

Some time later I was awakened by the sound of the
zipper as my tent door was quietly opened from the
outside. A dark figure appeared in the opening and
called my name softly. I answered and she gave me her
hand to guide her inside. It was Dagmar, carrying her
pad and sleeping bag.

"Will you let me join you for the night?" she said.
Still a bit sleepy, I eagerly agreed. She thanked me
with a lingering open-mouthed kiss that left no doubt
about her intentions. Too hurried to try zipping our
bags together, we put mine below us and hers on top.

"I think you will be good to me," she said, snuggling
close for warmth. I needed no more invitation, but I
decided on the slow approach. I spent the next half
hour kissing, caressing and holding Dagmar as she
gradually got more and more aroused. Many times I let
my open hands float down her back and sides, over her
ass and hips, then down her thighs. When my fingertips
finally brushed the crotch of her panties, it was damp
with pussy juice and her hips jerked convulsively
upward, seeking more contact. When I finally took off
her loose undershirt she responded by pulling off my
T-shirt, eagerly licking my nipples and running her
fingers through my chest hair.

"Please," she whispered urgently. "Move faster."

But I had no intention of moving faster. I was enjoying
the gradually building intensity. I slowly kissed her
lips, her face, her ears, her neck. I licked her
breasts everywhere but her nipples, and she gasped when
I accidentally brushed my stubbly cheek against their
hardness. I kissed my way down her stomach to her mound
then retreated. Finally I attacked her nipples with my
tongue, flicking them quickly back and forth, at first
softly then harder, from different directions. I
enjoyed playing with her stiff little nubs in my mouth.
Her moans of pleasure filled my ears and my little
tent. She held my head in her hands and I could tell
when my tongue hit a particularly sensitive spot
because her fingers tightened in my hair.

My left hand was buried in the thick hair at the top
of Dagmar's neck while the fingertips of my right hand
caressed her writhing legs from ankles to hips, con-
centrating on the sensitive skin behind her knees and
on the insides of her thighs. Her occasional moans
became louder and more frequent, almost grunts, as she
began rhythmically thrusting her hips upward. I judged
she was ready.

I shifted myself until I lay full-length beside Dagmar.
Her lips sought my mouth and she attacked me with a
kiss, urgently thrusting her tongue inside my mouth,
crushing my head to hers with both hands. I let my
right-hand fingertips drift one more time across the
taut, wet fabric covering her crotch, then drove my
hand beneath the waistband of her panties. Lifting the
fabric away from her dripping pussy, my middle finger
drove down through her tangled, sopping hair to find
her slick, swollen labia. Pulling her lips from mine,
Dagmar gasped and thrust her hips upward. Quickly my
finger traced her pussy lips down, found her opening,
then sank inside her as far and as fast as I could
thrust.

She cried out loud and gripped my arm with both hands,
trying to force my hand into contact with her burning
clitoris. Instead, I avoided touching her pearl and
thrust my middle finger inside her half-a-dozen times,
gently stretching her vagina each time I slowly pulled
my finger out. Then I added my second finger to the
first and thrust into her several times before pulling
out altogether. Dagmar moaned with frustrated lust.

"Bitte," she murmured urgently in my ear. "Bitte!"

With my wet middle finger, I traced one outer labia up,
circled her clitoris, then traced the other labia down
gently to rim her opening. Next I put my fingertip
firmly against the upper edge of her opening, then drew
it up her slit towards her clitoris, her inner lips
parting around my finger like soil around a plow. But
I avoided her swollen pearl again despite the quick
upward thrust of her hips.

This time I pulled my hand entirely out of her panties
and I saw her questioning eyes open to watch me as I
put it to my face and slowly sucked her juices off my
fingers. Watching intently, she panted deeply three
times, her taut breasts and their hardened nipples
heaving upward together in the dim light. One of her
hands squeezed my dick so hard it hurt.

Then I thrust my hand back into her panties. This time
I quickly found her clitoris with my middle finger and
began to flick it fast, but so lightly I could barely
feel the wet little bump. Dagmar's breathing quickly
accelerated until it was a hoarse roar in my ears and
the tension froze her leg and stomach muscles solid.
Cresting hard, she held her breath entirely for half-
a-dozen heartbeats then began a deep-throated groan
that opened into a sharp, high cry of completion. She
raised her hips entirely off the ground and held them
suspended, jerking slightly, until her orgasm had run
its course.

My hand stayed locked on her dripping pussy as my
finger drove her over her orgasm and down the other
side. My finger didn't still until she began to squirm
her hips away from it, becoming too sensitive to be
touched. Then I cupped her soaking mound with my hand
and pulled her naked shoulders against me with my free
arm as she began the long trip down. She shuddered
occasionally as the aftershocks of her orgasm hit her.

By this time I was eager to plunge my aching hard-on
into Dagmar's dripping pussy. I was pulling my shorts
off with one hand and holding her with the other when
I stopped in surprise. The tent door had again begun
unzipping from the outside. When it was fully open,
another dark figure groped her way inside. Despite the
shadowy light, I could tell it was Angie.

She said something in German that started Dagmar gig-
gling as she translated.

"Angie says she couldn't stand listening to me any
longer and had to come to get something for herself,"
Dagmar said, obviously amused.

Now my little tent was truly filled beyond capacity
and, while I had no intention of kicking Angie out, I
also had no idea where she could go. Dagmar was pressed
full length against one wall, I was sitting hunched
nearly double at the back end of the tent and Angie was
kneeling at the front, closing the zippered door. I
only had a second to think about it before Angie
impatiently pulled her t-shirt over her head, her large
breasts bobbing, then lay down and put her feet in my
lap as she struggled to push her panties down her legs.