The Wilderness

Back on that beach, in the glow of the firelight, I knew this situation was moving into confusing waters, but I didn't want to stop. I was aware of the change in the atmosphere, from accepting touches for the physical relief of pain, now to a deep longing to be touched all over. From the healing therapy amongst platonic friends, to the sensual touch between a man and a woman, my body was now aggressively craving what my mind should normally have resisted.

My senses now attuned to the feel of each fingertip on my skin, I noticed that his recent attention to my shoulders had caused the thin straps on my camisole to fall down my arms, coming to rest at my elbows. While his movements were not as physical as before, Bo's rhythmic deep tissue massage of my lower back was causing my body to rock slowly back and forth.

Opening my eyes, I looked down at my swaying breasts, as I could feel the camisole inching down with each shift of my body. Conflicted between modesty and sensual abandon, I was fearful that reaching up to fix my top might break the trance we were all in. In fact, as I watched my top continue its halting descent, I felt a daring jolt of excitement surge through me. I became a powerless observer, watching my inevitable exposure with increasing intrigue, my hard nipples visibly furrowing a path under the silk toward the edge of the garment's neckline.

Moving his hands to the sides of my torso, I could feel his fingers graze the swell of my breasts, as he took longer and more languorous strokes up and down my arms. Holding my breath, I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, my stomach churning, my legs tensing. I froze, nervous but entranced by what might happen next?

In my heightened state, I confess to disappointment as Bo moved his hands back up to my neck and lower skull. With gentle finger pressure, he began to massage my scalp, which immediately caused me to melt again, the tension in my body fading as quickly as it had formed. Pausing, he reached up and pulled off the Scrunchie holding my ponytail, releasing my hair in a cascade down below my shoulders.

I suddenly froze. For some reason, this seemed shockingly intimate and significant. Like he was undressing me. Suddenly feeling more exposed now than I'd had from days of partial nudity and wardrobe malfunctions, for the first time I was more convinced than ever that this must be what a seduction feels like; A slow, inexorable dance, with both sides knowing where it would ultimately lead, but unable to stop.

Reaching under the curtain of my hair, Bo massaged my neck, skull, and scalp, then began "combing" my long tresses out with his fingers, paralyzing me in a stupor of euphoria. Almost delirious from the emotions and desires of the moment, unbridled passions welled up from within me.

As Bo moved on to kneading my temples and ears, I stared dreamily at Davey, his eyes alternating between looking into mine, and quick guilty looks down at my now almost exposed nipples, my dark areolas now inching visibly above the neckline. Seeing the yearning and eagerness in his eyes, I felt a strange welcome excitement at the thought of revealing myself.

Placing my hands on Bo's thighs to either side of me, and with a calmness that surprised me, I ignored the questions in my subconscious and slowly leaned back onto Bo's chest.

My eyes never leaving Davey's, I watched the turmoil in him as he struggled to hold my gaze. Finally looking down, his eyes widened with delight and hunger as I heard Bo gasp behind me, pausing his massage. The cool breeze causing my nipples to pucker painfully, confirmed that my top had now fallen to my waist, my deliberate reveal having changed the atmosphere, and likely our relationship, forever.

My breath quickening, I knew we were passing a point of no return when I lifted my butt a few inches to relieve the now-painful wedgie pulled up into my crotch. Lightheaded from my boldness, I casually pulled the bunched fabric of my shorts out from between my legs, my thighs falling open with unmistakable provocation. Staring at Davey, I returned to my position of relaxed submission. While I was sure that my sex was still partially covered, I knew this seemingly innocent act was probably the most unambiguous invitation that I had ever presented to anyone.

I could feel Bo lean up to peer over me as Davey's intense gaze bored into my barely concealed feminine treasure, his arousal now unmistakable from the tenting of his shorts. This physical symbol of his Maleness matched my own burning arousal. My loins on fire, I could feel my lubrication leaking from me, my own musky scent assaulting my senses.

The tension in the air felt like a crystal ball about to shatter into a million pieces, my invitation and surrender unmistakable, waiting for one of them to act. Out of my peripheral vision I watched Bo's hands hesitatingly slide down over my clavicles, toward my now heaving breasts, my nipples engorged to obscene dimensions, my breathing labored with anticipation. No longer able to restrain himself, Davey rose onto his knees and provocatively untied the drawstring on his shorts, before leaning onto all fours and crawling toward me.

