Grand Canyon Adventure

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I’ve been wanting to tell this story to someone since last October. That’s when my husband and I went on what was to be our “vacation of a lifetime.” Well, it certainly was that! Maybe by telling the story now, I will be able to fully come to grips with what happened. I need to know who I really am. The dream vacation was a three-week raft trip in the Grand Canyon. We went with seven other couples, all of whom we knew from earlier river trips, mostly on rivers in Idaho and Utah. These are not people we socialize with except when we go rafting, but during the river trips we always become close. My husband and I live in Denver, and the other couples live in places from Los Angeles to Seattle to Missoula. The group leader and organizer of these trips is my mother’s cousin. Mom used to go on the trips, but has pretty much dropped out. I think that she just felt uncomfortable being, thanks to the Vietnam war, the only “single” in a group of couples.

So we are the youngest couple in the group. Everyone else is at least 10 or 15 years older. But we’ve always had a great time, and we had been looking forward to the Grand Canyon trip for four years, ever since we took our first trip with the group. Now, everyone who goes rafting gets a “river name.” And because of the nature of this story, I’m going to use only our river names. I’m “The Bikini Queen,” but that’s my new river name. Prior to this trip my river name was “Julia” for Julia Childs, because I like to play the part of super-chef on the trips. That illustrates the way river names are created. How I became the Bikini Queen is the subject of this story.

I’m 28 years old, and I’ve been married to “Chester” for six years. His river name resulted from a mildly sprained ankle that caused him to limp severely during our first trip. I guess Chester was a character on an old TV western that some of the older couples used to watch. Chester is a year older than me. We met in college, and dated for nearly three years, until both of us had graduated. I might as well tell you right now that I was actually a virgin on my wedding day. And I think I was a little bit smug about it, too. Okay, I was completely smug about it. Not that I considered myself to be a prude, but my Mormon background has had a lot of influence on my life. To some members of my family, it was scandalous that I married outside the church, but I was not bothered by Chester’s lack of religion. He was the man I chose, and I never was all that devout a Mormon anyway. But I had always obeyed the rules. Most of them, anyway. I did start drinking coffee (not exactly a cardinal sin) soon after I went to college. Chester introduced me to alcohol sometime later. We used to drink wine flips made with cheap sangria in screw-top jugs. It wasn’t any big deal, but it proved that some of what I had thought of as “principles” were negotiable.

Still, we had lived a pretty conservative kind of life. We didn’t hang out in bars, we didn’t watch X-rated movies, we didn’t have wild parties; and even in the bedroom, we didn’t do anything boldly erotic. So I still find it hard to believe the way things got so far out of control on the Grand Canyon trip. It all started about a week before the trip, when Chester bought me a tiny red string bikini. I was very surprised. Shocked, actually. I’d always been too modest to wear even a regular bikini, let alone a string. The raciest suit I’d ever worn on our river trips was a conservative two piece. Low cut in the legs, high cut in the top. Kind of nerdy, actually. Anyway, Chester finally convinced me that nobody would think badly of me just because I might let a little bit of skin show. Okay, a lot of skin. I will confess that after six years of a fairly restrained sex life, I was kind of excited that my husband wanted me to go out in public with almost nothing on. But my goodness! Was I really bold enough to walk around almost naked? I tried to imagine how it would feel to have so much of me showing, and to have everyone looking at me. Just the idea of having all the guys in our rafting group see me in that bikini made my pulse rate increase. It surprised and embarrassed me that I should have such a reaction to a thought like that. Nice girls don’t even think about such things!

Then when I tried-on the bikini, I felt my heart race a little bit more. The two little triangles that made up the top covered my nipples, but not much more. And even as I looked at myself in the mirror, I could see my nipples rise and show plainly through the thin fabric. In spite of my excitement, I was starting to have some misgivings about this.

But the real doubts came up when I looked at the bottom half. The strip of red fabric was barely wide enough to cover the essentials, and dark hair was showing everywhere. I knew this wasn’t going to work! I decided that I’d just have to exchange the suit for something a bit less revealing. At the store a couple of days later, I discovered that you cannot exchange a swimming suit after you’ve worn it. Some kind of a law, they said. So I kept the red suit. I’d just have to trim some hair, that’s all. Well, I decided, as long as I was going to all that trouble, I might as well get another suit. Actually, I ended up buying two. They were both pretty skimpy, but not like the red one. More important than the cut, the fabric was thicker, so that some of the more personal details of my body were less likely to show through. I had pretty much decided against wearing the red suit.

I called the girl who normally did my legs and asked her about getting a bikini wax, but her schedule was booked solid. We were leaving the next day, so I called my friend Karen to come to my rescue. It isn’t easy to ask a friend to give you haircut, and then explain what hair you’re talking about. But Karen’s a good sport, and agreed to come over that evening. Chester was busy packing up for the trip, so Karen and I just went into the bathroom and got down to business. There was nothing sexual about it. Or so I thought. Truth is, I found myself getting aroused as Karen snipped away hair that had never been cut before. I suppose it was a carry-over effect from the fantasizing I had done while trying on the bikinis, but in any case, my heart was racing! Anyway, I certainly didn’t let on that I was getting hot, and the work went forward. When everything was trimmed down short enough, she started applying shaving cream, working from the outer edges toward the middle. It was turning into an extremely stimulating tease, though neither of us intended it to be. My insides were screaming. I was sure that Karen could tell just by looking. I even imagined that I could detect the smell of passion, and I wondered what Karen must think of me! My goodness, suppose she thought I was a lesbian!

The shaving continued, and if Karen had any idea that I was aroused, she kept it to herself. When she was done, I had a small patch of hair above and a narrow strip of hair down the middle of my most personal area. I put on the red bikini, and decided that I might wear it but would probably stick with the other two instead. In any event, this would get me through the river trip. Karen went home, and I went to work helping Chester finish packing. We had good sex that night. I think that Chester was really turned-on by my new haircut, and I know for sure that I had some built-up sexual energy to burn off!

I even let him “go down” on me, something that he had done occasionally, but he always waited for me to make some unmistakable sign that I wanted him to, and I had always been a bit embarrassed to do so. That was the nature of our sex life. The next day we drove down to meet the rest of the group on the banks of the Colorado River. We camped near the launch site, then the next morning began setting up our five rented rafts, plus the three owned by Mom’s cousin, “Conan.” All were 14 and 15 foot rafts, about the minimum size for a Grand Canyon trip.

We spent most of the day, it seemed, loading the gear and supplies onto the rafts. You can’t believe how much “stuff” it takes to do a three week river trip! It was a very warm day, so most of the group wore swimming suits, but I stayed with shorts and a T-shirt. I simply wasn’t ready for the unveiling. Besides, there were too many strangers around. Late in the afternoon we started down river, on the adventure that none of us will ever forget. It was warm the next morning, so I started the day with my black string bikini, covered for the moment by a men’s white dress shirt. That was very bold for me! I knew that everyone could see the black bikini under the white shirt, and I thought I could sense some surprise among the others. As the day warmed up, the buttons came undone, and eventually the shirt came off. One thing you have to do on any river trip is pay close attention to sunscreen. If you don’t, you get cooked. So I diligently applied the warm, clear oil. Especially to the places that had never been exposed to the sun before. But there was a problem. The short hair that Karen had left behind was really irritating. It kind of snagged in the bikini fabric, and wasn’t very comfortable. As the day wore on, it only got worse. I tried the green suit the next day, hoping that it’s fabric would be less prone to act like velcro. I wore a little sun dress over the bikini in the morning, but that came off once we were on the river. I quietly enjoyed catching the guys running lustful eyes over my body. But that irritation! I could feel a rash starting to develop.

Now, a “diaper rash” is something you don’t want on any river trip, but on the third day of a three week trip, it could spell disaster. After our lunch stop, I knew I had to do something, so as we floated in calm water, I put the sun dress back on, and slipped off the bikini bottom. I was careful not to let Chester see what I was doing. What would he have thought if he knew? Oh, blessed relief! I found that if I sat with my legs just slightly spread, the short stubble didn’t poke and irritate, and the little breeze under the dress felt scandalously wonderful. I was quietly enjoying my own private turn-on. Eventually I reclined across the pile of river bags in the front of the raft and dozed off in the afternoon sun.

