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Jamie Part III

The love story of Jamie and Sarah must come to and end, as all good things do
There are many joys of spring as it leads into summer, even here in my part of the planet where we don’t really have the distinct seasonal differences that one has in the Northern hemisphere countries. Winter here, in the high grasslands, is a period of dry cold with temperatures ranging between 2 ° C overnight and the high teens in the day. We have the most glorious, endless deep blue skies that stay clear throughout the season. Then suddenly and almost imperceptibly the trees start showing little buds of new growth. The nights are not quite as bitterly cold and the sun is peeping over the horizon a little earlier; days get longer and the winter woollies disappear, people’s moods seem uplifted.

I suppose most countries are the same in that seasons are measured not only by the changes in the weather, but in the sports being played. Here, the main winter sport is rugby and the main summer sport is cricket. For you Americans, I won’t try to explain the game of cricket suffice it to say, it is a wonderful leisurely game played in the most glorious of settings. My English, Australian and Kiwi friends will know exactly what I mean. So come spring, we start to see the beginning of the cricket season and that is usually a signal for glorious weather, and spending the day in the sun on the grass embankment watching this beautiful game. The other thing about watching cricket is that the guys invariably wear shorts with no shirts (the spectators, not the players) and the girls end up in shorts and bikini tops - it is great fun.

So there you have a little background. So what has all this got to do with Jamie you ask? Well, since High School Jamie and I have been avid watches of the game. We don’t know a whole heap about it but we love the atmosphere, we love going to the grounds and sitting watching the people, drinking beer and having picnic lunch on the grass.

Now I mentioned in an earlier story that Jamie was in wildlife conservation, spending weeks at a time out on patrol in the bush. I joke about her life but in reality I am really envious as she sees nature at its best and gets to study the magnificent animals that are the heritage of this beautiful country of mine. She has had some scary times, like when a pride of lions settled for the night just outside the camp. She and a couple of other rangers had been sleeping for a little while in their respective tents when they heard the commotion of the lions making a kill right in their camp. After the pride had eaten, they dragged the remains of the kill away and fell asleep. This was near dawn and meant that the rangers were more or less confined to their tents for the better part of the day until the lions moved off.

Anyway, Jamie had been out on a particularly long stretch and was on her way home for the weekend. She called me from her mobile to tell me she would be at mine in an hour. I rushed around madly tidying up and chilling some wine. I also made sure I had her favourite lotions and moisturises because after spending a couple of weeks in the bush with no more than a bucket shower, she needs a long time in the shower, and then some tender caring for her lovely toned and tanned body. She is fit and quite muscly from carrying her pack and heavy rifle for day after day in the hot sun so I positively delight in the opportunity to pamper her, massage her and moisturise her body.

Well, it wasn’t long before her Land Rover pulled up, covered in dust and grime. She stepped out looking quite gorgeous in spite of her shall we say, country odour. I could see her hair was a mess and her boots scuffed and stained; her khaki bush clothes sweat stained. I loved her just the way she was. We kissed lightly as she tossed me her bag and then made a beeline for the shower, dropping her clothes as she walked. Oh well, it’s as well I have a very good washing machine but damned if knew how I was to get her boots clean. After what seemed like forever, my beautiful Jamie emerged, naked as the day she was born, with a towel wrapped around her head. In spite of myself I couldn’t help but stare at her somewhat unruly bush. O God how I loved it but I knew she would insist on shaving it as soon as we had sat for a while and had a glass or two of wine. I have often tried to persuade her to trim it neatly without shaving it bald but I haven’t won that one yet.

I took her in my arms and we kissed, gently first but with ever increasing urgency as our longing over the past weeks was rewarded with physical contact and comfort. She had scratches on her legs and arms from the thorns in the bush but she was now clean and smelling like a rose. My love, my girl, my Jamie was safe in my arms and I knew that tonight, for the first time in weeks, I would sleep soundly knowing she was with me, sleeping next to me

We went out into my little garden. The weather was beautiful and because the garden is walled and completely private, Jamie didn’t bother to put any clothes on. She took the towel from her head and shook her hair loose, running her fingers through it to get the worst of the knots out. I couldn’t wait to blow dry her hair and massage the oils and lotions into her body but right now, all we wanted was to sit quietly and sip on some Sauvignon Blank

We had been chatting a bit, sipping on the wine when I reminded her that there was a cricket match the next day so we made plans immediately to meet up with Jill and a couple of her friends to spend the day relaxing, watching the game and generally having fun. Later, as the sun started to set we went indoors and it was time to neaten up her bush. I decided for once I was not going to listen but rather, I would do as I wanted and trim it into a little triangle, only marginally smaller than her bikini. I started by massaging the fragrant lotions into her back, and legs, and then her front. I suppose if I were professional I would be in trouble for spending more time on her breasts than was professionally accepted. It wasn’t long before her nipples betrayed any attempt she may have been making at being unaffected by my ministrations. I loved her nipples and simply could not get enough of them; how they puckered up when attended to, and then relaxed again only to become erect and puckered as I teased more, gently blowing on them

