After hiking all day, we stopped at a large, deserted clearing. We were about a mile off the main trail, near a stream. The sun was getting lower on the horizon and you signaled that we should make camp here for the night.
According to my pedometer, we'd made it about 12 miles through the ridge today. Not bad, especially considering the constant, up-and-down terrain. Only 30 more miles to go. Two, maybe three days – unless bad weather hit unexpectedly.
Grateful for the break, I shrugged off my pack and sank down on the ground next to it. The breeze felt great on my neck. I lifted my long black braid with one hand, letting the air cool me down as I chugged a bottle of water. Beads of sweat ran in a little rivulet between my breasts.
I watched as you and Jason--one of your coworkers, whom I'd only met briefly before this trip--popped the automatic tent and started pulling out our food supplies and setting up camp for the night. I admired the way your muscles flexed and moved as you worked. I was looking forward to lying down with you for the night, imagining the things we might do to each other under cover of darkness, in the wildness of nature... until I remembered that the three of us were all sharing a single tent.
Damn. I would have to save those thoughts for a few days, until we made it to the end of the ridge and off the trail.
As I sat there watching you, I also couldn't help but notice the way that Jason's eyes lingered on my thighs as I sat, cross-legged on the ground. Jason had seemed okay to me, throughout most of the first day's hike, but something about him made me uncomfortable. I wondered if he could see up the leg of my very short shorts, but I wasn't about to look down and let him know that I had caught him looking.
I wasn't wearing any panties, as you had requested before we left, and I just hoped that Jason wasn't getting an eyeful of my shaved pussy. After a few minutes, uncomfortable with this scrutiny, I got up to gather wood for a fire.
Later that night, after we'd eaten, we were all sitting around the fire, passing around a small flask of whiskey that Jason had brought with him. It was dark now, and quiet, except for the sounds of the fire, the crickets, the stream, and the occasional rustling of some wild animal in the foliage surrounding us.
And for some stupid reason, I couldn't stop grinning. With all the exercise I'd gotten that day, the liquor was going straight to my head, making me feel very warm and more friendly than usual. I found myself giggling uncontrollably, right in the middle of a ghost story that you were telling. I knew it was supposed to be scary, but I couldn't help myself.
I tried to choke back my laughter, unsuccessfully, and ended up half-snorting instead. At the sound, you whipped your head around and gave me a stern look, which shut me up pretty quick. For a moment, I thought you might be mad that I'd ruined your story, but then you gave me a mischievous grin of your own.
Before I knew what you were doing, you had lifted me off the ground and thrown me over your shoulder. You started walking away from the fire. Jason was laughing. I sputtered and pounded on your back, but I was laughing too. I couldn't see where we were going, only the ground and the fire growing smaller in the distance.
Your hands, gripping my thighs to keep me in place, slid higher as you walked. In this position, thrown over your shoulder, my shorts were pulling and rubbing between my legs in sensitive spots, and I tried to wiggle to stop the sensation. I was getting wet between my legs, and it was a little embarrassing. Good thing we were in the middle of nowhere, and that my ass was pointed in the opposite direction of Jason and the fire.
You must've noticed my arousal, because the next thing I knew, you had slipped a finger underneath the crotch of my shorts and were tracing light circles over my bare pussy, dipping into my slippery wetness, rubbing my clit.
I let out a sharp, half-stifled cry and hissed your name under my breath. "What are you doing?" I whispered, even as I pressed myself back against your hand.
"Just having a little fun," you replied, right before lifting me off your shoulder and tossing me into the middle of the stream.
I screamed and cursed as I flew through the air, came up sputtering and soaked, my white T-shirt clinging to my breasts, which were bare beneath the shirt. When my head broke the surface, I couldn't see you anywhere, but your clothes were in a crumpled pile where we had been standing, and there was a ripple spreading out in the water from the spot where--I assumed--you had dived in.
I didn't know where you would turn up, so I swam to the side, toward the opposite bank of the stream, where my feet could touch the ground. I supposed it was a good thing I wasn't wearing shoes, because they would be soaked, but I wasn't looking forward to the walk back to the fire, since the ground around the campsite was slightly muddy and littered with small, pebbly rocks.
I didn't have much chance to think about anything else, though, because then I felt hands encircle my waist from behind, pulling me back into the deeper water, back under the surface. I had just enough time to take a deep breath before my head went under water. I couldn't see anything in the darkness, in the dark water, but I felt strong hands lifting my wet T-shirt up, over my head, then unbuttoning and pushing my shorts down my hips. When I was naked, I pushed away, giggling, and rose to the surface to take a breath, at the same time sidestroking, propelling myself back to the bank, where I could stand.
