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The camp consisted of eight men: two archaeologists, a primatologist, two diggers, a research assistant, a medical doctor with sundry skills, and a historian who really had nothing to do with the excavation except that he was an investor. When the geneticist came, they had big expectations for her. They had been up in camp for months, away from civilization with nothing to look at but dirt, bones, and one another’s bristly faces.

Her back to them, she tugged the laden mule over the shallow creek toward them. Her guide lumbered by lazily, merely serving the purpose of a compass-holder.

The large, sandstone boulders and scratchy brush shaded her, but most of the men, sitting and eating their canned lunches, saw she was not what they expected. She situated the mule, walked panting past the historian and the research assistant, and approached one of the archaeologists, a middle-aged man who still wore khaki shorts and was the foreman of the excavation.

As she and he muttered the necessary debriefings, the research assistant said to the historian, “Eh. She’s not what I had hoped for.”

“Why?” asked the historian, chewing a piece of dried fruit. “Not your type?”

He shrugged.

“What’s your type? Blonde, leggy, Victoria’s Secret model with a PhD from Stanford who happens to be attracted to skinny mouse-faced grad students?”

The research assistant flushed at the idiocy of his teenage expectations. The geneticist’s long black hair, parted on the side and tied back in a bun that evinced a Spanish finesse, her tidy body, large almond-shaped eyes, the proud elegance with which she carried herself despite having just tugged a laden mule up the rocky hills without the male guide’s help…well, this made her a classic beauty. A nerd-goddess hybrid who disguised what might have aroused men with little effort had she just worn something less…academic.

“I don’t know,” shrugged the historian, a 36-year old named Jack who loved funding these digs at ancient Native American sites, “I find her quite beautiful. But that’s not the point. I’m not spending my money to hire scientists on the basis of how horny they make me.”

“Alright, alright, righteous man,” said the research assistant, and threw back the rest of his soda. “Eh, she’s okay I guess.”

A digger came up to sit by them, with a cheesy grin on his face. “So, who do you think’ll bag her first?”

Jack let out an exasperated sigh. The research assistant perked up, and began to scan his colleagues. “Hmm. Most likely David. Hell, he’s so smooth and gorgeous, sometimes I kinda hope he’d bag me,” he joked.

Jack threw his arms up and left. The digger groaned and punched the research assistant in the arm, warning him to never joke like that again.

It was sort of true what he said about David. He was the primatologist, hired for his adept skills in osteology; he could identify a pea-sized chunk of bone from a mile away. Of Mediterranean descent, curly black hair, bad-boy eyes that would scare any man but melt any woman, it would have been anyone’s guess that he was the one who could get her into his tent first. She was at a premium and could have her pick of the lonely men up there; the closest thing to an outlet they had for a couple months was when the occasional nudie magazine that was brought to camp by the Indian who transported their supplies from Northern New Mexico every week. They would tear out the pages and divide them amongst themselves, trading regularly so that each man had a different girl every day.

And, as is the power of anticipation, things pretty much turned out the way they had hypothesized: David putting the moves on her, because he had the best chance, he was the best-looking, the most virile, the most likely to pummel another male if he approached her, and various other nonsensical evolutionary crap that really shouldn’t have applied to educated human beings.

What they didn’t expect, though, was that he wouldn’t succeed, and that at the end of three annoying weeks of being treated like the last piece of meat on earth, she told him, in front of all the other men: “What don’t you understand? I am not in the least bit interested in you!”

A low “Ooohhh” from David’s colleagues business proposal izle summarized their sympathy for his shameful failure, and ushered in a gradual change in the dynamic of the group. Suddenly, David wasn’t the Adonis everyone thought he was. Thankfully he took it like a man, though sometimes he grumbled about why she would turn him down.

One by one, they started poking their heads out of their holes and giving things a shot; perhaps she liked the poet type (so one wrote her a poem about deer frolicking in a meadow), perhaps she liked the pacifist type (so one talked endlessly about his days volunteering at a homeless shelter), perhaps she liked the genius type (so one would frequently bring up “Those days at Harvard…”) and on and on and on, until finally, she told them, “Look. I’m a lesbian, okay?”

“Why didn’t you tell us that before we embarrassed ourselves!” the research assistant said in agony.

She shrugged. “Because people aren’t too tolerant of homosexuals.”

The only ones who hadn’t solicited her…feminine abilities were the foreman (he was too old for her and mature enough to know better) and the historian, Jack (thinking “These assholes are making me look bad”).

The geneticist pretty much kept to herself. Bent over microscopes, doing various tests, complaining that there is only so much she can do with old shards of bone.

One time, seated alone at one end of the camp, the digger said to her, “Why don’t you pull up a chair when you use your microscope? We’re sick of staring at your ass when you’re bent over like that.”

