Malevolence Ch. 03

Photos of discarded clothing was a recurring theme in Wilderness Life that served as a metaphor for back country trekking: Discard. Simplify. Oftentimes the theme was presented as clothing items in the foreground draped over a big rock, or a log, or strewn on a beach, while in the background, nudists frolicked in the wide open spaces.

One particularly memorable photo showed an assortment boots, socks, shorts, T-shirts, jockey briefs, panties and brassieres lying in the grass in the foreground, while in the background three guys and three girls, twentysomethings, stood in a circle doing nude tai chi in a sunny mountain meadow ablaze with wildflowers. Snow-capped peaks in the distance provided the backdrop. The magazine capitalized on the appeal of the photo by selling full-color posters of it. Hundreds of thousands of posters.

Travis couldn't go swimming because he had to keep his bandage dry. But Lisa could. Craig snapped photos of her backside as she waded into the cove. She swam, briefly, then, as she waded out, he snapped a flurry of frontal photos. Her short shaggy chestnut hair was plastered against her scalp and rivulets of water trickled down her flawless skin. Over the course of his career, he had photographed many young women, both clothed and nude. Without question, Lisa was in the upper echelon of photogenic desirability: innocent with a bit of fire in her eyes.

Craig requested Travis and Lisa sign release forms, stating that the photos in which their faces were recognizable couldn't be published without it. They willingly signed. Afterward, Craig excused himself and departed. As he paddled away in his kayak, Travis turned to Lisa and asked, "So, are you gonna be okay with your parents seeing you naked in a magazine?"

"Well, first of all, we don't know if any pictures will be published. But if they are . . . yeah, I'm okay with it. They always told me: don't be afraid to be yourself."

In only a short time Lisa had come to consider herself an unashamed nudist. Appearing naked in view of others, both genders, met the definition of being herself. Now, the prospect of national exposure in a major publication was terribly exciting. And if her friends and family happened to see the October issue of Wilderness Life? Well, she wasn't concerned about that. She was not afraid.

Travis cast his fishing line and slowly reeled in the lure. Lisa spread her towel on a smooth rock ledge at water's edge. Thus far on their vacation, she had been a slacker when it came to doing her yoga. Now, she resolved to spend a good long while stretching and performing poses.

Early on in their relationship, Travis tried yoga at Lisa's urging. He gave it the ol' college try, but determined it wasn't for him. It seemed a waste of time. Lisa was disappointed but she understood; to her, fishing seemed a waste of time. And so, there on the shore of Jasper Lake, each wasted time in their own fashion.

Travis split his attention between fishing and watching his wife. In short order, she had worked up a fine sheen of sweat performing a variety of poses. She embarked on downward dog: hands and feet planted on the towel, bent forward at the waist and butt high in the air. Her moist nether, pointed straight at him, was a target too luscious to resist.

Travis put down his fishing rod and stealthily crept up behind Lisa. Her fuzzy labia gaped slightly, revealing her pink inner recesses. Without fanfare, Travis plunged his index finger, fast and deep.

"Travis!" Maintaining the pose, she looked over her shoulder. "Not right now!"

"You've been at it for a half-hour. It's quittin' time."

"Not yet."

"Okay. Keep going. Don't mind me!"

Lisa sighed and looked away. Travis continued fingering. He knew how to push her buttons: he plunged two fingers deep inside, curled them downward and began massaging her G spot. Lisa instantly responded. "Ohhhhhh yeah . . . just like that . . . mmmmmmm . . ." For good measure he used his thumb to roll her clitoris. "Mmmmmm . . . that feels sooo good. . . "

When Travis first invaded her vagina, Lisa was miffed that he interrupted her 'me time.' However, that quickly passed. This was the first interest he had shown in sex since he got injured and she was glad he was recovering quickly.

Holding the downward dog pose while being fingered was uncommonly arousing. Muscular tension matched her sexual tension. She began to squirm, just enough to enhance the internal massage sensation. Her arousal spiraled up, up and away and her breathing escalated. Two minutes of persistent G-spot massaging resulted in a shuddering climax, an explosive release that made her legs go wobbly. Fearing she would collapse onto the ground, Travis grabbed her hips and pulled her up with her butt pinned against the underside of his erection. She braced her hands on knees. He slithered his stiff cock up and down her butt crack several times then, inch by inch, slipped it inside her sloppy wetness until it was fully buried. "Ohhhhhhmigod," Lisa moaned. As always, the sensation of his fat erection stretching her small vagina made her feel fully stuffed. He began thrusting at a slow pace the way she liked it. Straightaway, she shuddered and climaxed again.

