Paddling Temagami: Camping at the Portage
Author's Note:
Greetings fellow lover of erotic fiction. This is my Nude Day 2018 Contest entry. Please take time to enjoy all the entries. They're really pretty great.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental. The places in this story are fictitious. I have played with the Geography and Topography of Northeastern Ontario. Richardson Lake and Minnie Lake exist in different places, under other names. Don't look for them in Temagami. The portages are real, but I have combined a couple of them and put them in a different order. They don't lead to Richardson or Minnie Lakes. Even the road to the starting point is a mixture. Rideau University doesn't exist, at least not in Ontario.
This is a work of fantasy. Time is compressed. It would be best if you could suspend disbelief and just enjoy the nudity, the budding romance and the scenery. And the fucking. That's my favourite. (Perv).
Finally, in this story you find depictions of various sex acts between consenting adults, one of whom is a ginger (shock!), The other of whom is of mixed Chinese and Afro- Caribbean heritage. The sex is pretty vanilla, but remember: vanilla is a pretty great flavour. Sex includes: heterosexual intercourse, mutual masturbation, cunnilingus, fellatio, slightly dirty talk and a lot of casual nudity. It also has a flashback broadly describing a lesbian encounter and there's an implied lesbian orgy. Ok, I guess you, gentle pervert, would have to infer that nine naked athletic women alone together in the wilderness are going to, as we said in the seventies "get it on".
Oh yes: there's a Jeep, bouncing down a logging road. It's probably in four high. Everything in the vehicle is bouncing too. Did I mention the woman with the nice boobs? And, there are hiking boots. (A fetish is a fetish, and I say: live and let live.) I'd love to hear what you think, so please leave a comment. And, don't forget to vote!
In my mind, Northeastern Ontario has some of the most beautiful scenery in the world. Old growth pine forests, dotted with pristine lakes, connected by wild rivers ranging from calm and lazy to boiling whitewater. Andrea and I had spent the week exploring this vast wilderness, or at least a small piece of it.
I lay in the tent thinking about how we got here. A six hour drive from the city. A night at a fishing lodge. A two hour bash down logging roads in our Jeep to get to our put-in. The added bonus was being distracted by Andrea's bouncing boobs as the Jeep wobbled down the rutted road. She did that to placate me. As civilized as I like to think I am, Andrea has beautiful breasts, and she knows I'm just a man at the end of the day. She also wore cutoff Daisy Dukes. Now I like tight short shorts. Especially when the ass in them is as nice as Andrea's. And those muscular, mocha coloured legs? Wow! But, heavy wet denim dries poorly in the back country. I all but begged her to wear the new quick dry pants, shirt and t-shirt I got her. She wore the new Marino wool socks and her old hiking boots, but also the cutoffs and a tank with a hoodie.
I grumbled.
We arrived at the put in, and I parked the Jeep.
"This is it! Let's go!"
"Oh, we're in the back country now?"
"This is it. The pristine Boreal forest."
"Ok. Time to get ready then."
"What?"
I no sooner had the words out, when she peeled off the hoodie. She opened the back door and placed the hoodie on the seat. "That's polar fleece. I'm taking it." With that, she peeled off her tank, exposing her beautiful breasts to the sunshine. She tossed the tank into a nylon bag.
"Cotton. Ick! I'm leaving that." She smiled mischievously and shuddered, shaking her boobs. "The shorts have to go too." She unzipped slowly and removed her cutoffs, wagging her hips as she went. She'd obviously tried this, because she was able to step out of them with her boots on. The cutoffs went in the bag. She stood before me, beaming in her boots and a red lace thong. She arched her back and stretched.
"Oh! I almost forgot these!" She hooked her thumbs in the sides of the thong, and stepped out of it as well. Her well-trimmed triangular patch was the same shape as her thong. She put the thong in the bag, and then carefully placed the bag on the other side of the car, giving me a great show of her ass as she did. She stood up, still smiling. The morning sun glinted off the beads of sweat that covered her body like dew.
"Ta da!" She announced.
"Nice." I said "You're not planning on paddling like that, are you?"
"Why not?"
"I have enough trouble navigating with your clothed ass in front of me. Besides, we wouldn't make any distance if I have to stop every hundred yards to ravage you. And, the PFD will give you odd tan lines."