My hands moved further south, massaging her tummy, her hips. I was massaging with thumbs pointing inwards and fingers pointing due south. As I moved closer to her treasure, her playful banter quietened and her breathing became deeper. My thumbs now on her mound (how appropriate that Venus was the Roman Goddess of love and beauty and this particular treasure of the female anatomy is named after her) lightly pressing down into that most glorious of fleshy places. As I pressed her hips thrust involuntarily to meet the pressure. I moved more, rubbing with my thumbs against her beautifully plump labia, but not entering her. The scent of her sacred place delighting me and evidencing the fact she had been alone for these past weeks. I stopped, and teasingly asked, “Shall I attend to your bush now”? Her answer was not ladylike…

Our lovemaking was at once vulgar and aggressive, and tender, slow and gentle. All too quickly it was fully dark and we realised that not a light was on in the entire house. We showered again, together this time and got busy with preparing supper.

The next day as arranged, we met up with Jill and her friends, girls I did not know but glorious little vixens nevertheless. We were five in all as we made our way to the cricket grounds. It was one of those pre-test series warm up matches, not at one of the major stadiums but rather the private estate of some wealthy benefactor to developing cricket. The oval surrounded, with the exception of one stretch of the embankment, with old oak trees providing plenty of shade. It was a beautiful day with not a cloud in the sky and bright yet not steaming hot sunshine. We were all suitably dressed for the day with me perhaps the most conservative in my favourite yellow, backless sun dress. Jamie was wearing short (too short really) cut-off jeans and Jill and the other girls similarly in shorts and halter tops.

We chose a spot on the embankment in order to make the most of the winter’s end, early spring sunshine. We laid out the blankets and picnic baskets and were soon lost in the light banter, flirting together and drinking beer sold from the little stall just behind us. It wasn’t long before the volume of “support” from the crowd increased and much fun and hilarity was in evidence. Girls were now in their bikini tops and the boys without their shirts, running around trying to start the Mexican wave. I suspect the cricket was just an excuse to be out in the early spring sunshine, enjoying the fun and community of being with friends.

Before long, it was one of Jill’s friends I think, needed to go and find the toilets. She refused to go alone so straws were drawn as to who would go with her, something I was more than happy to do. As it happens the permanent toilets were so busy that she couldn’t wait so we found quiet spot amongst the trees where I encouraged her to take down her shorts and squat - what a delight! I was immediately guilty remembering the night I had just had with Jamie and here I was ogling this nymphet as she took care of nature’s calling. We returned to the embankment where we found the effects of the sun and the beer was starting to have its effect. Jamie was lying with her head in Jill’s lap and the other nymphet was whispering in Jill’s ear.

I looked at nymphet one, she who had just squatted to pee while I watched and she looked at me; and we sat on our little piece of the blanket, right alongside Nymphet two. There I was between Nymphet one and two, looking at my Jamie, she whose nectar had anointed and nourished me those few short hours ago as she was teased and played with and stroked and whispered to by Jill. It was an idyllic scene and there was no denying the effect it was having on me. I was taking a kind of voyeuristic pleasure in watching Jill with Jamie. Jamie’s shorts had crept up so tightly that her beautifully plump labia were almost visible as they bulged around the seam of her shorts. We were right at the edge of the grass so nobody was in front of her. I decided not to alert her but rather to savour the view, allowing my mind to wander back to how I had worshipped at that very love-temple only last night. Around about now I looked at Nymphet one and saw that she too had her eyes glued to Jamie’s vulgar display something which excited me even more. I whispered to Nymphet “Are you enjoying the view?” to which she blushed madly and feigned incomprehension or ignorance or both. I took her hand and kissed it lightly.

I was now sitting with my legs pulled up to my chin, my sun dress which was about mid-calf length, covering my legs. I was reasonably modest and oh so excited, was loving the breeze as it gently teased and caressed my panties against the warmth of my scented garden, cooling the dampness. I was starting to feel decidedly un-ladylike. Nymphet edged closer to me and surreptitiously edged her hand under my dress to start lightly rubbing the back of my thigh. Nymphets hand was boldly wandering, thrilling and exciting me. Her fingers were tracing the leg of my panties, ever closer to my treasure. It was becoming increasingly hard to breathe as I anticipated her entering my fragrant garden.

In the meantime Jamie was receiving her fair share of attention from Jill. Jamie was now sitting as I was, with her legs pulled up to her chin. Her labia exposed and the crotch of her shorts very obviously damp. Nymphet two was whispering into and alternately pushing her pointed pink tongue into her ear. Each time that sweet tongue entered, Jamie would give a little shiver of delight. We were all oblivious to the crowd around us. I saw Jill lean in to kiss Jamie and then the three of them got up as one and walked towards the less crowded spot where my little Nymphet treated me to a view of her squatting beauty. Jamie winked at me and I knew they were not going on a sight-seeing walk.

