Millie's Kayak Camping Adventure

Her doubts were fading. Having survived a second day of paddling, Millie felt more accomplished and confident than she had in years.

So far, the river had been perfect: calm water winding through dense forest and overgrown brush sprinkled with wildflowers. Birds flitted and called while dragonflies looped and zoomed hunting mosquitoes. Confident mama ducks guided their nervous babies, fish jumped, and once two river otters hustled across the bow of her kayak, their black noses and tiny ears poking above the water.

Best of all, Millie was truly alone. The guidebook said the narrow river wasn't popular with paddlers. There were no farms, no cottages, and she had seen no one since putting in. For the first time in her life, she had only herself to rely on, and only herself to blame. Perfect.

With every breath of the tea-like scent of the river and piney decayed wood smell of the woods, Millie relaxed further. She loved the gentle sploosh as her paddle dipped into the water and the firm grip of the blades as she took each stroke.

She reached the camping spot with daylight to spare. There was a fire pit ringed by rocks and enough space for a couple of tents. Since the river offered few places to stop, a paddling group had hacked these camping areas out of the brush along the way, each spaced roughly one day's distance apart.

After she camped that night, there were two more camping spots to reach before she got to the coast. Then she would camp on the rocky shore and return. The river's gentle current would make returning easy. She would be more used to paddling by then.

Pulling her boat up onto shore, Millie realized how humid the day was. She unpacked her gear, after which, she decided, she would be naughty and go for a naked swim. She had always wanted to try that.

To her irritation, up at the river bend two colorful kayaks swung into view.

So much for being alone. Millie took a breath and squinted, trying to see who they were. A couple of guys on a fishing expedition? Rich kid adrenaline junkies action-camming a river adventure? Either might see a slightly pudgy woman in her thirties as easy prey.

Reality hit her with icy dread: she was alone on an isolated river. There was no cell service and nowhere to flee except further down river or into the dense brush.

She remembered the lines she had memorized from Cheryl Strayed's Wild, the inspiration for her trip:

Fear, to a great extent, is born of a story we tell ourselves... so I chose to tell myself I was safe. I was strong. I was brave.

Millie chose to be brave, though she fingered the savage-looking dive knife sheathed at her waist.

The boats drew closer. Millie felt relief to see one was a woman—older, lean and tawny skinned. The other looked like a younger guy. Mother and son? They were in sea kayaks: long, sleek and expensive, with bright yellow decks and white hulls.

The woman waved. "Hi! Hope we didn't scare you. Bet you weren't expecting to see anyone on this river."

Millie smiled and called back. "Yeah. The guidebook said this run wasn't popular."

"Well, we paddled it around this time last year. Didn't see a soul the whole way to the coast and back. We were surprised to see a car parked back at the put-in."

The pair glided effortlessly to the river's edge. The woman grabbed a branch jutting over the water while her male companion coasted up to grip the edge of her cockpit and steady himself. They bobbed, looking up.

Millie now saw the woman was south Asian, with captivating narrow eyes and tawny skin that glowed with rose undertones. Faint laugh-lines creasing the corners of her eyes put her at maybe late thirties, though her medium-length black hair was shot with grey.

The guy looked mid-twenties and was gorgeous: dirty blond hair just touching his shoulders, soft green eyes, and a defined jaw with just the right amount of scruff. With his broad shoulders and muscled arms, he could have been a model for one of those sexy firemen calendars.

The woman peered behind Millie. "Are you here all by yourself?"

Millie hesitated, then chided herself. Even she could tell the pair were harmless.

"Yup. It's just me."

"You're brave," said the woman. "I wouldn't have the guts to come out here alone."

Millie felt herself swell at the compliment, even though during the first day of her adventure she had eyed the riverbanks, imagining people or animals ready to pounce. And that night in her tiny tent, exhausted as she was, she woke at every sound.

"So," said the woman, "we were hoping to settle here tonight, but I know how it is. If you want to be alone, we'll keep going to the next camping spot."

Millie noted the sun touching the tops of the trees behind her. "You'd never get there before dark," she said. "No, this is public land. There's room. And I think I'd like a little company, after all."

The woman thanked her, and the pair lifted themselves from their boats. Millie helped the woman pull her boat up the steep embankment.

"I'm Millie," she said, admiring the dagger-thin kayak. It made her orange 12-footer look like a bathtub toy.

