Heaven Sent

"This is so hot. I shouldn't watch, but..." Mel thinks.

"Bullshit, we aint leaving till I see pussy." replies the cigarette.

"Shh, she'll notice us."

"Fuck that's just plain hot."

Mikka stands and walks to Normans stall. The light at the back of the shed shines through the sheer fabric of her night dress and clearly outlines her spectacular breasts and the round of her bum.

"Ok silly horse, is not speak german, ya?"

"Was ist Mikka do?"

"Is horny and bit crazy, ya?"

"Sie ist want me too?"

"Norman, du bist no good advice you know."

"Gute Nacht to you horse."

Mikka makes her way toward the barn door. Mel flicks her cigarette away and scurries off towards the house taking care to stay in the shadows. She sees Mikka stop at the door and look around then make her way down the drive to the workers quarters. Lying in bed, Mel is aware of the throbbing need between her legs but emotional exhaustion carries her off to dreamless sleep.

-----

Morning comes quickly, heralded by a randy rooster singing bawdy sailor songs to his lady folk. The farm noises follow in his wake and Melanie makes her weary way downstairs to breakfast.

Mum and Dad are arguing over the paper. Some story about a local counsellor has them polarised over an issue and they playfully taunt each other with the gentle grace of long-married but still in love partners. For her part Melanie is focused on her urgent hunger for the pancakes in the centre of the table. She can't remember when she last ate properly and it appears her appetite has made a healthy return after the emotional roller-coaster of the last two days.

"Barnaby rang, he'll call by on Monday morning love."

"Oh? Oh yeah, good."

"You still waking up Girly?" Dad ruffles her hair and leaves the table.

"What plans today?" asks Mum.

"Um... Not much. I was going to meet Mikka for a swim this morning before lunch. That's all for me. What are you guys doing?"

"Well dad's got to go to town for some diesel so I'll keep him company. How about I pack a picnic for you? You and Mikka can have lunch on the island. You used to love that."

A furious blush surprised Mel thinking about Mikka last night. How that hug on the porch woke something in her and what she saw in the barn.

"Oh, you think I don't know?" Mum asks seeing the red in her daughters cheeks deepen even further.

"What? Mum!"

"I know you used to take boys over there when you were young."

Mel almost fainted with relief.

"Your father and I visit there occasionally too you know."

"Oh gross, Mum. Really..."

"What you don't think we bump naughty bits still? We're old, not dead."

"Mum!" Mel covers her ears and laughs. "That's so gross."

"I'll pack a picnic, you girls can sunbake and swap stories about boys."

Mel is in a hurry to leave the kitchen before any further 'overshares' so kisses her mum on the cheek and hurries off to shower and dress for the morning.

Watching herself undress in the mirror she notices her underarms need attention and takes a razor out of her wet bag. In the shower she shaves them clean then soaps her legs and gives them a once over too. Nice and smooth now, she washes the soap off her legs and wonders about the little 'racing stripe' as Darren calls it.

"Fucken pig," says the razor.

"That's nicer than I can come up with," she replies in her head.

"What's with all the grooming? You think you're getting lucky?"

"What?"

"You want Mikka."

"Fuck off. I don't roll that way."

"Tell it to your twat lady, it was starting without you last night."

"I was just confused and tired and emotional. Now shut up."

She washes the soap off her mound and runs a hand over and around her vagina. All nice and smooth and tidy with a little strip like a pointer above it.

"In case she can't find it hey?"

"Fuck off you dirty little personal grooming device."

She tucks the razor away on the soap holder and showers the conditioner out of her hair.

She towels off roughly and hunts through her clothes. She brought no swimmers with her and wondered what to wear.

"Wear nothing; Mikka swims naked." Offers the razor somewhat muffled by the wet bag.

"No, I'm not... well she's very fit and can get away with it."

She settles on a dark matching bra and underpants.

"That will do, it's just us girls."

"Go on take it off..." Now the hair brush is in on it and offers an opinion as she brushes her hair.

"You know you want to see her naked again."

"I do not. Well okay a bit. She has a great body."

"How about that bushy old vag?"

"It suits her. She has such fine white hair."

"It will tickle when you eat her pussy."

"Woah up there!"

"You know you want to right. You've been thinking about it all night since watching her frig herself in the barn."

"..."

"You've been thinking about sucking on those big titties and rubbing your grotty little hands all over her beautiful arse too."

