The Wilderness

Noticing that Bo was no longer around, I had assumed that he might have gone off to use the latrine. Keeping myself busy hanging up all my freshly washed clothes to dry and rearranging my bag, twenty minutes later I stopped to wonder again after Bo, now with some alarm. I considered waking Davey, but felt the situation did not yet warrant this, nor was I anxious to face him waking up completely naked in front of me.

Noticing some footprints in the sand about 50 feet away, I followed them for a minute, having rounded a small peninsula with a promontory of high glass sticking out into the lake.

Approaching, I noticed a dark form amongst the tall grasses waving in the breeze. Determining that it was Bo, I was relieved and almost called out to him, when I suddenly stopped, fearful that maybe he was going to the bathroom or something. Now, that would be embarrassing. It was one thing to be skinny-dipping in the lake. Wholly another to witness a person's most private bodily functions. Inching closer, Bo had his back to me, seemingly staring out over the lake. Closer still I crept to determine if it was safe to join him.

Suddenly I froze, confused, and then stunned.

Not being a guy or very familiar with such things, it had taken me a minute to realize from the manner of his posture and the subtle movement of his arm...... that Bo was masturbating! I couldn't see anything, specifically his hand or his penis. But it was clear from his movements what he was doing.

Once again averting my gaze in irrational anxiety, it took me a moment calm down, resisting the urge to flee this ultimate of private moments. Regaining my composure, the Nurse, Wife and Teacher in me rationalized that this was entirely normal behavior. Bo was a healthy young man with, presumably, entirely normal sexual urges. In the week that I'd been around him I'd never seen him close or cozy with any of the girls at the camp and I recalled the very conversations we'd had about his girlfriend situation back home. In fact, it was likely that Bo was probably celibate at this point in his life, and 'letting off some steam' was probably to be expected.

In truth, I realized with some shame that he was being more discreet in his choice of time and location, than I had been in my own self-pleasuring the night before. Last night I'd been only feet away from my sleeping neighbors, separated by only a thin nylon tent wall, my own vocal outburst probably obvious to anyone who heard.

As I calmed myself with a clinical assessment of the scene I was witnessing, I noticed Bo's body tense up and his arm movements increase with urgency. Letting out a long groan, I realized I was watching him orgasm. Feeling both fascinated and guilty, I was suddenly overwhelmed by the eroticism of it, clutching the towel still wrapped around my body in some symbolic protection of my chastity against this sexual act of a virile male. Realizing his distraction would soon be at an end, I withdrew, hastening back to the campsite so as not to get caught spying.

Returning to camp, I noticed Davey back in the water, just floating with his eyes closed. Noticing my return, he yelled out,

"Hey! I was wondering where you were. From the laundry hanging out I assumed you took advantage of our afternoon off to take care of stuff. But I don't know where Bo is. Do you?"

"No. I also wondered where he got off to, but he's a big boy and I think all of us need a little time and space alone now and then, whether it's to do laundry or any other personal stuff. How was your nap? You guys certainly earned one!"

"It was amazing. I don't remember the last time I crashed that hard. I was completely wiped out and don't remember a thing. Then I woke up, did some chores around the camp, got sweaty again and decided to rinse off one more time before starting dinner".

It was then that I noticed that both my little tent and their larger canvas shelter were set up, our personal bags now placed neatly at the entrances.

Again, I didn't know what I was expecting. Now that we'd be alone tonight, I wouldn't be forced to sleep on the female side of camp. But noticing my tent was a good 30 feet from their tent, I had mixed feelings about the set up. Getting angry with myself again, I could believe that the buffer zone between our sleeping arrangements had been out of deference to me. Nonetheless, I was getting a little frustrated with this guessing game about how we should handle the gender and privacy situation. If they were not going to openly broach the subject, then I should be brave enough to do so......but that presumed I knew what I wanted the rules to be.

As I sat down wrapped in my towel rearranging my duffle, as if to make my point, Davey exited the water again completely naked and seemingly oblivious to the show he was putting on.

Grabbing a towel hanging off their shelter he began to vigorously dry himself, methodically moving around his body including roughly drying off his privates. Watching, I had always been amazed at how roughly guys treated their junk. Didn't that kind of "man-handling" hurt? Snickering to myself I realized that now the site of a naked man, who was not my husband, wasn't throwing me into a panic anymore. That could only bode well for the weeks to come.

