Temagami Camping At The Portage

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!"

When a beautiful naked woman invites you to get naked with her, there is only one reasonable response. I got out of my clothes as quickly as I could. I rinsed my pants as Andrea swam in the cool water. I finished, and wrung them out. I joined her after setting my pants on a large rock outcropping to dry. We swam and splashed for a few minutes.

"I'm getting out now." She announced. She climbed out on the rock, her firm ass winking at me, the muscles of her legs and back working as she climbed. She lay on her back, and let the water bead on her skin. Her large natural breasts pancaked slightly to the sides. Her nipples stood firm and high, advertising that she was cold. Or aroused. Or both.

I joined her on the rock, laying on my back next to her. She reached over and took my hand.

"Thanks, Babe."

"For what?" I asked.

"Most men I have known won't do this. They like to watch me naked, but they only get naked behind closed doors with the implied promise of sex. You accept my love of nudity and you take part. Besides, sometimes I like to watch, too."

"Sadly, I won't be able to do this very long. I'm a Ginger. I'll burn like a piece of birch bark. Especially little John." I said, covering my cock with my free hand.

"I have sunscreen! Do you want some? I brought it for you!"

Now that's considerate. Andrea never uses the stuff. She didn't wait for an answer. She got up and retrieved her day pack. She crouched down, displaying that magnificent ass. She took out a small container of sunscreen. She smiled and wiggled it in her hand as she came back. I was mesmerized.

"Ok, just relax. This won't hurt a bit."

She squirted a glob on my chest and rubbed it in. Her boobs shook gently as she rubbed my chest. Her hand made ever increasing circles, slowly approaching my cock.

"Now," she purred "we don't want this part to get burned, so I'm going to take my time." She squirted a puddle into one hand, and rubbed both hands together. She took my hardening cock in her hands, and began to massage the lotion into it. One hand rubbed the length of my shaft, while the other massaged my balls gently.

"Oops. Too much sunscreen. You'd better stand up so I can fix that."

It didn't seem like too much, but I stood anyways. She remained crouching, sitting on her heels, massaging my cock. She turned her back to me and slowly stood up, rubbing her ass along my legs until her ass was rubbing my cock. I heard her squeeze more sunscreen on to her hand. From the motion of her arms, she was rubbing it into her belly and full tits.

"Ok, turn around."

I did, moving a bit closer to the water. She hugged he from behind, rubbing her body into my back. She reached around, slowly but firmly rubbing my cock with one hand, and massaging my chest with her other. Her full boobs rubbed the stiffness out of my back and sent it to my cock. Her carefully groomed pussy hair dug into my ass as she rotated her hips. When she pinched one of my nipples I almost came right then.

To some, "weak in the knees" is an expression. Well, my knees gave way, just a little. Now, Andrea is a tall, strong woman, but simple physics says that her 150 pounds was no match for my 240 pounds. We toppled into the cool lake. She came up with a shriek, and then we both burst into laughter. My hard-on was gone, but the feeling of her hand on my cock, her tits rubbing my back and her pussy hair scrubbing my butt lingered.

"I guess the paddling Gods want us to get going." I said, swimming to shore.

"Does that mean I have to get dressed? In clothes? Again?" She pouted again.

"I tell you what, let's pack the boat first. I promise to look but not touch. Well, not too much. We'll take an early lunch, then we'll get dressed and go. We have about two hours paddling ahead of us. And then the last portage. Allowing time to pack, we should be off the water around 2 pm. How's that sound Babe?"

"Define 'not too much touching' for me?"

"Uh, well, I will be unable to not grope or perhaps pat your delightful ass, but that's all. Promise. Well, for now. All bets are off once we make camp and I get you in a tent."

"What about out of the tent?" She wagged her eyebrows in a very unsubtle manner. What a tease. "Its ok. I can live with that." She said, grabbing her day bag. We had the boat loaded surprisingly quickly. I was getting used to her and I being naked doing everyday things. She looked fantastic as always, but I was able to keep my promise. For now.

We had French bread, cheese and apples for lunch. We dressed, with some regret and headed out on to the long, narrow lake. After we left the portage we were alone. I had paddled the Temagami wilderness before without seeing another person for days on end. To top it off, this route wasn't even in the guide book. The outfitter had told me about it years ago, and it had quickly become my favourite. It was all "blue lake and rocky shore", tamarack, birch, cedar and white pine, blueberries and lots of fat stupid trout begging to become supper.