I don’t know how long I dozed, but voices awoke me. I opened my eyes to see that the other rafts had pulled in close to share an afternoon snack. I stretched lazily, then froze. “Mutt” and “Jeff” had pulled their raft up to the nose of ours, where they had an unobstructed view straight up my little dress. For the briefest moment, I thought there was a chance that they hadn’t noticed, so I avoided making any sudden moves. Then I saw the faintest hint of a knowing smile pass over Mutt’s face.

I glanced quickly to Jeff, and he just made a subtle wink. That was all. Well, not quite all. His shorts were bulging noticeable. I was terribly embarrassed! But for some reason, I thought that it would embarrass them to slam my legs shut and make them feel that they had been caught doing something wrong. It is peculiar how the mind works. So I smiled sheepishly and carefully changed position. I felt my face burning as I peeked back at Mutt and Jeff, and saw that they were both smiling. I knew I’d have to explain to Mutt that I really wasn’t trying to be an exhibitionist!

In camp later in the afternoon, while the guys were off fishing or hiking, I pulled my beach chair up next to Mutt’s, and gave her my fumbling explanation and apology. She told me I didn’t need to apologize. After all, she knew that Jeff would give her a good ride tonight after getting that great beaver shot! Now, Mutt had always worn french-cut swimming suits, so I asked her about the irritation. Did a bikini shave always do that? She was amused that I should ask such a naive question. But she answered the question, and did so without making me feel too stupid. The remaining hair had been cut shorter than it should have been. There were only two options. Wait for it to grow back out a bit, or take it all off. Somehow, the prospect shocked me.

“You mean shave it clean?” I stupidly asked. “As smooth as a baby’s ass,” she said with a coy wink, “. . . or mine.” “You mean . . .” “I haven’t had a hair down there for ten years,” she said. “Maintenance is a bit of a nuisance sometimes, but I like the feeling. I think you would too.” I didn’t want to imply that Mutt was trashy, but this was totally unexpected. I blurted out, “Gee, I guess I knew that there were women who shaved their . . . uh . . . themselves, but I never would have guessed . . .” “Come on, Julia. Half of the other women in this group are shaved. You’ve never gone with us when we go skinny dipping.” “Oh, I didn’t mean to imply . . .” “Take it easy, Julia. I’m just trying to help you.” “Will you,” I asked. “Will you help me? I’m afraid that I might cut myself if I try to do it alone.” I was really flustered, and I just kind of blurted it out before I realized what I’d said.

But Mutt was matter-of-fact. She said she’d help, and she meant it. In fact, since neither of us was on the “dinner crew” that night, we could slip off and do it right then. Mutt rounded up a few things, and I grabbed a huge beach towel, and the two of us hiked back away from the river, up a little side canyon, until we found a very secluded patch of sand among huge rounded boulders.

I spread out the towel, slipped off my shorts and exposed the cause of my discomfort. Well, what the hell. She’d already seen it earlier in the day! I lay on my back and spread my legs. Mutt gave me a comforting wink, and poured some warm water into the little basin she’d brought. She dipped her hands in the water and wiped them over the short remains of my pubic hair. She did it two more time, almost as if more for pleasure than for need. Then she squeezed some light green shaving gel into her left hand and began applying it to me with her right. She gently massaged the gel into the hair and on the skin around it. Once more, it struck me that she was enjoying it a little too much, but with a start, I realized that I was enjoying it too! “Your hair is really pretty fine,” she said. “Especially for being so dark. Usually dark hair is a lot coarser than yours. This is going to be easier than most.” “Easier than most? You mean you’ve done other women?” I asked in surprise. “And men too,” she chuckled.

I was actually stunned. I never guessed that Mutt would have shaved other women, let alone a man’s . . uh, parts. All I could say was, “Men too?” “Sure. I do Jeff a couple of times a month. It makes me horny, it makes him horny, and I think it makes sex better.” I gulped. Mutt was carefully stroking the twin-blade razor over the area that Karen had shaved four days before. There had been enough regrowth to begin showing. Mutt had a careful, gentle touch. She explained, “It works better to take lots of very light strokes than to try to take everything off in one pass. Just nice light strokes. Especially on men. You know. They have some wrinkled skin down there that is quite tender. It takes a lot of patience. I’m very careful when I shave men.” Once again I was close to implying that Mutt was trashy. In fact, I may have even been thinking it. I gasped, “You mean you do other men? Other than Jeff?” “Well, it isn’t like I do the whole neighborhood, for Christ’s sake! There are just some close friends who get the same kind of thrill out of this that you’re feeling right now.” I could feel my face burning red in embarrassment, first at having blurted out such an indelicate question, and then for having been caught getting pleasure from her work. My heart was hammering, and I was breathing in quick shallow gasps. I could feel a warmth spreading through my vaginal area. “Just close your eyes and relax. I’m enjoying this too, you know,” she said quietly as she continued stroking the razor. She looked straight into my eyes and said, “Ever since I saw you this afternoon, I’ve been hoping I’d get to do this.”

“Uh, are you a lesbian?” I asked, feeling uncomfortable about the question, but even more uncomfortable about what I thought would be the answer. But Mutt surprised me. “Of course not! I don’t love women. But I do love giving pleasure to women, and I’m pretty good at it, aren’t I?” “Oh, yeah. You’re good at it,” I whispered as I closed my eyes. When Mutt brought the razor along the edges of my most private area, she had to spread me wider, to flatten out the area she was shaving. Everything was slippery, and I’m sure it wasn’t from the shaving gel. She carefully shaved up my left side, then over to my right. At the top, where I have a little dimple, she had to stretch me wider open with two fingers of one hand, while carefully shaving the little depression. But the side effect was that my clitoris was completely unsheathed.

I couldn’t resist sneaking a peek, and I gulped at what I saw. My clitoris was swollen bigger than I’d ever seen it (not that I’d spent a lot of time studying it), and I look so . . . well, so naked! The inner folds of soft pink skin were protruding far in front of my now smooth mound. At the top, my clitoris was sticking straight out, it seemed like nearly half an inch! Mutt caught my glance and said, “It always surprises people to see how they really look under all that hair. This is the real you, Julia. And you look sweet.” Something in those words, or maybe it was just the sight of myself, caused me to explode in a trembling, unexpected orgasm. Uncontrollable spasms made my hips thrust upward three, four, five times, and I could feel the warm fluid flow from me. For several minutes I just lay still, until my breathing slowed down.

“See, sweetheart, how good it is? I must say, though, that you have a hair trigger (pun definitely not intended)! I usually come myself long before my . . . uh, customer. Ouch. That sounds terrible! My patient.” “Oh, so it’s ‘Doctor Mutt’ now,” I said with amusement. “Yes, and now I must treat myself.” I watched with embarrassed interest as she stripped her bikini bottom off. I noticed that it was soaking wet. I don’t think she had spilled water on herself. Mutt is blonde, and if there was a trace of stubble on her, it didn’t show. She seemed so perfectly proportioned, and her skin was flawless. For all the world, her pubic area looked like that of a 10-year-old.

I think she read my thoughts, because she said, “Don’t look so envious. You look just as good. Like I said, you look really sweet.” “I never thought I’d think another woman’s body was so attractive,” I commented before realizing the implications of what I’d said. “And just how attractive is that?” she asked with that ironic smile of hers. Now I was stuck. I couldn’t form an answer. Instead, I stupidly reached out and touched the glistening pink folds. Lightly, tentatively. It was slippery and warm. My finger, as if acting on its own, pressed against the folds. What was I thinking!! I guess I felt that I was returning the favor she’d just done me. I drew my finger slowly up the depths of her slit until I encountered the hardness of her clitoris. I barely touched it when Mutt gasped. Her flat abdomen contracted violently several times, and her eyes rolled back. I actually thought she was passing out.

