"The Bigger They Are, The Harder They Fall"
Carrie was definitely going to regret missing this trip, Sheryl thought with a grin as she introduced herself to the group. Eight campers, counting Sheryl and the guide, and Bill, Ed, Frank, and George were all single guys. Only one other woman, and she was married to Dan, the last guy...and flat as a board to boot. Sheryl liked those odds.
"And I'm Joe," the guide finished as the round of introductions concluded. "I'll be making sure you don't fall off of anything steep, run into anything sharp, or use poison ivy for toilet paper." That got a chuckle. A knowing one in a few cases, judging by the expression on Bill and George's faces. "Keep in mind, this is going to be real camping. No room service, no iPhones, and no going back to the lodge at night. We will all take our turns cooking and cleaning-don't think that the women are going to be doing it every day."
Sheryl laughed, but Meghan, sitting next to her husband Dan and holding his arm like he was about to float away, just narrowed her dark brown eyes and shot her a look of pure disdain. Sheryl shrugged it off-ever since she hit puberty, there were always a few women who glared at her like that. Call it the downside of a 34F visit from the Boob Fairy. Sheryl had learned long ago not to let anybody else's jealousy get to her. She fixed her baby blues back on Meghan and gave her a mock-innocent smile in return.
"Alright, people, let's grab our gear and get on the move," Joe said, completely oblivious to any developing tension. "Tonight's campsite is about a five-hour walk if we set a good pace. I'd like to be able to pitch tents in daylight, and I'm sure you would too." There were a few more scattered chuckles as everyone hefted their backpacks and followed Joe onto the hiking trail.
Sheryl had kind of hoped for the opportunity to do a little chit-chatting with the boys, but Joe wasn't kidding when he said he wanted to set a good pace. Within minutes, Sheryl was saving all her breath for breathing. The sun was beating down pretty hard, too-Sheryl could feel her blonde hair sticking to her forehead, and her sports bra was damp with perspiration. Her only consolation was that nobody else looked much better.
Two hours later, they finally stopped for a rest break. Sheryl took a cue from Joe and the other campers and doffed her backpack and flopped out under a tree, trying to massage some of the soreness out of her shoulders, while Ed opened up his canteen and poured water onto his head in a way that Sheryl would really appreciate under most other circumstances. Meghan just stood there for a long moment with her short dark hair plastered to her skull, sucking wind while her husband held her hand-she looked like she was in great shape, but it had to suck being a full six inches shorter than most of the other campers including Sheryl. She practically had to march double time. Sheryl was almost ready to feel sorry for her when their eyes met and she got another dose of that 'what's on my shoe' stare.
Bill sat down next to her, still breathing hard. "Remind me why I didn't go on a cruise?" he said, an exhausted smile crossing his face.
Sheryl put thoughts of Meghan out of her head as she smiled back. "If it's the same reason as me, you got talked into it by a friend who came down with chicken pox two nights before the trip."
Bill laughed, and the two of them spent a pleasant few minutes chatting before the hike resumed. That night, he offered to help Sheryl pitch her tent, but before she had the chance to accept, Frank jumped in to offer his years of experience with just this particular model. Within minutes, all of the guys were practically fighting over who would be the one to help-even Dan looked like he was about to say something before Meghan possessively grabbed his knee.
In the end, Sheryl turned them all down and put the tent up herself. It was easier than having to deal with one of the boys getting the idea that they'd staked some sort of claim on her. Some men got ideas about women with bodies like hers, and Sheryl was determined to play the field for at least a little while.
After everyone had set up camp, they drew straws for who was going to cook dinner tonight and who was going to make breakfast tomorrow. Ed and George drew the short straws for the evening meal, and Sheryl pulled the first short straw for breakfast. She felt a twinge of anxiety when Meghan drew her straw-she'd just as soon minimize her contact with Meghan as long as the other woman was convinced that she was some sort of man-stealing succubus-but luckily she got one of the long ones. That was bound to keep things a bit calmer in camp.
Then Dan drew the other short straw. Sheryl could tell from the look on Meghan's face that 'calm' had just gone for a long walk all its own. And probably gotten lost.
*****
The next morning after breakfast, while everyone else went sightseeing ("just up to Hampton Head and back-bring your cameras, there's an amazing view of the bay") Sheryl and Dan schlepped the dirty dishes down to the creek to wash them. The whole time, Dan looked at her tits like he'd never seen a pair before. Maybe he hadn't-Meghan looked like she'd never even had to shop for a bra.
"So," Sheryl said, in an effort to break the silence, "how long have you and Meghan been a couple?"
