Vacation in the Catskills

Special Note: This is my entry into the Summer Lovin 2021 contest. Five star ratings will be greatly appreciated!

Warnings: Based on past comments (primarily from the Loving Wives readers), it's possible that this story could cause nausea, indigestion, constipation, and unrepressed desires to see the author kick the bucket. It may cause dizziness, a relaxed mental state, slurred speech, or intense abdominal pain. Do not read if you are pregnant, or thinking of becoming pregnant, know someone who is pregnant, or know someone who is thinking of becoming pregnant. Do not read if you are allergic to stories of this ilk; If this story provokes an allergic reaction involving cartwheel rashes, diarrhea, bloating, double vision, delusions, or hallucinations, homicidal or suicidal thoughts, or simply a desire to lose consciousness to drink, consult a medical expert in all due haste. Hopefully, though, you'll read and enjoy this story. It's not connected to your A1C levels, despite the big "O" in Ozempic® (semaglutide). It's based purely on the imagination of the author alone; may said author write in peace.

Extra Warning: There are brief non consensual sex scenes in this story.

**

"God, it's hot," I said to Sally. We were having one of those heat waves the weather people attribute to climate change. "I slept naked last night, and my body became a dining table for the mosquitoes."

"Same here," Sally replied. "I'm tempted to have a baby just to feed the mosquitoes, so they'll leave me alone. My sister says her baby little Joe's mosquito bites heal in only hours, since his skin cells are so active as he grows, minute by minute, fueled by her breast milk every three hours or so."

"We need a baby to attract the little blood suckers and keep them away from us," Melissa said.

"Hear, hear!" I added.

"Well, if you want a baby, Joanie, you know what to do, right?" Sally remarked.

"Very funny," I said. Sally knew I had sworn off men until the first freeze, which, incidentally, would also mark the end of mosquito season! Getting a man to share my bed seemed cheaper, and potentially more pleasant, than buying a second blanket, or acquiring a dog, for the cold nights. There were other benefits to having a man, too, of course. Right now, however, I wanted simplicity in my life, and that meant no men for a while.

Sally, Melissa, and I had planned on a girls only vacation. I wanted the beach, Sally wanted Canada, and Melissa wanted the mountains. Melissa hailed from Eastern Australia, and so the beach, and another commonwealth country, both had little allure for her; the mountains, however, well, she could never get enough of the mountains, and the bigger the better.

Sadly, for Melissa, we did not live in Colorado (where the mountains are spectacular), but in New York; so, Melissa had to settle for the Catskills. This is because the system we used to decide the deadlock was rock, paper, scissors. Very mature, I know. Our trip was all set, but then came the Delta variant of Covid. Sally had procrastinated getting the vaccine. She wasn't against it or anything, like the anti-vaxxers, she just procrastinates about everything she can. It's part of who she is. Of course, as luck would have it, Sally got a non-trivial case of the Delta variant of the virus. We couldn't help her; we weren't even allowed to get near her! She was really sick, and beginning to have trouble breathing.

Not knowing what to do, we gave our phone numbers to her Mom, and left for the Catskills. The Three Musketeers had devolved into the Terrible Two. Still, we were determined to have a good time.

When you live in the concrete jungles of New York, you can forget how wonderful it can be to see greenery, genuine greenery, and to fill your lungs with its oxygenated air. The Catskills were at their best at our time of year, providing all the lush, forest green that our eyes could handle. I was drinking it up, as Melissa drove the rental car. The smells too were wonderful, except for that patch where a skunk had despoiled the odors of the innocence of nature. It's amazing how powerful, and lingering, is the scent of a skunk. We were a little less than three hours out of New York when we reached Roscoe, a tiny village in the heart of trout fishing country, and summer camps for adolescents, that dot the surrounding countryside.

We got to the cabin we rented, moved in, and the first thing I noticed was there was no cell phone service. No internet, either, of course. Well, maybe forced isolation, and a vacation from the tyranny of checking Facebook and Instagram would be a good thing? The only worry was keeping track of Sally and her declining health.

I proposed a hike. I was so excited to be among all the trees and little streams, the wonderful smells and fresh air. I was also kind of hoping some of the trout fishermen might be nice eye candy. Melissa had handled the driving (it was her rental car) and she wanted just to relax. That meant, of course, that I got the first look at our surroundings, and found them to be nice, indeed. I even found a small pond, with deep, cool water, and I indulged myself with a little skinny dipping, since there was nobody around. Except for the birds, there was absolutely no sound at all! Quite a change from New York City.

