Trail Magic
(c) Copyright 2000 by Wiseguy
Bridget and I were at that awkward stage in our
relationship. We'd been dating full-time for about eight
months, sleeping together for most of that. We spent
nights together a lot, sometimes at my place and sometimes
at hers. Things had been pretty steady that way for a
while, but with my lease coming up in just over a month the
big question hung in the air around us: do we move in
together or not?
It wasn't just a question of logistics, of course. Moving
in together is a big step, one that implies the
relationship is moving in a certain direction. At 26 I
still thought of myself as a guy; I wasn't averse to
the idea of a Mrs. Leo Simmons, but I wasn't actively
looking for one either.
At the same time, choosing to keep my apartment for another
year also seemed like it might imply something. Would
Bridget take it as a sign that I didn't want to commit? I
wasn't getting a good reading from her either way, and I'll
admit I didn't have the guts to ask straight out. The 90's
may be over (or not, depending on who you ask), but I'm
still trying to figure out that sensitive male thing.
What I did do is agree to go with Bridget on a weekend hike
across the Maryland leg of the Appalachian Trail. She's
very outdoorsy, loves to go hiking and camping and
climbing. I'm more of a fishing and hunting type myself,
but I'd gone on hikes with Bridget before and I can keep up
with her. I had visions of making love under the stars to
motivate me, too.
And so it was that we found ourselves in South Mountain
State Park early on a cloudy Saturday morning. It was late
May, not quite tourist season yet, so traffic wasn't too
bad. My pal Jerry drove us up in his Jeep and dropped us
at the trailhead, agreeing to meet us in Harper's Ferry
late Sunday afternoon. It was a 40-mile hike, which is
pretty aggressive for only two days, but we were in good
enough physical shape to handle it.
Bridget set a comfortable pace for us and we started out
hand in hand along the trail, watching for the blue blazes
that marked routes to shelter. We walked quickly over the
flat parts, more slowly when the trail got rocky. After
each steep climb we rewarded ourselves with a short
breather, then pressed on. We planned to cover a good 25
miles or more Saturday, camp overnight, then do the rest on
Sunday.
By lunchtime we had already covered 12 miles, so we were
right on schedule. We followed a short side trail to a
scenic overlook and sat down on a fallen tree trunk to eat
the sandwiches we'd packed with us for lunch.
"Thanks for coming along," Bridget told me between bites.
"I know long hikes aren't your favorite weekend activity."
"No," I agreed with a lecherous wink, "but I'm sure you'll
make it up to me when we turn in for the night."
She grinned back. "What makes you think we'll still have
the energy by then?"
"Good point," I retorted. "Maybe we should duck into the
bushes now while we're fresh."
Bridget started to respond, but an unfamiliar voice jumped
in instead. "I wouldn't if I were you -- brambles." We
both jumped, then we saw the source of the interruption: a
lone hiker had come up the trail behind us. "Sorry if I
startled you," she said, coming to a stop in front of where
we sat. Her voice was bright and rich and a little winded.
"It's okay," Bridget said. "We didn't realize anyone was
nearby."
"I guess not," the hiker replied. "You two must be in
great shape -- it was quite a challenge catching up to you.
I haven't worked this hard in ages." She pulled off her
hat, revealing a matted mop of rich hair and a
plain, friendly-looking face. I guessed her age at mid
thirties. She had bright blue eyes and a deep natural tan.
The hand she held out to us was slightly calloused but well
cared for. "I'm Gretel," she said.
I shook the offered hand. "I'm Leo, and this is Bridget.
Pull up a log and make yourself at home."
"Thanks." Shedding her pack, Gretel took a seat on a tree
stump next to our log. We shifted to form a conversational
circle.
"We've got some extra food if you'd like some," Bridget
offered.
"I've got my own, thank you." She fished in one of the
pockets of her pack and pulled out one of those energy
bars. She peeled open the foil packet and took a good-
sized bite.
"So why did you work so hard to catch up with us?" I asked.