While I was congratulating myself on my new fearless attitude, Bo returned to camp....now back in his Speedos.... calling out to Davey.

"So, you're finally awake! I feared your snoring might have scared Taylor off. When I awoke, she was gone."

This earned Bo a middle-finger salute, Davey still drying himself and then slipping on some light nylon running shorts.

Since my entire wardrobe was still drying, I broke into a small bag containing the only clean and dry clothing I had left; sleepwear I had reserved for my return to civilization and a hot shower, assuming that I'd be back in a cabin with all females. The cute camisole with spaghetti straps and loose-legged booty shorts that I'd purchased the year before (trying to generate some interest from my husband), was perhaps a bit risqué for this situation, but considering the skin show of this afternoon, the rapidly approaching darkness, and my new "I don't give a shit" attitude, I retreated into my tent to put them on with only minor trepidation. Screwing up my courage I immerged from my tent and walked toward the guys who were already busy opening food boxes. Despite my bravado, I was relieved that no one appeared to take any obvious notice of my outfit.

As promised, we indulged in a celebratory meal of grilled steaks, cooked-in-foil potato wedges smothered in butter, garlic and spices, my contribution being a huge chef salad and stir-fry to use up all the remaining fresh vegetables. For dessert we had planned to break into the not-so-secret stash of brownies that Mary had hidden in a box.

The smell of all this cooking was torture. We were ravenous. Just as we were about to sit at our makeshift table, plates overflowing with food, Davey wandered off to the little glacial stream that fed into the lake. I was perplexed as he bent over and withdrew from the water a large mesh bag containing three large Pint cans of Australian Foster's Lager beer. Not normally a big beer drinker, I confessed my mouth watered at the sight.

As we all popped open our cans, I took a very long unladylike guzzle, finishing off half the can at once, much to the amusement of my gawking companions. Just to finish things off right, I let rip a huge belch, their shocked faces causing us all to fall apart into hysterical laughter.

Laughing so hard I was in tears, I became conscious that my boobs were bouncing around, barely confined in the silk camisole. Absentmindedly I tried to corral them by raising my forearms up against my chest as I laughed at the irony of both my boyish immaturity and my womanly wobbling.

Once back under control I lowered my arms and, for the first time in our friendship, caught Bo staring directly at my bosom. Smiling at Bo to reassure him it was OK, we turned back to Davey, still writhing around in the sand, gasping between laughing fits, having fallen off his log. This set off yet another round of hysterical laughter, this time the ridicule directed at David Dwayne Thompson, the 3^rd !

At the time, I remember thinking this was turning out to be one of the happiest carefree days of my life.

Having finished our meal, we relaxed sitting down in the sand, leaning back against some large logs. After a lull in the almost nonstop conversation of the evening, Bo stood with a grave look on his face and retreated into their tent. Returning with something held behind his back, he announced.

"Double D. I HAD been saving this for your birthday, but tonight seems like as good a night as any. This should always be shared with good friends, says my father, and I never thought we'd be lucky enough to broaden our circle to include this amazing woman", at which he bowed toward me and then presented us with an ornate bottle filled with golden amber liquid.

Initially choaking up again at this poignant moment, I composed myself and asked, "What birthday??".

"It's Mr. Thompson's 21^st birthday in a couple days! This is a 35-year-old bottle of Scotch my father gave me in anticipation of my graduation. Now seems like a more meaningful occasion", said Bo, the emotion clear in his voice.

Humbled to be included in this special moment, I couldn't control my silent tears as we all leaned into to one another for an emotion-filled group hug. Enveloped in our embrace, I could feel the heat of their skin and the smell of sunscreen and male sweat. Overjoyed, I felt safe and warm with these two. Sniffling and wiping tears away, Bo started to remove the seal from the bottle neck and inserted a corkscrew, as Davey lightened the mood in a growling voice.

"Oh yeah baby, give it a good screw!"

I tittered at this first overtly sexual inuendo I'd heard from these guys! Choosing to ignore it and feeling this moment deserved real glasses, I stood to go to the kitchen box and retrieve three small juice glasses I knew were within. Upon standing, I started to wipe off the sand sticking to my butt and thighs from having sat directly on the beach for the last hour.

