Wet Currents

My tongue dutifully obeyed, seemingly without prompting from my brain. It made several passes of your still sopping labia before you pressed down hard. My tongue plunged deep, and my nose was buried too. I could feel you clenching and unclenching as I struggled to breathe. Wide-eyed I watched as your abdomen loomed over me, the underside and tips of your beautiful breasts hanging further afield, and finally, between those, I caught the flash of your eyes. Though far away, they pierced me with a confidence I did not know you possessed. My mind raced back to this morning's tent scene. Hearing your moans and watching how proudly you kissed Brad when he pulled you to him. Though he sent you in there, it was your willingness to comply in spite of your jealously onlooking partner that really turned me on. As this emotionally macabre film reeled itself yet again through my head, your vagina, which had been clenching and unclenching pulled back somewhat, and a glob of white liquid slipped onto my chin. You seemed intent that it belonged in my mouth and with a swift wipe of your finger you pushed it in, deep to the back of my throat. Of course, I knew what it was the moment I saw it emanate from your body, and realized through a haze of disbelief that what I was now swallowing had been inside you all day.

My longstanding unspoken question of the day had finally been answered. Not only had Brad cum inside you this morning, but the depth and quantity must have been some kind of human record. Another dollop, this one slightly runnier than the last, oozed out and onto my tongue. You leaned back, bracing your arms, with hands just above my knees and I swallowed it just in time to receive your asshole. It did not taste good. Though I had licked it like this a hundred times before, it occurred to me that up until now, you had always taken pains to make sure it was clean beforehand. Clearly circumstances had changed. I had never tasted this sort of foulness before, but through my woes, curiosity and a relentless erection kept me eagerly trying to please.

Suddenly, as if disgusted by this humiliating act of submission, you stood up, and without a word walked down to the water. Walking in up to your waist, I could tell by your arm motions that you were cleaning yourself properly.

Within a minute you were bounding briskly back up the steep slope to the tent. Before entering however, you reached into my pack and grabbed my last fresh shirt. You hastily wiped yourself dry and disappeared back under the tent flaps without so much as a glance back to notice my admiration.

Part 17

"Well?", I heard one of the guys ask.

"You were right - he just took it laying down. Literally", you answered derisively.

"Told you he would." I managed to pinpoint Brad's voice this time. "It's the sort of submissive depravity guys like him get off on". I knew he was talking about what you just made me do, and he wasn't wrong. He wasn't wrong but it still hurt. It felt like he was using this intimate secret of mine to drive a wedge between you and me. We hadn't talked much about it before now. Of course, we both knew I was into it, but by not coming outright and explicitly saying it, I figured I was giving you the plausible deniability you needed to not be utterly disgusted by me. It was a delicate matter of unspoken hopes on both our sides. My hope that you would one day engage me in that level of dirty sex, and your hope that I could just be normal and it could all just be swept under the rug. Now Brad was upsetting the delicate balance and controlling the narrative. To my utter ruin it would seem.

"Hey man, not gonna lie, I kinda lost a bit of respect for ya there, brother." It was Mike.

"By the looks of your wife, I think maybe she did too." Brad chimed in.

"Fuck those guys." I thought with some genuine obstinance. Who were they to judge what I liked?

It both bothered me and turned me on that they had managed to convince you to try something that I've spent the past 3 years being too timid to push for. It showed pretty clearly the hold these men had over you, to make you do something you've been loathe to attempt for so long. Had I lost your respect? The prospect frightened me.

More whispering. It went on for about five minutes or so and I could hear bodies shuffling around in the tent. I wanted to know what was happening, but more than that, I wanted to know what you were feeling. Had you come to see me as the man of mental illness, the sicko who would do anything for a thrill? Would this affect our relationship? I really couldn't tell.

A few more whispers, louder this time, followed by a disappointed sigh, "suit yourself, we'll be here if you change your mind."

"I have to." You countered plainly.

"Have to, what?" I thought.

I heard the zipper once more and you came out wearing my shirt and a pair of fleece pants that had somehow stayed dry despite all the canoe tipping. You looked down at me, but this time with a softness and reassuring gaze.

