Three Holes Gorge

I met Travis at a farmers market, of all places. He was much different from anyone I'd dated since moving to the city. He wore a knit cap, rode a bike, had a beard, and worked at a vegetable co-op; in short, almost the complete opposite of my button-down, professional lifestyle. He loved reflecting on the unfortunate nature of city life, and how we should all be more "in tune" with the natural world around us (of course, he meant nature as in mountains and elk, not the "nature" as in rats and roaches on the subway). Sometimes I got the feeling that the only reason he lived in the city in the first place was so that he could tell everyone how much better things were in the country.

Honestly, I never really understood what my attraction to him was. Maybe it was that I met him on Earth Day and I was feeling guilty about the ecological toll of my penchant for long showers and take-out food that came in Styrofoam packaging. Regardless, I blinked and suddenly we had been dating for ten months, and I was arranging a special nature treat for our approaching year anniversary. I'd found an awesome sounding deal on a guided day-long raft trip on a river in the foothills of the Rockies specially designed for couples, so I snapped up airfare, rental car, a (hopefully not too seedy) motel room as close to the launch point as possible, and of course two spots on a private raft. It was an intriguing enough opportunity that even I, City Mouse Herself, was excited for it.

And so it came to be that six and a half weeks later, I found myself the sole owner of a vacation for two in BFN, Wyoming after Travis broke things off ten days before our trip. He said he needed to find someone whose "spirit more closely intertwined with his like the vines of a..." I hung up before he had a chance to finish his dipshit thought. I scrambled to find a friend or – perish the thought – coworker to share my trip, but found no takers. I was heading to Wyoming for a vacation, Han Style.

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My alarm blared in the darkness of the strange motel room and I swore as I stumbled to locate and silence my phone. It was 5:30 and the isolated raft company was over an hour from the tiny town where I'd spent the night, so I needed to get an early start to meet my (originally 'our') guide for the trip.

I switched on the bedside reading lamp and rose from the bed, shielding my sleep-caked eyes from the yellow bulb's assault but was urged on by the allure of a hot shower. "Why am I showering before going to sit in silt and muck all day?" I muttered, but shook my head, thinking of the prospect to get some sun and fresh air, and the opportunity to try something new. I hadn't been to the mountains before, and though they'd been obscured by low clouds yesterday on my drive from the airport, all I had heard of them sounded breathtaking.

"That John Denver's full of shit, man!" I chuckled aloud to myself as I walked towards the bathroom, pulling the thin grey t-shirt I'd slept in over my head and letting it drop to the floor behind me, my full D cup breasts perking up with enjoyment at the taste of cool, fresh air. I was usually neat and organized, and would have hated the idea of dirty clothes on the floor in my own apartment. However, even though I was alone, the idea of my clothes tossed carelessly away on a cheap motel room floor gave me a feeling of naughty anticipation in the pit of my stomach. I added to that rush with a smirk as I slid the cotton thong down my hips to my ankles, stepped out of them with my left foot, and – looping the garment around my right foot – kicked them into the air, where they came to rest draped on the rim of the lamp on the dresser. The love scene was half complete.

I turned away from my manufactured scene of passion and stepped into the bathroom. Flipping the switch, I squinted my eyes against the harsh fluorescent lighting and breathed my silent gratitude for the efforts of the motel cleaning staff. The same could be said for the motel itself. For an establishment whose front was graced with a flickering sign advertising "F_EE CABL_", my room was spotless and quiet. As I bent over and turned the knob of the faucet I admitted to myself that I really didn't have any complaints about this trip so fa– YEOW! The water was ice cold! I recalled the manager's warning at check-in that their water heater sometimes took a bit to get going in the morning.

Thankfully, after only a moment the heater caught up to the water and I stepped into the lukewarm stream with only a modicum of discomfort. I turned my back, and felt the steadily heating water pulse against my back and shoulders, easing the tension of a long flight and a longer month. I just needed to get out of the city, if even for a few days; that realization might have been the only thing for which I might be grateful to Travis. I took the miniature bar of soap and worked it into a froth between my hands, then lathered my flat stomach, round breasts, neck, shoulders, and arms, followed by my hips and legs before working my hands back up the insides of my thighs. I missed the touch of a man – any man – such that even a warm water washing drove me within a hair's breadth of climax. My mind returned to my early appointment and unclear directions, which caused me to curtail my self-engagement, and I shut off the water.