"Christ, I'm covered in sand. I'm going to have to jump into the water again before bed, just to get all the sand out of my coochie!" I said...... noticing both guys now staring openly at my crotch, as I leaned over and squatted down a bit to brush the sand off the inside of my thighs. Rather surprised at my impulsive, bordering on indecent display, I scurried off to find the glasses and defuse my embarrassment of that moment.

Returning, I found the guys had folded up a camp blanket into a large square where I had been sitting. As I had many times before, I was touched by their consideration. Giving myself one last swipe of sandy-skin, I tugged at my shorts which had snugged uncomfortably up into my crotch. Embarrassed by what the girls at school referred to as a 'camel-toe', I pulled my legs under me as I sat down in an effort to be more ladylike.

With great ceremony the whiskey was poured and passed around. Raising a toast, Bo said:

"To my Best Mate on his almost-birthday and this memorable day! And to our new friend, who's quickly lowered her standards to become one of us, the Lowly Kitchen Staff. She is 'one of the lads'.....but thankfully much smarter, braver, and certainly more beautiful......so she classes up our little gentlemen's club, don't you think? Happy Almost-Birthday, Brother. Cheers!"

"Hear, Hear!!!" Davey replied as both of them embraced each other again with such manly force and emotion that I feared they would spill their drinks. I started to tear-up all over again.

As we took a first sip, I was pleasantly surprised. Never having tried Scotch Whisky before I was amazed at how smooth and rich this tasted in my mouth and throat. Swallowing fire, the moment it hit my stomach an explosion of warmth filled my body. I was dumbstruck.

"Wow!", said I hoarsely after a moment of surprise. "This is really amazing."

Pausing to look deeply at his glass, Bo said dreamily, "It bloody better be! It's from a small distillery up in the Outer Hebridean islands of Scotland. It's probably older than you are, and cost a fortune.....or at least that's what father claims. He says, 'Whisky is like a Woman. The connoisseur knows that they only get better with age. Nothing compares to the body, taste, spice and passion of a mature sample....but you're going to pay for it!' The whiskey, that is", clearly bemused with his witty double-entendre.

"You better believe it, Boys!" said I in my best Groucho Marks voice, raising my glass as we descended into raucous laughter again, but feeling renewed consciousness at the differences between us. These were young men without a care in the world, just starting life. I, on the other hand, was a married woman, on her second career, well over a decade their senior. I felt a fraud, an imposter in this club of untroubled youth and unlimited opportunity.

Downing my glass in one swallow, I held it out for a refill, earning me admiration and a raised eyebrow. This time, Bo filled my glass with a serving size that matched their own. It wouldn't be the last one that night.

As we sipped our Scotch, our mood quickly turned from mirthful to mellow. Savoring the exhausting accomplishments of the day and a belly full of food and drink, we fell into silence, lost in our own thoughts as the crackling fire captured our vacant stares. Far off into the distance, lighting could be seen silently on the horizon, beautifully illuminating the interior of towering storm clouds. It was a better show than any Imax movie.

My body and mind relaxed, I stretched out my legs and slouched down onto my blanketed nest in complete contentment, watching the embers from our crackling fire climb into the sky, the night sounds of insects and trees rustling in the breeze. How could life get any more perfect than at this very moment?

PART 5

I must have dozed off for a few moments because I regained awareness to the sound of the guys quietly talking and the low rumbling of thunder in the distance. Feeling the fog lifting from my consciousness, I looked over at my companions to find them gazing absentmindedly at me, deep in quiet conversation. Perhaps not the topic of their attention, I nonetheless became self-conscious of my casual posture, realizing I had slid down from the log and was now sprawled out on the blanket, my arms and legs all akimbo. While not indecent, my body position was certainly more 'relaxed' than I would have intended. Summoning some clarity from my still fuzzy state, I muttered.

"Sorry Guys. I must have dozed off."

Rousing myself to sit up, I suddenly felt a sharp pain at my shoulders and cried out, startling all of us from our boozy lethargy. I reached for the base of my neck, wincing as a look of curious concern fought its way through the guy's Whiskey haze.

"It's nothing. I overdid it today and I must have pulled something. I'm sure my log-pillow here didn't help", I grimaced, rubbing my neck.

