Parting Shot

Kathy stripped naked, too and yet another round of applause and cat calls ensued as her messy golden tuft of love-hair was bared for all to see. Then after another couple minutes, the dance petered out to a natural conclusion. The girls slung their arms over each other's shoulders in a comradely embrace and giggled.

"So, who'd you like now?" Kathy asked expectantly.

"Mmm... too close to call," Joe answered diplomatically.

"Yeah, man, you're both fuckin' hot!" Brad agreed between drinks.

Marcy pouted in mock disappointment at the indecisive result, but Kathy was more open about how flattered she was.

"Aww! Thanks boys," she said.

Joe stood, and slid his hands presumptuously on to Marcy's hips as he leaned in for an open-mouthed kiss.

"Now it's your turn," Marcy informed her boyfriend when the kiss broke.

"What?" Joe asked in confusion.

"You boys have to show us your moves," she explained, with a loving yet adamant gaze. She placed her fingers upon his firm pecks and pushed him away, feeling his hands slipping away from her naked butt as the distance grew between them.

"Seriously?" Joe cringed, as if he'd just been ordered to give an old man a sponge bath.

"Mm-hmm," Marcy cheerily confirmed.

"Fine," he sighed in resignation.

Marcy tip-toed excitedly over to the dead log Joe had been sitting on, and sat down to enjoy the spectacle. The rough wood was harsh on her bare little ass, but she was so wasted it barely even registered.

She turned her head and discovered that Brad was staring at her in a way that made her feel like prey in a hunter's crosshairs. She met his gaze, but it didn't intimidate him and the shameless leering continued. He only stopped when he felt like it, though it did seem like he'd grown weary of Marcy's dark look.

Joe began thrusting his hips around clumsily, while humming his own off-key musical accompaniment. Calling it a dance would've been too generous, it was more like a deliberate convulsion.

"Yeah!" The girls cheered in hearty support. Joe stuck out his ass and wiggled it.

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Get out of here, man. I don't wanna see that shit!" Brad grumbled, pulling his baseball cap down to cover his eyes.

"C'mon, Brad. Get up there!" Kathy insisted, forcefully jostling him. Unlike Marcy, who was still buck naked, Kathy had wrapped her faded lime beach towel around her body. Though she seemed to be having difficulty getting it to cover her boobs and they remained mostly exposed.

"No fucking way," Brad refused, without lifting his cap to make eye contact with her. "I'm not going up there with fucking Lord Gay-Prance up there shaking his junk around. Maybe when he clears the stage, I'll show you girls how it's done!"

Kathy pouted.

The girls' cheers at Joe's antics quickly turned to laughter. It became one of those things that was hilarious to drunk people, but would've been agonizing for anyone even remotely sober.

After exhausting his full repertoire of 'erotic' moves, Joe dropped his shorts and briefs, to squeals of delight from his lady friends.

"For fuck's sake. Tell me he isn't naked!" Brad complained. Joe tossed the shorts at him and the girls cracked up as he lost his balance.

Joe mimicked his girlfriend's moves at this point. He slowly turned around, while rotating his hips as if he were spinning a hula hoop. His completely-shaved cock, a respectably-sized member that had given Marcy many cumulative hours of satisfaction, flapped around freely as if it were tracing a Spirograph pattern.

Kathy's lively cheers suggested she was getting a giddy little thrill from the display.

When Joe's back was turned, Marcy took the opportunity to snatch a nearby black towel and sneak down to the shore. She hoped that Joe was too wasted to notice she was missing. She saturated the towel in the lake, then wrung it out into a long, twisted worm. With all the stealth of a cat burglar, she crept back towards the campsite. When Joe turned away, she leapt silently into the fire light and towel whipped him square in his left ass cheek.

"Holy shit!" he cursed in alarm as he leapt three feet into the air.

Marcy cracked up. Kathy tumbled backwards in a fit of drunken hysterics. Brad immediately lifted his cap off to see what had happened.

"Oh, I'm gonna get you!" Joe retorted. He turned and sprinted towards his mischievous girlfriend. Marcy screamed playfully and ran like a girl down to the water. She backstroked leisurely away from the shore, watching in anticipation as her lover's frenzied, shadowy splashes drew closer and closer. His firm but tender hands grasped her waist and pulled her tightly to him.