"I'm Val," said the woman. "And that's Troy."

Millie turned to wave at Troy and gasped. He had doffed his life vest and, bare chested, was dragging his own kayak up the steep slope, well-defined muscles of his back and legs working in captivating rhythm.

He parked his boat beside Val's and turned.

"Nice to meet you," he said. "Sorry to intrude."

Other than sandals, he wore only clinging spandex rowing shorts, his prominent pectorals and trim build on full display. So was an impressive cock clearly outlined along one thigh. His tummy showed a hint of a six-pack. He wasn't super cut like a gym rat, but real-world muscular like a guy who did physical things.

He crouched and began pulling out gear from their boat's storage hatches.

Val gave Millie a gentle nudge. "The scenery's nice out here, isn't it?"

Millie met Val's smiling eyes and blushed.

"Y-yes. Very nice. Is he..."

Val grinned. "Troy's my boy toy. My own personal himbo. For as long as he'll put up with me, anyway."

She had not said it quietly. Mortified, Millie's eyes darted to Troy.

He looked back and nodded. "Yep, that's me. And I'm not tired of you yet, you crusty old fossil."

Val laughed. She strode over, mussed his hair, and helped unload their gear.

~~~~

Millie watched the pair setting up. They weren't roughing it: their tent was a palatial six-person dome, which meant it actually slept three. Into it they stuffed a queen-sized air mattress they covered with sheets and a blanket instead of sleeping bags.

They moved with smooth coordination, probably having set up hundreds of times, pausing to joke or playfully insult one another.

Val wore a clinging sports top and spandex shorts that showed off her figure. She was trim but not sinewy, the lines and curves of her refined and feminine. She reminded Millie of a teacher she once had—her very first girl crush.

Troy was impossibly beautiful, exactly the type of guy you could drool over, safe knowing he could never be attracted to you.

The pair finished by unfolding tiny camp chairs and setting them by the fire pit. The sun had ducked below the trees, but the summer heat and humid air persisted.

Val stretched her arms and looked at Troy. "Time for a swim?"

He nodded. The pair strolled to the riverbank, unceremoniously stripped bare, and leaped in. When they surfaced, both hooted with delight at the cool of the water.

Val turned to Millie. "The water's just right," she called. "Come join us?"

"I... uh, I still have some setting up to do."

Millie turned towards her tent, face burning. She tried to ignore Val and Troy splashing and playing in the river, but every sidelong glance she stole at the beautiful couple made her feel more self-conscious and inadequate.

~~~~

"Sure you don't want a canoe instead? They're easier to get in and out of and can... hold a lot more weight."

The sales guy had barely tried hiding his smirk. He looked like he ran a half-marathon every day before breakfast, as did every other customer in the sports store.

At 34, Millie was well aware of the toll her stress-filled job had taken on her body. And her soul. So what if she was a little larger now? And she'd always had big boobs, even as a teenager.

But she exercised. She hiked. And her boyfriend loved her curves, calling her "lush," eagerly demonstrating his attraction every chance he got. At least, until his career became his new object of desire.

The paddle shack on the other side of town was more professional: they complimented Millie on getting into a new activity. They listened to her plans, then guided her to an affordable rotomolded kayak that was "tough, great for beginners and with enough storage for weekend trips or even longer."