Stepping out of the shower, I wrapped one of the small hotel towels around my midsection and set to work on drying my hair with another. My red hair was longer than I thought it should be, reaching below my shoulders and dripping small rivulets of water that ran down the deep crevice between my large towel-clad breasts. I gave my body one last run over with the towel, and let it fall to the floor in front of my open suitcase.

Reaching into my bag, I pulled out half of my bathing suit and stepped into the pink and white bottoms, pulling them up my legs until the side-tied waist rested just below my hips. I grabbed the top, which consisted of two triangular patches with wide lateral pink and white stripes, connected by strings that tied behind my neck and at the back. I slid the pre-tied neck straps over my head, then reached behind my back - double-knotting the string to prevent a "garment malfunction" mid-river - and arranged the triangular patches on my front. Even after careful adjustment, the suit left a large inner portion of each breast uncovered. With the nautical striped theme of the bathing suit, my chest took on the appearance of two full, billowing sails.

"I'll certainly get plenty of sun," I said to the reflection, "and I might even give some crotchety old guide a little bit of a thrill." I bit my lower lip and surprised myself with the kick I got from the thought of some bumpkin thinking of me later that night while whipping his wire. Admiring myself in the mirror, I tugged the triangles slightly further apart, widening the patch of bare skin of my generous chest.

I completed my outfit with cut-off jean shorts, a tight, thin white t-shirt adorned with an image of Mighty Mouse (distorted by my breasts), and a pair of ankle-high canvas sneakers. I looked in the mirror; I looked pretty damn good for someone who was about to spend their day slogging around a creek. Looking at my drugstore wristwatch, I saw I was dangerously close to being late. I threw my "purse" – a waterproof backpack containing my raft reservation, driver's license, cash, a credit card, my cell phone, a towel, a disposable camera, a spare t-shirt, and sunblock (redheads learn their lessons about the sun) – over my shoulder and headed for the door. On the way out of the motel, I grabbed a cup of coffee and a donut. "I'm on vacation." I reassured myself, thinking of all those yoga classes as I walked to the car.

The drive was as uneventful as the view was spectacular. The three day rain storm had finally cleared, giving me a full view of the majestic peaks in the distance. I could have complained about the lack of a decent radio station, but I was too absorbed in the scenery. Maybe that idiot had been right; maybe there was something to be said for the country. Then I turned my car into the parking lot of the tour company and my jaw nearly dropped...

There, standing before me was possibly the most gorgeous man I had ever seen. He stood well over six feet tall, with chiseled, sinewy muscles framed in black skin that reflected the sun just as it broke through the clouds. I struggled to remember which foot operated the brake or gas, barely avoiding killing the Adonis who stood in front of me.

"Hellllloo! You must be our appointment! Nice driving!" he chuckled, while I parked and blushed – super blushed, nuclear blushed - at the combination of my bad driving and talking to such a striking man. "Welcome to Three Holes Gorge! I'm Victor, and I'll be one of your guides today!"

I managed to get out of the car without further embarrassing myself and introduced myself. "I'm Sarah and I have a reservation with you guys." I managed to stammer as I reached into my bag.

"Uh huh, says you have a fully paid river trip reserved, but this says you had a reservation for two." Victor said, looking over my receipt.

"Yeah... things... changed." I said, frowning and lowering my gaze, though I noted that he smiled as he responded.

"That's cool, Sarah, but we have a minimum of four people for a raft. At least two guests and two guides, so we need at least four for your reserved trip."

"I'm sorry," I stammered "I tried to find someone to take the other spot, but it was real short notice."

"I'm sure it'll be ok. You have me and Derek, who was the other guide for your scheduled trip. Let me see if I can find a third guide for you. You don't want to end up on the river with some random person, do you, Sarah?" He smiled as he turned to call over his shoulder.

"Oh, yeah, that sounds better, I guess." I felt strange hogging three guides, but if the company could spare them, it was better than some random jerk sidling up next to me for hours on a raft.

