Canoodling

It started with a zzzzzzip and a sudden cold draft on my back. But you need some back story.

I was working as a counselor at a summer camp on a lake in Maine. I'd been doing it for several years and now, between my Junior and Senior years in college, the pay was decent. The surroundings were beautiful. The campers -- all boys -- were a pain, but in a cute way. It was easy, and fun.

There were two camping sessions, and between them we had several days free. The head counselor, Brad (whom I'll call Brad The Asshole from time to time) said he had a girlfriend who was a counselor at the all-girls sister camp up the lake. For our free days, he called her (via land line, necessarily) to arrange a canoe trip for three guys from our camp and three girl counselors. She would recruit the other two, and we guys would paddle the several miles up to the girls' camp and pick them up.

I like canoe trips, but Brad being The Asshole, I expected very little from his girlfriend or her buddies. Unexpectedly, it turned out OK. Except for Brad, of course, who was cringe-worthy. He was loud, demanding, insensitive, and a mean drunk.

Our third guy was Jock the jock -- big, strong, ripped, and super quiet, but nice enough. He may not have been the sharpest knife in the drawer.

I, of course, am a lovely fellow.

When we arrived. it turned out that Brad The Asshole's girlfriend was Becca, whom I knew. She was a lovely person too. I had met her at the camps' pre-season counselor orientation, and I liked her immediately. I kind of felt like we had some chemistry and were going to follow up when we could. But Brad T. A. must have broken the rules by traipsing through the miles of woods between the camps to woo her. Now she was his, it appeared. I remembered her as effervescent with a wry sense of humor, but at the moment she seemed quiet and shy, maybe because Brad constantly talked over her (and everyone else, for that matter). It was like they had some sort of abusive relationship, but I couldn't see how even Brad T. A. could maintain one at a distance.

The other girls had the same attractive build as Becca, but the similarities stopped there. Ria was exotic -- some blend of dark-skinned and Asian, with a unique, coppery color and European features. Her thin, straight nose, dark eyes and fashionable eyebrows were hot, and she had flawless, even teeth. She was a beautiful, unusual girl with a fantastic face.

Sophie, though, stood out the most from a distance. She had honey-blond hair, blue eyes and a ram-rod straight, shoulders-back carriage that accentuated her bust while exuding confidence. And then when you got close ...it's hard to explain, but the confidence turned into sexual predation. She stood a little bit close, spoke in a breathy whisper, and often put a hand on you for emphasis. Her eyes captured you. It was like she was hanging on your every word. She was so at ease, so comfortable, so un-shy, that she made the air tingle with possibilities. And that was just a first impression.

In any event, we divided up the gear and the personnel. Somewhat to my relief I got Ria as my bow paddler. Brad, of course, took Becca. He launched his canoe with a public diatribe about all the things she was doing wrong, and off we went.

We didn't have the greatest weather. I'd like to report the sun rippling on the dark blue lake, because that could be beautiful. But this week it was heavily overcast with leaden skies, so the water was dark gray. At least it was warm, and no rain was predicted.

With the unpleasant conditions, and having only a half day, we kept it short and stopped at a nearby location we used with campers. It had a soft, sandy beach, a stash of firewood, and even a primitive outhouse. Quite the luxury.

When we had unpacked and started the fire, I thought it diplomatic to sit on the same log as Ria. This trip was like flash dating with no chance of leaving, so it was nice that I liked her. We had a lively discussion about the camps and our jobs, and I got a little background on her many travels and relocations growing up. She was smart and funny, and she left the impression she liked me. In fact she shifted over closer to me as the evening went on, and we ended up knee to knee as we cooked s'mores. Great start. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the lustrous black hair on her shoulder. It positively gleamed in the flickering firelight.

Brad told Becca to cook dinner and then started us on some drinking games. Becca looked increasingly upset and nervous. She kept casting glances at Brad and keeping him supplied with drink. I didn't think that was smart because drinking made him increasingly surly and obnoxious. I had noticed that Brad had a double sleeping bag, and if I read the situation correctly, my heart went out to Becca.

It was getting cooler, so after getting only about half drunk I bailed and went off to read a book. To block the firelight and party noise I unrolled my sleeping bag on the far side of a felled tree.