"No special reason," she said. "I first caught site of you
at South Mountain and could tell from the pace you set that
you weren't typical day hikers. I like to challenge
myself, so I decided to try and catch up to you. It's just
a game to pass the time."
"How long have you been out here?"
"A week," she replied. "I want to walk the entire Trail,
but I don't have the time or stamina to do it all at once,
so I'm taking it in pieces. I started out at the North end
four years ago and I do one or two outings a year. This
leg started out in Pennsylvania last weekend; I'm aiming to
reach the Pine Mountain loop in Virginia in another ten
days, then go back home to Pittsburgh to recuperate. Next
time I'll pick up at Pine Mountain and see how far I can
get. My goal is to finish the trail before turning 40."
"Wow," I said with respect. "What does your think
of you hiking alone?"
"They think I'm nuts," she confessed, "but it beats sitting
in front of a computer all day."
We rested and talked some more, sharing some bottled water.
We learned that Gretel was a 37-year-old widow with two
kids in their late teens, and that she worked as a
freelance writer for outdoor sports magazines. I could
feel that strange, magical sense of kinship, of
camaraderie, that so often bonds strangers on the trails.
Bridget felt it too, I think, because she invited Gretel to
walk with us to Harper's Ferry.
The three of us rejoined the trail rested and with a new
energy, talking little as we clicked off the miles but
appreciating the scenery and the company every step of the
way. Gretel was in great shape, with a pair of powerful
legs that carried her easily over the rocks and hills. We
took a ten-minute break every 90 minutes or so, watching
the still-cloudy sky for signs of rain, and still reached
the spot where we had planned to camp a good hour ahead of
schedule.
There was a campground there, a good-sized clearing with a
well and a fire circle maintained by the Appalachian Trail
Conference crews for exactly that purpose. We had been
planning to pitch our tent and spend the night there, but
when we reached the clearing it was already occupied by a
party of 16 teenagers and their chaperones. We didn't mind
a little company on the trail, but bedding down with a
busload of partying youths wasn't what we had in mind.
"We've still got plenty of daylight left," Gretel
suggested. "Let's go a few more miles down and find a
quieter spot." We checked the map in our guidebook; there
wasn't another maintained campground for about 10 miles,
but we figured we could find a suitable spot before then.
Sure enough, we went another five miles or so down the
Trail and found the perfect spot: a smaller clearing at
the end of a side path, where an unnamed creek flowed by.
The ground was flat and firm leading to a smooth stone slab
at the creek's edge, and bare enough that we could safely
build a small fire if we needed to.
The sky was darkening a little, so our first order of
business was to set up shelter. Ours was really just a
large tarp, which we lashed to a pair of trees and tent
stakes to form a simple but effective lean-to shelter. The
open sides gave us the feel of sleeping under the stars but
there was enough cover to keep us dry if it rained. Gretel
liked the arrangement so much that she mimicked it, using
the outer skin of her small one-person shelter to make her
own lean-to.
"This is nice," she remarked as she rolled out her sleeping
bag. "You can actually move around this way; as a tent,
this thing is barely big enough to crawl in and out of."
We had a nice dinner, cooked on our camp stove, and were
able to use the creek to wash our utensils. There hadn't
been any rain in the forecast, but by the time we had the
dinner debris cleared up it was obvious we were in for a
wet night. We made sure our things were under cover, and
opted to turn in.
Gretel wasn't shy -- the three of us were still talking,
swapping about trail experiences and whatnot, when
she stripped down to her underwear and did a few stretches
before sliding into the sack. She had a splendid body,
rugged and lean but soft-looking in all the right places.
I didn't want to get caught looking too closely, though, so
I concentrated on working with Bridget on setting up our
double bag.
Then I realized my mistake: our shelters were facing each
other at a distance of only a few feet. The lack of
privacy was going to put a serious crimp in my half-formed
plans for the evening, not to mention Bridget's ardor.
Dammit!
Gretel must have read my face, because she grinned at me.
"I'm a very sound sleeper," she said with a wink. "Give me
twenty minutes and I'll be so gone a minor explosion
couldn't rouse me." Then she turned her back to us and was
silent.