Snickers. She continued eating her beans and ignored him.

But the digger pushed. “Say, how long does it take a lesbo to get unbearably horny? I guess it’s only a little while until she asks one of us to put on a dress and eat her up!”

Only the brave dared to laugh. Jack stopped eating his Spam sandwich only long enough to point his finger at the digger. “Josh, get your ass off this camp. I don’t care if you have to hitchhike to Albuquerque. I’ll mail you your paycheck. Andy, you’re helping with the digging until I can get someone else up here.”

“What?” the research assistant gasped. “Me? DIG?! My father didn’t pay for my education so I could DIG!”

“Well he didn’t pay for it so you can horn on some woman, either,” said Jack, munching his sandwich.

The digger hadn’t found anything to say or do, except sit there slack-jawed, wondering if Jack was joking and if he should apologize just to make sure.

“But…” the research assistant started to say.

“Anyone else need firing?” said Jack, examining his sandwich. All grew silent.

It made the geneticist smile, for once in a long time.

Her name was Maggie, a name she hated, but less so than the way people pronounced her full name, Magdalena, as if it were some typical word in Spanish class that no one could say authentically. Mayg-duh-LEE-nuh. It was like running your nails down a chalkboard.

Of course she had been attracted to David, even liked the attention, but she made it a point never to date anyone who was prettier than her. The only guy who truly turned her on was Jack. Silent, though the few words out of his mouth always made such an impact. He had these proud blue eyes that intimidated her (thus she never looked directly at him, which made him think she wasn’t in the least bit interested), wavy brown hair, a sculpted body the way she liked them: not too muscular.

He didn’t know that she watched him. Thought about things to say to him, then froze up when he came near. Glanced up from her microscope to catch a glimpse of him as he strolled between the huge boulders. Touched herself a few times in her tent at night, making herself cum as she imagined the head of his cock forcing its way into her wet hole.

As all things went, this opportunity would probably just pass by. How many people are out there, she wondered, who wanted to fuck each other but couldn’t, because no one said anything.

If she made a move and was shot down like she did to David, she’d be stuck up here, isolated with that person for the rest of the excavation; and that was too risky.

On a late afternoon, cahil periler izle though, she made a mistake.

Jack was standing eight feet away from her as she ate a snack; he had his hands on his hips, and he was staring off at the boulders, watching some of the men chipping away at stone, brushing off bits and pieces of something, sifting through chunks and collecting whatever looked interesting.

She didn’t know it, but as she chewed, she stared right at his crotch. And she didn’t know that he noticed it. He smirked. Once she realized it, her eyes flicked up to his face, then quickly away. After a strategic pause, looking around as if nothing had happened, she went back to the large central tent where her equipment was.

After a few moments, she looked off to the left, and with agony she saw him coming her way.

Non-chalantly, she bent over her microscope. Startled, self-conscious, grabbed a chair, and sat down to look at…a blank slide.

He hovered for a few moments behind her. He must be a huge chunk of coal from hell, she thought, because she was burning up.

Suddenly, in a moment that made both fear and relief well up within her, he poked her side. She jumped.

“You’re not really a lesbian, are you?” he said. Then walked around the tent, examining her equipment, touching this do-dad then that. She went to him and took away a rather fragile beaker he had picked up.

“What makes you so sure?” she asked.

“Because, last time I heard, lesbians weren’t that into guys’ crotches. And you were staring at mine, licking your chops and everything.”

She sighed. Rolled her eyes. “For your information, I was eating my lunch. And I didn’t even know I was looking. Perhaps I liked your…slacks?”

He laughed. She realized this was probably the first time she saw his teeth. Lovely smile; it somewhat softened his penetrating blue eyes.

“Now what would you like about my slacks?” he asked.

“Well,” she said, and looked at them, at his crotch. “They have…rather nice pockets.”

“Yeah?” he said, and smiled, approaching her.

Ah, the moment of clarity. She shook off any doubt of whether he wanted her or not. Be brave, be brave. She stepped closer. She could smell him; a hint of his soap, the subtle warmth of his breath. Her hand slipped down into his pocket. A couple of keys, a pocket knife, a peppermint wrapped in cellophane. She reached, stepping closer. Finally she found it. Hot, already hard.

Jack let out what seemed to be a sigh of relief. His cock grew harder as she massaged it gently through his pants. Their lips almost touched.

And like the trash that comes with the tide, some of the men started emerging from the boulders to take their lunches. Jack and Maggie separated.

He gave her a wan smile, and left.

She flushed with shame and defeat and wondered if he thought something bad about her. Only after her heart stopped racing did she notice her pussy throbbing, unbearably slick. The way he smelled slowly permeated her mind.