They gave her a discount on camping gear and on their crash kayaking course, held in a pond behind the building.

~~~~

Millie longed to strip and jump in the river. Instead, she puttered around, gathering sticks and branches that had fallen during winter. Larger branches lay outside the camp clearing, some big enough to burn for a while.

When she had the fire burning cheerily in the stone circle, Millie gasped, seeing Val and Troy emerged from the water looking like river gods, beads of water on their skin sparkling gold in the setting sun.

Val stretched her hands before the fire. "Mmm. You're an angel, Millie. How wonderful to have a fire ready after a swim!"

Millie flushed and her heart fluttered. She tried not to gawk at the pair standing before the fire, seemingly unconcerned with their nudity.

She watched Val squeeze water from her silky hair, her raised arms emphasizing her compact boobs capped by tiny dark nipples.

Troy simply combed his wet locks back over his scalp with his fingers. Millie noted he had suffered no shrinkage while swimming: his cock rested thick and long between muscled thighs. It looked just right.

Throughout college, she and her friends had a running joke about Goldilocks dicks: not so big it would hurt, but not so small you couldn't feel it. On campus, they traded guesses about each cute guy who walked by.

"You can tell from the length of their nose," one friend insisted.

"No, it's the index finger!"

"It's the feet, you ditz."

Years later, Millie cringed at how they had objectified each guy, but at the time she didn't feel bad at all—not after all the times at the college pub guys like them offered to buy her tits a drink. Occasionally, one would look up from her chest and notice her blue eyes, light brown hair or even engage in conversation and learn something about her. But most were drawn to her boobs, hoping the quiet girl they were attached to would be an easy lay.

Yes, no question: regardless of his nose, fingers or feet, Troy possessed a stellar Goldilocks dick. Millie's mouth turned dry as she stared. To her chagrin, she realized her pussy was doing the opposite.

Val noticed Millie staring. "We should cover up, shouldn't we? We're so used to going around nude we hardly ever think about it."

Millie tore her gaze away. "N-no. If you're comfortable..."

"But you're not. It's okay," Val said. She turned to fetch their clothes.

Millie stopped her. "No, please. I'm just... I've never been around, uh, nudists. Naturists. Whatever the term is."

Val laughed. "We're not. At least, I don't think we are. What do you think, Troy?"

He shrugged. "It's comfortable, that's all. Hate clothes when it's hot."

"And you love seeing women naked," said Val. "Would you get our clothes, dear? We'd better cover up."

"No!" said Millie, much too loudly. She flushed with embarrassment. "I mean, it really is okay. Really."

Val studied her for a moment, then shared a grin.

Turning to Troy, Val said, "Want to catch us some dinner, hon? Or should I?"

Troy insisted he would do it. Strolling to his kayak, he retrieved a dismantled fishing rod and pieced the halves together. He fetched a tiny tackle box and headed to the river's edge.

Millie and Val watched his tight, bare ass as he walked.

"Truth is," Val sighed, "I'm still not entirely at ease walking around naked. Troy got me into it. Mostly I do it just to see views like that."

They laughed.

Val scooted her camp chair closer to the fire and pulled the other beside her, offering it to Millie.

Sitting, Millie wasn't sure what made her more uneasy: the fact the couple were naked or that she, like a prude, wasn't. Her clothes clung unpleasantly in the muggy air. The under-wire of her bra was digging in like it always did by the end of every day. If only she wasn't so flabby.

Millie poked the fire with a branch, then tossed it in.

"Thanks again for letting us stay," said Val. "We could have made it to the next camping spot, but it was a long paddle from the put-in."

"You paddled all the way from the put-in just today? That's a two-day journey."

Val shrugged. "Well, we got an early start."

If that was the case, Millie thought, they must have started at midnight.

Millie said, "On my first day, I was so worried about making it to the camp area I paddled like crazy. Got there early afternoon, completely wiped out. My hands were numb, and I did something to my shoulder."

Val looked at her with sympathy. "Sounds like my first time. Had to learn to grip the paddle lightly and concentrate on keeping my shoulders down. You'll get the hang of it. You could let Troy look at your shoulder."

"Uh, he's a doctor?"

"Massage therapist." Val put her hands behind her head and stretched. "He does wonders to this old body."

Trying not to gawk at Val's 'old' body, Millie said, "You're not much older than me."

Val lowered her arms. "Well, I'm 43. You're what... 36? 38?"

"I'm 34. You do not look 43, Val."

"Benefits of stress-free living, I guess. And plenty of good sex." She gave Millie a speculative look. "So... Millie's a pretty name. Don't hear it very often. Short for Millicent?"

"Oh, I wish. Mildred. After my grandmother. So, I was 'mildew' or 'millipede' all through school."

Val nodded. "Parents are always giving their kids old names. I know a Gertrude. She calls herself Jeri. My full name is Valencia."

Millie started to speak, then closed her mouth.