Bridget and I exchanged a bemused look and followed our new
friend's example, stripping down to our underwear and
stretching a little. Watching Bridget her tired
muscles wearing next to nothing had its usual effect on me
and I started caring less about what Gretel might see or
hear. By the time we slipped into our double sleeping bag
my flag was already at three-quarters mast.
We settled into the bag like spoons, with Bridget tucked
inside me. My tent pole pressed against her butt and she
teased me by rubbing herself on it, which of course only
made things worse. I snaked my left arm underneath her and
brought both hands up to her chest, undoing the front clasp
on her bra and grabbing a in each. Her nipples were
semi-erect and grew quickly under my touch.
"Careful," she whispered with a nod toward where Gretel lay
a few feet away. "Don't start anything you're not prepared
to finish."
"I'm prepared," I said softly, pressing my hardness into
her a little more firmly. "The question is, can we do it
without attracting attention?"
"Keep that up for long enough," she answered, patting the
hands that were fondling her breasts, "and I may not care."
"Works for me." Gretel was silent, her unmoving form
barely visible in the meager moonlight. Emboldened by her
stillness and by Bridget's apparent willingness to risk it,
I nibbled lightly on my girlfriend's neck and slid one hand
down inside her panties. There I found the magic button
and nudged it a few times until my fingers were slick with
her juices.
"No fair," Bridget protested in a half-moan, but her hand
reached back, found the bulge where my shaft was trying to
push through my briefs, and started pumping me.
The body heat was building up inside the sleeping bag. I
could feel a fine mist of sweat starting to cover us both.
I was also feeling a strong need to get us out of that
underwear, and that was going to need a little more freedom
of movement. With one more look toward Gretel -- no change
there -- I unzipped the bag and moved on top of Bridget.
She took the opportunity to push down her own panties, then
as I propped myself up on all fours above her she grabbed
my briefs and yanked them down out of the way. The
unzipped bag gapped open, exposing us completely to
Gretel's view had she been looking, but we were too far
gone to worry about it. I kissed Bridget's navel, then
worked my way up to her chest and adored her with
my tongue. She was impatient, though; she grabbed me with
both hands and pulled me up higher, hooking her legs around
my butt and hauling me in.
I slipped into her easily as our mouths met in a kiss, then
I rose up a little and plunged myself in deeper. Bridget's
back arched and her eyes closed as she relaxed into it,
letting all of her energies gather at the place where we
were joined. Her legs kicked and I felt the sleeping bag
fall back as she came, moaning sweetly into the night air.
A hint of movement caught the corner of my eye. I looked
again at Gretel but it was hard to tell what, if anything,
she was doing as heavy clouds had choked off most of the
moonlight. I heard, or maybe imagined I heard, a soft
grunting from nearby and a faint swish of moving nylon, but
before I could examine it I felt the rush of an orgasm
shooting through me and all thought was choked off by the
pleasure of the event. I finished slowly, relishing every
second, then slid off Bridget and held her as we went to
sleep.
We woke in the morning to the sound of heavy raindrops
against the shelter. I felt a pleasant coolness at my back
and realized the sleeping bag was still unzipped and my
back and butt were hanging out of the open side. I also
realized that my briefs were still around my ankles. There
wasn't much I could do about it without waking Bridget --
our nocturnal activities had gotten the bedroll twisted
around -- but I did manage to roll us both over a little so
I was on my back with Bridget half on top of me, her head
resting on my chest. That was cozy and kept my crack
covered.
"Don't cover up on my account."
I looked over and saw Greta sitting up inside her shelter
and smiling at me. She was digging in her pack and soon
brought out a zippered plastic pouch.
"Good morning," I finally said lamely. What else do you
say when you're buck naked and wake up to find a stranger
in her underwear looking at you? "Sleep well?"
"Like the dead," she replied with a wink. Then to my
surprise she crossed her arms, grabbed the bottom edges of
the sports bra she was wearing, and pulled it off over her
head. She had really nice breasts, a little smaller than
Bridget's but with plenty of bounce. I got that far, then
realized I was staring and quickly turned my head.