They never said anything, never even looked at each other for a couple days. She wondered, Is he like me, is he the kind of person who ignores someone at all costs when what they really want to do is lavish attention.

A plan: go for a stroll. Make sure he notices you going for a stroll. Make sure not to actually tell him you’re going for a stroll, because that would be too blatant, and you’d come off as being desperate or wily. Then he’ll follow you, then you’ll be off consorting in the bushes, and everyone would live happily ever after. Except for the poor research assistant who has nothing but a nude picture from a magazine, and it has a splotch of someone else’s cum on it.

She did go for a stroll. Walked right past Jack, headed in the opposite direction from camp and the dig site. Threaded her way through the boulders, climbing, slipping, sitting a while chugging bottled water, casually glancing this way and that to see if he had followed. No luck. She came back to camp, and he was indolently leaning back against a tree trunk, scribbling in his notepad. Indifferent bastard.

Is that all he wanted? A quick feel and he’s back to his stoic old cars on the road izle self? Or perhaps, just perhaps, she thought with horror, he didn’t like what she did. She retraced the events in that tent with through these new glasses. Maybe he had been irritated by her.

“Botched that attempt at intimacy,” she said, as she sat in her tent, brushing her hair and getting ready for sleep. She even remembered with slight pleasure what it was like to have sex, the last time being six years ago in her senior year of undergrad, an eager and willing freshman finally winning his way into her dorm bed. Ah, the way she used to dress then. The guys would get instant boners over her. Inexperienced freshmen were her favorite; the sloppy, insecure way they entered her, the way they would naively express their feelings before life hardened them and taught them that people are not allowed to love so freely. Could it be true that she was actually sexy back then, before grad school applications and job interviews and the hypocrisy of society necessitating a change in her looks? She had gone too far, though. She was downright unkempt, perhaps even purposefully hiding from men.

The moon shone through the tent, a round, perfect orb, its light dissipating across the taut fabric. She removed her pants and shirt, crawled into her sleeping bag, ready to fall asleep in the cool New Mexico summer night.

Later, she shot up, after maybe a few minutes of sleep, when she heard scratching outside of her tent. Someone fumbling with the zipper. Pulling the sleeping bag close to her half-naked body, she welled up with hope, but prepared for disappointment.

It was too dark to see, even with the moon. But she knew it was him. Even before he got fully into her tent and zipped it back up, she laid back and calmly gazed at the silvery light.

He pulled up and laid next to her. Instantly their mouths came together, widening, his arm snaking into the sleeping bag and coming to rest on her bare flesh.

When he propped himself up on his elbow to look at her, she sat up and slapped him. “Why did you wait so long?” she seethed.

He, laughing softly, feeling his stinging cheek, said “I wanted to get you all wound up. I find that the more desperate you are, the wilder the sex. Ya know?”

She scoffed. “Jerk,” she said, and turned her back to him. This did not daunt him. He kissed the back of her neck, ran his hand down her side, up and down her thigh, reaching around to rest his hand on her heavy breast.

She was gorgeous like this, with her hair down, her conservative, mannish clothes nowhere to be seen, nothing but the black lace bra and panties. She was actually quite fit, now that he could see what had been underneath those baggy clothes all along. His cock hardened quickly, and he unzipped his pants, pressed the throbbing length of it against her ass.

She turned to straddle him. Bent down, her hair falling and tickling his cheek. Rubbed her crotch against his cock. He fumbled a bit, shoved the panties off of her hips. She reached down and led his cock to the slick lips between her legs, not bothering to help him remove her panties. He liked it better that way. The scratchy fabric against the side of his cock as he drove it up into her, the first grimace of pain on her face melting into pleasure after a few thrusts.

Loosened, she began to ride him, remembering the rhythm, bending just so her clit grazed the base of his cock when she came down hard on him.

She stopped for a moment, the whole length of his cock inside of her, and she reached up to remove her bra. The plump breasts spilled out and she led both his hands to them before continuing to rock against him.

They were already beginning to sweat in the tent before he sensed the first twitches in her thighs, and he rolled her over, bore down on her, hammered into her quickly and roughly until she clamped her legs around him tightly and shuddered.

Her throbbing pussy brought him to his pinnacle and he groaned, cumming inside of her.

He stayed on top of her, drowsing off, until he slid his cock out of her and rested by her side, playing lazily with those firm tits until they both fell asleep.

When she woke the next morning she saw that he had been watching her. Sleepily she reached down to wrap her fingers around his already hard cock, newly enthusiastic about being stuck out here in the middle of nowhere for the good few weeks that were left in the excavation. Yawning, stroking him, she said, “Digging for bones isn’t such a bad job.”

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