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.
I thought it was only reasonable to help, so I pulled
her panties off and found the crotch — like Dagmar’s
— already damp with her juices. Now, I truly enjoy
eating pussy so it seemed natural to pull Angie’s legs
towards me, guiding each of them over a shoulder. I
planted a kiss on the inside of one thigh and was
rewarded by a quick sigh. Though my dick was aching for
release, I settled in to tease Angie to an orgasm,
kissing my way slowly towards her hole.
Then Angie erupted tersely in German and Dagmar trans-
lated.
“Angie says you should not be slow, but very fast with
her,” Dagmar said.
I readily pushed her thighs a little further apart and,
planted my open mouth over the gaping wet lips of
Angie’s pussy. The hair guarding her gash was much
finer than Dagmar’s and my tongue parted it easily,
immediately finding her finger-thick and juicy outer
labia. I sucked her pussy lips, pulling them into my
mouth, caressing them with my tongue. She cried out,
arching her back and pushing her pussy up against my
open mouth. I rewarded her by darting my tongue down
and firmly rimming her opening. Angie began to pant
loudly for air and dug both hands into my hair, as if
she were trying to push my head inside her.
Three times I stuck my tongue in her hole, then drew
it slowly up her slit to circle her clitoris, tasting
her tart, flowing juices along the way. She ripped out
a sentence in German that needed no translation. “Stop
teasing and finish me, you bastard!” is pretty easy to
understand.
I covered her clit with my mouth and began the same
fast, light flicking motion with my tongue tip that
I’d used on Dagmar with my finger. The result was the
same, yet wonderfully different. In less than a minute
Angie began to come, her whole body convulsing time
after time. Her muscular thighs locked themselves on
either side of my neck while her hands tried to push
my head even harder against her crotch. She came
forever, pumping her hips up against my mouth while
pussy juice flooded from her gash down her ass crack.
Her deep, drawn-out climax groans filled the tent and
echoed among the trees outside. Then, as her orgasm
had clearly crested and was beginning to slacken, I
thrust two fingers hard and without warning inside her
— one into her gaping pussy and the other into her
wonderfully tight and juicy-slick asshole.
Angie exploded. It was like riding a bucking bronc. I
had to fight to keep my mouth on her pussy, my tongue
lashing her through her renewed climax. Her heels beat
against my lower back. I could see her head with its
cloud of black hair whipping back and forth and her
big, firm tits quivered again and again from the shock
waves rippling through her body. I pulled my fingers
nearly out of her, then shoved them in again, and
again, and again. I don’t know German, but it sounded
like she was screaming, “Yes! Oh, god, yes! Yes! Yes!
YES!
It seemed like an hour before the rock-hard muscles in
Angie’s thighs and stomach began to relax. I slowly
let my fingers slip out of the warm grip of her pussy
and the even warmer grip of her ass. I clearly felt
her muscular asshole grasp my finger several times as
I gradually pulled it out. Angie was murmuring softly,
almost inaudibly, to herself, one arm across her
substantial breasts while the other hand caressed my
hair.
I wasn’t given much time to rest on my laurels. As I
gently maneuvered my head out of Angie’s swollen,
soaking crotch, I could feel Dagmar’s soft breasts and
hard nipples against my arm. She was attacking my right
ear with her tongue. One hand grasped my dick like a
vise, while the other seemed to be everywhere at once,
roaming over my body. I turned my head to kiss Dagmar
and she got even wilder, alternately sucking hard on
my tongue and kissing all over my face though it was
coated from eyebrows to chin with Angie’s pussy juices.
Dagmar would not be denied. She roughly guided me onto
my back beside Angie and straddled me. Her left arm
supported her weight while her right hand found my dick
and guided it between her swollen pussy lips. A half-
second later she dropped her entire weight downward,
eagerly impaling herself with a cry to the full length
of my penis. Her pussy felt wonderfully tight, wet and
warm. She must have enjoyed the sensation, too, because
she paused a minute, gasping, her weight forcing her
pussy lips against the base of my dick.
Then, with both hands planted on my chest, Dagmar began
rhythmically lifting herself halfway off my dick then
dropping back down to encase me inside her. Each time
her sopping pussy plunged to the base of my dick, she
gave a little grunt of pleasure and her panting filled
the tent. I groaned. It was all I could do to stop
myself from coming instantly as the warm, clasping
walls of her pussy slid up and down my cock. I held
back with difficulty, watching the concentration on her
face and the bouncing of her lovely breasts as she
fucked me. I was dimly aware of Angie lying beside me,
watching us contentedly with one hand between her legs
and the other lightly pinching her nipples.
I reached up and cupped the considerable weight of
Dagmar’s tits, hefting and caressing them for a few
strokes, then took her thimble-sized nipples between
my thumbs and forefingers. She groaned but kept going,
her head now thrown forward so her hair hid her face.
Each time she lifted herself off me she nearly pulled
her nipples from my fingers, stretching them tautly
downward. She whimpered with each tug on her nips.
Dagmar gradually speeded her rhythm and I heard a low,
growling sound coming from her chest. A faint, wet slap
was audible each time she drove herself down on my
dick. The tangy smell of pussy filled the little tent.
Then Dagmar muttered something harshly in German and
was no longer lifting herself up but rocking quickly
back and forth, focusing her weight on the point where
her clitoris nestled against the base of my dick. Her
fingernails dug into my chest and then she was coming,
coming hard, with short hoarse cries of completion
that went on and on. The minute change in sensation
drove me out of control and soon I was trying to thrust
up into her, my throbbing penis spurting what felt like
a quart of hot semen deep inside her muscular belly.