"I'm sorry," I stammered. "I wasn't expecting..."
"It's okay," she said with an amused sparkle in her voice.
"I should have warned you -- after a few days on the trail,
I tend to leave my modesty behind."
I felt Bridget's head rise up off my chest. "What's going
on?" she asked sleepily.
"I think I embarrassed Leo," Gretel answered. "He's
blushing."
"He does that when people get naked around him. What are
you doing?"
"Well, since it's raining hard enough to preclude most
other activities, and since I haven't had a good shower in
almost a week, I thought I'd take advantage."
"You're going to shower in the rain? Won't you get cold?"
"It's not that cold a rain," she answered. "In fact, it's
very stimulating. You should try it some time."
Curiosity overcame decorum, and I looked over at Gretel
again. She had peeled off her and was standing up
just outside her shelter, letting the water drip down over
her. "Join me if you want," she invited, walking over
toward the flat stone area by the creek. "It's
invigorating."
Bridget and I exchanged glances. "She has a point,"
Bridget said tentatively. "We could use a shower -- we're
all sweaty and sticky."
"And you wouldn't mind ... " I gestured up towards Gretel,
who was soaping herself up out on the rock.
"Like she said, the rules are a little different out here.
Just don't get carried away." With a wink and a kiss, she
threw back the top of the sleeping bag and crawled over to
her pack.
In less than a minute we had located our soap, shampoo and
washcloths and joined Gretel on the big rock. Having stone
rather than dirt under our feet made it seem almost like a
big shower stall. The water was tepid, but somehow the
feel of it flowing over and around me was, as Gretel had
said, invigorating. I felt my spirits rising to new
heights as Bridget and I playfully scrubbed each other,
almost forgetting about the naked stranger nearby, who had
finished her shower and was simply stretched out on her
back on the stone floor letting the rain have its way with
her.
Soon I noticed that something other than my spirits had
risen to new heights -- something about the openness, the
strangeness of being out in the rain and naked, was really
putting a charge into my libido. I turned my back to the
women and tried thinking about my to get my
hyperactive dick to cool down.
It was almost working, too, but then I felt Bridget's hands
on my back, sliding smoothly over my skin. She felt her
way down to my butt, lingered over the cheeks and then
forward until her hand closed around my lengthening shaft.
I felt her pressing against me from behind and it
was exquisite.
"Careful," I said playfully. "Don't start anything you're
not prepared to finish."
"I'm prepared," came the soft whisper into my ear. "The
question is, can we do it without attracting attention?"
I laughed quietly at the situation. What the hell, I
figured. "Keep that up for long enough and I may not
care."
The hand on my shaft squeezed and started pumping me a
little more quickly. I wasn't going to last long if she
was going to do that, I knew, so I reached back with my
hands and groped for her breasts. I found them, but
something seemed wrong -- they were a little higher up than
I expected, and felt smaller.
Then Bridget stepped in front of me with a wicked grin on
her face. "Looking for these?" she taunted, caressing her
breasts slowly. There was still a hand on my cock and
another stroking the hair on my chest, and now I knew why
the I'd found didn't feel like Bridget's.
I can't begin to explain what went through my head in the
few seconds after I realized what was happening. Shock,
surprise, and the most intense arousal I've ever felt would
be a start. I think my yardstick grew an extra inch in
that time. Bridget pressed herself against me from the
front, making a Leo sandwich with Gretel, and kissed me
deeply. I felt her hands reaching behind me, groping,
finding. Gretel's hand left my iron rod and slipped
between Bridget's legs, making an opening and sliding me in
between Bridget's thighs for good measure. My knees got
weak and I found myself slipping down, taking the
with me. They laughed wickedly as they laid me out on my
back and then Bridget climbed on, dropping herself down
over me and burying my sword completely. Gretel's face
popped out behind Bridget and her hands snaked around to
Bridget's breasts, playing with the nipples in a way that
made Bridget throw her head back and cry out. Her pelvic
muscles clamped down on my tightly and she squealed as she
came, leaning back on Gretel for support and bouncing up
and down on me.