Before long someone doused the fire. It was instantly pitch black, and I saw cell phone screens roaming the campsite, bright as seachlights, as the others found their way to their sleeping bags through the gloom.

It was a couple of hours later that the zzzzzzip and the draft happened.

You have to realize I was fast asleep, or I would have reacted faster. As it was, she slid almost fully into my bag before I was aware of what was happening, and then I thought it might be a raccoon, so I freaked. But the human hands and soft bare skin brought me around. Also, there was the finger on my lips, in a "shhh" gesture.

This was a nice way to end the evening, but the problem was that it was still pitch black out and I had no idea who it was. Except that it was clearly a girl, as revealed by the two points lightly touching my chest through my tee shirt. There was almost no slack in the sleeping bag, so our maximum separation was a few inches and that was hardly enough space to pull her tits off me.

So I whispered, "Good evening...."

Again, the finger to the lips.

I really didn't want to admit I had no idea who this was. I whispered as quietly as practical, "What are you doing here?"

I could almost feel the eye-roll. She flexed her hips into me three times, quickly.

I got stiff. My dick was poking right between her thighs.

I whispered, "Who is it?"

Again, the finger to my lips. And now a hand on my cock, rubbing gently.

I was beginning to get the idea.

She moved her upper hand behind my head and kissed me for a long time. It was a nice, romantic kiss with no tongue. It seemed a little emotionally needy. In the process, she pressed her boobs against me. They felt great. I got harder. She stroked harder. It was like a second date at one end and a tenth date at the other.

After a brief struggle I got my arms free and palmed both of her boobs, trapping her stiff nipples between my fingers. Then I used my top hand to encircle her neck and pull her to me for a harder, more passionate kiss while I moved my bottom hand to explore between her thighs. There was very little space to operate down there. She moved her hand and my member out of my way and spread her legs as best she could, pulling the bottom one back and away from me. She continued to stroke the underside of my shaft while I ran a finger up her slit, then down, and then inside.

She whispered "unnnhh" and started breathing audibly as I stroked in and out. But she was very quiet.

Who was this? Sophie the sensual sexaholic was a good guess. Lovely Ria with the coppery skin, who hit it off so well with me just an hour or two ago? My friend (I thought), the possibly needy Becca, sneaking away from her drunken, abusive boyfriend?

I felt around for her hair. It was tied up in a knot, so I couldn't judge the length. I tried to figure out how tall she was compared to me, but she wasn't stretched out straight and the girls were all about the same height anyway. I thought I might feel how her fingernails were trimmed, so I could compare later. But I was losing focus. I was getting signals from my brainstem.

I leaned toward her a bit so that I was partly on top. The sleeping bag rolled us both the same direction a quarter turn, and I was able to get up and get my legs between hers. She still had a grip on my cock, and I still had one hand on a breast and one forearm behind her head while I supported myself on an elbow. As I pinched her nipple, she inserted me into her pussy. We both stopped.

I whispered "OK?"

She kissed me and humped me.

I needed no further encouragement, but there was not much else I could do besides fuck her, missionary, at that point. So I did, slowly at first to make up for the lack of foreplay. But not knowing who I was screwing was interesting. Perhaps because I had bonded the most recently with her, I first imagined Ria, with her unusual skin, shiny dark hair and lovely smile. But then I imagined it was Becca, the girl I had bonded with a month ago and thought was very cool. Just as I was about to get to Sophie and her projecting boobs, I came, as quietly as I could.

I re-entered reality to find the mystery girl holding me in a vice-like grip around my ribs. She was humping me for all she was worth, with little muffled gasps. I went along and eventually she started shivering, gave a strangled "uuunnnnnnnhhhh" and fell limp.

We cuddled for a bit, and I enjoyed the unique sensation of an unknown body in union with mine. I let my fingers roam her face to see what clues I could find. Was that a tear on her cheek? Or sweat? I needed more time. But as soon as our bodies had re-normalized, she put both arms around my neck, gave me a big kiss with lots of body English, put her finger to my lips again, and extricated herself from me and my bag. I saw her feel around for her phone and then disappear around my fallen tree.

Never to be seen again? Well, no, but...

****

The next morning I was vigilant for telltale signs. Was I getting any meaningful looks? Any side glances? Was anyone avoiding me? Nothing. And their fingernails all looked about the same.

