Canoodling

I was going to need help with Brad. I thought Sophie might be the best ally because she seemed bold, she had been friendly with both Becca and me, and she didn't have any history with Brad. Jock might feel more kinship to Brad, and Ria seemed more retiring. I swore Sophie to silence and told her Brad was using something on his phone to extort one of our number. I didn't say what or who, or offer proof. I didn't need to. She asked how she could help.

I told her my plan.

***

Sophie, in only her bikini, sidled up to Brad, leaned her boobs on his arm, and asked if she could paddle with him. I grabbed Becca and settled her in my canoe, and we launched before there could be any discussion.

My plan was simple, but the most important part had to be executed by Becca. I wanted to take her temperature as to how willing she would be to cross her tormentor, even if he never knew. She seemed so beaten down and bullied that she might be too worried about repercussions, even if she liked the plan. We discussed it at length while paddling away from the group. She agreed to it without hesitation. Brad could be physically dangerous and there was risk, but it was our best shot.

She checked the fit of her paddle blade next to her seat in the canoe.

We scheduled our operation for the next day and arranged a signal. I was only sorry she'd have to spend another night in Brad's double sleeping bag.

At lunch, I suggested to the group that we do some fishing that afternoon. I said there were supposed to be huge muskies at this end of the lake. There weren't, but the other boys went for it and threw out some lines. For the record, no fish were harmed for this story.

The girls went swimming. Sophie's suit was way hot.

Late in the day we pulled into a lovely little cove surrounded by towering pines. In daylight it was beautiful. At dusk it became kind of a spooky cathedral.

I thanked Brad T.A. for loaning me his bow man, and he grunted. He was going to get her again tomorrow, so he really had no complaint. He said he would still like to try to catch a muskie.

I sat between Ria and Sophie at dinner, and they kind of closed in on me, leaving the taciturn Jock more or less on his own. Keeping ahead of Jock conversationally required only a pulse, but of course I was still watching for signs one of the girls was hot for me. The trouble was, Ria was as friendly and chatty and attractive as ever, and although Sophie was plastered to me by the end of the evening, it was hard to tell Sophie's signal from her noise.

I made sure that B.T.A. got plenty to drink, even though I had to drink with him. I didn't want him putting his hands on Becca even one more time, and I had told her I would try to drink him unconscious. I couldn't keep up with him, but fortunately I didn't have to. A suggestion he was a lightweight and I was a manly man was all it took. What a moron. The problem was that when drunk he became the ultra-difficult version of himself, and that could be a little violent and frightening. So eventually, after he was slurring his words, I had to de-escalate and get away. But I thought my plan would probably work.

****

The clouds had lifted, suggesting a chance to get a glimpse of the phantom fucker. I spread my bag out on the narrow beach some ways from our fire, where there were fewer trees and some light might filter in at night. But it was a new moon, the pines were dark and towering, and darkness prevailed again. So I grabbed a small tear-open ketchup pouch from our stores, pre-tore one corner, and placed it near my bag.

Drinking makes me sleepy, and I must have been sound asleep when the zzzzzzzzzip came. She was on me before I knew it.

There was no hand on my face or finger on my lips, just a long, soft kiss to keep me quiet. Again, the signature seemed different. But the effect was the same. I was poking her in the crotch before thirty seconds went by.

She separated from me a bit so she could reach down and fondle my cock. I was able to reach up and fondle her boobs while we each stared at the blackness where the other's face should be. Again, the space constraints and darkness heightened the sense of touch, and it was fun to explore blindly. I circled, pinched and lightly flicked her erect nipples and squeezed her substantial boobs while she played with my cock. Every touch was an unanticipated pleasure. But eventually I reached down to her lower lips and squeezed them slowly and firmly. After a minute she started stroking my dick faster with her circled thumb and forefinger. She got it just right (this time?) and it felt really good. I started humping her hand. I inserted a finger into her.

