"Watch the esky."
Sally turned, said "What?" and promptly barked her shin on the ice chest.
"Here. Take the torch."
She did, turned it on, and followed its beam between the tents.
When she came back Nigel's chair was empty. The fire had died down. Sharon and Rod were mere silhouettes. She was kneeling between his legs. Sally could tell because her head was bobbing up and down.
She kicked off her boots and went into the tent. Nigel was there, stripped down to just his jeans. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. The kiss turned into some serious groping and soon she, too, was topless. He reached for a bit of rope, hugged her to him, pushed her hands behind her back, and tied her wrists. She had never been tied before. Well, not before this trip. She had told Nigel that she liked it. That was a lie. He had been fingering her ass and she wanted to bolt from the bed. Instead she'd asked to be tied. And so, every night since, she found herself bound and gagged to be fucked.
Nigel tugged her jeans off, pulled down her underwear, removed her socks. He took off his own. He took her arm, guided her to the blanket. She settled by his hip, bent, took his cock into her mouth.
After several minutes, Nigel eased her off, stuffed her panties into her mouth, tied them in place, and fucked her. As lovers go he was considerate. He handled her a bit roughly. Seemed to go with being tied. But he always made sure she'd come a couple of times before satisfying himself. And when he'd finish, he'd push a towel between her legs, pull her into his arms and hold her.
* * *
The title said, "Single female seeks same for Australian vacation."
Sally scrolled by it, scrolled back. The post was from someone named Sharon and she wanted to see the Australian outback. Said she wanted to trek across The Kimberly. (Whatever that was).
Sally clicked off. The only outback she cared for was the lounge chair out back by the pool and her idea of a trek was a trip into the house for more wine.
She had just finished school, did it in three years going pretty much full time, summers and all. She felt she deserved a break before starting her graduate studies and a trip would be just the thing. She had in mind the whole European thing, picturesque auberges, five star restaurants, music, dance, theater.
And yet ...
She scanned around, clicking on this post or that, but she kept seeing that outback post. There was something, something about it that drew her. And then it hit her. She wanted an adventure, but a safe one, something familiar, but something inside her told her what she really needed was something totally different, 180 degrees different and the Australian outback couldn't be more different than Paris. She replied to the post.
A week later Sharon met her at the airport. They say the heat in Phoenix is a dry heat, but it's still heat and Sally was damp before they reached Sharon's car.
The two women couldn't be more opposite. Sally was pale white, tall, willowy thin, with long, straight blonde hair. Sharon was black with ringlets hanging down past her shoulders. She was not fat, but stocky. Well, not stocky, but sturdy. Filled out her jeans and bra and then some.
They had arranged a trial run: Three days in the desert. Sally was nervous and Sharon's little pep talk did nothing to calm her fears. "Watch your step. Literally. Watch where you're walking and always have clear sight of where you place your hands. There are spiders and scorpions and snakes, rattlers. Avoid bushes and shady, rocky areas. Snakes love them. And always wear your boots. If you do get bit, stay calm. Don't run around. Don't wash the bite. The doctors will need the venom for a matching anti-venom."
Sally nodded, felt her heart race, resisted the urge to bolt from the car.
All in all it went well. The two woman were not only different physically but also in their personalities. Sally was cool, calm, and in control. Sharon was always up. Always laughing. But it was a good fit, Sally had decided. And Sharon's exuberance drew Sally out. She'd never laughed as much.
A week later the Qantas jet delivered them to Broome. The Kimberly turned out to be a small territory in northern Australia. Small being relative. It's about the size of California. Broome is on the coast and Sally was sorely tempted to let Sharon go play in the outback while she lay on a beach. But they rented a car, a Subaru Outback (what else?), and some camping equipment and off they went.
It was on the fourth night that they met Nigel and Rod. After camping out, they decided a soft bed and a shower were in order. The motel was a dingy, low slung affair, out in the middle of nowhere. It had fifteen rooms in two buildings and a cafe off to the side. The cafe served breakfast, but later it turned into a bar.