I kind of hoped it was Becca. Or Ria. Or Sophie, just for pure hotness.

I asked Ria how she slept, and without even pausing the process of trying to spread cold butter on her toast, she said, "Fine, how 'bout you? Did you hear the barn owl?" I found it hard to believe she could lie and multi-task like that.

I thought Sophie would be more daring, so I asked whether 'the' sleeping bag was comfortable. She said she had a good air mattress.

It was hard to ask Becca anything because B.T.A. was monopolizing her again, but to me that made her a good long-shot suspect. She rarely looked at me, and she spoke in one-word responses. Either she was embarrassed, or Brad was a very severe problem. I resolved to find out.

But when breakfast was done and we were ready to launch, Brad ushered Becca into his boat again and waved Sophie into mine.

****

Canoeing with Sophie in the front was rewarding because the bathing suit she wore under her tee shirt didn't begin to cover her ass. I was watching her glutes crush from side to side all morning. But when we stopped for lunch I reassessed her personality a bit -- still highly sexual, but in an innocent, joyous way rather than predatory. I think she just liked guys and sex and thought that was fine because, why not? Life should be fun. By the end of lunch I felt she was probably the only one who would have pulled last night's stunt, but also the only one who wouldn't worry at all about keeping it anonymous.

At lunch I also tried to get a word in with Becca, but she put me off saying there were things she had to do -- which was bogus, given that we had no real time constraints. But she gave me a long, possibly meaningful look when Brad was focused elsewhere, and I ended up even more worried for her.

****

That day we canoed to an island, which would keep large, adventurous animals away from our food stores. I started a fire, and we had cocktail hour. Brad told stories of his exploits in college, and everyone else cringed. I sat next to Sophie on a small tarp, and in no time our knees were touching, her hand was on my forearm, and our shoulders were colliding whenever she leaned close to my ear to talk in her breathy whisper. With anyone else, I would have been sure she wanted to get it on, but her natural physicality made the signs ambiguous.

After dinner, when it was getting dark, I covertly kicked Brad's canoe off the beach, waited until it had blown a quarter mile away, and then pointed out that it had drifted off. I made sure I was busy cleaning up at the time. He was so upset I don't think he even considered how it could have happened. He dragooned Jock into sprinting after it with him in another canoe, which was a lengthy undertaking due to the getaway speed of the empty canoe in the evening breeze.

I grabbed Becca's hand, pulled her into the woods, hugged her chastely and asked, "What's going on?"

She dissolved in tears. We spent precious minutes while she hugged me and struggled to get a grip.

"I don't understand how it happened," she said, "but he has a video."

"Of you?"

She snuffled a "yes."

"In a compromising position, I gather?" I prompted.

"You have no idea. In several. In all of them. Of me, doing things I would never do with anyone...."

"It sure doesn't sound like you." I barely knew her, but I was certain.

"...I don't know what happened! The video makes me look conscious and willing. We were drinking on the porch before the first camp session, and then I woke up in bed! Even if I was smashed I would never do those things on a first date, especially with him! He's a jerk. ....but he says if I don't keep him happy for the rest of camp, he'll post it."

Of course I had my suspicions, but that didn't solve the problem.

"What were you drinking?" I asked.

"A bottle of wine he brought. It was expensive, he said."

"I'll bet." MDMA and ketamine would be hard to acquire up here. "Where did the bottle go?"

"I have no idea."

"How did he show you the video?"

"On his phone."

Brad was paddling back. I had to get Becca back out in plain sight and away from me. "Let me think, and I'll get us a chance to talk again as soon as I can," I said. "I'll get us out of this."

I wish I knew how.

Hmmm. 'Us.'

****

Around the campfire we traded some of the old ghost stories we told the camp kids, and Ria led some songs in a strong, clear voice. Then Brad got belligerent and domineering even without the assistance of excessive alcohol, so once again people started to peel away and eventually the rest of us agreed to douse the fire early. I waited a bit to see where Brad kept his cell phone, but in the dark I couldn't tell. It was another moonless night with plenty of clouds.

I had wondered all day whether I would get a repeat visit. Maybe it was a one-off. Or maybe all the guys were going to get one, in turns. Or maybe we were all getting visits, simultaneously.