"Oh..."

"You've wanted to pull her knees up and bury your face in her cunt and lick her clit till she bucks against your face and comes all over you."

"You want to ball up her hand and see if you can stuff the whole thing in your wet pussy and fuck it. Stretch you open and fill you up with her rough man hands."

At this point the hairbrush can't speak anymore because she has buried his handle in her pussy and is holding tight to the dresser while fucking herself with the brush. She gets faster and faster and harder until her knees buckle and she comes all over the handle and her hand. She can smell her own pussy as she fixes herself and finishes brushing her hair.

"Woah. So get your shit together girl." Pulling the little summer dress down over her bra and knickers and smoothing it against her skin she still trembles with little aftershocks as she walks downstairs to the kitchen.

"Here you go Girly." Mum hands her the picnic basket and kisses her on the cheek. "Dad and I will be back around two I think."

"See you Mum."

-----

The morning was lifted from a book of watercolours. Lush green grass lines a sandy path worn by cattle toward the dark green canopy of trees shading the creek. An azure sky hangs almost cloudless overhead and springs wildflowers dot the pasture with little splashes of joy.

"Fucken weeds," she could hear fathers voice. As a child she would help him pick a bunch of the flowers for Mum each morning and he'd mutter about them being weeds and good for nothing except making ladies happy. Then he'd pin one behind her ear and laugh when she smiled, "see it's working already."

She stops and picks a little white flower with a yellow centre and puts it behind her ear as she walks. Her meeting with Barnaby tomorrow looms in her thoughts. Assets to think about, debts to finalise, house to sell, they'll keep their vehicles she thinks. She's so lost in thought she hardly notices the distance and is surprised to find she is already at the gravelly beach.

"Hello! Anyone there? Should I throw stones?"

There is no answer so she wades across the shallow weir of rocks at the end of the swimming hole and finds her shady picnic spot. In the middle of the small island are three large river oaks whose branches fall close to the ground making a wall of sorts with a small clearing in the middle. She smiles at remembered shenanigans with boys and quiet times alone while she spreads out the blanket from the picnic hamper.

She checks her watch. It's only ten in the morning so she settles back on the blanket while she waits. She knows Mikka has morning tasks and expects her around 11. She had been hoping for some quiet time here alone. Her eyes seek the blue sky above, like a circular hole in the trees and she stares off into nowhere.

Warm spring sunlight spills honey thick warmth into the small shady clearing. This quiet place draws her back whenever she is home; some soft calling of the earth to a quiet place inside her. She sometimes sits and reads but more often than not she simply lies in the thick grass drinking in the smells of earth and growth.

She is listening to the crickets, looking up at the blue sky and watching a single cloud sail slowly over. She has been here for a while now, waiting for her mind to empty of the last few days doings. Forgetting the shopping centre, forgetting the coffee shop, forgetting Darren and all the while the warm sun caresses her skin. Her mind wanders aimlessly with the little cloud above and closing her eyes she simply 'is'.

A ray of sun like a lovers tongue stretches slowly up her leg. Sinuous waves of warmth, like a gentle hand move over her knee and slide gently onto her thigh. She places her own hand on the sun's and traces its warm fingers on her soft cool skin. Absently she smooths the fabric of her dress over the slight round of her tummy, savouring the texture through her fingertips.

Her mind is far away as her fingers gather the hem of her skirt and burrow under the elastic of her knickers. Her cool fingers absently stroke her pubic hair while she floats with the clouds. She fancies for a brief moment that she feels the earth grow warmer around her and somehow envelope her. Surprised, her fingers find her already slick with anticipation.

She does not dream of lovers now, nor construct some romanticised erotic game. Cool fingers simply walk a well-known wet silk line through the centre of her. Lightly, just touching, then rolling gently in the gathered wet at the base of her they slide sticky against themselves.

Still miles away she's not aware of her quickening pulse or the catching of her breath. All that she knows is the warm afternoon, the cool grass, the far away clouds and the luxurious wet roaming of a cool hand. Her fingers roll a lip in the sweet mess and explore her folds. Unhurried, bathing in the sensation like stretching in a tub of steam and bubbles, one finger dips itself to the core of her; slowly testing tiny ridges then rudely enters, slid first then thrust and slid again, her knuckles rub her clit as fingers explore inside her.