"See? I told you I was gonna get you," he panted.

Marcy wrapped her arms loosely around his neck, and her legs tightly around his torso.

"Yeah. You got me," she sighed amorously, before pulling him in for a hungry kiss.

Immediately, she began rubbing her privates against his toned stomach. The fresh night air had been tickling them ever since she stripped off her swimmers and now they were seething for some real attention. The void in her loins nagged her; it needed to be filled.

As they kissed and rocked their bodies in energetic foreplay, Marcy noticed Brad out of the corner of her eye. He was still sitting on the same log, drinking his beer and watching the action, with the same quiet intensity that had disturbed her earlier. He was too far away, and her vision was too inebriated to actually see his obsessive gaze, but she could *feel* it.

Joe danced them around in a waltz of frivolous passion as their bodies bumped and ground together. Marcy's hand found his dick, grown to its inspiring full size and standing proudly at attention. She effortlessly guided it to her tender slit and gently shafted herself upon him, savoring the pleasure of his solid meat slithering all the way up to her quivering center.

Through their ongoing kiss, they started humming a melody of arousal, as Marcy began to bounce athletically upon Joe's cock.

Marcy couldn't be sure how long they'd been fucking when it happened. Something touched her ass. She initially presumed it was one of Joe's fingers. But she quickly realized that it wasn't a finger, it was a shape she knew all too well. It was a fully-erect cock!

The next thing she knew someone was pressed firmly against her back, sandwiching her uncomfortably tightly against Joe. The second cock turned upright and slipped in to her crack, where it began to hastily work itself up and down between her cheeks.

"What the fuck?" she slurred as she turned around, trying to make sense of the bizarre turn of events. The intruder was, of course, Brad.

"Oh my god, Brad! Get the fuck out of here!" she screeched in disgust. Her arms flailed about in languid, drunken motions, trying in vain to swat her unwanted partner away.

"C'mon, babe, you know you want it," he dismissed her. The arousal she heard in his breathy voice made Marcy's skin crawl.

"No..." she weakly moaned.

She felt his fingers snaking under her armpits and coursing through the pliant flesh of her sideboobs. His hips pressed against her hard, crushing her yielding buttocks between himself and her pelvis. Joe, meanwhile, continued thrusting inside her vagina, while affectionately mouthing the edge of her jaw. Having an uninvited third party intrude upon their lovemaking didn't seem to bother him in the least.

"Oh, yeah! You like it!" Brad asserted. "You want it from both sides, don't you?"

"No... don't..." Marcy whimpered, her voice wavering with indecision.

She didn't want this awful asshole to fuck her.

But the mass of masculine bulk pressed against her back was starting to turn her on and that firm stalk tickling the sensitive depths of her crack felt really good - exciting even.

But it was Brad! He was such a nasty sleazebag!

Then a hand clamped on to her right boob with all the subtlety of a bear trap. It hurt! In that surge of pain she found her clarity.

"No!" she shouted, as she flung her weight back to force Brad off of her.

The maneuver threw both drunken men off-balance and all three of them tumbled in to the waist-deep water. In the confusion, Brad lost his hold of Marcy and she wasted no time in swimming clear of him.

Joe's head sprang out of the water.

"Holy shit! I am so fucking wasted!" he cackled, apparently believing he had only fallen over due to his own drunken clumsiness.

By the time either of the men got their bearings, Marcy was about 15 feet away, wading back towards the beach.

"Fine! Be that way, you uptight bitch!" Brad spat at her, just loud enough for her to hear.

"Hey, Marcy! Where you going?" Joe called after her. She didn't respond. "Aww, c'mon babe! Don't be like that," he pleaded, before swimming off in pursuit.

By the time he finally caught up with her, Marcy had retreated to a dark, secluded section of the beach about fifty yards from the roaring campfire. The moon gave them just enough light to make out the barest outlines of their surroundings.

"Hey, c'mon babe. What's wrong?" Joe asked as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I don't want that asshole touching me!" she snapped. Her arms were folded in indignation and clutched tightly to her chest, protecting her tender nipples from the cool night air.

"Hey, it's okay. Don't get upset. Brad was just fooling around," Joe explained in the calmest voice.

"His dick was in my ass, Joe!" Marcy fumed.

"Yeah, well, you know what he's like. Brad always takes it too far. But he doesn't mean any harm.

