Woodland Adventures

This story is fictional in characters and content. All sexual activity involves consenting adults. There is a park in Ontario with the same name, but the fires of 2021 converted a lot of it to charcoal. It still has its charm, but you may want to try elsewhere for the next ten years.

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No one becomes a successful wilderness guide overnight. At least, that was the contemporary wisdom among my peers.

My business plan was no different from any other, yet I had most of my second season booked before the ice-out in May, and that brought a lot of criticism from my contemporaries, all of whom were men.

"I suppose, if I took it up the ass I would have a full schedule too," Oscar explained to his partner. "She is nothing more than a backwoods whore."

They knew that I could hear them, as I put together my order from the Outfitter's amazing selection of dehydrated food. The brother's business was called 'Paddle Brothers' and they started their own service ten years ago, so they had clients for most of the 36 week season.

"She charges 40% more than us, so I guess that we should be happy with her scraps," Ben answered back to his business partner.

When I piled my choices on the counter, Christine immediately started to ring them through. I knew that I should find a less expensive source, which the internet was so good for, but here you actually got to see the food, and even try it.

"Don't worry about the Brothers, Simone" Christine spoke up, while bagging my order. "They are just jealous of your success."

"They think I do a lot more on my knees than they offer," I replied. "...and I must admit that lip service is a big part of my success."

Oscar had snuck up behind me.

"AH HA, I knew it!" he cried out.

"I mean, word of mouth, you degenerate!" I cried out.

His brother joined him in his glee.

Yes, I do have sex in the wild, but I only treat my customers the way I want to be treated myself! So what, ...am I supposed to feel bad that I am hard to resist?

"We take out men and women, couples, families, and seniors. You go out with men only, and your rates are so high there is no doubt as to what they are getting." Oscar was so sure of himself.

I couldn't argue the point. So far I had not found even one of my clients to be un-fuckable. Older, younger, fat, dumb, scar faced... I had fucked them all, though not always right away. In my experience, the type of man that enjoys a week of white water paddling and tough portages, is my type of man at any age or body type. If they are healthy enough to handle the trips that I plan, then they are fit enough for a good roll in the tent.

I had my goods bagged, so I slung them over my shoulder and thanked Christine for her help. I had work to do.

My old Ford 250 was still running fine back then, so I placed my bags in the back. The cap's latch was busted, so I had to use a bungee to keep the door from slapping against the tailgate as I rode the bumpy forest access roads. I had just finished with my last guided tour, a couple of Michiganders out for a return visit to Woodland Caribou Provincial Park. My next crew would probably be waiting at my cabin on Lake Sydney.

When they finished their trip last September, Pete and Nick thought that they were in love with me, and they wanted another trip right away, but it was too late in the season. They had to wait until June to book me for a week, so I figured that they would be sitting on my dock, anxious to restart our romance. Neither one of them had been a virgin, but they had never met a woman quite like me.

As I drove around the Carsgrove Lookout I could see the lake below, and I caught sight of a vehicle parked close to my cabin. I didn't recognize it, but it was probably my guys. It took me another 5 minutes to get to the bridge over a small stream to Sydney Lake, 50 km south west of Red Lake Ontario, Canada.

"There's our girl!" Nick called out.

"Wow, you lost a few pounds I see."

I had asked them both to work on their fitness, since I don't do easy tripping, or what some people call 'glamping'. They have to be able to carry at least 75 pounds over as much as 5 kilometers of up and down terrain. Last year it wasn't until day 4 that I thought they were going to be able to complete the trip on time.

"We followed your instructions, Captain," Pete responded as he carried his personal pack to the dock. He calls me Captain as his concession to my right to be the group leader.

"You're looking fine too, Pete," I admitted.

We kissed and hugged, while my ass was squeezed profusely.

"Okay, let's get on the road bitches," I commanded.

"I want to remind you that I am not your personal sex toy. If you treat me respectfully you will get the same back."

I gave my standard speech to every customer. I was not to be treated with any less respect than they would give to a girlfriend, and they would have to share.