“I told you I would come quickly. I always do. Especially with men. Some women say they rarely have an orgasm, but I think it’s all mental. I usually come before the man even gets inside me. And I don’t think I’ve ever had sex without coming.” “Well, now I do have cause to envy you.” It had just slipped out. I hurried to cover my unintended revelation, “Not that there’s anything wrong with my sex life with Chester. It’s just that we seem to work from a script, you know. I think what got me today was at least partly that there wasn’t a script.” “Oh, don’t kid yourself. There was a script. Just that you hadn’t read it. None of this was accidental. Not from the moment Jeff and I gazed up your dress!”

Oh damn, why did she have to remind me of Jeff? I had managed to block him from my thoughts after the initial embarrassment. What if Jeff was thinking along the same lines as Mutt? The dinner bell sounded from camp, signaling that it was time to get back and try to act normal. I slipped on my bikini bottom and walked around a little. Two things struck me. First, the irritation was gone, completely. That was good. Second, every little movement stimulated the sensitive tissues that had been protected by kinky hair for the past 15 years. It was exciting, but a little bit unnerving. Was I destined to be perpetually turned-on? I felt conspicuous as we walked back into camp, as though everyone knew exactly what we’d been doing back up that canyon.

Conan was tending bar, and handed me a small glass of Bailey’s Irish Creme, my favorite. No ice, though. Ice is something you covet on a long river trip. You need it to preserve your food, and you can’t afford to use it to cool your drinks. That night, Chester was surprised when I told him about the problem I’d had with my bikini trim. Or more accurately, he was surprised at the solution. But he seemed to be pleased, and he definitely rose to the occasion. I experienced a whole new set of sensations as his fur-covered crotch slammed against my now thoroughly bare skin. And for the first time in our six-year sex life, I experienced an orgasm before he did. Maybe Dr. Mutt was right. Maybe it was all in my head. In any case, it was the best sex I had ever had. The next day was almost surreal. I was basking in the warm glow of the previous night’s sexual encounters. Both of them, as I had to admit to myself. There was simply no denying that my experience with Mutt was sexual. Extremely sexual, in fact. Gee, maybe I was a lesbian. And all day long I was constantly aware, with every movement, that I was shaved smooth. I could feel the stimulation every time fabric moved against flesh. It was delicious, but more than a little bit distracting.

Meanwhile, I kept getting meaningful glances from the blue raft. And not just from Mutt. I wondered, with more embarrassment, how much she had told Jeff. Good God! Did he know that I had let someone shave me?

Hell, of course she had told him! After all, she had told me that she had shaved him! So every time he caught my eye, I could sense that he was looking right through my bikini. The black one again. That evening was our fourth river camp. Everyone who has ever gone on an extended river trip knows that at about this point on every trip, group members start opening up and getting closer. “Bonding” is the term that tries to describe the process, but what it is is a special kind of intimacy that evolves from sharing the challenges of the white water, and from being isolated from all the rest of society. Thing is, on most trips, the fourth night is the last night, or nearly so. Everyone feels close and happy, but nothing ever goes beyond good natured teasing. When the teasing started on this trip, I don’t think anyone anticipated what could happen on a 20-day trip!

I picked up on several comments from Mutt and Jeff that were clearly aimed at me. Or more specifically at my naked snatch. (When had I started using such a vulgar term, even in my silent thoughts?) Jeff had gone into a brief dissertation on the advantages of deforestation, much to the outrage of the environmentalists in our group who had no idea which forest Jeff was talking about. But I knew. And I recognized his suggestive smile. Mutt was just plain blunt. While one of the other women, “Crisco,” a licensed massage therapist, went from one person to the next, especially the guys, who had been rowing all day, doing neck and back massages, Mutt started talking about each person’s “specialty.” Mine was cooking, Conan’s was organizing the river trips, Crisco’s was massage, and so on. Her personal specialty, she proudly said, was going to be doing bikini shaves. In the dark, no one could see my red face. The banter went on as if she had said she did fingernails. In fact two of the women, “LJ” and “Peaches,” immediately began negotiating for appointments. “Oh, God,” I thought, “Mutt will tell them, and they’ll tell their husbands, and . . . Well, what the hell! They’re doing the same thing, so what am I worried about?” At least there was some comfort in that thought.

I awoke from my private thoughts, when I heard my name. “No,” Mutt was saying, “tomorrow is Julia’s day. How does Thursday work for you?” Well crap! Now everyone knew. I was so humiliated I could only sit there and try to vanish into the sand. But nobody said a thing about it. They took it as normal as getting your nails done. Well, when you think about it, it is as normal as getting your nails done! Isn’t it? It occurred to me that I had been the odd one. Not for the first time, either. As a high school girl, I wasn’t allowed by my religion to wear makeup. Everyone else did, but I had been convinced that it was sinful. So was getting your fingernails done. So was coffee, so was wine, so was getting your snatch shaved. Suddenly I got it.

Oh, it still bothered me that I had gotten so turned-on, but it had been, after all, a brand new experience. It wouldn’t happen next time. I’m not abnormal. I used to be abnormal, but not anymore. Now I’m one of the group, and this was a group of really great people. Later that night, I waited for Chester to comment on the “appointments” conversation. But if he had any thoughts on the matter, he kept them to himself. As I fell asleep, I found myself fantasizing about my next shave. I seemed to me that I didn’t really need it yet, but Mutt hadn’t asked me. I wore the green bikini the next day. I’d been alternating back and forth, still trying to get up the nerve to put on the red one. But after last night’s conversation, I was reluctant to be that bold. I was afraid that I would seem too slutty. (And WHY? For finally doing what everyone else thought was normal? Jeez, will I ever be rid of those ridiculous Mormon attitudes?)

We camped on a huge sand beach with a thick growth of willow bushes. A crystal clear side stream poured in from a smooth sandstone canyon behind camp. Some of the couples took off hiking up the little side canyon, where there were beautiful pools and falls. Chester and a couple of other guys went fishing.

The rest of us tried a couple of “LJ” cocktails. LJ’s river name stands for lemon juice, something that she always brings along in huge quantities for her personal drink of choice. But actually, lemon juice concentrate, some water and a shot of vodka, with a touch of sugar can be pretty good. I was feeling very relaxed when Mutt asked if I was ready for my shave. She gathered her stuff and we went back into the willows until we found a secure spot to spread out. I suddenly became aware that I was on the verge of an orgasm, with my bikini still on, just from the anticipation! I was wrong about this being like a fingernail appointment.

My heart was racing as I stripped off my bikini. First the bottom, then the top. I don’t know why I took off the top, but as soon as I did, Mutt took off hers. And her bottom, too. I shuddered in a sudden orgasm as she ran her hand over my shaved area, assessing the task to be done. Her hand came away wet, causing her to smile wryly. I felt another hard contraction. And the work hadn’t even started! She shaved me with all the care and tenderness that she had used the first time. Sometimes, as she maneuvered herself to the position of best advantage for reaching tight spots, her pelvic region came into my clear view. At one point she was straddling me with her snatch hovering right above my face. I’m don’t think she really needed to get to that position, but I realized with a shock that I was genuinely tempted to lean forward and kiss the pink folds, which were glistening wet. Instead, I experienced another thunderous orgasm. Her pussy (Well, what else should I call it under these circumstances?) was visibly wet, and I realized that she must have just climaxed, too. Was it like this with the other women? I wondered. It had to be just me. There had to be something wrong with me. We sat for a few minutes sipping our cocktails. I pulled my towel up around myself, but Mutt stayed fully naked.

“Well,” she said in an offhanded way, “my next appointment will be coming along pretty soon.” “Oh, I guess I’d better be going, then,” I said, even though I really didn’t want to go. “No, you don’t have to leave yet. You’re still enjoying the sight of me. Admit it,” she challenged. I smiled back and took another sip of the LJ cocktail. Boy, those things could sneak up on you. But she was right. I was just fascinated by the sight of her body. She must have been over 40 years old, but with that naked pussy and her incredibly firm breasts, she looked like a teenager. Her tiny pink nipples stood out straight and firm, and even though her breasts were fairly small, they were so nicely shaped that she had no need for a bra. There was no sag, and no way that a bra could improve her shape.