"C'mon, he's just being a drunk idiot. That's the thing: he's had too much to drink. You just... We shouldn't let him spoil it all for us, y'know? Just let him have his fun, and try to ignore him," Joe gently suggested.

He tilted her chin up and stared into the moonlight glimmering in her eyes.

"C'mon. We were having a good time, weren't we?" he asked.

Marcy's head was swimming. She was very drunk and confused. Her train of thought was easily led by Joe's diplomatic words. But a quiet little part of her resisted them, as if she thought what he said was wrong, but couldn't articulate why.

All she knew for sure was that she felt unhappy. Unhappy and also sullied. Her ass crack still tingled with revulsion where Brad's junk had touched her.

In the future, Marcy would never be able to remember whether they had argued some more, or whether Joe had simply stood with her in silence until her anger ebbed away.

Either way, the stand-off lasted a long time. But it eventually ended with Joe coaxing a warm kiss from Marcy's lips. She felt his fingertips combing through her bush and settling upon her labia.

"Don't..." she winced, gently brushing his hand away. "I'm not in the mood."

With a heavy sigh, she started back to the campfire and after a few seconds she heard Joe's footsteps following her.

There was a rise in the beach between themselves and the campfire: not very tall, but tall enough to obscure line-of-sight to most of the campsite. As Marcy climbed the gentle slope, she was greeted by an unexpected sight.

Brad was there, still naked. He lumbered like an ape-man past the fire to collect and dust off his black shorts which had been strewn on to the sand. Directly behind him, Kathy sat at the edge of the fire light, her legs spread wide. She was buck naked once again, with the towel she'd wrapped herself in earlier nowhere to be seen. Every movement she made was languid; even just sitting upright looked like it was an effort for her.

There was nothing overt about the scene before Marcy's eyes, but the subtext was clear as day. They'd had sex!

In retrospect, Marcy wasn't surprised that Brad had gone after Kathy. He'd had a hard-on and he would've been determined to get some release, regardless of who gave it to him. For one disturbing moment, Marcy wondered if Brad had forced himself upon her friend. But everything about Kathy's manner suggested to Marcy that it had been consensual. Regrettable, perhaps, but consensual.

In the numbness of her intoxication, Marcy didn't give the subject any further thought. As she re-entered the campsite with Joe, Kathy and Brad both seemed unconcerned that their friends probably knew what they'd done.

The tone among the group was casual and relaxed, as if nobody cared about anything that had happened in the last twenty minutes. But the frivolity that abounded during their 'pole dancing' and strip teasing was well and truly over now and everyone gathered their clothing and got redressed.

Despite the mellow atmosphere, Marcy still felt kind of tense. She needed a beer...

---------

Paul laid on the bed for ages, staring up at the poorly-finished, uneven planks of the ceiling in catatonia of rage and dread. He knew he would have to get up eventually, but he didn't want to. He didn't want to have to face her. He didn't want to face him.

He could hear the sounds of breakfast outside: chairs moving, utensils striking plates and bowls, people talking.

He thought about just staying put and waiting for the others to finish so he could slink out unnoticed. But the longer he stayed holed-up in his room, the more likely it was that someone would stick their head through the door to check that he was alright; possibly Kathy.

No. He had to face them sooner or later and he wanted to do it on his terms.

He got up, got dressed and with a mighty sigh of resignation, opened the door. He proceeded down the cabin's narrow hallway and then turned right, into the small kitchen/dining area. Joe and Kathy were sitting at the table. Brad was manning the stove. Kathy was the first to notice his presence.

"Hey!" she greeted with a friendly grin.

"Morning," Paul acknowledged her, forcing a polite smile. He took the seat right next to Joe and before long, Brad had served a plate of steaming bacon strips right up in front of him. Paul restrained himself to making a curt mumbling sound and hoped it would pass for an acceptable "thank you."

He pecked at his breakfast and watched in anguished silence as the banter between the trio continued.

He tried to gauge the current situation between Brad and Kathy. Kathy seemed more or less at ease around Brad and for some reason that made Paul's stomach sink. He wondered if she didn't even remember having sex with him. She had been extremely drunk at the time, after all. But the more he scrutinized the way they spoke to one another, the more he got the impression that she was well aware of what they'd done.

