Desert Fun


I'm a real looker. And I'm smart. It probably makes me a bit of a snob, though I try to be nice. I may not stop traffic, but I'll slow it down.

I went to college and majored in Biology. Now, it doesn't take long in the halls of Biology to realize you're the best looking girl there. The Wicked Witch of the East would probably place in the top 5 in attractiveness. As for the guys, Quasimodo would place 6th in personality. This is commentary both on the relative attractiveness of Biology majors and the number of girls in the major. I didn't have much trouble from the guys, though. We all knew I was out of their league. Guys are great, but I was a serious student and went out only when I had the time--which was enough, I hasten to add. I knew what I wanted from a man, and no cheesy line was going to do it. I expected brains, class, a nice body and earning potential, and still I had my share of suitors. I must say I enjoyed my collegiate life. When I graduated with honors, I went to grad school in pursuit of a Master's degree.

After my first year in grad school, I went on a field study in the Arizona Desert. I was going to study a tortoise in the desert, formally called Gopherus Agassizi, not surprisingly referred to as the Desert Tortoise. I could bore you with the details, but I doubt you're reading this for a dissertation on the life of the Desert Tortoise. I was going to be holed up in a cabin in the desert in the middle of nowhere, 53.2 miles from the nearest town to be exact. Six weeks of uninterrupted study of the Aggies (as I like to call them to tease my brother, the A&M grad) in the heat of summer. I was actually excited. I also knew another biologist would be there, probably a guy, which could mean trouble. Hopefully he would at least have the personality of Quasimodo.

As (bad) luck would have it, it was a guy. His name was Eric. Luckily, he turned out to be really nice and reasonably good-looking to boot. I could tell he was shocked when he saw me. He studied ants. There's no money in ants. We got along pretty well, fairly professionally. We would ride out together just before dawn on horses. When it started getting hot, we would come back to the air conditioned cabin and wait for the cool of the evening. Then we would go out to do some more field study.

I really enjoyed running down Aggies and wiring them up. Pick one up, clean a spot on its shell, glue the wire on, put it back. The signals transmitted from the wires I had attached were tracked to record their movements. Those little buggers can roam far for something that moves so slowly. Eric was enjoying himself also, chasing ant hills.

Taking care of horses was also fun, something I had wanted to do since childhood. It got old after awhile, though. My horse was named Amber. We would go to town weekly to restock the food and for a change of scenery.

Around the second week it happened. That defining moment in a relationship. Eric and I were talking about boyfriends and girlfriends, and what we were looking for.

"Would I have a chance at a girl like you?" Eric asked.

I looked him in the eye, surprised he'd even ask.

"You wouldn't even get invited to the race," I replied.

He took it pretty well. I've found that brutal honesty is fairly effective in avoiding future problems. He actually seemed a bit relieved. After that we were more like brother and sister. One day he caught me singing into a kitchen spoon while dancing to "Tears of a Clown", and he just turned away laughing. We had gotten to know each other pretty well. Watching him cook, I mused that he would make some girl a really nice husband. He wasn't that much of reclamation project, after all.

We had plenty of time to kill while we weren't out in the field or writing our theses. With little to watch on TV (read: nothing but farm reports) we resorted to, I suppose, frontier amusements--I learned to knit, he learned to whittle. He worked on carving little chessmen with his big bowie knife. I'd tell him he could do better with a smaller knife.

"Any man can build a house with a hammer," he'd reply, "To build one with a saw takes real skill."

Quasimodo just moved up to 5th place. Nevertheless, I giggled when he said that. I seemed to do a lot of giggling around him. I knew he was sweet. I chided myself for starting to like him, since he was so not my type. I chalked it up to cabin fever. However, watching the sunrise every day with a happy entomologist grows on a girl.

I guess you had to be there.

Four weeks passed, and we went out in the morning as usual. Eric had just stopped and was staring at the ground about 100 feet behind me. I saw an Aggie on a small rise and dismounted. I walked over to the little dude with my kit and picked him up. To my shock, there was an Aphonopelma Chalcode (more commonly referred to as the Arizona Tarantula) underneath him, a behavior totally undocumented in the literature. I shrieked and jumped back, losing my balance and dropping the poor Aggie. Now, I had handled spiders and tarantulas in lab before, but seeing one so close to my hand so unexpectedly triggered a major 'get away' reflex. I fell over backward down the hill, my feet apart with my legs nearly straight. Instinctively, I bent forward. Falling in the desert is never a good idea. I landed hard on a little Mother-in-law's chair, a species of cactus (Echinocactus Grusonii if you really must know) that is full of sharp, yellow spines. They penetrated my jeans in a very delicate area, my butt and the rear of my crotch. I shrieked in pain and shock.