I pushed off the dock, gliding my 14 foot prospector canoe onto the glassy surface of my lake. The wind was modest and it was warm enough to ditch the regulation flotation device, but I always kept it on until we were beyond the prying eyes of Park Officials and nosy Parkers.

My customers did not have to abide by anyone's rules, but their own. They kept their vests in front and behind their paddle positions in their 18 foot craft. Their chests glistened a bit from the sun screen, but they looked really good to me. Nick was a bit saggy in the waist, but he would probably tighten that up, with the travel schedule that I had mapped out. He was 35 and divorced, while Pete was the same age, but he was the kind of player that would wait until he's 45 before he gets some 20 year old pregnant, then he might settle down.

"I hope we don't have far to go on day one," Nick called out.

I didn't say a thing.

"I mean, we don't want to be too tired for our first night," he continued.

I hit the water hard with my double blade, pulling a lot of water and propelling myself well ahead.

"I suppose you guys could take your time and get to camp an hour after me, but your canoe has the only tent, and I wouldn't mind a nap before dinner."

I heard their paddles singing a faster tune, so I brought my tempo down to my usual steady pace, and relaxed back onto my webbed seat.

"I refuse to travel slower than last year, and I've planned for a longer trip this time, fellas, so you had better keep up." I instructed my lusty friends.

"No problem, Captain Simone Sir," Pete snapped back.

I had followed my own advice and turned a few pounds of fat into muscle over the winter, but I hoped that I didn't look too muscly. A girl likes to be admired for her curves.

We got to the southwest bay of my home lake then we turned north and stroked our way through the narrow waterway that connected us to the oddly shaped Kilburn Lake. It is generally V shaped, but it looks like God was angry when he cut it out of the rock with a serrated blade or an ax.

The last of the cottages was far behind us before we saw the Woodland Caribou Provincial Park sign. There was no Caribou to welcome us, but there was a great blue heron behind every second island. When they take to the air it is a wondrous site. Sometimes you find a stork or a white swan, looking out of place in such a northern latitude, or an eagle might cry out, reminding you that eagles, hawks and falcons have had a magnificent resurgence since they banned PCP's and limited the strip mining of iron and nickel.

They don't allow the use of drones in Ontario's Provincial Parks, much like the American's in their National Parks, so as soon as we were off of Lake Sydney I pulled my life vest off and followed it with my tank top. I had to feel the sun on my white shoulders. I could feel the vitamin A seeping through my pores.

"Did you actually manage to get more gorgeous, Simone?" the very observant Nick wondered out loud.

I smiled and sat up straighter, but kept paddling, enjoying the sounds, smells and sights of the northern boreal forest. In spite of traveling this same path hundreds of times, it was still not old. There are dozens of access points for the WCPP including rail, and flying in is also a popular option, but pushing off from my own property is my favorite starting point. The park is humongous, covering an area nearly the size of Delaware but only servicing about 900 paddlers per year. While the size is impressive, it is really only the tip of the iceberg, with thousands of rivers and lakes extending from here to the Arctic.

I did not have to worry about going topless. My safety vest was easily reached, and that would be all I needed while the breeze kept the skeeters at bay. I smiled, thinking of how Oscar and Ben were probably shirtless right now. They have their own home base right in the town of Red Lake where they can access three different flying services or head out from their own dock.

While I was daydreaming, my patrons crept up on me and splashed me with their paddles. The water never gets warm enough on the Gammon River System. You can swim in it, but it takes a minute to acclimate to it. Some people start to shiver in as little as 15 minutes, if they are submersed.

We followed the west arm of the V until we had to do a lift-over at a beaver dam into Middle Kilburn Lake, then we double carried the 175 meter portage into the Upper Kilburn where we stopped for lunch. The guys carried their loads easily, but there was always extra weight in the food barrel for the first couple days. This year they counted on me for the weed, since it is legal in both Michigan and Ontario, but you can't bring it across the border. I had a nice sativa pre-rolled and snugly packed in a double layer of plastic.