Sally and Sharon shared a booth, sipping beer and watching the locals. Although locals couldn't be the right word because they hadn't seen any signs of civilization for miles. But in a country a big as Australia, maybe local is a relative term.
"This place. It could be the Bagdad Cafe."
"You saw that movie?"
"Yeah. The one with ... oh, what's his name?"
"Yeah! You know that's not his real name. He was born Vladimir Palahunik, or something like that. Don't ask me how I know that."
"Hello. My friend and I were wondering if you ladies would like some company."
They looked up at the guy, he gestured to another leaning against the counter. If she and Sharon were different, so were these two. The one talking looked like the Marlboro man and his friend was the quintessential nerd.
Sharon said, "Sure!"
The guy turned and gestured to his friend. Sally shot her a look. Sharon just smiled. They moved over and the guys slid into the booth.
"I'm Nigel. This is Rod."
"Sally, and I'm Sharon."
The conversation lasted through two more rounds of beer. The guys were on their annual walkabout, although in this case it was driveabout. Rod was from Darwin, Nigel from Noonamah.
"It's about 45 kilometers south of Darwin. It's become a suburb of sorts."
"That's an odd name."
"Aboriginal. Means 'plenty of tucker and good things'."
The guys clicked bottles at some inside joke.
Sharon said, "Excuse us." and nudged Rod out of the booth. In the restroom she said, "Well?"
"Which do you want?"
Truth be told - neither. Sally had never allowed herself to be picked up in a bar and certainly never bedded someone after only a couple of drinks. This whole trip was something out of the Bizzaro World where everything was backwards. But she saw the inevitability of it all. She shrugged.
"I'll take the nerd, show him a time he'll be telling all his nerdy friends about! Oh yeah, gonna show him a good old time."
Sally had to admit she was attracted to Nigel. He was as handsome as she was pretty and he had a low-key way about him which she liked.
Back at the booth Sharon held out her hand to Rod.
There was no dance floor per se, but there was music coming from somewhere and a bit of a clear area off to the side.
He held up his bottle. "Beer?"
"No. No thanks. I'm beered out."
"Me too. I feel like a stupid bogan in here with this lot."
She gave him a look.
"Bogan. A layabout. Does nothing but hang around and drink beer."
"Why don't we call it a night?"
"Uh. Sure. Okay. Just let me tell Sharon."
Nigel keyed the lock and nudged the door open. He flipped on the light. Sally walked in. Nigel followed, took her in his arms. She braced herself for the assault, but it didn't come. He was intense. Yes. But he wasn't all gropey. He held her and kissed her. Let his hands roam her body, slowly, not all grabby. Sally warmed to his touch.
He undid her clothes, tossed them aside. She felt small and helpless, naked in his arms. He eased her down onto the bed and stripped. Things proceeded as these things do; some stroking here, some licking there. And then he was on top of her. And then he was inside of her.
Somewhere in mid stroke he slipped out, thrust forward, his cock pressed up against her anus. Sally reached her hand down and grasped it.
"No. It's okay. I ... I like it."
That was a lie. Sally had never had anal sex, never wanted to have anal sex, couldn't understand why anyone would want to have anal sex.
Nigel wet his finger and probed her ass. Sally tensed.
"No. It, uh, just feels a bit odd at first. Always does."
Nigel pressed a second finger into her, thrust deeply, spreading his fingers, opening her. Sally wanted to run screaming from the room.
"Tie me up?"
"Tie me. I like it that way."
The lies were coming thick and fast.
Nigel eased off the bed, pulled on his jeans, and left the room. Sally heard the dull thud of a door closing and he was back, carrying a small sack. He pulled out a bit of rope. At first Sally presented her hands in front, then she turned and crossed her wrists behind her back. Nigel tied them.
"Tighter. I won't break."
