My wife and I are avid outdoor people. We both like to hike and often squeeze in a bit of backpacking when vacationing or just making the most of a long weekend. We married fresh out of college and have been going strong for several years now. Both of us turned 28 recently. She was my first serious girlfriend, and I was her first boyfriend. That's not to imply that we were a couple of super religious prudes who remained innocent virgins until our wedding night. We've been having sex regularly since we were 18. 69ing was a favorite for us. That's how her hymen ended up broken by 16. When you're young, messing around with a girl behind her families back can feel invigorating. By the time our honeymoon rolled around however, it was relief knowing the days of sneaking and keeping our relationship low-key were over.
Judy, my wife, is the shining light of my life. I am not such a bad looking guy, but I marvel every day how a pretty woman like her settled for me. She is not drop dead gorgeous, but she is certainly a catch. Her tall, slim hourglass frame, shapely legs, and tight, perky ass begging for a spanking does not go unnoticed by other men. Back in school, many guys would gawk jealously at the protruding C-cup breasts sitting high on her chest. Her sensitive nipples are always quick to stiffen in arousal meaning she can never go out in public without a bra. A wildly sexy mane of dark brown hair cascades over her gym-honed shoulders and slender arms. She normally keeps it combed down or tied back with a scrunchie. Her elegant neck, oval face and unblemished skin only accentuate her youth and femininity. Despite her girlish physique, she is a spitfire of energy and high endurance. Not many people her size could carry the heavy loads we haul when backpacking.
When Judy is in a feisty mood, she can get the attention of any guy she sets her mind to. She draws her prey in with a coy smile or cute giggle to provoke conversation. Then, her dark, blue eyes play double duty, glistening with warmth and flirting promises of desire. Those nights, in the clubs partying, we rarely wear our rings because teasing the hell out of a desperate guy or two is fun. Luckily, I'm not the jealous type. She never gave me a reason to be. She'd received all kinds of proposals from riled up horny dudes, and many times when we come home, she has some poor, hopeful guy's phone number jotted on a piece of paper or napkin, stuck inside her bra. I asked her why she does not put the notes in her handbag or pocket, and she explained she just loves the look on the guys' faces when they see her stick their phone number in her bra.
Judy isn't the only one having fun. Sometimes I go after some hot looking girl, and my wife gives me all the space I need. We've discussed taking it further than just teasing, for each of us to have an affair, but truthfully, we get everything we want and need from each other.
I work for a communications company focused mainly on high volume data transmission using fiber connections or radio links depending on the area. One autumn, my boss inquired if I would be willing to travel up north for an assignment in Canada. It was common knowledge I liked hiking, and the company needed someone to do onsite inventory of the most northern relay stations we had in our network. It was late in the season and winter was just around the corner, but it was imperative to complete the survey before the year was over. The full job would take between seven to ten days, and the trek seemed tough, but nothing I couldn't handle... Especially when I heard the bonus they were offering.
I shouldn't have been surprised that Judy was psyched at the idea of a trip. She's an adrenaline junkie after all, and my boss didn't have a problem with her tagging along since the company had also enlisted an experienced guide to look out for our safety. Two days later, we were packed and on a plane to a northern, isolated stretch of Canada. The only concern was time. I needed to chart the area before the winter weather took hold.
Everything was prepared for us including extra reserve gear. With the average temperature dropping daily, we needed protection for the worst-case scenario. A Cessna plane flew us further up north to a remote town. From there, the first relay station was a few miles away by helicopter. That's where we met our guide.
He looked to have just stepped out of an old Bollywood movie. His face was weathered and gave the impression he had lived outdoors all his life, which was probably true. He looked to be anywhere between thirty and fifty years old and had an aura of strength and durability reminiscent of the very mountains surrounding us. His black hair and dark skin were dominant traits passed down from generations of Indian and Inuit natives. He fixed us with a piercing stare and addressed us in French before switching to English when he saw our faces strain with confusion.
His name was Kevah, and he told us in a rich, deep voice he was there to see us safely through the mountains. We made our introductions. His eyes widened when he got a good look at Judy, but he did not make any comments. We followed him inside the station with our supplies. Kevah's eyes lingered on my wife as she took off her thick coat and draped it over a chair. Her tight-fitting sports shirt and leggings stuck to her sweaty body like a second skin.
We spent the night in the cramped station. While eating dinner, Kevah informed us that we needed to remain vigilant to stay on schedule. He could feel in the air that winter was coming soon. We slept on the floor, Judy and I squeezed next to each other on one side of the room, Kevah on the other. He was discrete, but I noticed him checking Judy out when she bent over to unroll our sleeping bag.
We were up before sunrise, ready to take advantage of the day. Kevah asked to see our backpacks as he wanted to take stock of what we were taking. It felt a bit unnecessary, but he insisted that he needed to know everything the three of us would be carrying into the wilderness since our lives could depend on it. He spoke authoritatively, repeating that he was the only one with local experience and expertise, and that as the guide, it was a must for him to do a check before we left. I held my tongue and let him carefully empty our backpacks. It was obvious we were not beginners based on our gear. That said, as he took stock, there were a few items he grumbled about being inferior quality. This examination process was clearly very important to him.
He made a small pile of our items and compared them with things in his own backpack that were in better quality. Some of the items he replaced, giving us the better pick, which was gracious. He even promised to send the lesser things back home. I was struck with how grave and serious his expression was. He warned that we had to rely on the things in front of us. There was no way of getting outside help if something went wrong.
He repacked our bags, asking Judy pointedly if she was capable of carrying her part of the load. He stared at her sternly when she nodded, mentally measuring her strength and fortitude. He was just as careful putting our things away as he had been taking them out. It felt less wrong, but I did not wholeheartedly approve how he examined my wife's lingerie. The way he focused on it, I couldn't help but suspect he was visualizing how she would look wearing it.