For the longest time, Lisa shuddered and climaxed, one pleasurable pinnacle after another like deep sea waves rolling in and crashing on the beach. Travis was keenly aware of her pleasure. Each time an orgasm was imminent, she drew a deep breath and held it. Then, on the downside, she exhaled forcefully and moaned, "Ohhhhhhh . . . " For Travis, this was the most sublime experience on earth: watching his wife swept away in ecstasy. And he was swept away watching the groin-stirring visual of his glistening erection plunging her wet vagina.

Eventually, Travis pulled out. His erection was smeared with Lisa's viscous creamy white discharge that clung like glue in the hollows between his bulging veins. She turned her head and looked him in the eye. "I didn't feel you cum."

"I didn't." He pressed his swollen glans against her anus.

"Oh! Okay . . . " Wearing a blank expression, she looked away This time she didn't pinch or protest. She drew a deep cleansing breath and relaxed. Her anus relaxed as well, allowing Travis to slowly introduce his erection. Owing to her lubrication coating his shaft, insertion of his entire engorged length was quick and easy. But not without a smidge of discomfort. As always, she felt fully stuffed and when stuffed in the rear, doubly so.

Having been thoroughly satiated, Lisa's orgasms ceased. However, it was still pleasurable because Travis was enjoying himself. Gripping her hips, he thrust slowly and fully.

"Squeal like a pig!"

Lisa obliged him. "Weeeeeeee! Weeeeeeeeee!"

"Louder!"

"WEEEEEEEEEE! WEEEEEEEEEEE!"

"Squeal piggy!"

"WEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

It seemed to Lisa that Travis was enjoying himself a bit too much. And it seemed he was re-enacting the male rape scene in 'Deliverance.' She was struck with a horrible thought: maybe Travis was a closet bisexual and he was fantasizing about humping a male rump. She banished the thought. He was straight as an arrow. Of that she was certain.

Travis kept humping until he couldn't hold back any longer. Warmth welling in his groin erupted in a red-hot fireball that couldn't be contained. Gripping her hips tightly, he pinned her buns against his groin as spasm after gut-wrenching spasm spewed spurt after spurt.

When Lisa felt his spasms cease, she looked over her shoulder and one last time squealed, "Weeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

"Good piggy!"

Slowly, Travis pulled out. A gush of pearly slime escaped her gaping sphincter and dribbled down her cleft. Lisa stood upright, a bit unsteady on her feet. "Think I'm done with yoga."

"Yeah, I'm done fishing. Let's get cleaned up."

Hand-in-hand they waded into the lake until they stood waist-deep. There, they spent a moment swabbing their messy crotches.

Now, it was lazy time. They reclined on their towels on the smooth rock ledge at water's edge and relaxed. It occurred to Lisa that all of their sex thus far had been outside the tent in broad daylight. And, it occurred to her that maybe, just maybe, someone might have seen them. Certainly, someone at a distance could have watched with binoculars and they never would have known. That possibility was not upsetting.

For a time they lounged until hunger pangs started to nag. After supper, they got dressed to ward off the encroaching chill of evening. Building a small campfire helped in that regard. Being outdoor enthusiasts, they had elevated the pastime of campfire watching to a fine art; in the dreamy dancing flames they could see the saga of the ages, the rise and fall of empires, the destiny of humanity. Or they could see nothing. Their choice.

Whenever they lounged by the campfire, Travis kept by his side his flashlight and .357 revolver. He didn't expect any toothless hillbillies to come charging out of the shadows. He was simply being prepared like a good Boy Scout. When confronted with the sudden need to deploy deadly force, there would not be time to hunt for your weapon.

On this sublime evening in the North Woods watery wilderness, no danger presented itself. All was calm and quiet. After the fire dwindled down to glowing embers, they stretched out on a blanket. Lisa cuddled close and nestled her head in the crook of Travis' arm. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. They didn't talk. They just laid there gazing at starry, starry sky. So many stars. Every so often, a tiny meteor left a brief shimmering trail before it vaporized. All were far less impressive than the big meteor that blazed across the sky on their first night in the Boundary Waters. Even so, with each meteor, Lisa made a wish-upon-a-falling-star. So did Travis. On this trip, one had already come true.