Dan looked up sharply, pretending he'd been concentrating on the dishes. "Um, we-about ten years now. Married for six." He looked nervous, like he expected to get into trouble just for talking to her.
Sheryl was starting to get sick of it. "I don't bite, you know," she said. She dipped a bowl into the sun-warmed water a little harder than intended, causing a splash that soaked into her white t-shirt and plastered it to the skin of her belly.
Dan stared at the translucent shirt for a long moment before realizing that she had also spoken. "It's not-um, I mean, I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude." He looked straight down at his pile of dishes, scrubbing furiously.
Sheryl scowled, attacking her own stack of plates with a bit more vigor than the situation called for. Her shirt got splashed more than a few times, but she didn't care. If Meghan was so worried about keeping a man that she wouldn't even let Dan talk to another woman, maybe he deserved a little show. Even a convicted prisoner got to go out into the exercise yard.
The more she thought about it, the angrier Sheryl got. She could feel a little devil whispering in her ear, and her angel seemed to have gone off sightseeing. Dan seemed like a perfectly nice guy, and he was so henpecked that he couldn't even have a quiet conversation without imagining Meghan putting the death grip on him all over again. Sheryl didn't want to break anybody up, but...well, if they were going to break up just because Dan got a look at her boobs, then they probably would have broken up sooner or later anyway. So she was blameless. Basically.
Having satisfied her conscience, Sheryl 'accidentally' let a bowl slip out of her hands. And 'accidentally' overbalanced while reaching for it. And 'accidentally' splashed face-first into the knee-deep water of the creek.
Dan leaped to his feet and waded in after her, pulling her out within moments. He asked, "Are you, um...?" and then trailed off into silence, openly gaping at her chest. The shirt was practically see-through, and clung to the contours of her body in a way that accentuated her breasts. Even the sports bra didn't do much of a job of hiding her large nipples, which had evidently decided that the water wasn't that warm.
"I'm fine," Sheryl said, unable to stop the devilish grin from spreading across her face. "I just...overbalanced, is all." She chuckled, enjoying the way that Dan's eyes followed each ripple of laughter as it moved through her body. "I'm probably quite a sight."
Dan levered his eyes up to meet hers. "No, you're, um, you're fine. Probably dry off in minutes."
Sheryl ran her fingers through her hair, trying to comb it into place. "Still, I'm glad none of the boys saw me like this. They'd probably follow me around like puppy dogs for the rest of the trip." She reached out and put her hand on Dan's shoulder. "I don't have to worry about that with you, though. You and-"
"Meghan!" Dan shouted, pulling away as if scalded and darting around Sheryl. She turned to see the rest of the group heading back down the trail. Judging by the expressions on their faces, most of the guys would be spending a little 'alone time' in their tent tonight with a mental image of Sheryl right now, but Meghan was looking at her with incandescent scorn.
Sheryl just smiled back at her. It was a smile she'd developed over more than a few years of dealing with women like Meghan, an 'I don't know what you're so upset over' smirk of genial innocence that always left them fuming. Sheryl always figured that since just existing would leave some women fuming, might as well go all in.
They broke camp not long after that and headed out, moving to a lake shore spot that Joe swore would give everyone a chance to catch a bluegill or two. The hiking was less arduous today, but Sheryl still had a problem getting in any real conversation-any time she tried talking to one of the guys, the others would start glaring, they'd jostle him as they went past...the usual rooster bullshit. Sheryl found herself wishing for a couple of other girls just to distract them.
They pitched their tents in an open spot near the shore, and Sheryl decided that it might be a good idea to put Meghan and Dan between her and the boys. Not that she was worried, or anything, but she was starting to get a little sick of being treated like a ring-toss prize. They drew straws-Joe and Bill got dinner, and Ed and Frank got breakfast-and settled in to fish.
Sheryl thought she was going to sleep like a rock that night, but she found herself lying awake well after Joe had put out the cooking fires and everyone had retired to their tents for the evening. Her body ached just a little too much from the unaccustomed exertion to really get comfortable, and she was still stuck trying to figure out a way to get acquainted with any one guy without setting off a testosterone bomb in the group.
So when Meghan and Dan started arguing in low voices, Sheryl was awake to hear it. She only caught indistinct whispers at first, but gradually they got loud enough for her to make out the words. "Who does that cock belong to?" she heard Meghan snarl out in a low, flat tone.
"It belongs to you," Dan whimpered timidly. Jesus fuck, Sheryl thought, henpecked didn't even start to cover it. She had him pussywhipped hard. No wonder he was so nervous around Sheryl-the man probably thought his wife would lop his balls off and play tennis with them if he looked at another woman.