There was a small sign, giving its name: Miller's Pond. After my swim, and without a towel, I lay down on a small circle of grass, and let the sun dry my naked body. It did a good job, and was surprisingly fast. I quickly got dressed, lest I be discovered, even if that was highly unlikely. Still, you never know, and the risk of exposure I had just taken had me more than a little aroused. I enjoy being aroused; it makes me feel alive, somehow, and I returned to the cabin with a light spring to my step.

The cabin was dark, and I noticed right away the rental car was gone. We had come with supplies, and had bought a few more when we drove through Roscoe, where there's a charming food cooperative, straight out of the 1960s. I figured Melissa might have thought of something and gone back, although what it could be, I had no idea. Maybe it was her time of month and she needed tampons? After all, she had complained of mild cramps on the drive up. Melissa always was a bit scatterbrained, and she could have forgotten tampons, or Midol, or whatever. Had there even been a drugstore in Roscoe? Not that I'd noticed. Wait a minute: Roscoe Medicine Shoppe. Yes, I remember now -- I had seen it!

Our rental car that was now missing had been parked downhill, a good 100 yards or so from the house, because that's where the dirt road had ended. As I trudged up to the cabin, I began to get a feeling of foreboding. The cabin was dark, and okay, that's consistent with my theory that Melissa had left to go into town, but then why was the front door left wide open? Melissa would have closed it and locked it, she was that kind of girl. I knew my friend was scatterbrained, but she's a little OCD when it comes to closing and locking doors. Something wasn't right.

I entered the cabin silently, my heart filled with trepidation. The place looked undisturbed, although I didn't see either my purse nor Melissa's, in the places I remembered we had left them. Melissa's missing purse didn't cause alarm, since she was probably in town, or what passed for a town. However, where the eff was my purse? Just then, however, a voice emerged from Melissa's bedroom; the closed door muffling the noise a bit.

"Ethan? Is that you? What took so long?" came the voice, and even though it was hoarse, and baffled by the close door, I knew it was Melissa's voice. This just made things more confusing, as obviously my working hypotheses as to what was going on were wrong. And, who the fuck is Ethan?

"No, it's Joanie, your best friend and cabin mate, remember?" I said as I opened Melissa's bedroom door and entered her room. I was not at all prepared for what greeted me. "Jesus Christ! What happened?"

Melissa was on her back, naked, blindfolded, tied up spread eagle, and awash in the cum of a man, or men, there seemed to be so much of it, and some of it was clearly draining from her pussy. Maybe it was draining from her ass, too, but from my angle I couldn't tell.

"Oh, thank goodness! I was beginning to wonder if Ethan and Ray were ever coming back!" Melissa said as I removed her blindfold and untied her. "They're into kinky sex," she said, guiltily.

"I can see that," I said, trying to sound neutral, and wondering as well who Ray was. When it comes to sexual practices, I try not to judge others, and in return, I hope they don't judge me. Boy, do I hope that! Since when did Melissa take on two men at once? And where did these men come from? And where is my bleeping purse? Or our rental car? Or my cell phone, and for that matter the cell phone charger? Oh shit -- where are our suitcases with all of our clothes? Oh Melissa -- what have you done?

Melissa was only borderline coherent. It took over an hour of constant effort, but I finally calmed her down, using booze, my patent-pending comforting voice, and by stroking her hair, which works on most women I've known, including myself. Neither of us had any Xanax. Too bad!

Now both calm, or at least outwardly so, I asked Melissa to tell me what had happened. After all, I had been gone only for four hours!

"How did you meet the two men?" I began. Start at the beginning, right?

"They came to the cabin and knocked on the door. How else? They were looking for someone named Stephanie," Melissa said. "Probably a former tenant."

"And?"

"Well, Ethan was kind of cute, so I explained, and then invited them in for a cool drink, since it's so freaking hot today, you know?"

"Does Ethan have a last name?" I asked.

"Of course, silly. Everyone does. He's Ethan Allen-with-an-e, and his friend is Raymour Flanigan. Ethan is the cute one, but Ray is sexy as all get out," she replied.

"Ethan Allen and Raymour Flanigan? Your new boyfriends are furniture stores?"