Her spirit lifts above her and spreads its wings floating upwards on the thermals of her passions. The crickets are gone, the birdsong silent and all the rivers sounds forgotten. Leaving the clouds below her she soars with Icarus seeking splendour. Waves of building passion roll below her and she crashes back to the here and now with the first arching of her hips. She feels the building of it in her toes and the passion crawls tangible up her legs to rest in her chest, a ball of furious static.

Fully aware now, the feeling of exposure tips her past the aching of her arm into the first throes of orgasm. As it rises to her throat, she stands shackled for a moment to the edge of the abyss then topples headfirst into wave upon wave of rapture. Her throat opens and voices lust and gripping her clitoris between the knuckles of her fingers she bucks in tortured pleasure...

Then soon enough she is still.... but for the heavy rise and fall of her breasts and the ragged breath that betrays her. As her climax subsides, washing back down through her like a bath let out, some imagined shame creeps in and reminds her she is on the island in a clearing. She half rises from the smells of her sex and earth and life entwining...

...and gasps as she looks directly into Mikka's piercing blue eyes.

Time freezes along with Melanie's open mouth.

Mikka breaks the spell by speaking, "That is hottest thing I see in whole time of travel."

"My God, Mikka. How long have you been there?"

"Whole time."

"You could have let me know." She is almost angry now as well as embarrassed.

"Ya, I could. But Mikka is like watching very much."

Mel has no idea where to look or what to do. Mikka walks into the little clearing and sits down on the blanket beside her.

"Cigarette?" Mikka holds out a packet of smokes and Mel takes one thankful for the nicotine and an excuse not to talk for a moment while she sorts out some thoughts.

"I'm sorry Mikka. I forgot where I was for a while. I didn't mean to shock you."

"No shock. I like it very much. Du hast wunderbar body. Very nice watch you touch it."

She feels red rise to her face. "I'm just embarrassed a little, I wish you'd..."

"What knocked?" Mikka mimes knocking, "Is no door like on the barn."

"What?"

"You can knock too on barn. Let me know is there."

Bright red now Mel hangs her head into her hands. "How did you know."

Mikka blows out a big cloud of cigarette smoke. "Just like that. Is either you smoking outside barn door or dirty old Harold or Mr George. Mr George already go to bed. Harry is drunk in quarters. So is you."

"I'm so sorry."

"Ich bin happy you watch. You like?"

"I don't know what to say."

"Den is just eat lunch, ya? Eat lunch and say nothing." Mikka smiled and Mel was grateful for some sort of idea what to do and how to be.

They ate in silence, all the time Mikka's blue eyes burned into hers each time she raised them.

"You are staring." She said quietly.

"Is beautiful to stare at." Gesturing at Mel's face then reaches and gently brushes Mels cheek, "beautiful when sie ist not cry. More like snotty horse when cry."

Mel snorts with laughter and a bit of sandwich comes out of her mouth.

"ya, just like horse."

Mel slaps her shoulder playfully thankful for the humour.

"We swim now, yes?

"That actually sounds like a great idea." She is aware of how close Mikka sits and how she still smells of her own sex.

"Is you turn watch now, ya?" Mikka stands on the blanket and pulls her t-shirt up. She wears nothing underneath and Mel inhales sharply as those lovely breasts are freed. She drinks Mikka's body with her eyes and Mikka runs her hands down her breasts, pinching her nipples to make them hard. She then lets them move down her flat tummy to the waist of her shorts. Her thumbs hook inside the band and pull them to her knees. Her tits are at eye height directly in front of Mel and it's all she can do not to reach out to them. Standing, Mikka kicks her pants off.

"No undies," thinks Mel and looks up to find Mikka's eyes.

"Look. Is okay. Look." She gestures at her body with a wave.

Mel looks. Memorising every inch. A mole above her left nipple, the dark brown on fair white skin, hard nubs jutting in the spring air. Her flat belly and the little barbell in her navel. Her tiny waist. The jut of her hips and the triangle of thick white blonde hair. A hint of clit or is it lips behind it. The strength of her legs. The fine downy almost imperceptible white hairs on her legs.

"I swim now. Come in, creepy hillbilly." She laughs and wades into the water.

Mel watches mesmerised as the cold water works up Mikka's legs, caressing her thighs then causing her to gasp as it laps at her pussy and arse. Mel stands and finds she just can't think. Her hands dance their own jig and lift the little dress up over her shoulders then her legs walk without asking permission to the water's edge.