He retied her wrists. Then he grabbed a second length of rope, crossed her ankles and tied them, too. He finished by drawing her ankles up to her wrists until her feet touched her hands and made another knot.
Sally fought the panic.
"Gag me? I can be noisy."
That, at least, was true.
Nigel picked up her panties, wadded them up, and pressed them into Sally's mouth. He secured them in place with his bandana.
He lay on the bed, pulled Sally back against him. Her crossed ankles kept her legs open. He stroked her until she came.
Stroked her some more until she came a second and then a third time. And, yes, she was noisy.
Nigel rolled her on her belly, released her ankles from her wrists, but left both tied. He rolled her on to her back, raised her legs, and fucked her. Fucked her to fourth orgasm. Then he turned his attention to Sally's ass.
It hurt. Well, not hurt so much as being uncomfortable, well, painfully uncomfortable. Sally squirmed, bound and helpless as Nigel thrust into her. Maybe he mistook the squirming for ardor. Didn't matter, tied as she was.
* * *
The next day Sally called the car rental folks and asked them to come retrieve their car. They piled into Nigel's Toyota and headed out.
They drove for hours through monotonous emptiness. The only respite came when Nigel said, "Bloody hell. A truckie. May as well get out of his way and take a break. Roll up the windows."
Nigel steered off the road. A monstrous truck barreled by stirring up huge cloud of red dust that refused to settle. Sally realized it was not just a truck, but a truck pulling three flatbeds piled high.
"Road train. Don't want to be following that, hey?"
After lunch and after the dust finally settled they headed out again.
They were driving the Gibb River road and, sure enough, at one point water covered the road. Sally could see the dirt track emerge on the other side.
"The Pentecost," Nigel said.
'What happened to the Gibb?' Sally thought.
He drove into the water, then, remarkably, turned right. He drove between the banks in hub-deep water for several hundred yards before emerging on another dirt track, a narrower one. Sally looked around. The area near the river was both lush and desolate, a narrow band of green in a vast area of brown. Nigel pulled off the wide track, bounced through the brush. He came out at a pool. Water cascaded down the rocks, filling the pool.
'What an odd place,' Sally thought, 'an oasis in the middle of the desert.'
They all stripped off and plunged in.
Later, farther down the road, or what passed for a road, they sat by a fire, tents pitched, chairs unfolded, cool beer in hand.
"I thought they restricted camping."
"Well, they do, but they don't patrol this far out. They're more interested in the tourist areas. And second, my uncle is the station manager."
"What you Yanks call a ranch, only bigger. We're just on the tip of his property. Well, not his. He rents it from the government. But it's his for all intents and purposes, so it's quasi-private property."
"A ranch. Cattle?"
"Mm. You'll see them about. Some of the land is fenced, a lot of it isn't. They're fairly docile, but mind the trotters. They pack a mean kick."
That was two weeks ago. Two weeks of alternately driving and hiking. They'd find a place to stay for a couple of days, then go off on day trips. Some days they just drove and camped. Each night Nigel would strip Sally and tie her.
They had a routine of sorts. He would tie her wrists. She would suck him until he nudged her away and gagged her. Then he would fuck her until she came. Finally, he would sodomize her. She wanted to tell him that the anal sex wasn't necessary, but then she reckoned that he thought she liked it and was being nice to her. Maybe he didn't care for it either. But she was gagged at the time, and other times the subject never came up.
They were heading vaguely south, south toward Alice Springs. They'd be there in a bit more than a week. They'd catch a flight out to Darwin, and from there to Sydney, then home.
But for now Sally lay naked in Nigel's arms, outback bound.
They hugged goodbye at the airport. Sharon and Rod disappeared into the bowels of the place. Sally climbed into Nigel's Toyota for the drive back to Darwin. They'd take their time - a couple of weeks, maybe another month. Sally was in no hurry. Suddenly the urgency to begin her graduate studies wasn't there, but the outback was.
Copyright© 2011 by Jo. All rights reserved. I welcome your comments. Email me at firstname.lastname@example.org