There was a splashing sound behind me, and hands, warm and rough, caught me from behind again. This time there was no stopping at my waist. You cupped my breasts with both hands possessively, dragging your thumbs back and forth across my hard nipples, teasing me, arousing me further. I could feel your cock at the small of my back, pulsing, twitching as I squirmed against you. You lifted me slightly, easy to do in the water, and your erection came to rest between my thighs, which were slippery from the water and the feminine juices that oozed from my pussy.
You paused then, strangely, as though awaiting permission. I didn't think much of it, at the time. Impatient and horny, I bent my knees slightly, pushed back against you, opened myself to you. The head of your cock slipped inside of me and I closed my eyes, sighed, savoring the feel of it, squirming more, sliding myself further and further down your hard shaft. You groaned, an unfamiliar sound, one I had never heard you make before. Finally, you took charge, firm hands gripping my hips and completely impaling me in one sure thrust.
"Fuck," you growled, through gritted teeth, in an even more unfamiliar voice. "You are so goddamn tight, baby."
My eyes flew open, suddenly realizing that something was not quite right. Alarmed, I tried to push away from you, turn around, but strong arms held me fast in a vicelike grip. I couldn't move. A foreign cock pulsed inside of me, seeming to grow bigger with the knowledge of my fear.
I heard a small splashing sound behind me, and then you swam into view, moved in close to me, took my hand. "She is, isn't she, Jason?" you said, while staring directly into my eyes.
I was confused at first, then angry, then intensely, irrationally aroused. The emotions flashed, surged through me so quickly that I couldn't respond. My body responded for me, when you put your hand between my legs, pinching my clit between a thumb and forefinger. I shuddered, my eyes rolling back into my head, temporarily unable to speak.
"Jesus, man, I think she's coming already," said the man I now knew to be Jason, his engorged pole still motionless inside of me. He swore under his breath, his fingers digging harder into my hips, impaling me even further, deeper on his cock. "I don't know how much of this I can take."
Still holding my clit prisoner in your hand, you dragged my mouth to yours and kissed me passionately. "You are so beautiful like this," you whispered softly in my ear. "I wanted to surprise you. I hope you enjoy it. Do you like Jason? Does he frighten you?"
I stared at you and nodded mutely, not knowing what to say to you with another man's cock inside of me. Not really even knowing which question I was nodding "yes" to.
You smiled and released me. "Good." Your eyes met Jason's over my head.
I felt Jason's hand move to grab me across my belly, and then he lifted my feet off the ground and started a gentle rocking motion with his hips – not enough motion to dislodge his cock from my pussy, just enough to start a maddening pressure building inside of me. No thrusting, just rocking.
I would have wondered if this whole thing hadn't been choreographed by the two of you ahead of time, but I could think straight with all the rocking going on. "That's right," I heard you say. "Just keep rocking her, just like that." Then your head disappeared under the water, and I felt your mouth, hot and insistent, at my breast. I moaned. Without taking your mouth from my breast, you started moving your hand between my legs. It was too much. Your thumbed rolled, flicked at my sensitized clit until I was coming all over Jason's cock, all the while screaming your name.
After my legs stopped thrashing around in the water, I felt myself being lifted off of Jason's body by your strong arms. You pulled me toward the stream bank, dropped me on my knees in the soft, wet mud near the shore.
Your cock was at eye level, so I took it into my mouth, licking and sucking the shaft, then cupping your balls, lapping at them until your fingers twisted in my hair and your hips started moving, fucking my mouth. As I worshipped your cock, I felt Jason, behind me again, push at my back until I was leaning forward enough for him to slip inside of me again. He fucked me from behind as I sucked you off, and it was magnificent.
To my delight, I discovered that Jason grew much more vocal--and vulgar--when excited. He cursed vehemently at me as he fucked my pussy, which only served to enflame me further. "Fucking slut, you love this, don't you?" he growled, as his balls slapped my clit. "You love it when I fuck you like a little whore?"
It didn't matter. I was too gone to reply, and frankly, I didn't care. Actually, I loved it. Though I was normally a very independent, feminist woman, in the ultimate throes of passion, I didn't care about being polite, politically correct, or about any damned gender equality issues. All I cared about was the feeling, the fantasy, the excitement. The intensity. The more, the better.