The guys immediately relaxed, deflating back into their comfortable slouch against their own log.

"Then this is your lucky day.......", slurred Davey. "It just so happens that Bo is....or was..... the sports trainer for a professional soccer team..... "

"..... Football..... " interjected Bo, correcting him sternly with the European name for the game.

".... Football, ok, whatever. Anyway, he knows all about strained muscles, cramps and such-like".

As Davey recounted our companions' hidden talents, Bo roused himself unsteadily from his sandy perch, reaching back to wipe the sand off his backside. Standing in front of me, I couldn't help but stare as he stretched his frame to his full height, his ebony skin shimmering in the dancing firelight.

I mused that, had I been more sober, I might have been able to better control myself but, finding myself eyelevel with his waist, I stared openly at his Speedos and the sizable package confined within.

Over the last few days I'd obviously noticed the topography of male anatomy being displayed in their form fitting bathing suits, but tonight his bulge seemed more pronounced and voluminous.....and daringly close. I felt myself blush, realizing that I was openly staring with mouth agog.

Stepping around me he maneuvered for a moment before lowering himself between me and the log, forcing me to slide forward to make room for him, pushing my shorts again up firmly into my personal crevices. In my trance I shamefully visualized his manhood sliding down my back, wedging himself against my bottom.

Settling his large hands onto my shoulders, he began to firmly massage my lower neck and shoulders. Quickly I was overcome by a torrent of sensations, as his firm ministrations on my sore muscles refocused me to that space.

"Oh my God! That feels amazing! Thank you!" I mumbled, losing myself in his touch, feeling the heat of his body radiating onto my back, a warm glow washing over me.

Looking over at Davey to affirm his opinion of Bo's massage skills, I noticed an odd expression on his face; A combination of intense interest and anticipation, his eyes fixated on each movement of Bo's hands. As these magical hands moved down from my neck to my spine, I decided that words were unnecessary and I closed my eyes again to savor these delightful feelings, rolling my shoulders forward, my head now lolling around loosely with each firm manipulation.

I don't know how long we sat there silent, except for my regular grunts and groans of bliss, as Bo methodically engaged each muscle group. Now, having expanded from neck and shoulders to other areas around my upper-back, my awareness shifted from pain-relief to a more generalized gratification of his now-gentler touch across more of my upper body.

Fearful that my obviously quelled pain might prompt him to end this therapeutic session, I began to groan louder with each stroke of my arms, lower back, and torso, clearly signaling my appreciation and urging him to continue.

Around me, the atmosphere in the air felt electric. My breathing had taken on a short-panting tempo as each touch of Bo's hands made my skin prickle, goosebumps forming all over me. Despite the warm and humid night, I shivered.

Confusion started to rise in me. Ashamed, I found myself wistfully imagining this must be what seduction feels like. Was I really that starved for human intimacy that I thought these caring caresses to be anything more than the innocent touches of a friend.

Looking back on this night many months later, it was the beginning of my awakening. I'd like to blame my behavior on the booze. But I couldn't. I knew exactly what was happening ....and what I wanted. Neither can I blame surrendering to the pleasurable feelings washing over me. I was fully aware of the other areas in my private life that I found lacking and, here in this moment, hoped could be satisfied. I thought of the relationships in my life, those that defined me and tried to control me. I was throwing off the burden I'd been carrying around for years. I was a woman, with passions, desires and wants. Too often a pawn for others, I found myself yearning to satisfy my own longings and destiny.

Freed from even the polite language expected of my gender, I realized I was Hot and Horny. My skin crackled. My lips and tongue ready to be devoured. My stomach churned and my legs trembled. My core pulsing with lust. My tits ached to be touched and sucked. Between my legs, I could feel my pussy was on fire, swollen and soaking wet, prepared for the gratifying penetration I so longed for. I was ready to be enveloped, while in turn, enveloping the object of my growing desire.

Hoping these two beautiful bodies could lift me to a plateau of ecstasy, I built the confidence to abandon any fears and hesitation. Thoughts of my husband, family, and work, passed through my mind without the slightest effect. Concerns for my identity as a women and wife, were meaningless at that moment. I had accepted the vow I'd made to myself at the bathing pool and was prepared to take and be taken. In that moment, I accepted these were truths that I would no longer deny myself.