"Want to go for a short walk?" you asked.

I didn't, but I was really happy for the attention, and I knew you wanted to talk out of earshot from our trip-mates. I struggled awkwardly out of my sleeping bag, and with all the confidence I could muster, held out my hand. You grabbed it and helped hoist me up. There wasn't really anywhere to go other than back up the portage trail, so we took a slow wander, holding hands in silence for about two minutes.

"Is everything alright?" I finally asked, as we came to a clearing overlooking the rapids. We always had our deepest emotional conversations like this - be it on a bench overlooking the City of Whitehorse, on a beach by Long Lake, or a rocky outcrop on Grey Mountain. Something about the isolation prevented distraction, and a view inspired the honesty of spirit.

"I was about to ask you the same thing." You replied, seeming relieved that I'd broken the silence.

It was dark, and the air was chill and damp. The bugs had largely died down, and the sound of the swift water roiling before us gave a soothing backdrop for the moment.

"I think so." I said, less convinced than last time. My voice had cracked ever so slightly, however. The guilt and shame I was feeling was beginning to well up and betray me. I did my best to suppress it since I didn't want Sarah to see my weakness. I knew that if she discovered I was having difficulties, it would be all over. It took courage for her to pee in my mouth and if I ever wanted it to happen again, I needed to show strength now. It may seem counterintuitive, but I knew now was no time to break. Sarah was holding my hand. She turned to face me and study my face. I broke her gaze, but summoned the words to explain my true fear.

"I think...I think...well I know I'm ok." I stammered.

Sarah raised an eyebrow but let me go on. "Are you ashamed of me?" I asked nervously.

"I won't lie," she replied. "I think what we just did was pretty gross, and if it weren't for Mike and Brad's encouragement, I don't think I would have."

My heart sunk a bit. I had really enjoyed the depraved act, and it's something that I'd built up in my head through various fantasies as being penultimate to the scat play I fantasized about but never spoke of. I wanted to keep doing it, and could see that door closing before my eyes. She went on:

"Do you really like that?" She seemed incredulous. I could tell the incredulity was borne more out of hope.

"I know you don't like that I do, but I do. Tonight just reaffirmed that for me."

There was a long silence. Finally, Sarah just said "I'm not ashamed of you."

"Have I lost your respect though?"

"What makes you think you had it to begin with?" She joked, jabbing an elbow in my ribs, and trying to lighten the mood.

It worked a little and brought a smirk to my face. We looked each other in the eye and Sarah sighed.

"No matter what we get up to on this trip, no matter how far we take things, or how embarrassing your situation gets, I know that at the end of the day, nothing will come between us."

She was sincere. All traces of the contempt I had observed in her eyes as she dismounted my urine-soaked face were gone. It's what I desperately needed to hear. I wanted to reciprocate the earlier attempt at humor to let her know I was alright, so I almost said "That's because only I know where the car keys are when we get off the river". It was lame, so instead I just blurted out, "How do you know?"

The reply came simply and naturally. It filled me with peace, and brought a tear to my eye. "Because I love you, you doofus."

Part 18

Sarah and I spent what was left of the night curled up in each others arms under my sleeping bag. Despite feeling a little bit queasy at having cum and urine in my stomach, the tempest in my mind was assuaged. We weren't having sex, but tonight Sarah was mine. She'd left the tent of my sexual adversaries to snuggle with me, and while I knew not what tomorrow would bring, it didn't seem to matter. For now are souls were as one and all was right in the world. I felt as if we'd broken through a barrier together and survived. It is moments like this that always manage to surprise me with just how much you can love a person. It is moments like this that push that ceiling higher. A peaceful euphoria. I've never tried heroine, but I wonder if it can come close?

As we lay there going in and out of slumber, she teased me about going back to them, but just enough to turn me on and leave me wanting more. She knew I needed this intimate connection with her right now, and for that I was grateful. I played along with the teasing, but didn't push it too far. There would be time enough for the real thing later, as we still had 5 days left to go.