She giggles as the water climbs her legs; it's cold. So lovely cold her skin prickles with goose bumps and she can feel her nipples harden. The water laps at her underpants and she breathes sharply as the cold finds her. "What the hell am I getting into?"

Mikka breaststrokes out to deeper water and floats staring up at the sky. "No throwing rocks now." She laughs again.

"Like waxing eye-brows," Mel thinks and dips completely under in one motion.

The cold rush as the water envelopes her shocks the air from her lungs. She squeals with delight as she surfaces. Laughing as the water washes her embarrassment away, she feels like some weird baptism or rebirth has taken place. Perhaps Mikka really is heaven sent as Mum said. In any case, she emerges different than she entered. No more church mouse Mel quietly chewing words before she speaks them. That Mel went under the water and a new Mel who speaks her truth loudly and unashamedly into the world came out; one that says what she wants and takes it.

She swims slowly out into the deeper water enjoying the swirling cold along her flanks, the caress of liquid on her skin.

"At home is no shame in bodies or shame in sex. Is hard to understand people in this country. So much worry about bodies." Mikka floats a little closer.

"We always thought we were a pretty open family, I guess we must seem odd."

"Nein, is good. Is just how is here."

Mel swims back to where she can stand with just her shoulders out of water and half treads water, half stands.

"How long is watch me last night?"

"I went to the tack room for a cigarette, heard you speaking and went to look. You said something in German and you were sitting on that chair touching yourself. It was pretty hot."

"I say, 'stupid uptight foreigners, I am very horny and want to fuck her, put her tongue in my pussy.' Is best I can say in english."

Mel's mouth drops open at the admission and stares transfixed as Mikka glides toward her stopping only a few feet away.

"Norman is not good at advice, no? He is not help at all with ideas."

"Well what do you think he should have said?"

"Is not know, Mikka not speak horse." Mikka laughs and closes the gap between them, "But I think he would say, 'just kiss her'."

Mel felt Mikka's skin slide onto hers, meeting in a fluid electric connection from knee to nipple. Mikka's hand reaches back behind her neck and pulls her mouth closer. Their lips brush momentarily then her tongue flicks dangerously along her jaw. Their lips meet again and Mel drowns in the kiss. Lips part and lick and teeth nibble and mouths make promises that bodies are quickly catching up on.

Mikka reaches behind her and unclasps Mel's bra -- throwing it to the bank she walks Mel into shallower water and trails her tongue down her neck inch by until Mel feels the water leave her breasts and Mikka find them. The hot of her mouth replaces the cold of the water and the rough of the girl's hands kneads at her tits.

Her own hands move over the blonde girl's body grasping at muscled buttocks and pulling her closer. She wants to explore that thatch of gorgeous pussy hair and pushes her hand down in between them. Mel's fingers run through the matted pubic hair squeezing Mikka's mound and down between her legs. She runs a finger back up along her pussy dipping her fingers into the exquisite wet hotness. Mikka's eyes roll up and she stops kissing as her back arches and pussy thrusts of its own accord onto Mel's fingers.

Mel braces as Mikka wraps a leg around her and grinds her pussy into her fingers. Her thumb rubs Mikka's clit as she works two then three fingers into the tightness of her. Mikka's fingers rake Mel's back as she bucks and moans then finally cries into the quiet of the Creekside, "Fick ja, fick mich, fick mich, aaargh!" Mel holds her as she shudders, clamping around her fingers, moaning soft foreign words into her neck, kissing her gently over and over as she settles.

"I'm getting cold," Mel says eventually as they stand there in the water not wishing, either one, to part.

"Mikka waiting eine lange time, want much fick." She breathes raggedly, "Not make good English. Still... um..."

"I know, shh." Mel kisses her deeply, "Don't speak, just do."

She giggles as Mikka picks her up and carries her out of the water laying her on the blanket. She is more than a little frightened watching the need in those deep blue eyes.

"Is going to eat you like a wolf." Mikka smiles and grabs Mel's undies pulling them all the way off. "Dumb clothes, too much dumb clothes."

Taking Mel's wrists she lifts them back behind her head then pins them to the ground with one arm. She kisses Mel roughly burrowing her tongue into her, drinking her in. Then tenderly trails little licks all down her neck to first one nipple then the other. Playful pecks of kisses as they harden then Mel cries out as she bites down on one and lashes it with her tongue. "God yes, fuck."