Brad seemed to be engaging with her much more than normal. Hidden within the small talk, Paul could see that Brad was even giving her some good-natured ribbing. Kathy tolerated it with a smile, even if she didn't particularly enjoy it. Near as Paul could tell, Kathy wasn't happy that she'd fucked Brad. But instead of being mortified by her poor judgement, as Paul might've hoped, Kathy only seemed mildly embarrassed about the situation.

People have a saying about colossal social mistakes, "One day we'll look back on this and laugh." The implication being that that "one day" will be years, maybe decades away. But Paul got the distinct impression that for Brad and Kathy that day was already here - and that cut through him like glass.

Marcy showed up after a few minutes and after the standard morning pleasantries, took the seat on the opposite side of Joe. Her relationship with Brad seemed frosty as ever. Though oddly, Marcy seemed to be the hostile one this morning, while Brad was being uncharacteristically considerate. But Paul was too torn up with grief to care about their strange role-reversal.

By the time he'd cleared his plate, Paul had heard as much of Brad's jovial banter with his poached love as he could stand. He just wanted to get out of there, away from both of them and spend some time alone to clear his head. He cleared his place as quickly as he could without drawing attention to himself and then tried to slip out of the cabin unnoticed.

"Hey, where you going?" Kathy asked warmly.

She caught him *just*as he was about to step out the front door. Paul had no response prepared, but he surprised himself with just how quickly he was able to invent one.

"Oh, one of my CDs is missing. I think I must've left it down on the beach, so I'm just going to go find it," he told her in a deadpan tone that couldn't match her friendliness.

He'd noticed during breakfast that someone had considerately carried his boombox back to the cabin last night, along with his CD pouch. He hadn't checked it, but he just assumed everything was there.

"Well, hold up! Let me come with you!" she requested. He could see she still had a sausage and a half left on her plate, but they wouldn't take long to finish.

"No, that's okay. It shouldn't take long," he declined. "You finish your breakfast."

He rushed out and closed the door behind him before anyone else decided to stall him.

His pace was brisk as he left the cabin, but as soon as he was out of its view, he started dragging his heels. He was in no hurry to get where he was going because he was in no hurry to get back.

He had nowhere particular to go, so by default he headed back down to the beach. Once he got there though, he immediately regretted the decision. This was where it had happened; the 'scene of the crime' as it were. What a stupid idea it had been to come here! The fury he had sought to escape suddenly returned, burning from within like an acute case of reflux. His body began to seize up like the rusty Tin Man as he passed the exact spot where the deed had been done.

With a huff, he powered on, continuing down the beach. Gradually, his furious charge simmered down to a calm, maudlin stroll.

He pined for the part of Kathy that had been lost. He couldn't put a name to it, but she had definitely lost something. She no longer gave him the rush of joy that she once did. He no longer felt drawn to her.

Of course, he'd known that she wasn't a virgin for some time now and it hadn't much bothered him. But seeing Brad's naked body pumping away at her with his own eyes was something else entirely. Seeing her like that... well, it just soured the image. The fun memories he had of her no longer seemed fun, the romantic moments no longer seemed romantic. All the goodness in his life that revolved around that beautiful girl with the heart-warming smile wasn't so good now that she was the same girl who had been lying naked in the sand with a look of stupefied satisfaction upon her face.

Paul didn't keep track of the time. By the time he struck an impassable section of the shoreline, he guessed he'd been walking for an hour and a half. He likewise guessed he'd been walking for the same length of time again when he returned to the path that led back to the woods. Despite having spent the better part of the morning in solitary contemplation, Paul still didn't feel like returning to the cabin. Not yet.

A little ways in to the woods, he came to a familiar fork where the right path led back to the cabin. He veered left.

---------

Marcy released the thumb-length pinnate of leaves she had been absently twirling and let it fall upon the murky brown water of the reservoir below. It grossed her out a little to think that this was where they got the water they'd been drinking and bathing in for the past four days. But she figured it probably went through several stages of filtration and sterilization before it actually reached their faucets.

Leaning upon the concrete guard wall like a handrail, she watched as the leaves floated to the water, producing a single perfect ripple.

She was lost in thought. The past 24 hours had been... complicated, to say the least. It wasn't that she was confused about what had happened; it was more that she was confused about how to feel about what had happened, and where it all left her now.