Rustling in the brush behind me signaled that the next “appointment” was arriving. I didn’t hurry to get up. It would be rude to scurry away without saying ‘hi’ to the new arrival. Still wrapped in my towel, I turned and was stunned to see Jeff coming toward us! I whipped around and looked at Mutt, and she just shrugged, with a rueful smile. “My next appointment,” she said. And then he was there. Right there. Peeling off his shorts! “Hi honey; hi Julia,” he said brightly as his shorts hit the ground in front of Mutt. I poked a hand out of my towel, attempting to gather up my bikini so I could go, but I had to say something to keep from looking like the geek I felt like. “Mutt said she had another appointment, but I thought it would be female,” I said stupidly. Jeff turned toward me and said, “It’s just my sense of fairness. The other day I got a good long look at yours, so I feel I owe you a good long look at mine.” I was dumbstruck. Here I was, just about a yard away from only the second male organ I had ever seen (well, except for little boys, of course) and this one was as naked as my snatch! Mutt had told me that, but knowing and seeing are two different things. I tried to look into his face, but he just smiled. “Oh, go ahead. Looking doesn’t hurt. And you can bet that I looked long and hard at you.” “But that was an accident . . . and I had hair.” What a stupid thing to say. Why did I have to add that last phrase? “So now you’re saying that you owe me?” he asked with a mischievous grin. Trapped.

“Uh, I don’t think . . .” I reached for my bikini, but Mutt picked it up for me. Instead of handing it to me, though, she just held it and smiled. “Stick around. I know you’re curious.” Once again, she’d read my mind. I was indeed curious how she was going to shave him. And I was still quite fascinated at the sight of him. Everything was so much more visible without hair! I could see every little detail of his organ. Details I had never seen before. On Chester, it all just looked like a mass of kinky hair. Jeff sat down between Mutt and me, and he was clearly developing an erection. His penis was levitating parallel with the ground, and his testicles lay flattened on the towel under him. I really was interested. But this was too unseemly. “No, I really have to go . . .” But I didn’t go. I just kept staring. “Okay, Jeff, assume the position,” Mutt commanded with mock authority, pointedly ignoring my words. Jeff lay back and spread his legs wide. He closed his eyes, while Mutt positioned herself beside him. First she stroked him over with the warm water from the solar shower bag, then she started spreading the green gel over him. The effect on Jeff’s organ was immediate, dramatic, and hypnotic. This was definitely not a penis with an erection. This was a dick with a major hard-on! It looked so incredibly long, though (as I later determined) he was pretty much the same size as Chester. Just that without the bed of hair around it, it looked longer. Oh God! I was getting really turned on by this! This can’t be happening, I thought. I’m looking at-no, I’m staring at-another man’s dick, while my husband is out fishing. And my nipples are so hard they show through this towel!

“Some day, you may want to do this to Chester,” Mutt was saying, “and you sure don’t want to learn how by trial and error!” “Like you did,” interrupted Jeff. “Uh, yeah. Our first time, I drew blood in a dozen different places, and we were out of action for a week,” Mutt admitted. “That’s why you should learn the basics in advance.” Well, I thought, I guess there’s no harm in watching now. I’ve already seen him, and he’s seen me. What is this, after all, but a simple extension of biology class. Or a tour through a museum of Greek sculpture. I took another ill-advised sip on the LJ cocktail. And I stayed put. Mutt started first on the broad area above and around Jeff’s flagpole. She used the same gentle, repeated strokes that she had used on me. I could almost feel the coolness of the razor as it passed lightly over his skin. I could feel my pussy starting to bulge, and I felt the tingle of desire surge through my body. My eyes were riveted to the action. My mouth dropped open when Mutt handed the razor to me. “Go ahead, give it a try. Do the insides of his thigh. It’s smooth skin, easy to shave. You’ve got to start somewhere” It is obviously true that alcohol impairs one’s judgement. I numbly took the razor and scooted myself into position alongside Jeff, opposite Mutt. She pointed at the specific area and told me that in this area, the hairs grew generally downward. “Out here, you can draw the razor against the grain. So here, you will pull the razor up his leg, toward his balls. It’s easy.” Clutching the towel around me with my left hand, I reached out with my right to gently stroke the razor up Jeff’s leg. Mutt gently lifted his balls and drew them toward herself, to make room for me to work. Very tentatively at first, but then when I got the feel of it, I stroked the razor more confidently. “Good,” observed Mutt.

“Great,” added Jeff. “You be quiet!” I ordered playfully. I was getting into this. I swear that by this time there must have been steam rolling from my vagina, if anyone had taken the time to look. I started rocking gently, to rub my most sensitive parts against the towel I was sitting on. I made sure every trace of hair was gone from Jeff’s left thigh. Mutt just waved me ahead to his right thigh. Only this time, she was not in a position to hold Jeff’s balls out of the way. Her arms would have been in my way, so I had no choice but to hold them myself. I let go of the towel and trusted it to stay put while I did this next area. My hand was shaking as I reached down and scooped up Jeff’s balls. They were slippery with shaving gel, so it was kind of like holding a hard boiled egg. Or two. I held my breath as I felt a twitching in my pussy. I was having an orgasm while holding a man’s balls in one hand and a razor in the other! This wasn’t real.

I started stroking the razor. It was a little bit awkward in some places, because my hands were crossed. My forearm rubbed against Jeff’s hard, hot dick, and I felt an electrical jolt run through me. I found myself deliberately letting my forearm drag against his dick. I leaned in closer to get a better angle, even though I didn’t need to-I just wanted to get a lot closer. As I moved, the towel slipped off my shoulders. For a bare instant, I almost made a grab for the towel, but, Christ, I could amputate something if I made any radical moves. So there I sat, stark naked except for the towel around my hips, mostly at my back. All this while shaving the crotch of someone else’s husband. And my nipples felt ready to burst. For that matter, so did Jeff’s dick! Jeff just kept his eyes shut, with his arms folded above his head. You might have thought he was asleep, except that he would draw a quick breath whenever I “accidently” brushed against his hard-on. I was finishing the thigh, and I looked up at Mutt. She was smiling oddly and I wondered why until I noticed that she was seriously massaging herself while she watched me fondle her husbands balls and rub his dick. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it would blow up. “Okay, now for the delicate part,” Mutt said as she stopped playing with herself and took the razor. “Where the parts form sharp angles, like the transition here, from his thigh, to his crotch, to his balls; or here, at the base of his dick. Those are the tricky parts.” She lifted his balls and began stroking the area just beneath them. She kept stroking, working around toward her side, until she was right up next to Jeff’s shaft. I noticed a glistening drop of transparent liquid forming at the slot on top of his dick.

It was something I’d never seen before, and I was fascinated. It wasn’t semen. That would have been white. And it wasn’t urine either. It was crystal clear, and as it grew it seemed to be almost like thick oil in consistency. I still don’t know exactly what that was. All I know is that I had to suppress the impulse to bend down and lick it off! The thought both shocked and excited me. As if I needed more excitement! I had the razor now, and was doing on my side what Mutt had done on hers, working my way up alongside Jeff’s balls toward that towering hard-on with the shining drop now sliding slowly down the side of the dark pink head. I had to know. When my work reached the base of the ivory tower, I paused to dry my hands on my towel. All in the course of business, you understand. Then as I leaned in to carefully inspect my work, my right hand “accidentally” brushed through that mysterious, glistening drop that had continued to grow and run downward. It felt somewhere between sticky and slippery. I thought I was being pretty subtle when I reached up to brush my hair back out of my face and let my tongue catch the taste of that fascinating magic drop. It had a definite flavor, though I can’t describe it. With a start, I realized that I was tasting this man’s fluids, and that’s something I had never done, even with my husband! And I was hopelessly lost in the thrill of it. Mutt’s movements caught my eye. She had shifted her pelvis forward, making that perfect hairless pussy of hers stand wide open in front of me. She slipped two fingers of her left hand inside herself, while she squeezed her bulging clit between two fingers of her right hand. I concluded that lesson time was over.