"Oh, go on," Val said. "Say it. Everyone always says it."

"All right," Millie grinned. "Valencia like the orange?"

"There you go," Val said with a chuckle. "My father's side of the family is Spanish. My mom's side is from Vietnam, if you're wondering. Papa swore they named me after a relative and not the city. Or the orange."

"It's because she's so squeezable," came a voice.

Millie had not heard Troy approach. Startled, she turned to find him standing between their chairs. His heavy cock was at eye level, so close she could have leaned over and licked it.

Millie turned back, reddening.

Val took the string of five small fish he was holding. "You say the sweetest things, hon. That was quick."

He shrugged. "It's the right time of day." He moved closer to the fire, then turned, again displaying his dick at eye level. "They were really biting. If you two are chatting, I'll go clean them."

"No way," said Val. "You always hack them into mush. I'll go find the gear." She stood. "And would you mind looking at Millie's shoulder? She must have pulled it or strained it paddling."

Val vanished beyond the fire light into the surrounding gloom.

Millie protested she didn't need any help, but stopped when Troy leaned forward, tilting his head to examine her shoulder. He lifted his green eyes to meet her blue.

"Wow," he said. "You have such pretty eyes." Then he frowned, looking at her shoulders. "Which one is it? Can you move it?"

Millie rotated her right shoulder. "It's just a little sore. You don't need to bother."

"I like to help," Troy said and moved behind her chair. "Lean forward a little?"

Leaning, Millie felt Troy's firm hands gently pressing and manipulating her shoulders through her shirt. He set one hand at the base of her neck while easing her shoulder back with the other. It was mildly uncomfortable for a moment before he did something else and Millie immediately found the pain ease.

A delightful quiver radiated through her, and she relaxed as he continued gently probing and pushing.

His touch was exquisite: never pressing too hard, he lingered just long enough on each spot for the muscle beneath to unknot. He spent extra time on her sore shoulder, moving her arm down then pressing, lifting it then pulling, each motion easing away the tension, spreading tingly warmth through her. She had never experienced such a spectacular massage.

Troy guided her to lean forward further, and he moved lower, doing magical things to her mid-back, though Millie could tell her shirt and heavy bra were in the way.

"Would it work better if I took off my bra?" she said.

"Well, sure," he said. "But only if you're comfortable doing that."

She lifted the back of her shirt. "Unhook me?"

Strong fingers loosened her bra in seconds. Millie deftly pulled her arms through the straps to remove it from under her shirt and tucked the damn thing beside her leg. She sighed with relief at being free.

She leaned forward again, and Troy pulled her shirt up as far as it would go. He ran his hands over her bare back, taking time to smooth the red marks and indentations left by her bra. Then he moved on, gloriously caressing and massaging from the small of her back to as high as he could reach under the shirt, where he switched again to massaging her over the cloth.

Millie waited, expecting Troy to suggest she pop open the buttons of her shirt or even ask her to remove it completely, but he laboured on valiantly. And he was so good at it. She had never had a professional massage, though some of her boyfriends had some skills. How much better would it be laying naked on a massage table, face in one of those weird rings while Troy slicked his powerful hands over her oil-coated body?

She took a deep breath and blurted, "I'm going to take off my shirt now, okay?"

Troy paused. After a long beat, he said, "If... only if you're okay with that, Millie. It would make it much easier. But you need to be comfortable. Relaxed."

If she leaned forward, he couldn't see her boobs, Millie thought. Or her flab. Though she was feeling so loose, she wasn't sure she cared.

Millie undid her buttons and shucked off her shirt. The dry warmth radiating from the fire felt exquisite on her bare chest, drying her skin despite the humid evening air. Without thinking, she sat up and closed her eyes, basking in the sensation of the dry warmth and slight breeze wafting across her skin.

If Troy was scrutinizing her boobs from over her shoulder, he didn't let on. Inside, Millie half hoped he was.

She felt him guide her to lean forward again, then smooth the heel of his hands over her upper shoulders before pressing and massaging again.

Millie rested her elbows on her thighs, groaning and cooing at the miracles Troy's hands created all through her.

Val appeared and sat. Millie felt alarmed that she was now topless with her boyfriend massaging her bare torso, but Val smiled warmly.

"I'm so glad you're letting Troy help," she said. "Feels good, doesn't it?"

Millie groaned. "It's incredible." She half turned. "Troy, you're just incredible."

"In so many ways," Val said, and blew him a kiss. She grinned at Millie.

With knees together, Val opened a folding board, placed a fish on it and with a long fillet knife, began preparing each fish.

Millie had never seen it done before. She watched, revolted and fascinated as Val deftly slit the belly of each one, yanked out the guts, then flipped, sliced and flipped again.