* * * *

In the morning, in predawn twilight, Travis and Lisa took a short walk to the north to satisfy their curiosities about something. Their destination was a low hilltop a quarter-mile away where the stone was reputed to contain so much iron that the magnetic declination (difference between true north and magnetic north) was said to be skewed an additional three degrees west from the normal five degrees. Other areas in the Boundary Waters were similarly affected by significant deposits of iron-bearing rock. Magnetic Lake was one of them.

When they arrived on the hilltop devoid of trees, Travis retrieved from his pocket his trusty Boy Scout compass he had owned since age thirteen. Many times that compass had guided him on hikes through Midwestern forests. He pointed orientation arrow toward Polaris, shining bright in the sky beginning to blush with the first hint of pinkish glow. The compass needle settled at eight degrees west.

"It's true," Travis announced.

"Lemme see." Lisa moved close and looked at the compass. "Good thing we don't hafta use the compass for route finding."

"I know. If we got lost on a hike and had to use compass bearings to get unlost, we might be screwed."

"So, let's keep to the lakes."

"Sounds like a plan."

Route finding on lakes was easy: just follow the marked canoe routes from one lake to the next while keeping track of what lake you're actually on. Hiking overland required a different navigational strategy. Much of the terrain looked the same: hummocks and hollows covered with mixed deciduous/evergreen forest. Without constant compass orientation to keep track of your location, getting lost would be very easy. And with unreliable compass bearings to assist, you might stay lost.

After breakfast they broke camp and prepared to head out. The last detail before pushing off was to strip naked and stow their clothing in their backpacks. That done, they pushed their loaded canoe off the beach and climbed aboard. Lisa still sat in the stern. Travis had regained much of the function of his injured left arm but just to play it safe, they both felt Lisa should remain in charge of steering.

Continuing their journey, they paddled toward the eastern end of Jasper Lake. The opposing shorelines converged, forming a narrow channel which hooked sharply to the left around a rocky point. There, in a small dead-end cove, they expected to find the portage to Alpine Lake. As they rounded the rocky point, what they discovered, 100 yards away, were two canoes dead in the water with the occupants sitting idle. Another canoe was in the process of being launched, and more canoes sat on the ground lined up on the trail awaiting their chance to float. Lisa back-paddled and brought their canoe to a halt. They couldn't press ahead; no space was available at the landing.

Through binoculars Travis surveyed the scene. All the individuals floating in canoes were female, all 20ish. So were all the others standing on the trail. He watched the succession of canoes being launched; canoe after canoe, all bearing young women dressed in shorts and T-shirts. Not a single bare breast was noted, unusual in a place where the opposite was commonplace.

Once all nine canoes had been launched, the flotilla proceeded toward the rocky point, around which laid the shortest route to the open waters of Jasper Lake. Travis was giddy with excitement: he was on the threshold of being seen naked by eighteen alluring young women, blondes, brunettes and a solitary redhead.

Lisa understood where Travis' head was at: single-minded focus on showing his cock to these girls who, by all appearances, were college students on vacation. She wasn't concerned that her husband was an ardent exhibitionist. In her opinion that was a harmless proclivity -if indulged appropriately. After her experience with Brian and Terri, Lisa arrived at the realization she was a bit of an exhibitionist as well; when naked in view of other men, she felt a naughty thrill.

The flotilla was strung out in a long irregular line. Eighteen young women were chattering and paddling haphazardly. Some of them loudly banged their paddles against the sides of the aluminum canoes, the clatter of careless inexperience.

"So? Are we good to go?" Lisa asked.

"Yeah. The landing's clear."

Slowly, they began paddling toward the landing as the flotilla continued toward them, headed in the opposite direction. In the narrow channel, the flotilla would be passing by extremely close. Travis' excitement had reached such a fever pitch, his body responded with a twitching rock-hard erection standing tall like the masthead of a proud sailing vessel. Closer . . .closer . . . closer the eighteen came until, when the lead canoe was nearly even, the girl seated in front stopped paddling and stared wide-eyed and slack-jawed. She turned and looked at her canoe mate who wore an equally astonished expression. Both were caught off-guard and wondered why a couple would be canoeing naked in broad daylight when anyone could see them.

"Morning y'all!" Travis chirped, acting casual. It was only an act because his insides felt so squirrelly, he was scarcely able to contain his trembling. The girl seated sternward raised her gaze from his groin and made eye contact. "Morning," she quietly replied.