In reality her skin was a uniform light brown, a gift from her parents. Her beauty was easily explained when I met her Trinidadian mother and Chinese-Jamaican father. They were an attractive, athletic couple. Andrea was very tall; in heels she was about the same height as me, six feet. She had broad shoulders and a powerful back built in the gym for competitive swimming and volleyball. She had a flat stomach with a hint of abs. Her long legs were muscular, and her ass showed the results of hundreds of squats each week. Her boobs were large but not excessively so, and obviously very real.
"Besides, once we exit this secluded bay," I continued, "we're on a busy cottage lake. I don't like sharing the view."
She giggled, and reached back into the car for another bag.
"Ok, but remember that clothes were your idea. Look." She showed me the contents of the bag. "You should have known that I would never wear jeans in the back country. I was a park ranger for three summers, remember? So here we go: polyester undies and matching sports bra that will double as a bathing suit if necessary. Polyester t-shirt, quick dry zip off pants and a long sleeve shirt. Shall I get dressed John? John? JOHN!"
"Sorry, naked women are distracting in general, you in particular. Yes, the sun's up, we need to make some distance. We have three portages today." She pouted a bit, and set the clothes bag on the roof of the Jeep. She opened the back and took out our day bag.
"I'll get dressed in a sec. It's hot this morning. I don't want to sweat through before we even leave."
She had a point. After a week of cool rain it had turned unseasonably warm for mid-August. The previous cool weather meant it was mercifully mosquito-free here. The rain and heat meant they'd be back soon.
"Ok, but we should get moving."
We took the canoe off the roof of the Jeep and put it in the water at the small beach by the road. I began to load the bags. Andrea appeared with the food barrel and our paddles. The boat was packed fairly quickly, considering that I was handicapped by a beautiful naked woman, bending an stretching before me. Well almost naked; she was wearing her hiking boots. Don't ask me to explain, but I found the look very sexy. Hey don't judge me. Some men like four inch spikes, some get off on flip flops or Chuck's or bare feet. I like fine leather and Gortex with Vibram soles.
"Ok Babe, get 'em on. I can't concentrate."
That produced a broad smile. "I promise you'll get used to being naked." she answered.
"I'm sure you'd always be a distraction. I did say I'd try this weekend. But now, alas, we have to go."
She dressed. Somehow, getting dressed was even more arousing than getting undressed. She buttoned her long sleeve shirt over the sports bra, tied her hair in a ponytail and put on her ball cap. She packed the t-shirt in the day bag.
"Ready Captain" she said with a mocking salute.
Then we were on the water. I focused on the rhythm of the paddle strokes. "Point. Pull. Punch. Pry. Recover" went the mantra at Summer Camp. A hundred paddle strokes and the put-in was a blur. Five hundred and it was a memory.
On the first lake we dodged speeding watercraft after we left the quiet bay where we put in. We crossed the lake fairly quickly considering the traffic. The first portage was short and steep, taking us from one watershed into another. An old timer at the outfitter told me the portages were ancient when Samuel d'Champlain used them five hundred years ago. My modern Italian hiking boots stepped in the footprints of Algonquin and Anishanabe travelers from millennia ago.
On the second lake we shared the water with a pair of small fishing boats and a weekend sailor in an ancient red Laser.
The second portage was flat, but muddy and long with a poor put in at the far end, with lots of rocks near the shore. The trail actually forked left around the deepest mud. I know that because I lead us down the right. It had never been this muddy before. We were pretty well covered by the time we were almost through, when Andrea stumbled and fell. She managed to keep her face out of the mud, but other than that she was on her front, mud to the shoulders. I put down the boat and helped her up. With the pack on her back she was having trouble getting up.
"Give me the pack" I said. I tugged on it as she unclipped the chest strap. It came free all of a sudden. I fell backwards into the mud.
We both burst into laughter. We got out of the mud and finished the fifty or so meters to the put in. We set our loads down, turned and headed back for the day pack and food barrel. We took the left path for the second trip.
"I'm filthy!" Andrea sounded truly upset, which surprised me. She never seemed like a "girly girl" to me. I was about to say something, when she said, "Oh well. There's a million liters of the universal solvent right there!" She began to take off her clothes and rinse them in the lake.
Technically, she didn't have to wash her underwear / bikini, but she stripped out of that too.
"Come on Ted. You're pretty filthy too. Get them off!"