Two guys emerged from the small cabin that was the company's business office. They introduced themselves to me as Derek, who was about six feet tall and well built, and Shawn, who was at least six foot four but slighter than the other two.

It was time to leave, and the collected guests and guides moved to an awaiting van: me with my trio of escorts, as well as a family of two parents and a daughter in her late teens, with their pair of nearly forty year old guides. The daughter shot me a number of dirty looks during the lengthy ride from the company grounds to the raft launch site, likely wishing we could switch parties.

Because of the river's bends, what was a two hour drive by van from the company headquarters to our launching point would take about six hours to navigate by raft. The drive in these early morning hours gave me a chance to get to know Derek, Shawn, and Victor, who were graduates last year from the university and all former football teammates while there. It also gave me the chance to try to meet Jim, Liz, and Jessica, the family taking the same trip that I was; who had convinced themselves that I was a whore... mostly Jessica, the daughter. Regardless, I made the most of conversation, discussing life in the city and the boys' marketing majors, promising that they could contact me for leads on jobs when I got home.

We arrived at the landing point, and decamped from the van. The other party took the first raft, their guides shooting daggers at my chaperons as I casually stretched my arms behind my back – arching my shoulders and pushing my swimsuit-restrained breasts until they nearly popped through the poor comic book mouse on my t-shirt. For certain, everyone could see the pattern of my swimsuit through my shirt. Jessica gave me another bitter sneer before self-consciously glancing at her own small chest and sulking off to her raft.

"Sarah. We have the raft ready to go over here." Victor was calling the edge of the water. Farther out in the current, the family's raft was taking off downstream. The river was swollen and fast after a couple days of heavy rains. The waters were rougher and muddier than I would have liked, and I hesitated as I approached the edge.

"Is Mighty Mouse afraid of the strong brown flow, girl?" Shawn smiled at me and winked. "Don't worry, we know what we're doing... except Derek, anyway." He laughed and I shrugged as I grabbed my bag from the van and jogged across the clearing to the edge of the water. I could feel my chest bouncing as I trotted, and I was certain everyone else noticed, as I reached the river line to a row of smiles. The sky was still mostly cloudy, but the washout of the storm would be past us soon. Regardless, I had three able guides with me who knew the river and who all seemed well equipped to handle any situation that might arise.

As I looked over the raft, I saw there were four paddle positions and raised an eyebrow at the three guides. They made it clear that since the stretch of river was all calm-water, we would not need all of us to man the oars. That fit right in with my plan to soak in some sun... and nature. Looking over the raft, it had a middle section that would comfortably accommodate a short person reclining, while providing plenty of space to the rest of the raft occupants to paddle.

I tossed my bag to Shawn, who secured it next to two other packages at the side of the raft while Derek took my small hand and helped me aboard. Once I was seated in the middle of the raft, Victor and he pushed off from the shore, and we were off on my first ever nautical adventure! After we were away from shore and around the bend into the current, the sun almost instantly broke through the last of the clouds, framing the river in rows of beautiful young spring foliage with a background of snowcapped mountains. It was breathtaking, and I retrieved the camera from my bag to grab some pictures of the scenery.

Derek gestured to the other group's raft, mock-pointing out to me that all members of their party were paddling to counter the river's steady current. I responded in jest, asking if the three boys needed as much help as the other raft's aging guides. As a group, we decided to slow our pace for a while to allow a wider gap between the boats. "That way we can have some real fun!" Victor said, smiling to the others and winking at me. The three guys created drag with their paddles and slowed our progress for the next twenty minutes until the other raft was out of sight. We were alone on the river, hours from anything.

"Should we share with our guest what we mean by 'real fun'?" Derek looked to his friends deviously. I raised a nervous eyebrow as I waited for their explanation, wondering what they could have in mind. Derek reached into what I thought was a first aid kid and pulled out three bottles of fruit wine.

"As long as we're away from prying eyes... and so long as no one tattles on us." Derek said with a wink.

"Well, you can always buy my silence," I said, taking a bottle of blackberry zinfandel from him and unscrewing the top. "Are we sure this is gonna enough?" I stuck out my tongue at the boys, and placed the bottle to my lips, taking a healthy swig. I passed the first bottle on, but was immediately handed another; the guys made certain I always had one in my hand.