Eric covered the distance to me in about the time it took me to scream again. I reached out and he grabbed my hands. I pulled myself up on him and collapsed face-first in the dirt, ass in the air. The cactus came with me. Making matters worse, the movement between my skin and the jeans sheared off some needles in me. Eric quickly donned a glove and pried the bush off of me. I was crying in pain. Dozens of spines had broken off, many under my jeans. Eric didn't know how to proceed. I sat there on my knees, my head on the ground, and collected myself. Now that the shock of the whole incident had worn off, it really didn't hurt that bad. I could deal with the pain. I tried to straighten out, and squeaked. Every movement seemed to drive new spines into me. The ones that were in me were broken off in between my jeans and were resetting themselves with every movement. I was practically helpless. I looked over to see the Aggie wandering by, looking at me as if to say 'serves you right.'

"What the hell are you looking at?" I yelled at it. This was a disaster--I could see no other option but to cut my pants off. I shook my head at the prospect. I had to ask Eric, and I could feel the butterflies start at the prospect of verbalizing it to him. What a predicament. I took a deep breath.

"Take my jeans off," I begged, and the pit in my stomach felt like someone punched me.

Eric paused.

"That's not exactly the context I had hoped to hear you say that," he deadpanned.

I snorted. Even in my state, I was starting to appreciate the humor in the situation.

"Not everything happens as one hopes. Get my jeans off."

"You sure?"

I nodded silently. Eric unstrapped his Bowie. With weeks of practice in handling it from his sculpturing, he expertly ran its blade up the seam of my jeans, from hip to knee on each side. Eric was wonderful, firm and professional. He positioned himself behind me and grasp the back of my jeans.

"On three," he said.

I mentally prepared myself.

"One," he intoned.

I started taking a deep breath.

"Two," he continued and yanked my cut jeans down. Like ripping off a bandaid, it happened so fast it didn't have time to hurt. I started only a little.

"You OK?" Eric asked, next to my head. I reached back between my legs and felt my posterior. Spines we stuck in me and between my panties and skin. I realized the irony that if I had worn a thong instead of my simple cotton panties I probably wouldn't be in such a bad way. Lessons learned. I shook my head, amused at the thought of including this observation in my thesis defense. I could just see Dr. Imanov querying me about the underwear habits of women in the field.

"How bad is it?"

Eric looked back for awhile. I was acutely aware of my situation-giving him a close up look of my most private areas. It turned me on.

"We'll need to get home to get those spines out," he replied, by my head again. "I'll need tweezers."

I nodded in agreement. We needed to get home somehow regardless. "I can't get up."

Eric brought Amber over and in a series of painful and awkward moves we managed to get onto his shoulder. It was a good thing that I only weighed 120. I wondered absently if a fat ass would be more immune to cactus spines. I was jarred back into reality as he slumped me over my horse, face down, bent over the saddle. He saddled up and led me and Amber home

As I bounced along on my horse, I considered the lesson I might pass on to my children. "Be sure you wear clean underwear," I would say, "You never know when you will sit on a cactus!" I laughed so hard I cried. I may have cracked a rib. I split my time laughing at my predicament and gasping for breath as my horse bounced me. Believe me, slumped over a horse on your stomach is not the way to travel. Saddles are not comfortable like that. And with the remains of my jeans draped around my ankles yet! Fortunately, we were only a few hundred yards of from the house.

We stopped by the house, and Eric came to get me. He mistook my incessant laughter for sobbing. I reassured him, and told him the underwear joke, but he barely cracked a smile. Resolutely, he moved me to his shoulder and walked inside. The couch was immediately accessible, and Eric maneuvered us onto it. Carefully, he lowered me off his shoulder to the sofa. My hands grasped the arm of the couch while I knelt on the cushions.

"I'll go get tweezers," Eric said and walked away.

I took deep breaths to try to compose myself. I considered the situation we were in. My underwear needed to be removed and cactus spines removed from my butt and crotch. I tried to consider Eric's view also-suddenly up close and personal with my nether regions. I knew enough about men to have an idea of what effect that may have on him. I was also acutely aware of what that thought was doing to me. I wished we had packed a fifth of vodka. Eric appeared before me, kneeling and unsure.

"I've got the tweezers," he said plaintively. I looked at him and realized this was far more difficult for him than it was for me. I stared into his eyes, full of concern and doubt , only inches from mine. I reached out and stroked his cheek

"I'm in trouble, Eric, and only you can help me," I began. I brushed his hair from his forehead. "I need you to remove my underwear and pull out all the splinters." Our eyes locked in understanding. Stone faced, he moved out of my line of sight. Two quick cuts and my panties were no longer connected. He made no countdown this time, merely paused for a moment before jerking them free. Externally, I twitched only a little, but a wave of lust coursed through me as I knew he could see my most private parts. Eric worked quickly, pulling spine after spine out of me. His gentle hands touched me lightly, followed with the sharp bite of having the splinters removed from my skin followed by the sudden cooling sting of alcohol. I bit my hand to keep from squealing. I couldn't see what he was doing, so I couldn't brace myself, I just had to take each sensation as it came. My senses were being jarred beyond belief, from pain to pleasure and back.