I watched two loons with a swarm of loonlets chirping behind them. In June they are less than three weeks old, with many climbing onto the backs of their parents to share their warmth and to escape the bigger pike and muskie that feed on them. Both adults contribute with the feeding and protection duties. The babes are darker than the adults, with shorter beaks. They will take the entire summer to learn how to feed themselves, and they won't even try to fly until mid August.

Nick told me about one of his coworkers that he was dating before the Christmas holidays. She was not aware of the side benefits that he might have on this adventure.

"So, it's just Pete and me in the sleeping bag tonight?" I asked my doe faced friend.

"No, no, it's just that I may not be able to come back next year," he whined. "I really like her, and I can see it getting serious."

"That's wonderful news, Pete." I had to answer that way, of course. I would miss him.

"What about you, Simone? When will you find the right guy?" Nick asked, trying to sound casual, but not really succeeding. Many of my customers felt like they were in love with me. I am young and healthy with good hygiene, and a fair mind. Don't forget that I love fishing and I can clean my own catch.

"I doubt that I will ever settle for one man, unless he's okay with me sleeping around."

I always answered people that way. Even my own parents who retired to Arizona only 2 years ago.

"What about kids, Sim? You would make a good mom," Nick interjected, while reloading their canoe.

"Is that an offer?" I asked, laughing to keep it light. "Don't answer that, lover boy. I am not ready for kids, and when I am, it will be on my terms."

Neither of them wanted to pursue that conversation so we paddled down the river, watching the pines and marshes for a caribou or a moose to brighten our day.

After a few lift overs we found ourselves on South Paull Lake. We broke out our fishing gear before getting back into our vessels. Unless we caught a monster muskie we would just be releasing any fish that we caught today. A walleye or lake trout is a real treat when cooked right, but we would need two, and it was not the right time of day to expect anything more than one lucky strike. The truth is, the first night on a wilderness expedition is about getting acquainted with your clients, and these fellas would not want me smelling of fish.

It was only 3 o'clock and our first night was on Paull Lake which was less than an hour away. I was starting to feel a bit more amorous. It must have been in the air, cause the guys were looking at me more than they should have, almost missing the cow moose with her two calves.

"Shush," I whispered.

I pointed to the scene ahead of us, with the three animals feeding at the shoreline. These men were experienced campers, so they kept quiet while we sat, motionless in our canoes. There was a slight current, so we slowly crept past the trio, while mom watched and the two young bullwinkles ate their lunch.

The portage up to Paull Lake is more rugged though it's always well cleared, as it's a principal route into the park. Pete carried the food barrel for the first passage, while Nick and I had to carry the canoes on our shoulders. I smiled, thinking of the image of two people wearing canoe hats while the third carries a blue plastic keg! Canadians must look like big beer drinkers to our southern friends.

Paull Lake is named after a French Canadian, but he was respected by the Native community. There are remnants of a fishing lodge here, but no other signs of people other than a ring of rocks for a cook fire. I let the brothers put up the tent while I found a suitable tree to put our food barrel up out of the reach of our brown bears. Being 'bear aware' is always smart. They will eat your entire foodstock if they can get to it. They may not be as dangerous as grizzlies or polar bears, but they can be a great nuisance.

I secured a rope over the solid limb of a white pine but I was not going to haul up that heavy barrel. That was man's work, though I do like to watch men work.

"Let's get that food up," Pete suggested to his brother.

They both knew that I would want it secure before we considered having an afternoon 'nap'.

They were only wearing cutoff jeans and sandals, so it was like watching a road crew, without the orange vests. The sunscreen and bug lotion combined to make them look like gods as they used their legs to lift the heavy pack then one pulled on the rope while his brother tried to throw the barrel upwards.

"Perfect," I announced. "Now who wants to get reacquainted?"

Two hands went up, so I turned toward the tent.

I don't think that Canadian women are lustier than any other women. We do know a thing or two about living free and loving life. My many American friends appreciate how unabashedly horny I can get. Why would I feel guilty? I have no attachments. We practice safe sex, using fresh condoms and extra lubricant, when needed.

