Last Summer my husband and I joined three other couples on a canoe trip into Algonquin Park in Canada. The guys are a close-knit group of old school pals more like brothers than friends. The girls didn't know each other nearly as well and were tossed into the mix because we just happen to be their wives. We all got along well but were not nearly as familiar with one another as the 'amigos'.
My husband Rob had been on the phone for months plotting the trip with his pals. When the detailed plans were being made there seemed to be a lot of hushed discussion that didn't include the wives and I think we all just put it down to the male 'pack' mentality and accepted that we were along for the ride. We were all just glad to be included on a break away from work and an adventure far away from the heat of the city.
The actual trip into the park was beautiful. Gorgeous scenery, fresh clean water and air you could safely breathe. For three days we ate and drank and fished without seeing another living soul.
One night around the campfire when the wine was flowing, the talk turned to a game called Stake Out. The object of the exercise was to find and free a hostage being held prisoner in the woods. The boys sounded like they had played the game before and it sounded like fun. We were all game to try and It was agreed that the girls would be the captives and the guys the trackers. Whichever of them retrieved the most hostages would be declared the winner.
In the morning the men slipped out of camp one at a time each with his own spouse. When they returned, all four wives were hidden in the woods. Rob had a lot of experience in the bush and I followed him dutifully through the pines and over giant rocks until we came to a small clearing near a stream. The ground was soft and warm from the summer heat. He spread our blanket and told me to lie down. That's when I realized why they call it Stake Out. He tied my hands and feet to stakes set at the corners. From somewhere in his pack he pulled out a blindfold and tied it securely over my eyes. I didn't want to be a poor sport and ruin the game, but I was feeling apprehensive about being left alone and unprotected. I pleaded with him to at least take off the blindfold. When there was no answer, I knew that he was already gone.
It was probably not more than twenty minutes, although it seemed much longer, before I heard a twig snap nearby.
'Rob? Is that you Rob?' I called out.
He didn't answer, but I was sure it was him. Relief that he was back washed over me like a soothing balm. He was playing one of his tricks by not answering. When I felt his hand on my breast I giggled and teased him. The buttons on my blouse gave way one at a time. I laughed and pleaded with him to stop and let me up. Sunlight warmed my bare breasts and belly and I could feel my nipples harden with his touch.
'Don't be such a prick,' I chided good naturedly. Untie me and I'll fuck your brains out if that's what you want.'
Still he wouldn't answer. His fingers played at the sides of my breasts making them jiggle and wobble as if he'd never seen them before. It felt strange when he sucked them, like it had the first time a boy ever really felt me up. His teeth captured each tender button, stretching it out with little nips and bites. I'd never felt his teeth on my nipples before. With my arms tied back, they felt so unprotected. It made me squirm and whimper with apprehension, though it didn't hurt at all.
A single dome held the waistband of my denim shorts and the zipper front made them easy to open. He did it so slowly, I found myself holding my breath. His hand found my panties. A pause to check my flat belly was only long enough to let me anticipate what was surely next. I had no doubt that he was going to fuck me right there while I was tied up. There was nothing I could do about it, and the thought sent waves of expectation through my belly. The man I loved was going to have his way with me, and it made me feel wonderfully vulnerable to have no choice in the matter.
The shorts wouldn't come down with my legs so wide apart so he untied one ankle momentarily while he dragged them off of me. Rob had seen me out of my clothes a zillion times, but this time I felt more exposed than ever before. I thought of the way I must look to him, spread-eagled and naked except for my skimpy underpants. My wetness had seeped through, soaking the crotch. I felt like such a slut for letting my hunger for him be so obvious. I expected him to kid me, the way he always did, about having such a wet cunt. But he didn't.