It should have been such a non-sexual situation, yet I was coming apart at the seams. At the time I rationalized that I had merely succumbed to a potent mix of cabin fever and prolonged chastity, but even after all these years I still occasionally masturbate to that scene.

I tried to keep quiet but often failed, responding to his work with a mixture of squeaks and grunts. I was starting to sweat despite the air conditioning. If he worked his hand just a little further down he would push me over the edge, but he didn't stray from his task. I could smell my arousal. All of a sudden I realized what I wanted. It had been before me all the time-I wanted Eric.

I held on in silence as he worked me over. Suddenly he placed a towel over my rear and appeared before me. The biologist in me noted the massive dilation in his pupils as I panted.

"I'm finished," he said.

I slumped down flat on the couch and dropped my eyes for a moment to the tent in his jeans. He rose to leave, and I reached out to grab his hand, pulling him down again. His eyes locked my mine, discipline fighting with desire. I didn't know how to start, but I knew what I wanted. Unfortunately I was in no condition to have sex. I stared into his eyes for a moment.

"Thanks," I started and paused. "I think you got a little excited helping me like that," I continued, glancing down at his crotch.

"Yeah, well I..."

I stopped him with a finger on his lips.

"It's OK," I said. "As a reward for your helping me with my problem, I'd like to help with yours," I continued, grinning with lascivious intent. He tried a half-hearted protest, but I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him forward and silenced him with a kiss. I held his face in my hands as I quickly split his lips and our tongues danced. It was glorious. We finally came up for air and he swayed slightly on his knees, heavy lidded.

"Was that good?" I purred.

"Incredible," he nodded, "I've wanted to do that for weeks."

I wanted more.

"Stand up," I proposed. He rose. My shoulders rested on the arm of the sofa, and his crotch was just at eye level. I reached out and undid the top button of his jeans. I looked up and locked eyes with him as I unzipped his jeans and tugged them down. I looked down to see the impressive bulge in his underwear complete with a small wet spot. I hooked my fingers into his waistband and paused momentarily, smiling up to him. I gestured at his crotch and waited for him to agree. He nodded eagerly. I looked back down and quickly freed his member. It sprung out from its confinement, hard and proud, quivering in anticipation. I stroked it gently and pulled him forward to my mouth. He shuffled forward, and I sucked him as soon as he was in range. My head bobbed up and down on his shaft as I snaked my hand down to my hungry pussy. I started to finger myself as he moaned. I knew I wouldn't take long to reach my release, and I tried to go slow to let him catch up. He leaned forward and brushed the towel off of my ass. I was glad he wanted to see it again. He lowered his hand and caressed my cheek as I worked on him. His breathing was becoming loud and labored. I, too, was getting close.

Suddenly he grunted and pulled out of my mouth with an audible pop. He dropped to his knees and kissed me ferociously. I responded in kind, but stopped fingering myself. I didn't want to come without him. He broke our kiss, and we gazed deeply at each other. Unbridled lust filled his eyes as I panted in anticipation.

He rose again, and I eagerly sucked him into my soft, willing mouth. His hands rubbed my back through my t-shirt and tousled my hair. As he started to moan, my fingers resumed their activities on my cunt. I cupped his balls gently with my free hand and flattened my tongue against his rock hard cock as my head bobbed up and down. I knew how to make a guy feel good. When I felt him start to tense up, I pushed myself over the edge into a mind blowing orgasm. He came with me, moaning loudly as spurt after spurt ejaculated into my hungry mouth. My orgasm rocked my body and brain, leaving me quivering in complete ecstasy as I pleasured my lover. Finally he pulled out of me and leaned over with his hands on his knees. I kept my lips tight against him as he pulled out, holding his cum in my mouth. With no real option, I swallowed it all, coughing a little as it went down. The aftershocks of my orgasm subsided, and the room was silent as we caught our breaths.

It was incredible.

We spent the rest of the day in close company. Eric was perfect, waiting on his hapless lover hand and foot. We talked a lot, laughed a lot and kissed even more. By evening I had convinced myself that I had recovered enough to attempt actual intercourse. I carefully got on top of him and we gently made love for the first time. In the end, animal passions won out, and we just fucked our brains out. The healing power of endorphins and adrenalin is just amazing. We took the whole next day off and fucked like rabbits.

So that's how it all started for us.

After 14 years and two kids, we're still together. Following our marriage, the emergence of genetic science coupled with the fire ant problem created tremendous opportunities for a talented ant entomologist. Really big money. Me? I'm the VP in charge of coordinating grants and contracts.

At our house, as subtle reminders of how we met, we have a nice garden with a few mother-in-law's chairs. We also keep a few Arizona Tarantulas. No Aggies, though, they're endangered and you can't keep them. I do tell my kids to wear clean underwear, but I don't tell them the whole story.

Crazy how things work out.

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