I started shaving Jeff’s balls. I got the hang of it pretty quickly. All I had to do was stretch out and flatten the skin in each small area, and after shaving it, move on to the next. That takes a lot of handling. But I didn’t mind. Believe me, I didn’t mind! I just kept stroking the razor, feeling for stubble: stroking and feeling; stroking and feeling. Until I was quite certain that there couldn’t possibly be a trace of hair. Just one part left to do. The part. I looked to Mutt for some kind of sign. She was still slowly massaging herself. She was a sight to see: Those lovely firm breasts standing straight out, with her tiny nipples swollen and hard. Her pussy spread wide open and both hands shining with her hot juices. I figured that I’d just have to go ahead without her. I re-coated Jeff’s dick with shaving gel, carefully massaging it in, to make sure-absolutely sure-that there were no dry spots. I wiped the gel from my hands, and then took care of that troublesome clear fluid. I simply put my hand around the tip of his dick and wiped every trace of the liquid into my hand. Jeff let out a huge gasp, then Mutt did the same as she watched me lick my hand clean. Mutt was contracting violently in a spectacular orgasm. I very carefully stroked the razor up that hot, hard pole. I was completely absorbed in what I was doing. The fact that I’d never, ever done anything so personal with anybody, even my husband, was something I’d think a lot about later. But at the time, I just wanted to keep stroking that dick. Then I had to feel for stubble. Stroke some more. Feel for stubble. Oh, so very, very carefully feel for stubble. I dampened a cloth in the warm water and began wiping off the remaining shaving gel. This, too had to be done with great care and thoroughness. I wiped him down three or four times before I was sure. Then I patted him dry with a small towel. I patted him very dry. I even ran my fingers over his skin to make sure I hadn’t left any moisture behind.

The only moisture was a new crystal drop forming on his dick. I bent down and kissed it off. My innards exploded in a throbbing, uncontrolled orgasm the instant my lips touched his dick. And that really is all they did. Just barely touched. Just enough to catch the crystal drop, which I licked into my mouth. As my orgasm subsided, I continued admiring my work. I was especially fascinated at how Jeff’s balls felt. Not like the course hair-covered things that hung between Chester’s legs. Those seemed like a wad of steel wool compared to the velvety softness of Jeff’s smooth balls. I could feel the delicate wrinkles and strange texture of his skin, which felt like soft suede in my shaking hand. Suddenly there was a hand on my thigh, sliding up toward my dripping, swollen pussy. It was Jeff’s hand. Well, what could I say. My hands were all over his most personal areas, and had been for half an hour. He found my pussy and ran his fingers up and down the wet folds, pausing to trace circles around my clit, which was sticking out embarrassingly. I moaned involuntarily. I let go of his dick in order to turn my body toward him, so he could reach me with both hands instead of just one. I slid my left leg across him, taking special care to drag it against his hard dick as I did so. Then I was straddling him, in the area of his navel, while one of his hands continued to play with my pussy and the other curled around my ass.

“Oh my, Oh my!” was all I could say as the hand behind me urged me forward. I could feel his breath, like a warm breeze across my extremely naked, exposed pussy. He slid his arm under my legs, so now there was nothing but a few inches of thin air between his lips and my aching pussy. Behind me, I felt movement as Mutt sat down right behind me. She and Jeff both groaned out loud as she let her pussy slide down and swallow that smooth, long dick. Her presence behind me forced me forward the last few inches, and for a few seconds, I hovered over his face. I moved my hips ever so slightly, to rub the outermost parts of my pussy over Jeff’s face. His hands came up between my legs and massaged my inner thighs, then he drew me down onto his open mouth.

I can’t even begin to describe what I was feeling. There was such an incredible thrill at having my pussy in the mouth of this man, almost a stranger, really. So many new things were happening! The bikini, the hair trim, the shave, the sight of another woman’s pussy fully shaved and exposed . . . And then the sight of a naked man. Not my husband. A man not just naked, but shaved cleaner than a newborn baby, and then finding my hands and fingers all over his most personal areas, and now this! I could feel the blood surging toward my pussy again. I was moist and shiny all over with sweat. A pair of hands slid gently up my sides and around my breasts, where the fingers worked over and over my skin but never touched my nipples. Oh, how I wished the would. They just teased and teased. Jeff’s tongue was running up and down the wet folds of my pussy, finding my clit for a tantalizing instant, then going back down toward my vagina. Okay, my cunt-There, I said it. Then the tongue slid back up, to repeat the process.

Teased around the nipples by the wife and teased around the pussy by the husband. And my husband was out fishing! Mutt was starting to move faster on her husbands dick, and her hands finally, blessedly found my nipples and began caressing them. In one startling instant, Jeff thrust his tongue as far as he could into my vagina. My cunt. Oh, God, that was something else I’d never experienced before. Sure, Chester had sometimes kissed my pussy and licked it; and he’d even sucked on my clit. But I had never, ever had anyone’s tongue inside me. The tongue shot in and out, once, twice, three times. Then I was seized in the most spectacular orgasm I had ever had in my life. My whole lower abdomen was contracting and I was wracked with spasms, while Jeff held me tightly against his mouth. He kept thrusting his tongue into my cunt until my orgasm subsided into a slow flow of warm juices. I raised up slightly, letting him lick me clean. And he kept licking, while Mutt kept rocking her hips on his. She was suddenly squeezing my breasts harder while she had another orgasm. My excitement was subsiding, and now it seemed that Mutt was over the top, too. I climbed off of Jeff’s face and sat by his shoulder watching as Mutt slid up and down his dick. She was smiling, with a little bit of a crazed look in her eyes.

She was no longer rocking, but instead moving her whole body up and down, slowly. Up until I could see most of the dark wet head of Jeff’s dick, then down, down, down until her hairless pussy was pressed against his hairless crotch. My God! I was coming again! I had never had two orgasms in the same day before this raft trip. Now I couldn’t even remember how many I’d had in the last hour. I yielded to the sudden irresistible compulsion to kiss that perfect pussy I’d been looking at all this time. I lay my cheek on Jeff’s belly and let Mutt’s pussy slide down the shaft until I could catch a little kiss before she slid back up. Then back down for another taste, and back up again. I moved a little closer for a deeper taste as she slid slowly back down. She was clearly putting the finishing touches on Jeff’s experience, and I on hers. As she slid back up once more, my lips transferred straight from her pussy onto Jeff’s shaft. I followed her up until I felt my lips cross over onto the tip of that nice smooth dick. Then down again. A moment of clit sucking, then back up and back to that wet shaft. Jeff’s hand was back in my crotch, with a thumb inserted all the way in my cunt, while his fingers pressed against my clit and massaged my pussy.

Back to the top again, and again that tantalizing touch of the tip of Jeff’s ivory tower. Only this time Jeff convulsed hard the instant my lips hit the tip of his dick. Then the dick was buried deep inside his wife, and filling her with the hot fluid I had irrationally been hoping to taste. She stayed on him rocking and moaning until he was thoroughly spent. I was still tickling her clit with my tongue, until she let out a deep long sigh, indicating that she too was finished. I had been finished several times over. Gradually, we disengaged ourselves from one another. We just kind of sat around for ten minutes or more. At last, we put our swimsuits on and walked to a nearby swimming hole in the side stream (the main river is much too cold for swimming). A while later, feeling clean and refreshed, though stunned by what I had done, I walked back into camp to try to pretend that nothing had happened up in the bushes. I just couldn’t believe that I had really done all of that! How had I let myself do it? My face flushed at just the thought of it! But at the same time, I could feel my pulse quicken. The river trip went on. Every day, more rapids, some of them quite big. There were a couple of good scares, once when “Torch” and “Hot Lips” overturned on a huge rapid called Crystal. “PJ” (for prune juice) and “LJ” got buried in the same wave, and LJ was washed overboard. Other rafts nearby were quick to round up swimmers, oars and the runaway overturned raft. We regrouped on shore and turned the raft upright. Fortunately, everything had stayed tied on, and nothing was lost.