I took them to my tent and enjoyed them as a woman might have done 10,000 years ago. Men can only stay hard for so long, so having a brother handy is a big bonus. She would not have had the condoms to worry about but she would certainly know how she became pregnant. I use a birth control injection and condoms. You can't be too careful, mom would say.

I could not remember which one I screwed first when we traveled together last year. Oh, I remember both times, just not which was first.

Fucking brothers in a close space can be very different from doing it with two guys that are friends. Brothers have been around each other, naked, a lot more often than with their friends. Accidental touches between brothers would be met with one calling the other 'fagot' or 'queer', but it was only in jest. When friends have that inevitable touch of their friend's cock it is simply met with revulsion, until their mind is so distracted by my overwhelming beauty and sexuality that they forget about their homophobic thoughts. Sometimes they simply can't take it, and I have to split up our lovemaking with one in the morning and the other at night. It's a real shame, since I like to have them both. Both in the evening and both before breakfast.

I felt myself dozing off after I came down from my last orgasm. Then I realized that the droning sound I heard was the two brothers, sound asleep.

"Hey! Get the fuck out there and get the fucking food down, you lazy, good for nothing sons of a bitch."

I clearly brought them back from the dead. They actually needed 3 seconds to remember where they were.

"Yes Captain! My Captain!" Nick cried, while they both tried to open the bug screen at the same time.

I smiled, watching their bare asses dance as they fought for the right to pull the zipper up. Then I pulled my bikini bottoms back on before following my men.

I found my folding chair, but that was the most work that I expected to do today. They worked well together, bringing the food stash down without dropping it. They both gathered wood then Nick put together a haystack of white pine bark over twigs, while Pete took the big cooking pot down to the lake.

They cooked up enough water to re-hydrate three expensive camp meals and a side pot of rice. It had been a good travel day, and it was set to be a great night. I let the boys eat the extra rice, like you might give your table scraps to the dogs. They would have eaten it off my ass, but I had other things in mind. I have to maintain discipline with my clients. Some of them would just fuck, eat, drink, smoke, and repeat, for the entire short trip. I suppose that they would leave here happy, though sore. They would go back to their regular life of having sex once or twice a week, while I would have a fresh pair of horn-dogs. With that in mind, I maintain the discipline of only having sex twice a day.

Often it's me that wants to push that rule.

We lay out on the granite and watched the stars. I wore my harem pants and a special hoodie that included a fine mesh face mask, to keep the skeeters away. The guys had similar covers with jeans, but it had cooled off enough for us to be comfortable.

I rested my head on their arms while we enjoyed the moonlight. I really wasn't tired. Their hands reminded me that they were not tired either.

"Can I enjoy the stars for a minute guys!" I scolded them.

The hands stopped, but now I could just feel their eyes on me. They had sex just three hours ago, but they still couldn't take their eyes off of me. They were wasting a beautiful view.

I thought about the pounds that they shed over the winter, as I found the big dipper. I didn't know where Saturn or Mars were at that time of year, but I have seen them, when everything is perfect. I felt a toe, then a hand.

They hadn't asked for a desert or a marshmallow either. They were taking fitness seriously.

I felt both hands, moving slowly up the outside of my bug shirt. It is heavy on the sides, with a fine mesh to keep the tiniest of insects from crawling on me. There was enough light to see that they were closing in on me.

"Well. I'm bushed. What about you fine gentlemen?" I asked the silly question.

"I'm not tired at all," Pete replied.

"Nor I," said Nick. "But we will gladly help you to sleep, Simone."

"Maybe we will be tired after you are asleep, Princess."

I do not engage with men like a hooker. There is no 'double teaming' and no anal at all. But I do like to play with a cock while one is banging away in my pussy. I know it's not safe as a general rule, but I will handle a bare cock when it's someone I know. Oral is very personal to me, so I pay careful attention when I have our first tumble, when the sun is still up. If everything looks clean I will suck it better than your girlfriend. I probably have more experience, though I don't have a tongue clip. I also receive a lot more oral than the average whore. With their cum trapped in latex, these lumberjacks always want to prove themselves to me, with some heavy licking and finger banging. Even when one is spent, he will play with my breasts. They are a woman's dream crew.