Wet Currents

I tossed a stick in the river and watched it dip and swirl in a small eddy. I could not stop thinking about all the things Sarah may have let him do to her and the pleasure she got (or was still getting) from it. My mind was running wild with the possibilities when Mike appeared suddenly carrying a fishing rod in one hand and 3 medium sized grayling in the other. I didn't even realize he'd brought a rod. Had he doubled back to the boats after we'd left? I wanted to ask him what he saw but thought better of it.

"Come on you Negative Nancy." he said somewhat cheerfully.

"If you carry these fish back for me, I'll tell them we went fishing, instead of moping and sulking."

I was suddenly grateful for his presence. Something about Mike offered a bit of stability amid the tumult of the day. I had initially figured when he suggested we leave, that he was only trying to help his friend get some privacy. It had angered me. It now seemed in hindsight as if he were looking out for me. Perhaps he knew the spell you were under, and that you wouldn't be able to resist. Perhaps he felt obligated to step up and provide a bit of comfort.

Part 5

It wasn't a long walk back to the boats, but it took a bit of time to pick our way through the thick willows lining the bank. At one point, the spoon Mike was using as a lure popped free of the rod and the line became snarled in some branches, needing to be untangled. The journey was made longer by my own hesitant dawdling. I was not sure what to expect, or how to react when I saw you again. I was not angry perse (unless perhaps slightly with Brad), but I also didn't want to further perpetuate my growing trip role of Mr. Pushover either. As we rounded the bend and the boats came into view, I was relieved to discover that you both had your clothes on again and there was a small fire going next to the log. As the sun slipped lower, it was starting to cool off and the wind had died down bringing out the bugs.

"First time I've ever been happy about the bugs", I thought to myself.

Brad was busying himself with something in his pack when he looked up and very casually asked Mike where they'd packed the sleeping gear.

You quickly approached me, and pulling me by the arm led me a short distance into the trees. You've always been good at this: checking in with my feelings, making sure I'm ok.

"You ok?" you asked as you always do, and I always find so annoying. Your words were gentle and filled with genuine concern.

"I think so," I replied. I was not annoyed you had asked this time. I really needed you to ask.

"Cause I'd understand if you weren't." You were probing. Seeing if I meant what I was saying. For a moment I thought I might cry. Not so much from the pain of what had just occurred, but from that mixed with the sheer relief of knowing you still cared deeply for me.

I was a seething brew of emotions again, but this time the most predominant among them was the sheer love I felt for you. You pulled me in to your tight embrace and rested your head on my shoulder. It wasn't a pity hug, it wasn't an obligatory sense of duty hug, it was a love hug. It sought approval, it sought healing, and it sought me. I felt in that moment, invincible. Connected with a newer more confident Sarah. We stood there hugging like that for a solid 3 minutes, during which time all else faded away; thought, time, and form. We were as one being. Less than two hours ago, you had provoked me to new heights of jealousy and anxiety. Now I knew things were going to be alright.

Eventually, I realized we needed to go back to the boats and rejoin our party.

I made a motion, but you said, "let's just wait a while." So, we did. I sat down with my back against a tree, and you leaned back into me. We cuddled like that for another 10 minutes until the mosquitos began to snap us back to reality. We emerged to find that a tent had been set up in our absence. Brad and Mike were preparing dinner and so you and I set to erecting our own tent. I think we had all planned to get a little further down the river that day, but under the circumstances, it seemed an acceptable delay to all. Fish was served and Brad was nice to me for the rest of the evening. Nobody spoke of the incident for the rest of the night, perhaps fearing to upset the emotional status quo.

The mood was decidedly less tense as we all settled into our nightly camp chores. Only once or twice did I catch little glimpses of acknowledgement between you and Brad over the physical intimacy you had just shared. I even managed some genuine laughter after Brad and Mike jointly told a story of some summer's-past river antics involving them and some church group from Vancouver. Mostly though, I just wanted the night to end so I could snuggle up with you in bed.

The darkness finally fell, the fire turned to embers, and you joined me in the tent. I was so in love with you, and so turned on - eager to hear what juicy bits I had missed while Mike and I were away. It is as if your reassuring hug and the couple of hours that followed had swept away my anxiety and left only the good parts.