Meanwhile, I was enjoying the best sex I had ever had with Chester. He was very clearly excited by my “new look” and in moments of fantasy I even thought about suggesting that he let me shave him. But of course he’s say no, and I would be embarrassed for having asked. About every four or five days, I would have another “appointment” with Mutt, but it was always just the two of us. I wondered if she was feeling threatened by Jeff’s interest in me, although he didn’t seem to be making any effort to get me alone or anything. There was, however, an increasing number of suggestive comments, sexual humor, and body exposure. I started wearing my red suit, much to the obvious delight of all the males in the group. Just as clearly as my nipples showed through the fabric on top, the precise shape of my shaved snatch showed through the bottom.

I knew that Chester spotted this right away, but he just raised his eyebrows at me. He was, after all, the one who bought the suit in the first place. If he only knew what that had started! I was coming to terms with the my new sexual identity. It was a new experience to feel the desirous eyes of eight men follow me around. Especially on my red days. Someone started calling me “The Bikini Queen” and it stuck. I wasn’t Julia anymore. Something was building, and I was part of it. But I didn’t know what it was. The suggestive comments from the other guys were getting increasingly direct, and more and more were made when Chester was not around. A couple of the guys actually seemed to be hitting on me. And that made me feel like the Bikini Queen!

Somehow I had become the center of attention, and yes, I was enjoying it, even while knowing that I was “just a sex object” to them. Truth is, I’d never been a sex object, and I found it exciting. I’m pretty sure that Chester knew what the other guys were thinking, too. And I think he liked it. I guess I never really considered where it might lead. Things were cooking with some of the women, too. I may be flattering myself to say so, but I think it was all in response to the way their men were reacting to me. One afternoon, at another campsite with a good swimming hole, some of the girls decided to go skinny dipping. For the first time ever, I joined them. I walked up the trail to the with “Xena” (Conan’s wife, who looks identical to the TV character, but assuredly does not share her sexual preferences) and “Mae” (for Mae West, with whom she shared a couple of prominent attributes). Hot Lips, Peaches, and Crisco were close behind. LJ was off someplace else getting a touch-up from Mutt. Out of the blue, Xena asked me and me how I liked my bikini shave. I was startled by the question, but I asked what she wanted to know? “Well, how does it feel? she asked.

“It doesn’t hurt, if that’s what you mean. No more than shaving your arm pits.” “No, I mean how does it feel to walk around with . . . you know, with things showing. With the guys staring at you with their tongues almost hanging out.” She looked squarely at me. All I could think of was Mutt’s line, “It’s all mental. If you think it’s frightening, it’s frightening. If you think it’s fun, it’s fun. Great fun.” Damn! Why did I have to add that last phrase? Mae spoke up, “Yeah, you seem to be having fun. But I just don’t see the attraction.” “Oh, I think I see the attraction,” Xena put in, “It’s just that it seems so . . . I don’t know, so personal.” “That’s it exactly, Xena. That’s the attraction,” I explained. “Yeah, but you make it kind of public!” Mae was definitely being catty. “You mean the red bikini? Jeff got that for me,” I said defensively. “So he approves?” “Of course he approves! I told you he bought the bikini.” Xena came to my rescue. “He likes to put you on display. He’s proud of you, and I’ll bet he likes to see how the other guys envy him for having you.” “Yeah, I suppose,” Mae said, “but you won’t see me trying to look like a prepubescent teenager!” Then Xena said, “Hey did you know that Jeff is shaved, too? Or so Mutt says.” “Oh, he is,” I blurted, then wished I had a ten-second delay on my big mouth. Xena and Mae looked hard at me for a long moment. “This must be the place!” I said quickly, desperately changing the subject. The pool was deep, and the water was clear. The sun glittered off the sandy creek bed. I tossed down my towel and plunged into the water.

Once in, I slipped off the green bikini and tossed it back to shore. This was wonderful! I’d never been skinny dipping before. It was a new, nice sensation to feel the cool water on my bare skin. All of my bare skin. Within a few moments, all six of us were in the pool, swimming and splashing around. It felt so nice to be out there in the sun. And the naughtiness of being naked added to the feeling. I noticed that Hot Lips and Crisco were clean shaven, too. I’m pretty sure that they weren’t when this trip started. I’ll bet their male companions talked them into it! I suppose that they took care of it by themselves, since they weren’t Mutt’s customers. Patients, I mean. We had been on the river for a week and a half, and some of our daily routines were fairly well established. For the most part, the gals did the cooking, while the men were off doing their own thing. Then after dinner, the guys would do the dishes while we lounged around, or whatever. I was sitting with the girls down at the edge of the river the evening after our skinny dipping adventure. We chatted casually, and chided LJ and Mutt for having missed the fun. They said they’d be sure to go along next time. We couldn’t quite hear the guys up in the “kitchen” doing the dishes. Sometimes their voices would drop, and then there would be a burst of loud laughter, but the words were indistinguishable.

“Anyone need a refill?” I asked, holding up my empty glass. No takers. I got up and headed up to the kitchen. The tubs of water were all lined up on the sand, with the guys working on washing, rinsing and passing along the dishes. I poured myself another Bailey’s and winked at Chester. He was just heading down to the rafts with a load of leftover food and supplies. “Mooney” (yes, he got the name by mooning a jet boat full of tourists on the Salmon, and he almost got arrested for it), was Mae’s companion. They had been together, but not married, for as long as I’d been going on the raft trips. He looked up from his tub of rinse water and grinned. “Is tomorrow going to be another “red” day?” he asked. “Oh, I don’t know . . .” I gave them a coy smile. “Let’s vote on it,” Conan suggested. “All in favor of red bikini say ‘aye’.” A chorus of “Aye’s” came from the assembly. “Opposed?” Silence. “By unanimous vote,” Conan announced,” tomorrow is a red bikini day!” Applause. “Well okay,” I said in mock disappointment. “I guess I have to go with the vote. I was planning on a NO bikini day, but since the majority says red, it’ll be red.” I guess I could play their game. “Woah!” PJ said. “I demand a recount!” Others agreed loudly. “No, a vote is a vote, guys. Sorry, majority rules.” I was really enjoying this. I jiggled my breasts at them, just to tease them, and took a little sip of Bailey’s. “Damn,” Torch said, “I was kinda hoping to see what’s behind ‘door number one’ before this trip’s over!” “Well, sweetie,” I teased, “You know how it goes on ‘Let’s Make a Deal.’ You have to trade something to see what’s behind the doors.” I raised my glass in a sort of a victory toast, then took another sip. I’d never played this game before, and I was loving every second of it. “I’ll trade my place in the dish line,” Sharky volunteered. “For that, Shark, you don’t even get to look at my butt print in the sand.” “Okay, I’ll trade a look at mine for a look at yours,” offered PJ. “Oh, that is so childish,” I complained in mock pain. “Besides, it’s apples and oranges. There’s a lot more to see under my suit than there is under yours.” Howls of derisive laughter from the rest of the guys. “See, she knows about you, Shorty!” hooted the Shark. “No, guys,” I interrupted, now feeling really cocky. “I meant that when I take off my bikini, I’m naked. When you take off your shorts, you’re not!” I thrust my hips toward them for emphasis. More howling and cheering.

“Okay, I’ve got it!” cried Mooney, “I’ll trade my pubic hair for what’s behind door number one!” Cheering and clapping. I was the star of the show. They all looked to me for the answer. “You mean, you’d shave your crotch just to get a look at mine?” I asked half seriously. That was a new twist. “Uh, no. I was trading for what’s behind door number one, not a look at what’s behind door number one!” he said. Laughter and loud agreement from the audience. “Come on, Mooney, this isn’t something you can take home with you.” I put my hand over my crotch, Michael Jackson style, for emphasis. “Make a serious bet, or fold your hand,” I challenged, unaware that I’d changed the game. In more ways than one. “Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of a short term lease, not full ownership.” “Yes! Yes! Yes!” chanted the rest of the guys. I heard someone say, “I’d make that deal any day.” I looked over to see Jeff smiling ironically at me. Oops. I should have reminded him that he had nothing to trade. But I didn’t think of it at the time. A couple of other guys jumped on the bandwagon. They’d make that deal, too. This was nowhere in my script. But I was drunk and reckless, so I stayed in the game. “Well, see, now it’s turned into a group deal,” I said with mock irritation. “I guess it’s all or none, then,” I challenged. Another little victory toast, and another sip of Bailey’s.