"You know, I knew there was something off about their names. You've nailed it. I guess maybe those are not their real names," Melissa said.

Exasperated, I said, "Then what happened?"

"Well, we talked some, you know, just the usual banalities strangers exchange in such situations. I asked them about this girl Stephanie they had been looking for, and then Ray asked for another beer. I think I hit a sore spot with the subject of Stephanie. I guess Ray had been sweet on her. Anyway, I do wonder if they drugged my drink, or something? The next thing I knew I was naked on the bed, tied down, and blindfolded. Then one of them entered me. I objected, quite strongly, but it was as if I were yelling at the wall."

"So, they raped you??" I asked. I was horrified, and much more upset it seems than was Melissa!

"Yes, the first time was rape, I suppose, but the sex was divine, and all the times after the first time, I was begging them to fuck me. They used condoms; I insisted," Melissa said. "Except for the first time, of course, which happened when I was only halfway awake."

"Uh, about the condom situation..." I began.

"Oh, I know. Believe me: I know. They didn't have any, of course, so I told them to look through our purses for some. We had only four between us, but I was fucked at least six times; maybe as many as nine times? I wasn't really counting. As I awoke from my daze I became alarmed at all of the unprotected sex, but they couldn't get it up anymore, anyway. They left, saying they were driving into town for some more condoms," Melissa said. "I was in no shape to argue with them, being naked, blindfolded, and tied up."

"So, you didn't know which man was fucking you at any given time. Was that a turn on, if I may ask?" I asked. "It's always been a fantasy of mine," I confessed.

"Oh, but I did know," she replied.

"But you were blindfolded!" I said.

"Yes, but Ethan washes with Irish Spring soap, and Ray doesn't wash as often as he might, if you get my drift," Melissa said, and I saw her smile for the first time that evening. "You know, they may come back, and if they find both of us, and there's two of them, well, we should have a plan, right?"

"Right," I replied. I was surprised Melissa could tell what brand of soap Ethan uses, but then she always was good with smells. "Look, Melissa, when they left to go to town to look for more condoms, they took our car, both of our purses, our two suitcases, and all of our clothes -- even the clothes we had already unpacked. About the only things they left are our bathroom toiletries, and our food supply. I don't think they're coming back. They fucked you quite thoroughly, then fucked us over, and then left, never to be seen again."

"Oh. I hadn't realized. I guess you're right," Melissa said, still seeming a little dazed.

"Do you want to report your rapes to the police?" I asked.

"I don't see how. We don't have a car, our phones don't work since there's no signal, and ..."

"They took our phones, too," I said.

"Shit," Melissa remarked. "How far is it to walk to the police?"

"Far. It's an hour driving," I said. "We could try to find another cabin; maybe someone there could help us?"

"I don't know; it's kind of embarrassing. Shameful, really," she said. "Oh my God! Did the men leave me any of my clothes?"

"As near as I can tell, they left only the clothes you were wearing before you were raped," I said.

"Please don't use that word anymore," Melissa said.

"You mean rape?" I asked.

Melissa shuddered, and said, "Yes," in a barely audible voice.

We sat in silence for around an hour, nursing our drinks, and refilling them as needed. We were both lost in thought, thinking about our situation, and trying to discover how it wasn't hopeless. We now had no money, no credit cards, no change of clothes, and no wheels. When the knock on the front door came, it was a complete surprise. Melissa hid, and I went to answer the door, carrying a cast iron frying pan, as the only weapon at hand. Opening the door, I realized from the descriptions Melissa had given me, that whoever it was at our door, he was neither Ethan nor Ray. The guy at the door was only 23 or 24, maybe 25, with shocking red hair, and he introduced himself as Roger O'Neil. Melissa figured Ethan and Ray were both in their mid to late 30s.

I returned his polite greeting. I was around two to four years older than him, I figured, since I was 27. "How may I help you?" I asked.

"May I come in?" he asked.

"My cabin mate is getting dressed, so please stay in the main room. Say, do you have a working cell phone?" I replied.

"Nobody does. There's no signal around here," he said.

"So, how can I help you?" I asked again.

"Well, mostly, I wanted to see you in clothes. You're just as pretty as I imagined," Roger said.