With each canoe that approached, the girls aboard received an unexpected eyeful. The background chatter subsided. Reactions ran the gamut: smiles, smirks, slack jaws, wide eyes, looking away, quiet gasps, whispered comments. The redhead, who appeared to be the youngest in the group, immediately looked away. Shielding her eyes with a hand underscored the magnitude of her embarrassment.

Travis felt like the guest of honor at some hifalutin gathering, meeting and greeting a parade of well-wishers making their way through a receiving line.

"Morning!" "How y'all doin'?" "Great weather, huh?" "Hey! Cool shirt!"

His genial manner prompted some to respond.

"Hi." "Fine." "Yeah, it is." "Thanks!"

As for the purple T-shirt Travis liked: on the front was a white screen print graphic of a cross and the words: Campus Crusade for Christ. Six additional girls wore identical shirts.

Even though there were no men in the flotilla, Lisa was having fun with this slowly unfolding exhibition. She considered the possibility that in a group of girls this substantial, statistical probability would suggest that a few of them might have been more interested in eyeballing her nakedness than his. Somehow, that notion appealed to Lisa, that a lesbian would find her desirable.

By the time half of the flotilla had passed, the two girls in the lead canoe exchanged muted comments. "Did you notice he was hard?" "Yeah, I saw it. What a creep!"

The Christian-oriented T-shirts led Travis to surmise the girls were a religious group. He calculated his chances were not good but he tried anyway. Of the girls in the seventh canoe he requested, "Get naked!"

"No way!" one of them shot back.

"C'mon, it's fun!"

"I'll take your word for it."

Of the girls in the eighth and ninth canoes he requested the same: "Get naked!" And both times he was shot down, politely.

The flotilla, now fully past, proceed onward. Before they made the turn around the rocky point, a few girls glanced back over their shoulders. Their encounter with human wildlife would give them lots to gab about around their next campfire. And it would supply them with fodder for conversation when they returned to college in the fall and shared with their friends what they did, and saw, on their summer vacation.

"Did all that make you hot an' horny?"

"Oh yeah!" Travis answered. "I'm rock hard!"

"Were you masturbating?"

"Didn't need to."

Moments later they arrived at the landing. Lisa backpaddled and brought the canoe to a halt in shallow water. Travis climbed out and waded back to where Lisa sat in the stern. "You know what to do with this," he stated matter-of-factly and presented his erection inches from her face.

"Yeah, I know what to do. But I'd rather wait til later."

"Awww! C'mon!"

"Let it build. I promise it'll be worth it."

Lisa climbed out of the canoe. They donned their boots and backpacks then grabbed the canoe handles set off along the portage trail. It was short and flat and strewn with exposed tree roots. By the time they arrived at Alpine lake, Travis' erection had subsided but his penis remained pleasingly plump, dangling long and fat. They floated their canoe then loaded aboard their backpacks. Travis climbed aboard first, followed by Lisa, then away they paddled onto open water. Dip, dip, and swing . . .

Alpine Lake's many islands and convoluted shoreline challenged Travis' navigation skills. As he always did to keep them oriented, he observed terrestrial features and matched those with corresponding representations on his topographic maps. He believed they were on the proper course to find the portage to Seagull Lake but no; they had mistakenly paddled into dead-end cove. They backtracked then, using his compass, trended north-northeast (accounting for magnetic declination) until they came to an unmistakable terrestrial feature that verified they were on course: a tiny island in a narrow strait. Past the island they paddle a short distance, hooked to the right around a pointy peninsula, and there, straight ahead was the portage landing. There, they donned their boots and backpacks. Lisa grabbed the rear canoe handle, Travis the front, and they set off along the portage trail, meandering through the birch/pine forest.

Lisa had a feeling they were being watched. Whenever that happened, she always looked around but never found anyone. But this time she did: forty yards off the trail, a black bear was standing beside a pine tree, watching them.

Lisa tried to remain calm. Quietly, she said, "Travis. Bear to the left."

Travis turned his head and spied the bruin. "I see it. Keep moving. We'll be okay."

Black bears ordinarily avoid humans. But not this one; it began to follow them on a parallel course. Lisa kept glancing at the bear and recalled what Craig Monroe said about other trekkers he had met who reported multiple instances of abnormal animal behavior. The bear changed course. Now it was angling toward them and walking faster.