“Oooooh,” they all hooted in unison. “Let’s do it!” Sharky hollered. “Okay, it’s a deal,” Someone else said. There wasn’t unanimous agreement, though, and I was sure there never would be. After all, I could always remind them that “all” includes Chester, and he’d never go along with the deal! I was getting pretty good at thinking on my feet. One more victory toast. “You guys work it out and give me a call,” I giggled. I turned and walked back to the girls, swinging my ass in an exaggerated way, much to the appreciation of the audience. More cheering. “What was all that about?” Peaches asked as I rejoined the girls. “Oh, just the usual. Testosterone poisoning affecting their brains.” After a while, the guys finished the dishes and came down to join us for a nightcap and some conversation. Sitting there with their partners, the guys weren’t so brash. For that matter, neither was I. Late that night, after Chester was sound asleep, I replayed the evening in my mind. Only this time, I fantasized that it was real, instead of just a game. I wondered what it would be like to take on seven guys. No, I reminded myself, it would be eight. Can’t forget Chester. Would I have them all together, or one at a time. I drifted off to sleep with my hand in my panties, testing both ideas in my mind. More river miles, more sun, more teasing and kidding. It’s easy to lose track of time in a place like this. Around every bend in the river there was scenery more spectacular that what we’d already seen. The rapids of the Grand Canyon are legendary, but contrary to the popular perception, most of the trip is in calm water. The rapids are what we all talk about later, but really, they make up only a tiny fraction time you spend on the river.

Actually, the real memories are made on shore. Sight-seeing, fishing (if you like that sort of thing), exploring, camp life in general, and of course, the friendships. We had been maintaining a leisurely pace throughout the trip, frequently stopping early to allow a long afternoon for on-shore activities. We had even done a couple of layover days at especially nice campsites, giving ourselves a welcome break from the strenuous routine of rafting. And despite all that, we found ourselves within a day of the take-out when we still had three days of vacation and supplies. Someone suggested that we just blow on through to the take-out and sleep in a motel that night. But after much discussion, we decided to watch for a really great campsite where we could burn up the extra time. If we didn’t find a really great camp, we’d keep on going. Maybe all the way. As it turned out, we did both. We found a really great camp, and we went all the way. We’d been floating for only an hour when we found a sand beach with some rare shade and a pretty little creek dropping into the river over a series of waterfalls. It was almost time for lunch. Halfway through lunch, after a little bit of exploring, we’d all decided that we had to stay. I, for one, was happy about that. The idea of aborting the trip in an all-day dash to the take-out seemed a terribly anti-climatic way to finish the vacation of a lifetime. Some of the girls found a swimming hole, so we all went skinny dipping, while the guys went off exploring or fishing. I glanced around and saw that everyone had a beautiful deep tan. Mine was by far the best I’d ever had. Just three little triangles of white. I looked around, and it was the same with everyone else.

Peaches must have been looking around, too. “Next time, we’ll have to do like Mae, and go for the all-over tan,” she said. “Where is Mae?” she idly wondered. Nobody knew, but we all agreed that we’d have to sunbathe in the nude next time. Talk is cheap. I doubt it’ll ever happen, but it’s fun to think about it. “How about one for the road?” I turned around to see Mutt, who was swimming up behind me. “What do you have?” I asked, thinking she’d brought a bottle up to the swimming hole. “A new razor blade,” she answered with a sly grin. “Oh. Yeah, that sounds like a good way to relax for a while,” I said with true enthusiasm. So after swimming, we found a good place in a slot between some big slabs of rock. I spread out my towel, then spread out myself. My sessions with Mutt were not as frantic as the first ones had been, but quietly enjoyable. And still very sexual. I closed my eyes and let Mutt do what she was good at. When she was done, I offered to do her. She agreed, so I went to work on her. I tried to be as sensual with her as she had always been with me, and before I was even half done, she was arching up and twitching in a nice, sloppy orgasm. I finished the job on Mutt while straddling her with my pussy hovering above her mouth. As I wiped away the last of the shaving gel, her tongue made a slow, light pass up my pussy, from my clit to my cunt. That was all it took to bring me off. I pressed my quivering pussy against her mouth and let myself start to cool down.

We had brought a bottle bourbon (about all that was left), so we sat there sipping straight whisky, enjoying the afternoon. “Want to stay around for my next appointment?” she quietly asked. She had asked that only once before. The thought of doing another shave on Jeff excited me more than I should admit. As terrible as this must sound, I had never stopped wondering what it would have been like to get my mouth over his dick when he came. “Sure. I don’t have any pressing engagements this afternoon.” I did modestly slip my bikini-the red one-back on. No need to be too provocative. Mutt put her suit back on and walked out to the entrance of our hideaway. She waved her next appointment in. I almost fell over when PJ and Torch came strolling around the rocks! What was this? I hadn’t agreed to do them! It wasn’t that they were bad looking guys or anything. There were no bad looking guys (or gals) in our group. It was just that it was so . . . what? So tawdry? No, it wasn’t that exactly. It was just so unexpected. “I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours,” PJ said, echoing his offer from that evening a week before. “But when I take off my bikini, I’m naked. When you take off your shorts, you’re not.” I could play his game. I knew exactly what he’d say: “So fix it,” he said, dropping his shorts.

Behind him, Torch had dropped his shorts to reveal a mass of hair as red as that which had earned him his river name. He turned to Mutt. I absently wondered if that had been decided in advance, and if so, how. I remembered what Mutt had said about working from a script. My eyes went back to PJ. He was about half erect and getting more so by the second. The term “Shorty” definitely did not apply. I motioned to the towel, and he sat down. “You sure about this?” I asked. “I’m going for door number one,” he said with a wink.

I was trying to ignore the stirring in my lower abdomen. I know the symptoms of my own sexual excitement, and I decided that I’d better keep that out of this “job.” I’d just stick to business. Mutt nudged me and handed me a pair of barber’s scissors. So there was a script. Why didn’t I ever get to see it? Oh, well. I lifted a small handful of hair from the area above PJ’s now solidly erect penis. I put the scissors down near his skin and took my first tentative snip. The swatch of hair came away in my hand. I lifted another patch of hair and gave another snip. Another swatch of hair came away in my hand. I swallowed hard. Lifted some more hair and snipped it away. I dropped it in the growing pile of kinky brown hair next to my leg.

I started taking bigger swatches with each snip, and every time I lifted the cut hair away, PJ’s sex organ came into better view. There came a point in the job where I had to move PJ’s penis out of the way. At first I just kind of nudged it aside without closing my hand. A few more snips. But to get to the hair right at the base of the penis, there was no choice but to hold the thing to the side. I closed my left hand around it and felt its heat and hardness. At my touch, PJ contracted, and a powerful throb was transmitted from his dick to my hand, which had started to shake. I started snipping with more interest and enthusiasm. It was quite clear that I was liking this more than I had intended! At last, I had snipped away everything that I could get with the scissors. The pile of hair by my side was surprisingly large.

Next came the warm water, then the gel. I massaged the gel thoroughly into the remaining hair. As I caressed . . . I mean as I applied the gel I notice a crystalline droplet forming. Uh oh. The shaving started. I began, as Mutt had, on the broad, easy area above his dick. The shining droplet grew as I stroked and stroked away the hair. I knew the droplet was about to slide away. That would be such a waste. I couldn’t let that happen. What the hell. I bent forward and kissed it away, savoring the subtly sweet taste. I think it happened so quickly that PJ didn’t even know for sure what I had done. His eyes opened, but all he saw was my sweet smile. I finished the bush area and started on the inner thighs. I could see his pulse throbbing in his loins as I started shaving again. Then I was to the good parts. The parts that required a lot of handling. I wrapped the fingers of my left and around that thick, hard, hot dick, so I could shift it left, right, up and down in order to get the razor to the hard to reach hairs at the base of his dick, and where his dick and balls merged together. I squeezed a little bit and caused a quick contraction, followed by increased hardness, if that was possible. I squeezed again, with the same result. Another shining drop of syrup appeared from the slot. It grew when I squeezed. I was breathing hard, almost panting. The little bottom of my red bikini was soaking wet, and I was trying to rock my hips and press my pussy into the towel in an effort to relieve the wonderful burning sensation. I bent down to kiss away the precious, shining bead, and just as I did I glanced up and locked eyes with PJ. I lightly sucked the substance away. As I started to straighten up, PJ’s hips thrust suddenly upward and blast of hot semen caught me full in the face. It was so startling and unexpected that I actually chirped out a little scream. I was still squeezing his dick, which had become a spurting fountain in my hand. As streams of cum dripped down my face and over my lips, I licked them away. It was the first time I had ever actually tasted cum. I went for more, straight from the source. I managed to catch the last few warm surges before PJ was spent. He moaned loudly and put his hand on the back of my head, pushing me down until I nearly gagged on his surging dick. He held me there until he started going soft. “Sorry,” PJ muttered, “I didn’t mean to do that.” My face was sticky with his cum, and there was cum in my hair. Good God! What had I done? I glanced at PJ and followed his gaze down to my crotch. My bikini was soaked, and sticking to my skin. Not much left to the imagination there.