I parked my sleeping bag slightly away from the group. Then, a few minutes after everyone seemed settled in, I quietly went around and left a small stick leaning partly on the zipper edge of each sleeping bag. I stripped naked before climbing into my bag. I left the zipper down a bit. I had trouble getting to sleep.

****

A twig snapped. Then I saw the light from a single cell screen, aimed down, on the pine needles about 10 yards away. It was getting closer. I could dimly make out feet and ankles, but the light was so dim and fluorescent that I couldn't make out the skin tone.

The light went out as it got close. I could hear the feet padding closer, and what sounded like knees touching down. Then, zzzzzzzzip, the draft, and a body slid neatly into my bag. I reached around her -- 'her' detected by the usual twin clues -- and hugged welcomingly.

I felt a hand across my mouth. Not the usual finger to the lips, but a full hand.

Her top leg went immediately over my hip and she nuzzled my neck. She squirmed actively against me, mashing my cock with her crotch. Her other hand went down to my ass and pulled me hard against her. I thought her toes hit my ankle at a slightly different point.

Was this the same girl?

Whatever.

She released my mouth and went in for a kiss, a French one. Her top hand left my ass and grabbed my dick. She was almost in a mild frenzy, not the playful, tender approach of last night.

As soon as I was good and hard, she vaulted on top of me and, lying with her chin over my shoulder, reached down with both hands and inserted me into her pussy. Then she got up on her elbows and started to hump me, scraping her nipples up and down my chest in the process.

Surely his was Sophie, the sex babe. Or maybe a needy Becca, escaped from her drunken abuser and seeking solace or companionship in wild, consensual sex. Or maybe a repeat by Ria again, now sure of a warm reception and fresh from a day of anticipation.

Whatever. I was already nearing completion. The problem was that she was making little squeaking noises. I reached up and put a hand over her mouth. She acted happy with that, so I rolled us and the whole bag over, landing on top of her, and put my other hand on her throat. The position was uncomfortable and I didn't think I could hold it for long, so I pumped her for all I was worth. She writhed beneath me and, putting her hands over her head, clenched the top of the sleeping bag and made quiet moaning sounds from between closed lips. I came after only another minute or two. She subsided as well. We fell in a sweaty heap.

Despite having little idea who I was fucking, the whole thing was strangely intimate. It was like sex in an isolation chamber. We were surrounded by darkness and even the sounds of the forest were muffled. Only the sense of touch prevailed. My strongest sensation was her kissing and nibbling on my ear. For a while it occupied my entire consciousness. I imagined her lips on my outer ear, her teeth pinching my earlobe, her tongue slipping in and out. I was stroking her sweaty back. It was very intimate and very bonding. Intimate with someone, anyway. I could feel everything about her -- her moist skin, her breathing, stray strands of her hair, even her eyelashes when she blinked. I could still see nothing. The night was pitch black.

As before, she left after half an hour or so. I tried to track her to another sleeping bag, but her screen light went off too soon.

****

Early the next morning I scanned the campsite for clues. No one else was up, yet all the branches were gone from all the sleeping bags -- not just moved, but gone. Maybe all the guys were getting the same treatment I was, but that wouldn't explain it. Someone was toying with me. I doubted Becca was in the mood and Sophie wouldn't bother. Maybe the less forward Ria?

I started the fire and sat quietly, thinking of my next move. I figured Brad still had the video only on his phone, given the total lack of connectivity up here. But where was his phone? And how to get it? And how to open it if it was passworded? Brad was big, and I doubted I could take him even if I could enlist his friend Jock. Plus, I wasn't sure Jock would fight for Becca. He might defend her if Brad got aggressive, though.

Brad's phone could be on his person or anywhere in his gear. He carried all his stuff in his own canoe, so a search would be tough. And none of us ever went far from the others.

Sophie came padding over and sat next to me, an inch too close. It might have been my imagination, but she seemed a little downbeat. So, probably not her. Unless she liked it last night and I wasn't on her rotation again. I really had no idea what was going on. I asked her whether she had a good night, and she gave me a strange look before saying it was nice sleeping out here in the woods. Maybe she thought I was teasing her about not coming on to her.