"Sooo?" I whispered suggestively from behind you in a spooning position. "Want to tell me what you guys got up to?"

I was rock hard and pressing up into your naked crotch from behind. You felt more than a bit damp down there, but I didn't want to penetrate you until I knew better what you wanted.

"He fucked me." you said plainly. "What more do you want to know?"

I felt dizzy again and was worried I might cum right then and there and make a mess of our sleeping bag.

"I don't know, maybe a few details? How was it?" I asked with a bit of trepidation.

"How do you think it was?" You replied slyly.

"Better than anything you've had in a while?"

"Yep." You sighed and started to grind on me very gently.

I began to lose control. My head was swimming again and my balls were on the verge of exploding.

"I want you so bad right now." I whispered rather pathetically.

"That's too bad," you said, stopping the grinding and pulling away slightly. "For the rest of this trip, the only person allowed inside me will be Brad."

I groaned with frustrated pleasure.

"Now go to sleep." you said. "If I feel your dick on me again tonight, I won't tell you later how he managed to give me 5 orgasms in under an hour. Feel free to stroke yourself, but I wouldn't advise cumming."

Those were harsh words but wise. I knew if I did cum so recently after an experience like that, then the anxiety would get the better of me.

We rolled over and you put your arm around me.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Sarah."

Part 6

That first night I did not sleep much. In fact, I don't remember sleeping at all. A potent cocktail of angst and arousal was coursing through my veins. I wished badly to know what had happened. Now that Sarah was asleep and I was left with my own thoughts, keeping doubt at bay was like trying to keep a sandcastle on a wavy beach. Every time I thought my fortifications were built; a wave of uncertainty would wash over me. The repetition of this emotional deluge drew out the night, such that nightmarish scenarios played themselves out in epic unending drama. The acts were variations on a theme of perpetual loss; the tone of each refrain culminating on a somber note of inadequacy.

A pale grey dawn brought some small comfort and as the first birds began to sing, I finally caught an hour or so of blissful unconsciousness. I woke with a start to the loud clattering of pots and deep shouting.

What the hell was going on!

Scrambling up, I poked my head out of the tent all bleary eyed and bewildered and saw Mike standing in his underwear and crocs about 10 feet from the tent, calling off into the bush for Brad who was nowhere to be seen. The sound of clanging cookware emanating from the forest where Y was looking, suggested that he was the source of the din.

"Biiiig male black bear", warned Mike when he saw me. "Brad is trying to make sure he doesn't come back...either that or making the world's loudest breakfast", he joked reassuringly".

Reluctantly, I stumbled into my shoes and out the door. Seemed like at least pretending to be concerned for Brad's safety was the thing to do. Sarah followed me out in a rush of action. Grabbing the bear spray from the vestibule, she hurried over and stood beside Mike. She was shoeless, wearing a familiar (to me at least) pair of yellow underwear that hid none of her form, and a thin tank top. She too began calling after Brad, though I detected significantly more worry in her voice than in Mike's, who was likely just aiming to make additional noise to dissuade the bear from returning. After a few uncertain moments, we heard the rustle of something moving through the foliage and the cracking of sticks. The tension was soon relieved however when Brad gave a good-natured "ahoy!" and came strolling into camp.

"Are you alright? What happened?", pressed Sarah. The relief she so clearly exhibited as being for Brad's wellbeing rather than for the absence of a bear made me a little uncomfortable. It was probably just my own insecurity acting up, and I tried to push it aside. It had been plaguing me all night, and I was determined to master it here in the waking world.

"Actually...", said Brad with a smile. I could see he enjoyed the attention.

"I got this cut on my shoulder as I was running. Probably a tree branch. How bad does it look"?

"It looks better than what that bear'd have given you if he decided to turn around", you said. "That was pretty stupid you know".

Brad looked unphased. "Hey, I just saved you all from a giant bear, not to mention the fish leftovers he was after - and that's the thanks I get?" He was joking, trying to make light of the situation.

I smiled inwardly, knowing that Sarah took these things seriously, and this would likely not go well for Brad.