His head now even with my drawn-up knees, unknown forces compelled me to reach down into my crotch and pull aside the fabric, revealing to him the most private part of me. This last surrender complete, I closed my eyes and held my breath, awaiting the contact I was so desperate for.

The explosion of sound and light that followed stunned me. At first, I believed it to be some metaphorical sign of the renunciation of all my inhibitions and fears. A sign from God that my long-denied desires were about to be realized.

However, when the second deafening thunderclap rolled across the lake, it became clear it was lightning from the thunderstorm rapidly moving over us.

Suddenly snapped back to reality and realizing what was happening, I panicked, jumping up from Bo, Davey still moving up between my legs. Flustered, I looked down at them, Bo's frantic look of confusion and his erect penis projecting lewdly out the top of his bathing suit, to Davey who had been in the process of pushing his jogging shorts down past his knees, his naked buttocks clenching in anticipation.

"Uh....I guess it's about to storm...... I'm tired....... I better go to bed", I blurted out breathlessly in a panic, appalled, and embarrassed. Covering my bare breasts with my hands, I almost ran back to my tent.

What had I done?

Finding myself in my tent, I was hyperventilating and shaking in shock at what had almost happened. Blaming the now ebbing effects of the whiskey, I began to sob. For what, I wasn't quite sure; Either the betrayal I'd almost committed? Or the denial of my wildest desires?

Sitting in my tent for what seemed like hours, my mind was a hurricane of emotions as I watched the flashes of lightning through the nylon walls of my prison and listened to the symphony of night insects. Thoughts of self-recrimination for abandoning my values battled against my resentments of unrealized longings and self-determination. Reliving what had just happened over and over, the imagery was so intense that I caught myself reaching down into the sanctified nexus of my womanhood which still ached to be breached. Suddenly frustrated at the inadequate fullness that my finger provided sliding in, I screamed in disgust at myself, my cries matching the roar of thunder around me. Laying down in the fetal position, I grasped my head with my hands, my mind attempting to overcome the physical temptations of my body.

At that moment I felt like the only human being in the universe. When would this nightmare end?

PART 6

Once again, I must have dozed off, because I found myself awoken by the pattering sound of rain starting to fall on my tent. Accompanied by sudden gusty winds that shook my little shelter, the rain began to lash, the sights and now sounds of the thunderstorm clearly bearing down on my little world. Quickly, the onslaught of heavy rain became deafening, my rising panic now quickly clearing my head of any residual intoxication.

Feeling a puddle of water starting to soak my bottom, I searched around the messy tent for my flashlight, only to feel that standing water had overwhelmed the tent's floor and was soaking me and all my possessions. Moreover, with the passing line of thunderstorms, the air had quickly cooled by 20 degrees. I was now cold and wet, an untenable, if not dangerous situation.

As another clap of thunder appeared to strike right near me, panic overwhelmed me, my only option was made clear. Momentarily forgetting any embarrassment or consequence of my actions of only a few hours before, I knew I had to seek out help from the guys. Climbing out of my tent into the freezing deluge, yet another thunderous boom seemed to land nearby, the lightning momentarily illuminating the entire forest around me in a washed-out patina of shadows, blinding me as I squinted my eyes in pain. Now soaked to the bone, freezing and terrified, I pushed a clump of wet hair out from my eyes and stumbled blind in the general direction of last nights' events, calling out to them.

As another deafening clap of thunder startled me, a sudden warm yellow glow emerged in front of me, strong hands grabbing me. His ebony skin darker than the night sky around him, Bo appeared and pulled me into the warmth and light of their tent. As he tugged the large door flap closed behind him, I found myself cowering in a corner, violently shivering and sobbing.

"Taylor, are you OK?", asked my rescuer, concerned and worried.

After the cacophony of just moments ago, their cozy tent felt warm, sturdy, and safe, the sounds of Armageddon outside muffled and insignificant outside.

For a few minutes I didn't reply, slowly calming myself in the protection of their shelter.