Finally, she collapsed forward onto me, groaning,
drained of strength. I could feel her rock-hard nipples
as her breasts flattened against my chest and her
ragged breathing roared in my ear. I wrapped my arms
around and caressed her back and neck with my open
hands. Her slick pussy still grasped my dick firmly,
squeezing it occasionally as her inner muscles con-
tinued to convulse. It was a long time before my sticky
dick became soft enough to finally slip from her gash.
Angie joined us then, snuggling close, taking my right
arm to wrap around her shoulders and tucking sleeping
bags around our three naked and wet bodies. She said
something in German which started Dagmar chuckling,
then laughing out loud, and Angie began laughing hard,
too. It took Dagmar awhile to answer when I asked what
was so funny.
“Angie,” she gasped, “Angie is saying you are a very
BAD boy!” Then I had a good laugh, too.
We slept that night, exhausted, in a tangled heap of
arms, legs — asses, pussies and breasts. Angie woke
me at some point in the night by gently stroking my
dick. Too tired for anything else, I fingered her to
a quick, intense orgasm while giving her long, lazy
tongue kisses. On the other side of me, I don’t think
Dagmar even woke up. Around dawn they each gave me a
quick kiss and left the tent while I continued to doze
for awhile. Giggling like a couple of 10-year-olds,
they had breakfast ready when I got up.
I spent the next four days teaching Angie and Dagmar
the mysteries of fly fishing and taking care of Erma’s
ankle with cold, wet compresses. Dagmar proved to be
naturally coordinated, casting easily and catching
nearly as many fish as I did. Angie had a frustrating
time at first but then developed into a very competent
fisherman. I sometimes just sat napping or reading on
a sunny slope overlooking the scene while they used my
gear to fish in nearby ponds. The girls took over the
cooking after sampling my primitive efforts and we
shared the other chores.
As for the nights, Angie and Dagmar must have arranged
a system between them. The first night after the wild
episode in my tent, nothing was said but Angie simply
moved her sleeping bag and pad in with me at bedtime.
Dagmar stayed in the other tent and took care of Erma.
The next night, it was Dagmar who moved in with me.
Then Angie on the third night and Dagmar again on the
last.
Erma, whose ankle quickly improved, seemed to find the
whole situation laughable and never showed any interest
in participating. I didn’t care. Erma would ordinarily
have been very attractive to me — with her thin, good
looks; long, tapering legs; and small, round breasts.
But I didn’t have the time or energy for any interest
in her. Angie and Dagmar each wanted a lot of fucking
and weren’t shy about demanding their share. There was
simply nothing of me left over for Erma.
Angie was the more demanding, eager to try a different
position the minute the idea popped into her head. She
enjoyed it, but was essentially impatient with fore-
play. As soon as she felt her orgasm building, she
wanted to come, and quickly. Angie wanted to be fucked
hard and fast, egging me on if I slowed by rocking to
a faster rhythm or digging her short nails into my ass.
She paid little attention to my body, other than to
pull me into the position she wanted and guide my dick
eagerly into the gap between her muscular thighs. She
climaxed readily and noisily under my fingers or tongue
but clearly get the most enjoyment out of a deep, fast,
pounding fuck. She had, at most, two orgasms in one
session, then quickly fell asleep.
If Angie was a glutton when it came to sex, Dagmar was
a gourmet, and much more my style. She obviously
savored my slow, teasing foreplay with tongue and
fingers, and had the patience to endure a long, intense
fucking with several fast and slow intervals. She was
capable of three or four orgasms in a two-hour session
of lovemaking. Dagmar liked to get on top and slowly,
teasingly, rock herself to a climax while looking into
my eyes in the subdued light. She liked a lot of
cuddling, caressing and kissing afterwards and loved
to have her pussy eaten. She wasn’t shy about giving
head, but clearly preferred me to come inside her.
Finally, it was time for me to return to my home and
work. Although we made love the night before, Dagmar
woke me at 4 a.m. on the last day for a long, intense
session of lovemaking. Her goal seemed to be keeping
my dick hard and deep inside her as long as possible.
Later the girls hiked to the trail head with me and
accepted my offer of a ride to Estes Park. There, Erma
and Angie pecked me on the lips and Dagmar left me with
a deep, powerful kiss and a soulful look in the eyes
before we reluctantly turned away.
——
A year later I got a mysterious envelope marked
“personal” addressed to me at work and postmarked from
Germany. Inside were a letter and photo. I immediately
recognized the vibrant, stylishly dressed young woman
in the picture as Dagmar, looking as lovely as ever.
Then I remembered standing beside a mountain stream and
telling her about the company where I worked. She was
holding a cute little tow-headed baby in that posses-
sive way mothers have. The letter told the whole story.
“Dear R—, I’m sure you’ll be surprised when you look
at my photo and see the souvenir I brought back from
my trip to America. I didn’t plan to get a baby, but
when I found I was pregnant I felt nothing but hap-
piness. I wanted to keep my little boy as soon as I
found out he was coming. Someday I will marry and have
other children but for now I am selfish to have this
one for me alone. Please understand I have wonderful
feelings for you and our few days together and that
memory and my little son are all I want from you. He’s
very smart and strong and, as you can see, beautiful.
Angie and Erma are his aunties. We think of you often
with warmth and love. Thank you. Love, Dagmar”