To my surprise and annoyance, Sarah just said, "fair enough, I guess we do all owe you a thank you". Then followed it up even more flirtatiously, "but don't do it again!" And picking up a swatch of aspen, smacked Brad across his bleeding shoulder and started to chase him around camp with it.

Mike, who had been mostly silent up until now, took the opportunity to raise an unfortunate question, one I'd been dreading since the fish were mentioned.

"Why was the fish left out anyway?" We had only eaten two for dinner last night and were planning to divvy up the third with our eggs this morning. I had said I would clean up the leftovers but had forgotten to put it back in the cooler. That bear probably could have smelled it from 5km away. This was my fault.

Part 7

"Fuckin' fish". I was mad, mostly at myself and it was making me defensive and vulnerable. Mike was doing a good job of avoiding blame and dropped the matter outright, but Brad made sure to rub it in.

"You gotta do better man. When we agreed to come on this trip, we were under the impression that you and Sarah were seasoned campers. So far Sarah's been stellar, but didn't you tell us you'd do the clean-up last night?"

He got me, and with a compliment aimed at my girl to boot. I did not reply and avoided eye contact. This just made it worse as the accusation had time to marinate the group mood. Sarah gave me a look like, "he's right you know". But kept quiet. Her and I have had a passive but ongoing power and competence-based struggle since pretty much the day we met over who's the superior outdoorsman. I have always taken a more laissez-faire approach to rules, particularly (and to Sarah's chagrin) with regard to things like wildlife and safety. This was the first time it had really come back to bite me, and hard. She did not need to say anything, I could feel her judgement. After the events of yesterday's overtly sexual and flagrantly dominant display, I had been suffering the effects of having been knocked down several hierarchical pegs. While those actions had affected my manhood, today my status as a competent and reliable group member had taken a massive hit. While the former had been unbelievably arousing, being made to look like a boob this morning, was definitely not.

Being recognized as capable is an important thing for most men. The status that competence brings is not only salient to women but regulates serotonin and mood in men. My mood was in the dumps, and I just wanted to slink away and hide.

Brad then launched into an exaggerated tale of bravado and derring-do with an emphasis on the stupid fish and how the bear gave up the food and ran when he saw Brad approaching. Sarah was standing beside him and hanging on his every word. As he got to the part about the chase through the woods he said, "I wish I'd had another runner with me. We could have flanked him and chased him further." As he said this, he looked down at Sarah and grabbed her hip, pulling her in sideways toward his own. "These legs look more than adequate for the job. Want to chase the next one with me?"

This was of course, ridiculous. But I think Sarah appreciated the flattery because she turned to face him and putting both hands on his chest said, "there won't be a next time, but do let us know how we can all thank you". The "how" was laden with unmistakable innuendo and Brad wasted no time grabbing her softly behind the neck and planting an open mouth kiss on her lips.

Part 8

It was still pretty shocking for me to see the casual and open nature of Sarah's affections for Brad, particularly when there hadn't been much discussion up until this point about the appropriate terms of engagement for such affections. Though we'd discussed my cuckold fetish every now and then early on, a long period had passed where we didn't talk about it. It had made her uncomfortable. I would hint at it, providing opening after opening for her to pick it up and run with it if she chose, but she never did. For years I had hoped she would indulge the kink for my benefit, either by sending a suggestive text, or by telling me fantasy stories while we cuddled in bed. What I got, was the occasional nude photo but no allusions to interactions with other men or expressions of sexuality with anyone other than me. Finally, she asked me not to bring up anything that reminded her I had these desires, and I conceded. I told myself this was for the best. I tried to suppress this need for kink by reminding myself that I was emotionally fragile after losing someone in this manner, prior. I tried to reconcile the almost complete lack of sexual feelings between us with the addition of a needy new family member and our busy work schedules. The fact was though, I craved sex with Sarah, and I could not keep buried my desire to see her with others as well - as much as I may have wanted to shelter her from this thing I knew she viewed as quite depraved.