Okay, I thought, that's a strange thing to say! Before I could follow up, Melissa made her grand entrance, wearing the only outfit she still possessed. It was a thin cotton T shirt, and a mini skirt. She looked stunning, and her appeal was not lost on Roger. She was washing her bra, soaking it in the sink and trying to get the cum off of it, and since the T shirt was thin, Roger and I could see her boobs, nipples, areolas, and all, through the thin white fabric of the shirt. Melissa seemed not to care at her exposure, but I figured she was putting on a brave front, in a tough situation.

"Roger O'Neil, meet my cabin mate and best friend, Melissa Penney. Melissa, this is Roger, who just showed up for some reason," I said.

"I work at one of the camps up here, as a counselor, and I happened to see Joanie hereabouts earlier today, although she did not see me, I believe. I came over here to warn her, and since you're here too, Melissa, to warn both of you. There are two guys who are terrorizing the cabins around here, forcing women to have sex with them, and then stealing from them. They keep changing their names, and the last time they called themselves Don Drysdale and Sandy Koufax. The names are those of Hall of Fame former baseball players," Roger explained, since we were two women, and statistically he was right to assume we'd never heard of Drysdale nor Koufax. In reality, he was also right.

Melissa and I exchanged looks. Ethan Allen and Ray Flanigan were obviously the new incarnations of Drysdale and Koufax.

"Tell us about Stephanie, who lived here before us. For example, did she put the bars on the windows, and the extra locks on the doors?" I asked.

"Stephanie is a beautiful woman, much like the two of you," Roger began, as Melissa and I blushed at his compliment. "She used to skinny dip at Miller's Pond, and then lie in the sun to dry." He looked directly at me as he said that. "Many of the camp counselors, and some of the campers, used to hide and watch her. I think she knew we were there, but didn't seem to mind," Roger said. "You reminded me of her, earlier today," he continued. "Quite strongly, in fact," he said, looking me straight in the eye. "Did you know I was there, watching you?"

"Quite definitely not," I said, in a tone intended to end the subject.

"Well, you have a beautiful body. I hope I haven't ruined Miller's Pond for you. It's one of the highlights of the area," Roger said.

"I can imagine," I said. I stood, the international symbol that it was time for Roger to go. Melissa stood, too, backing me up. Roger took the hint and stood himself.

"Look, before I go, I'd like to extend an invitation to our campfire and cookout this Friday," he said. "You have to like hotdogs, however."

"Wouldn't we be crashing it?" Melissa asked.

"No, Joanie can come as my date, and you can come as John's date," Roger said.

"Who's John?" Melissa asked.

"He's my best friend up here. You'll like him," Roger said.

"Thank you for the invitation. We'll discuss it and let you know," I said.

"How will you let me know? We have no phones nor internet," he said.

"Good point. I'll see you, I expect, at Miller's Pond tomorrow. Right?" I said. "I'll be the one who's skinny dipping."

Roger's face broke into a smile that lit up the room. God, the man had totally white teeth. Doesn't he drink coffee? "I'll bring some friends for the show," he said.

"Please don't," I replied.

"Wait, Roger, before you go," Melissa piped up. "What happened to Stephanie? Do you know?"

"Not completely. Drysdale and Koufax stole her car, money, and credit cards, and most of her clothes. Worse, they kept returning and they raped her repeatedly. She was their favorite victim, apparently. She finally got a ride into town to report it to the police, only to find out that Drysdale is the brother of the police chief. She tried the state police, and one of the prominent local guys in the state police is the cousin of Koufax. She gave up and then nobody heard from her again. We hope she fled town back down to Brooklyn where she was from, maybe using her thumb, hot body, and long, blonde hair to catch a ride, but nobody knows for sure. Not a pretty story. That's why I wanted to warn you," he said.

"Thanks. We appreciate it," Melissa said.

"Roger come here," I said. He did, and I planted a big kiss right on his smacker. I wanted him to feel it in his toes. "That's my thanks, too," I said, once the kiss was done.

**

It took some convincing, but Melissa joined me the next day as we hiked over to Miller's Pond. It was still hot as blazes, and the pond looked so welcoming, and refreshing, that we both could not resist it. We also both had no bathing suits, all our clothes having been stolen. We figured Roger and maybe some of his friends were hiding nearby and spying. If they were, though, we sure couldn't figure out where! So, encouraged by our apparent lack of voyeurs, we stripped down and went skinny dipping.