Catching my breath and collecting my thoughts, I looked around me. It occurred to me that in the five days we'd been together, I'd never even looked in their tent, let alone set foot inside. It had crossed my mind a couples of times, but since I'd not been overtly invited, I didn't want to send the wrong message and, if I'm honest, I was worried about the women gossiping if I appeared too familiar with the guys.

Kneeling in a far corner of their tent, ridiculously the emotional roller-coaster of the last few minutes was replaced with my concern at being a good guest. My soaked hair hanging like a wet blanket over my shoulders, rivulets of water flowing down my chest and back, snot running from my noise down my chin. I must have been a sad sight. And, I was getting their warm and cozy cocoon wet, dripping like a wet dog on the couch.

Looking around me I was reminded of the 1920's silent movie of The Arabian Nights. The tent, a square of about 15 feet, the heavy canvas walls and roof allowed for almost standing room (for me at least. The guys had to stoop). A large door with a poled-out awning allowed for panoramic views when open but sealed the tent weathertight when closed. The entire floor space appeared covered in a soft sea of canvas ground-cloths, brightly colored blankets, and pillows, with a couple storage boxes used as side-tables. Illuminated by the soft glow of two hanging candle lanterns swaying gently above me in the buffeting wind, light flickered and danced as I looked around me.

Looking back at Embo, we sat in expectant and uncomfortable silence. His expression was inscrutable, and I felt panic rising as I worried about what he was thinking of me. Words of self-loathing bounced around in my head; Slut. Adulteress. Bitch. Basket-Case.

I began to reconsider my seeking refuge here, thinking any physical danger of staying in my tent was probably preferable to the complete embarrassment and loss of self-respect I felt facing him. Just as I felt the rising tide of panic was about to force me back out into the storm, the muffled calm of the tent was broken by a loud, long, rumbling...... fart !

Caught off guard, I looked in surprise over at a mound of blankets against the far darkened wall. Shocked, peeking out from a corner unnoticed, I could see Davey's pale bare bottom sticking out as he slept, oblivious to the storm outside.

Bo and I looking at each other, our eyes widened as we burst into stifled laughter, the stiff mood quickly returning to the easy comradery of friends.

"Oh My Lord! See what I must live with? You have no idea how lucky you are to have your own tent. Want to switch places?!", complained Bo bitterly as the foul smell began to assault our senses, forcing us both to clasp our hands over our nose and mouth.

As our laughter....and the smell..... eventually subsided, I began to shiver again. Still in my soaked silk lingerie, I realized I would need to get out of the now useless garment. It did nothing for my modesty anyway, as soaked and plastered to my body, it left nothing to the imagination.

"You better get out of those.....", suggested Bo as if reading my mind.

Throwing me a towel he had held in his lap, he half-turned giving me some privacy as he zipped the door flap fully closed. With trembling hands, I struggled to pull off the camisole and shorts as the wet fabric stuck to my abundant curves. Given all that had transpired over the last few hours, I had assumed that I'd be very uncomfortable getting undressed again in front of Bo. But by now all my self-respect was long gone, and I suspected he'd already seen all but the most private parts of me.

Finally free of the clammy garment, I hunched down cross-legged Indian style, holding the medium size towel in front of me in a comical attempt to cover myself. Looking up at Bo, I found him reclining casually against a pile of duffle-bags, one leg bent up, the other stretched out in front of him, again staring at me with a blank look on his face.

It was then that I noticed that, like myself, Bo was completely nude. Over the last few days, I'd now come to accept that this was a normal condition for them when not in public. Hearing my cries, he'd probably run out into the storm without dressing. Like myself, his muscular body was still dripping from rain and his body began to steam from the heat of the tent.

He sat, looking like an African Chieftain, at complete ease in his domain. With ill-disguised curiosity, I looked him up and down, coming to fixate on his exposed genitals. His close-cropped pubic hair barely visible against his dark skin, I was intrigued by his flaccid uncircumcised penis laying across his thigh and the sizable testicles nestled between his legs. Embarrassed, I looked away, trying to find something else to distract me. Feeling a rivulet of water roll absurdly down my right breast and off my erect nipple, I decided to do something about my still dripping hair.