Eventually this canoe trip presented us with a unique opportunity - free of the sexually neutralizing effects of jobs and children. During the planning phase, I both nervously and hopefully agreed to the addition of these two hunky dudes accompanying us and a few days before we hit the river, I got my first hint that Sarah might be interested in them. Three days was hardly enough time to turn a repressed fantasy into reality though. She teased me a couple times in bed before we left about what she might like to do with them. Though I was hopeful, I interpreted this as a reluctant favour and maintained low expectations - up only slightly from no expectations.

The night before we left on our trip was quite a passionate one. Somewhat out of character, Sarah initiated some minor roleplay where she told me how she'd like to jump on our two paddling companions in the bush and wouldn't mind at all if either of them dominated her. We pretended that we all had to share a tent and that they both rode her all night without condoms while I had to sit and watch. It was so far-fetched as to defy credibility in anything beyond our shared bedroom pillow-talk.

Yet here you were now, brazenly opening your mouth to accept another man's tongue right in front of me. The mind is able to suspend disbelief fairly easy in the comfortable setting of familiar company and a quiet bedroom. Fictional stories whispered with lust need not be truly believed to get the blood pumping. Real life enactments of infidelity however stand in jarring contrast to their fantastical counterparts. Belief of possibility must give way to acceptance of reality; a larger and far more intimidating beast to grapple with. I was still very much struggling to comprehend my new situation, and the character of the woman whom I had until recently perceived to be wholly monogamous and sexually timid.

"Get a room you two", said Mike. To which Brad merely replied, "good idea". To Sarah he then issued two curt but forceful commands: "Tent. Now".

You obeyed without hesitation; even eagerness. Astounding! It was like you were possessed, and while I stood there grappling with acceptance, you would soon be grappling once again with another man.

Part 9

Sarah reached a hand down into Brad's basketball shorts and gave a quick squeeze of his cock before skirting around him and gently tugging him round as she headed for the tent.

Brad looked over his shoulder at me and as he walked slowly after her said "I'm going to make sweet love to your woman now. It would be nice if you could make us all breakfast before we get back on the river."

There was no misinterpreting. It was not a request. Just before he reached the tent door, a pair of yellow panties came flying out and hit him in the chest. Holding them up, he showed me how wet they were.

"Does she get this way for you too? Or is it only for men who can keep her safe? Regardless, give these a wash so she has something clean to wear when I'm done with her."

That stung. It was a little bone-headed and machismo-laden, but it got the point across. He was the protector in this situation, the alpha. I was the fool with the fish.

I think taking my woman into his tent was independent of the fact that he had to chase a bear away - if only loosely connected to a surge in testosterone. Making me wash Sarah's panties, however, was purely for power. He owned me as well as her, and he wanted me to know he disapproved.

With Sarah now naked inside the tent of my new nemesis, I was left standing shamefacedly trying not to show the deep humiliation welling up inside. I was not fooling anyone. Mike just ignored me this time. Perhaps he too was annoyed about the fish, or maybe he just realized there was nothing he could say.

I began to stumble around the camp, hoping to find something to busy myself with. Anything to take my mind off of that latest embarrassment. I felt useless though. I was supposed to be making a breakfast, but I couldn't get my brain to sort out the tasks that needed to take place in a specific order for that to happen: find the stove, light it, fill a pot with water etc. All I could manage was to bumble my way over to the wanigan and start digging around inside.

It was then that I noticed the very distinct sounds of slurping emanating from Brad and Mike's tent. It was the telltale indicator of a blowjob in progress. Brad was too tall to stand, or even kneel upright in the tent, so I knew he must be lying on his back. I could picture Sarah bent over top of him, trying to fit his massive member into her mouth as she stroked up and down on a lengthy shaft. I could not help but wonder how many hands it took to envelope the whole thing. Surely, she could only fit but the tip in her mouth, leaving space for two hands to work up and down.

On the rare occasion I was treated to this pleasure, 4 fingers were more than enough to grasp with, and that was barely leaving room for a mouth. I jealously wondered how it must feel to be worked on with two hands as the love of my life was almost certainly doing to Brad now. I did not have long to wonder though because the slurping sounds were intermittently broken with silence and muffled gagging. Brad was moaning and I could picture him forcing Sarah's head down onto his cock so that it penetrated deep into her throat.