"Your turn," Gretel said, and one hand disappeared from my
view. I didn't have to wonder long where it was going -- a
second later I felt fingers playing with my balls. I
gasped and twitched, and Bridget opened her eyes to watch
me. Gretel's fingers danced up and down on my ball sack,
then she reached a little further back and touched
something that blew me away. My whole body went nuts and I
came hard in an instant, groaning out of control with each
clenching movement in my groin. Still the fingers kept
caressing my balls, prolonging the sensations until I was
sure I'd have nothing left for a week.
Bridget rolled off to my left, Gretel to my right, and for
a few minutes we lay side by side by side, letting the rain
wash over us some more. I became aware of moaning and
movement to my right, then Bridget tapped me on the
shoulder and pointed to Gretel. She was stretched out on
the rock, one hand on a breast, the other between her legs.
"Why don't you help out?" Bridget suggested. "We owe her
one."
"Yes, ma'am," I said, and got up between Gretel's legs.
"Let me take care of that," I told her, and gently moved
her hand out of my way. I lowered my face to her mound,
kissed it once, then looked to Bridget to make sure she was
okay with this. She nodded vigorously, mouthing "Do it,"
so I went to work.
The rain water mixed with Gretel's own juices as I probed,
poked, prodded and teased, learning the territory as I
went. Bridget crawled over at one point and helped out,
telling Gretel to relax and enjoy. I found the magic spot
and circled it with my tongue, something that drives
Bridget wild, and got a similar result. Gretel's hips
pumped and her breathing came in loud gasps as she
climaxed, squeezing my head between her thighs with an
amazing strength. I stayed in the saddle, triggering more
twitches every time she seemed to be easing off, keeping
her in ecstasy for as long as I could. Finally she'd had
enough; she squirmed away, laughing breathlessly with us.
"I'm not 26 anymore," she pointed out breathlessly. "If we
keep this up I'll need a six-hour nap to recover."
The rain was slowing down, so we washed off the traces of
our activities and dried off inside shelter. By the time
we were dressed the sun was peeking out and the rain had
stopped. We cooked and ate a big breakfast -- somehow we'd
all worked up a huge appetite -- and broke camp.
Thanks to the extra miles the night before, we had only
about 10 more to go before reaching our destination. We
took it easy, laughing and joking and holding hands all the
way. We killed off the rest of our provisions at a brief
lunch stop, and made it to Harper's Ferry well before Jerry
was supposed to meet us. We offered to treat Gretel to a
restaurant meal while we waited for him.
"No thanks," she said with a smile. "As tempting as the
offer is, my trail isn't over for the day. It's been an
amazing, exhilarating time, but I need to press on if I'm
going to stay on schedule."
"I don't know what to say," I told her. "We've never done
anything like that before. It was incredible."
Gretel smiled and took both of our hands. "Neither have
I," she said. "In fact, you were the first people I've
been with that way since my husband died. Meeting up with
you two has been a blessing for me ... a touch of trail
magic."
We hugged and exchanged addresses, then we escorted Gretel
to the trailhead and watched her disappear into the woods.
As we waited for Jerry in a picnic area by the highway, I
looked at Bridget with new eyes. I wondered why I'd been
so reluctant to think about having a future with this girl,
so hesitant about making any kind of commitment to her.
Jerry showed up on schedule in his Jeep. He took a look at
us and grinned widely. "Looks like you had a good time,"
he remarked.
"Pretty good," I agreed. "Even the rain wasn't too bad."
Bridget slapped me on the butt for that one.
"Do you want to eat first," Jerry asked, "or just head
home?"
"Let's head home," I suggested. "I want to get a look at
the newspaper. It's time to start looking for a new
place." I gave Bridget a squeeze and added, "Our place."
We spent most of the drive home necking in the back of
Jerry's Jeep. At one point I looked up to see him watching
us in the rear view mirror. "What got into you two?" he
asked.
I winked at him. "Just a little trail magic."
-wg
7/4/00
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