Nymphet one had pulled aside my panties and was gently probing my sex. It was becoming quite hard to maintain my decorum. Her fingers alternately massaging my engorged clit and entering deep into my secret place; it was not going to be long before she brought me to ecstasy. I wanted to follow Jamie, to see what she was up to. I wanted to pleasure, and be pleasured by Nymphet one who was expertly taking me rapidly beyond all capacity for logical thought or reason. She was whispering unspeakably vulgar words of encouragement into my ear. Her hot breath against my ear was a parallel pleasure to the damp heat about to erupt from my sex. I could no longer contain myself. I was on the very edge and her vulgar words were strangely taking me ever closer to the clouds and the rain. Glorious ecstasy, release, heavenly pleasure, and who knows what supressed, squealing, panting fanfare announced my pleasure.

I looked at her and Nymphet one was flushed of face and smiling tenderly. We gathered up our picnic things and, straightening our clothes, went in search of the others. We found them sitting on the grass not far from where Nymphet one had squatted earlier. They were all three looking somewhat flushed and sparkly of eye but otherwise innocent enough. The afternoon was drawing to a close so we made our way together to the gate where we knew there would be a taxi. Suddenly the sun, the beer and the sexual tension was taking its toll on us as we sat in near silence for the short journey home.

We arrived home and after paying the taxi, all went inside. It was still hot enough for us to enjoy a cooling dip in my little splash pool. Oh what joy to see the Nymphets strip off as one, closely followed by Jamie and Jill. I was not going to be left out and soon joined them – the five of us naked, giggling, and loving; and generally having a good time. As the evening cooled, we emerged from the little pool and towelled each other dry. It was wonderful now to sit around, still naked but dry, moisturising each other, gently loving each other, and drinking wine. It was clear however that Jamie’s long drive of the day before and today’s beer and sun was having an effect and she wanted her bed. She went off to my bed and the rest of us sat around chatting and teasing. Next it was Jill and I who went off to join Jamie while the Nymphets curled up together on the couch, which is how I found them in the morning.

When Jamie awoke she was distant, quiet. I knew this emotion so well as she always felt this way before heading back to the bush on the endless quest to seek out and protect our wild-life heritage from unscrupulous poaches. Rhino horn was in great demand in China and Vietnam amongst other Asian areas with the value exceeding even that of gold. And because of the high value, the syndicates were ruthless in their efforts to kill these magnificent animals simply to cut off the horns with chainsaws. It always troubled my Jamie that out in the bush on patrol it was her and her tracker, and sometimes another ranger or two, against these well organised poacher gangs armed with high-powered automatic rifles and no conscience.

We lay quietly, me, Jamie and Jill and loved, not saying anything, until it was time for her to pack up her gear and hit the road in her Land Rover. We wept silently to ourselves, and she was gone.

Two days later, Wednesday at 4.00am, the call came. It was garbled and confused but the message was simple. Jamie and her patrol had come upon a wounded rhino which had charged from a thicket, impaling my beautiful Jamie on its horn. There was not much else to tell except that funeral arrangements had to be made. I was alone but it was not long before Jill and Nymphet One arrived. We didn’t cry, just sat together and mourned in our own silent way.

Friday and it was the funeral. The church was awash with Rangers in khaki uniform, friends, family, and a couple of Trackers. It was during the eulogy and there was a disturbance at the door at the back of the church. I looked around and there stood her ancient, Zulu Tracker, Nkosinate whom I recognised from descriptions Jamie had given me. He wore his khaki shorts, home-made sandals, and had over his shoulders his leopard skin Karros, a sign of his high social standing and bush-prowess. In his hand he carried a small branch of the Mpafa tree (in Latin Ziziphus mucronata). I knew then the truth of the story about the Mpafa. In ancient Zulu tradition the Mpafa is planted to protect the graves of chiefs from hyena and other scavengers. It has a vicious thorn arrangement with one pointing forward and the other back. Tradition dictates that when someone dies, somebody close to that person would go to where they died with the Mpafa branch and talk to the spirit of the dead. He would then tell the spirit that it was time to go home and would take the branch of the Mpafa and return to the home of the dead person, returning their spirit to where it will feel safe and at rest. All the while he would travel in silence except for occasionally talking to the spirit of the dead person. Nkosinate had brought the spirit of my darling Jamie home. All the while I had been strong, controlled and holding myself together. Seeing this simple, proud man who had walked the better part of 50 miles in silence, carrying the spirit of my Jamie carefully and lovingly that she may find rest, was too much for me and I broke down. He walked in silence up the aisle of the church to me (how he knew Me I will never know as we had never met) and took my hand. He led me in silence to the coffin and placing the Mpafa branch in my hand, we together gently laid it on the coffin. “Go well my Princess” he said and turned and walked from the church.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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