We were still on our sides facing each other, but suddenly she flipped over so she was facing away from me. She reached down between her legs to find my cock and inserted it into her slot. Was she a little tighter around me tonight? Hard to tell; she couldn't bend much in the sleeping bag, and she had a nice round ass that prevented me from getting very deep in her. But she seemed satisfied when I reached over her hip and put a finger on her clit. I wiggled my other arm under her, grabbed a boob and played with a nipple. She had trouble stifling herself after a while; from over her shoulder I heard a series of throaty "mmph"s, so I let go of the boob and (again?) clamped a hand over her mouth. In short order I finished and she finished, and we backed down to a gentle, friendly humping action.

I was still at a loss. As stealthily as possible, I reached for the ketchup, squeezed the pouch very lightly while it was aimed into my palm, and ran my palm up the back of her upper arm. Then I licked my hand off and went back to teasing a boob.

As usual, she wordlessly excused herself after a while, and I was left alone with my thoughts. And my plans.

***

Morning. Time to execute.

But first I looked around for someone with dried ketchup on the back of her arm. Again, Sophie was up first again...and she had a dried brownish patch on the back of her elbow. I'd been pretty clever! I sidled over, trying to hide an obnoxious smile, and asked how her night had been.

She looked vaguely annoyed and said "Great."

Then Ria and Becca came into the clearing. Both had the same spot. Both were trying to hide grins.

I still hadn't identified my midnight guest. But I had learned two things: They were all in it together, and someone was a lot smarter than I.

After breakfast and re-loading the canoes, Sophie and I initiated the plan. She stripped off her tee shirt, hiked up her boobs in her tiny bikini, and started a meaningful discussion with Brad. She hugged his arm and stared worshipfully into his bloodshot eyes. As soon as they were well into it, Becca and I quietly took her bag out of his canoe and substituted a bag of our garbage and a tarp. It took only a minute. Then I made some additions to Brad's bags. We were committed.

Sophie, to her eternal credit, somehow kept Brad occupied for three whole minutes without being molested. When they returned, we launched and headed past the spot where we had been 'muskie fishing' the previous day. I told everyone to keep a lookout for the telltale swirls of water that would indicate a big one. As if I knew anything about fish.

When we were a mile from shore I maneuvered my canoe behind Brad's, half-stood in the stern, and screamed "Look! There!"

Sophie, my bow man, almost cracked up. But she managed to choke out a "Yeah, right there! You can see it!" Then she collapsed with her hand over her mouth. I glared at her.

Brad twisted around and went, "Where?"

Becca said "Over there! Behind us! Look down in the water!"

Brad stared while we all pointed at nothing about 20 yards astern of him.

I said, "It's huge!"

Jock and Ria were looking too. "Where is it?" Jock asked.

Brad finally stood partway up to look down into the water.

Becca was ready. She had practiced. She slid the blade of her paddle straight down into the slot between one side of her seat and the side of the canoe, grabbed the top of the handle, stood on the opposite gunwale, leaned outboard and, as the canoe tipped, jumped over the side, still holding the paddle. The paddle acted as a lever. The whole canoe rotated over in the blink of an eye. Becca, Brad and all his belongings were in the water, a mile from shore.

Sophie and I were already paddling over to pick up Becca, and she was already swimming toward us.

Brad was still trying to figure things out. He swam over to Jock and Ria's canoe.

"Guess you shouldn't both stand up at once," I said helpfully. "Canoes are tippy."

After discussion, we decided we should right the swamped canoe rather than try to tow it to shore full of water. Righting a canoe and sloshing out the water was a drill we had all done with campers a thousand times, but we let the manly men, Brad and Jock, handle it while we recovered the floating garbage. Of Brad's stuff, only his canteen survived. The rest mysteriously sank -- just like a bunch of rocks.

****

Since two of us were soaked and it was cool and breezy out on the lake, we paddled for the nearest campsite. Brad's first move was to demand some dry clothes from Jock. Becca borrowed a long tee shirt from Sophie. We built a fire to dry out the wet stuff. We left Becca's dry bag in my canoe, to avoid questions. Brad didn't notice. I think he was concentrating on Becca in only a tee.