We reached the other side of the beautiful small lake in short order and found the portage easily. Andrea was navigating, and she took to it like a natural. She made some mistakes, and misread a flyspeck on the map as a rock she couldn't find, but she seemed to learn quickly. I had nicknamed the last portage "Too Short". It was only about 200 meters long and flat with a good trail. You just get into a nice rhythm and it's over. The real reward is Richardson Lake.

I don't know where the name came from. It's not on older maps. Maybe Richardson was the old timer at the outfitter. Either way, I owe him a big thanks.

We hugged the shore all the way down the lake. The campsite sign came into view just after 2pm. We beached the canoe by 2:30.

We had spent the previous week doing day trips and overnight trips from a Provincial Park. That allowed us to adjust to each other in the boat, and to establish routines. Once the boat was on shore, we split up. Andrea took the tent, and set up our bed. I took the food barrel, got our supper out, and took the sealed barrel a hundred meters or so into the bush. I hoisted the barrel into a tree, fifteen feet up and fifteen feet from a tree trunk. That should keep the bears out of our food.

By the time I got back to the shore, the tent was up, our self-inflating mattresses and sleeping bags were set out for the evening, and Andrea was naked. Her clothes were hung on a nearby tree to dry. I heard the locomotive sound of our lightweight stove chugging away. Andrea stood on the edge of a chunk of the Canadian Shield that dropped into twenty feet of water. Her back was to me, displaying her wonderful ass. She looked at me over her shoulder.

"I put the kettle on for tea, Babe. I'm going for a swim. Why don't you make the tea and then join me?"

So, what do you say to a naked lady? "Sounds good Babe." She made a perfect dive into the lake and surfaced as the kettle began to boil. I let it purify the water while I got the ingredients: Earl Grey tea, honey and a splash of dark rum. Tea time at the end of a day's paddling was a tradition from when I was a novice camper paddling civilized routes two hours south of where we were. The rum was a new addition.

I brought the tea to the water's edge. I watched her swim in smooth, effortless strokes. She flipped fifty meters out in the lake and started back. Just before she reached the shore, she flopped on to her back. As before her large tits pancaked a bit. The cool water hardened her nipples. Maybe it was something else.

"Tea's ready." I said. "It looks like you could use some. I take it the water is cold?"

"Cool. How did you know? Hey! Are you staring at my tits?"

"Well, yeah! They are damned fine! Remember, you introduced me to the idea of casual nudity what? Six days ago? You can't expose tits that nice, complete with hard nipples and not expect me to notice. Tea?"

She swam over as I took off my boots.

"Are you coming in?"

"Yes. After my tea." I took off my shirt and stood up so I could unbuckle my pants.

"Aw. Are you getting naked for me?"

"It would be rude to drink tea with a beautiful naked woman whist remaining fully clothed. It just isn't done my dear!" I replied in my best fake snooty British accent.

The sharp drop off made the water's edge like a pool. She dunked then surfaced, pushing herself out, arching her back, pushing out her beautiful tits. She was out of the water as I dropped my pants. I handed her the tea. We sat on the rock, her in the sun to want up, me in the shade to keep from burning.

We drank tea in silence, watching the sun glint on the water. She took my hand again, and turned to smile at me. She leaned in for a kiss. Just a quick peck on the lips. I felt it all the way to my toes.

"Thanks for bringing me here. This place is wonderful. Are we really all alone?"

"Oh yes. I've stayed here a dozen nights over the last few years, and I have never seen another paddler on this lake. Not even a fisherman, and this lake is loaded with speckled trout. It's raw, rough and beautiful. I mean, look at the portage over there." I said, pointing to the west where our boat lay. "I think I was the last one to use it two years ago. There's a nice lake at the other end, but this is an even more challenging mud portage than the last one we were on. Especially with all that rain last week. Remember paddling into Rabbit lake for that overnight in the downpour? There's a much easier portage to the east, but it still doesn't get used.

"This is as close to a perfect campsite as I have ever seen." Just to punctuate what I said, a loon called across the lake. I set my empty tea mug down and stood up.

"Are you joining me?" I offered my hand. She took it long enough to get up. She took three quick steps and made a graceful dive into the lake. I followed with a cannonball. We splashed and played for half an hour or so. All good things must come to an end. Once I had the knots worked out of my shoulders and back I said,