We went on like that for a while; just the four of us drifting on the river casually sipping wine, miles from anyone or anything. The breathtaking landscape and the beautiful weather combined with the enjoyable travel companions and the wine to lull me into a soft, relaxed state as I reclined in the middle of the raft. I felt the mid-morning sun shine down on my face, and after some consideration (and several belts of wine), I decided it was time to take off my shirt and let the sun warm my whole body. As I relieved poor exhausted Mighty Mouse of his duties and lifted the shirt over my head, all talk and rowing on the raft stopped. I raised an eyebrow at Shawn – who had turned almost all the way around from his position at the front of the raft to look – and he briefly made eye contact before resettling his focus on my chest.

"Hey! Guys! You wanna focus on the river?!" I mockingly protested as I reached above my head to gather my hair in a ponytail – my breasts rising with my arms and drawing even more attention. I smiled coyly while unbuttoning my jean shorts and rolling the waist down to the top of my bikini bottom, and reclined in the middle of the raft, letting my pale skin soak in the hot sun as my breasts settled only slightly as I took another sip of wine. The raft reached an area of small rapids, and the boys refocused to successfully navigate.

As I lay in the sun, I felt heat building in my face and shoulders and, looking down, I saw the pale skin of my stomach and breasts already beginning to redden. I reached across the raft to my bag and pulled out my tube of sunscreen. I squeezed a small amount into my hand and rubbed the cream into my cheeks, forehead, and nose. I dispensed a second dose and spread it down my arms and shoulders. As I began to pour a third dollop into my hand, I reconsidered the setting and the attention the boys had already given me and instead poured the lotion directly onto my body; first in a line up the middle of my stomach, then in two horizontal lines across the tops of my breasts. As I worked the cream into my skin, conversation on the raft again abruptly stopped and I smiled to myself as I rubbed the last white remnants into my flesh.

"Can anyone help me get my back?" I asked, unprepared for the violence that would ensue, as Victor nearly shoved Derek off the raft to grab the tube from my hand. I smirked at the other two, and rolled onto my stomach to allow Victor to access my back. I could tell he was nervous, as he hesitatively straddled my legs and fumbled with the container, then let fly with a massive glut of lotion across my lower back.

"Victor! Already?!" I teased, which served only to deepen his embarrassment. From behind me, I felt him shifting to avoid impacting my ass and legs with what I gathered was a growing erection. 'Maybe he's already hard,' I thought to myself. 'Maybe he'll jerk off to me later tonight...' That thought made my stomach jump and sent a chill through my body, starting in my shoulders and settling in the pit of my stomach, seeming to slowly seep like a set of warming fingers inching into my pussy.

"Would it help if I removed my shorts?" I asked, as I arched my hips up from the raft and began sliding the denim down my legs. As my shorts passed beyond my ass, I felt Victor's engorged member make contact with my rear - despite his best efforts – but I didn't protest as he helped me slide the garment the rest of the way off my body.

Victor worked his strong hands over my back, pushing the excess of lotion into my skin. His tough hands massaged the liniment into my back and shoulders, adding to my euphoria as I continued to sip at the bottle of wine. A few times, his fingers strayed further down my back to the upper edges of my butt, or farther along my ribs to the bottom of my breasts than was necessary for protection against the sun, but it was a good massage and I was willing to make allowances.

"Mmmmm... this feels soooooo good." I purred, arching my back with pleasure.

"Coming up, we've got a pretty good beach for swimming, if you're interested." Shawn interjected, and I spun my head around enthusiastically.

"I would love to go swimming! ...I mean, if everyone else wants to..." I looked around at the others, and Derek and Victor were both nodding enthusiastically as our raft steered towards an open, sandy beach.

The raft ground to a halt on the shore and we disembarked as a group. The guys knew the river well, and had picked an ideal spot, with beautiful views of the surrounding mountains across the clear water – the river having passed on the muddy runoff of the storm during the course of the day. I packed my shorts and shirt into my bag and fetched my towel. I turned to see the guys had spread a blanket on the sandy beach and were lounging, intently taking in their view of the towering peaks – as well as the snow-capped mountains across the river.