In my attempt to match his nonchalance at our nudity, I lifted my towel to my head and began to vigorously rub my hair dry. Hidden under the towel, I looked down and watched my breasts swinging wildly from my efforts, my spread legs revealing my neatly groomed dark strip of pubic hair and my embarrassingly large clitoris sticking out from the cleft of my prominent labia. Now Bo really was seeing it all!

My hair now a rat's nest of tangles, I placed the towel back into my lap, resigned to leaving my breasts exposed. Looking back at Bo to continue some forced diversionary conversation, I now noticed him staring intently at my now covered lap. My gaze drifting down, my breath hitched as I noticed his substantial penis was now standing half erect, bouncing subtlety with each heartbeat, his arousal leaking from the head of his now partially retracted foreskin.

Despite my efforts to concentrate, my mind began to panic again with the feelings and emotions of earlier, this time without the excuse of being drunk. Frustrated and confused, I began to hyper-ventilate, feeling lightheaded, having been betrayed yet again by my body. Lifting the towel from my lap in a shameful attempt to cover more of myself, I began to choke with emotion, feeling myself falling apart. Emotionally spent, tears streaming down my face, I sobbed.

"Embo. I'm cold, frightened, and embarrassed. I'm physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted. I know there is lots we need to talk about. But at this very moment, what I need is rest and reassurance. Can you just hold me while I sleep......without expecting more?"

"Yes", he calmly replied, crawling over and pulling back the top blanket on his bedroll. Rolling onto his side, he held it open for me. After a moment's hesitation, I stood up, my body on full and unobstructed display, and crawled in with him.

Curling up against his warm form, he spooned me, enfolding me in an embrace, his strained breathing tickling the back of my neck. Feeling his hardening erection position itself and then press up through the gap in my thighs, I resigned myself that he might not be able to control his clear desires. Cinching the blanket down tightly around us, he repositioned himself one final time, pushing himself up through my fiery slit as I groaned, summoning all my willpower not to rock my hips, fearful that maybe neither would I.

Reaching for his arm, I pulled it under the blanket and wrapped it around my torso, sliding his open palm under the bulk of my right breast. In that moment, sexual longing battled with loving security, and I gently wept myself to sleep.

PART 7

Awaking the next morning, I opened my eyes to find a shaft of light peeking through the partially open door-flap, dust motes flying around the darkened and silent tent. Sitting up, I looked around to find that I was alone. Outside I could hear the sounds of nature, but not the guys.

In no hurry to face difficult questions or my uncertain future, I laid back down in my cozy nest, inhaling Embo's scent on the pillow. Growing too warm, I kicked off the blankets, only to be reminded again of my nakedness, reflecting on the mystery that my collection of feminine flesh and curves could cause perfectly rational people to behave irrationally....including myself. At that moment, the distress of last night seemed far away, but the questions remained.

In a moment of anxiety, I reached down and slid a finger through my still swollen and wet vulva, curious if something had happened last night during my sleep coma. Not feeling the telltale post-coital messiness of sexual intercourse, I was relieved that Bo had honored my request. I decided that returning to my tent to find some clothing and dry out my stuff would be wise while the guys were away.

Taking a deep breath of confidence, I stepped out into the sunlight to face the day. Turning the corner of the tent, I froze. About 30 feet away both Bo and Davey silently stood, their backs to me. I had not expected to confront them so soon to answer the unavoidable questions about the previous night.

Both of them stood, like me, naked, only Davey holding his fishing shirt thrown over a shoulder, barely covered his exposed buttocks. Facing the inevitable, I hunched over, ridiculously trying to cover my breasts and groin with my hands while walking on, curious at what had caught their rapt attention. Swiftly recognizing the area where my tent had once stood the night before, I began to run, realizing that the sodden pile of ripped nylon and broken tent-poles was all that was left of my shelter and all my personal possessions! Standing next to them, I sank to my knees in shock, staring at my destroyed stuff.

"Oh, No! Shit, Shit, Shit!", I moaned in despair.

Still not having looked directly at me yet, the guys stood silent until Davey took an audibly deep breath and spoke.

"I guess you are bunking with us now."

The implications of this statement brought back vulnerable feelings in me, as I looked up at them squinting in the sun, surprised that my line of sight included both of their penises, thankfully in a normal state. Looking down, Davey smiled at me reassuringly, handing his shirt for me to put on.