We started the cocktail hour early and talked about the muskies, the accident, and the new plans. Brad had no extra clothes and Becca wasn't admitting to any, so we decided to head back tomorrow. He also said he and Becca would need to borrow one of the remaining sleeping bags -- perhaps the other girls could double up.

It was about to hit the fan. We hadn't rehearsed this. It wasn't risk free. Brad could have made a backup locally somehow. But I didn't think he was bright enough, and there is always risk. I had persuaded Becca that this was the time to take a stand, while Jock and I were present, rather than live under a cloud.

Becca confidently said no, she was sleeping with me. "I mean, I'm sharing his sleeping bag tonight."

Brad looked stunned. But to his credit, he waited for his mental gears to run through the next steps. He ended up saying, "Oh." He looked so crestfallen that Sophie almost cracked up. I had to glare at her again.

Ria said she would double up with Sophie and he could have her bag. He said, "Thanks." He was staring at Becca. I wondered how far his mental gears would take him.

****

Becca sat next to me at dinner. She didn't flirt, but she beamed at me a lot. I warned her not to look too happy since she had supposedly just lost all her clothes. She loudly thanked Sophie for the loaner shirt. Sophie smiled.

Now I really didn't know what to expect in the way of a midnight romp. Becca might not have visited my bag before, and if it had been one of the others, they might swap sleeping arrangements, so anyone could still come. Or no one. Becca might be concerned about annoying Brad any more, especially if he began to put two and two together. Ria remained an unknown, since she was always pretty quiet and we hadn't talked a lot since day 1. But it's always the quiet ones.

Anyway, I positioned my sleeping bag over a low rise saying I liked the solitude. I hoped not to be taken too seriously.

An hour after the fire was doused, someone whispered, "Want to make a video?"

"I thought you might have given that up for a while," I said.

Delicate fingers felt around for my face in the darkness and I received a soft, crosswise kiss on the lips. "That does seem like a good idea," she said. "unless you'll stick around to bail me out again. Can I come in? I'm not dressed for cold weather."

That was an understatement. She slid right in and we zzzzipped up the bag.

"Glad I could help. But the fringe benefits were worth it. You know I would have helped anyway, right?"

"I think I do," she said. "But the 'benefits,' as you call them, weren't really a cry for help. I was just pretty shattered by being extorted. I needed some companionship and human contact, and he would hardly even allow me to talk to Sophie. If he found out I was cavorting with you, he might have killed us both. He's a criminal, remember. He could get years for this if we could prove it. So I was hiding my identity to keep us both safe. Remember, we'd only met once. I couldn't be absolutely sure of you, and I didn't want you saying something, even by mistake. Also, I hope you know I had the hots for you when we met at orientation. I sent up every flare in the boat."

I considered my own stupidity. It was stupendous, I guess.

"Well, I'm glad it was you. I really didn't know. That was actually pretty hot."

"Good. I thought so too. But I have to admit it's not quiiiiiite that simple."

I raised my eyebrows a bit. Then I remembered she couldn't see me.

"I didn't dare get out when Brad wasn't drunk enough."

"Huh?" I asked. With interest.

"Well, the second night he hardly drank at all, by his standards. So I couldn't get away."

"But..."

"We girls talk, you know. I've known Sophie since we were counselors here last year. She knows Ria pretty well. She got her this job. ...I may have mentioned to them that I had a really good time with you completely anonymously."

"So..."

"Yup."

"Well, who was it?"

"I don't think I'm at liberty to say. Besides, isn't the mystery kind of fun?"

"I guess....what about night three?"

"Well, by then we had your plan, and I thought it would work if we didn't blow everything by tipping Brad we were together."

"So...?"

"Same answer. Not me is all you need to know. We thought you'd be OK with it. By the way, though, I have to admit the ketchup was clever. Even better than the branches. We all thought it was pretty cute!"

And I thought I was the master planner. I had to admire them.

Then she grabbed my ear and spoke into it like a P.A. system. "Also," she said, "you don't need to know about them because you won't be dating them. You will be dating me. Am I clear this time?"

She ran the back of her fingernails down my front. All the way down. "And I don't feel the need to be quiet."