I still had to finish shaving. It was a lot more difficult to do now that he had gone limp. But I finished it up, glancing over from time to time to see how Mutt was doing with Torch. His hard dick was shiny with shaving gel, and Mutt was just doing her job. Almost as if she were doing fingernails. That made me feel kind of slutty. Mutt is all business, and the Bikini Queen is doing blow jobs. Gee. Why would that make me feel slutty? I was relieved that neither of the guys mentioned the “Let’s Make a Deal” challenge! PJ looked down at himself. He grinned sheepishly and quietly said, “Wow. I didn’t know I looked like this.” “Thank you,” he whispered, “for everything.” He gave me a sly wink, then he dampened a corner of a towel and wiped my face in a way that seemed genuinely tender. That little gesture made me feel so much better! My mind flashed the old line, “Will you still respect me afterward?” It seemed that he did. So maybe I was a vamp. That sounded a lot better than being a slut. “Thank you,” I whispered back. After a while, I was back in camp, drowning my conscience in alcohol. After a couple of drinks, I started feeling that what I had done wasn’t all that bad. What the hell. It’s not as if I had let him screw me, or anything. It was just a kiss. Have another drink. I sat by myself, half napping. The others seemed to be keeping busy, and there were quiet little conversations going on here and there all afternoon. If I hadn’t been ‘tipsy’ I might have wondered what was up. But I had my own troubles to think about. I was getting things pretty well rationalized, and more I drank, the less guilty I felt. In fact, the whole event had actually been pretty exciting! PJ wasn’t the only one, I recalled, who had achieved an orgasm in that one spectacular moment. As if drawn to my thoughts, PJ sat down casually in the chair next to me. Then, to my surprise, he whispered, “Hey. I’m really looking forward to finding out what’s behind door number one.” I just looked stupidly at him. Surprise turned to shock when he said, “We’re going to draw numbers tonight to see who you get first. Tomorrow’s going to be quite a day!” “You mean . . .” “Shaved. Every one of us. So what is behind door number one?” I took a deep breath. “Not quite every one,” I corrected. “Wait a minute,” PJ protested. “You mean Chester? He was never part of the deal.” “All or none, remember? That was our deal.,” I reminded him. Thank goodness I had hedged my bets! Yet somewhere inside me I still felt a thrill at just the thought of letting myself be screwed by all of the guys.

“You never intended to do it, did you?” he asked accusingly. “Aw, come on,” I teased. “It’s not my fault you couldn’t hold up your end of the deal. Too bad. I was kind of looking forward to it.” Might as well leave him tantalized. “You were really going to?” “Oh, with a smile! A deal’s a deal, right?” I said confidently. I saw a rueful smile cross PJ’s face, and for an instant it seemed that he knew something that I didn’t. “Time to fix something for dinner,” I said, getting up. I walked toward the kitchen, swinging my fanny for PJ’s benefit. We made a rice casserole in the Dutch ovens that night, using fresh trout that Chester had caught, instead of the canned chicken the recipe called for. By this part of the trip everything we ate came from dry goods or cans. The ice was long gone and the last of the perishable foods had either been eaten or outlived their usefulness. After dinner and dishes, we all assembled in the ‘lounge’ area. We sipped cocktails while Mae organized things for games. I don’t even remember what we played. I just remember that we sat in a circle. And for some reason, Mae insisted that we draw numbers from a hat to determine where each couple would sit in the circle.

We stayed up later than usual that night, since we could sleep-in the next morning. We all loved our layover days! The charcoal left over from the Dutch ovens provided the bed for a small camp fire. Small because fire wood is extremely scarce in the canyon. Eventually everyone wandered off to bed. It was another beautiful night. There was no moon, and the sky was blazing with stars. They always looked so bright when you’re in the bottom of a river canyon. I was still basking in the warm glow of alcohol when Chester and I went to bed. It was quite late, and that’s probably why Chester didn’t make a move for sex. Too bad. I was feeling unusually horny after the events of the day.

I fantasized about what it would be like to have all the guys line up to screw me. I thought about PJ and Jeff. I had seen, fondled, and even put my lips to their dicks. What would it be like to take them inside me? I knew what Torch’s dick looked like, and I imagined what the others’ looked like. The nice thing about fantasy is that you can always make things come out right in the end. I fell asleep with my hand in my crotch and a parade of hard dicks on my mind. What if it weren’t just fantasy . . . Everyone except Peaches slept in the next morning. She got up and started making her legendary cinnamon rolls. By the time some of the others started showing their faces, the dough had risen and was rolled out.

I helped spread the butter, cinnamon, raisins and nuts over the dough, then we rolled it up, cut it and arranged the rolls in the Dutch ovens. By the time the charcoal was ready, so were the rolls. Scrambled eggs and hot, fresh cinnamon rolls make everyone’s favorite breakfast. Or, in this case, brunch. We went through three “tubs” of camp coffee, just sitting around relaxing and enjoying the lovely morning. Chester came up behind me and started gently massaging my shoulders and neck. I closed my eyes and savored the moment. He bent forward and whispered, “What do you say we go find ourselves a private spot up by the creek?” “Oooh. That sounds nice.” I had never had sex outdoors. (What I had done with Jeff and PJ wasn’t sex. We have the President’s word on that.) Chester picked up a few things and led me back away from camp. We stopped and did a little bit of skinny dipping, then spread our towels on the sand behind a thick stand of brush. Chester stroked my breasts, tracing imaginary lines around my nipples. One hand strayed down across my tanned skin to the tiny white triangle, where he ran his fingers up and down over the smooth shaven area.

“You feel so soft,” he whispered. “I love the way you feel.” “Mmmm . . .” I purred. “Hey,” he said quietly, “look what I brought.” He reached into his little backpack and pulled out his razor and scissors. For an instant I thought he wanted to touch-up my shave. But he looked down into his own lap, and said, “What do you say?” What could I say? “Oh gee, Honey, I don’t know . . .” “Aw, come on. Think how much deeper I’ll be able go,” he insisted. “Yeah,” I thought, “you and seven other guys!” But then again, how would they ever know? I wouldn’t tell them, and it wasn’t exactly the kind of thing Chester would brag about either. “Well, since you put it that way,” I smiled to cover my uneasy feeling. I took the scissors from him and waved him into position. I ran my fingers through his pubic hairs, separating them and fluffing them up. Then I started slowly snipping it away. The more I snipped, the more excited I felt. This was the most intimate thing I had ever done with Chester. I avoided remembering that I had done this with two other guys first. I watched with fascination as Chester’s penis started rising in excitement. By the time I was finished with the scissors, Chester had a full-fledged blue steel hard-on. And I was making a damp spot on the towel where I was sitting. I massaged the shaving cream into the remains of his hair, and started stroking the razor on the insides of his thighs. Every time I touched his dick there would be an involuntary contraction. He looked bigger than I had thought.

I will confess at this point that I had felt a touch of disappointment that Jeff’s was bigger than Chester’s. But now I could see that it was only an illusion. Chester’s dick looked bigger than anyone else’s, and it felt as hard as rock. The tip was a soft purple, and slippery transparent liquid was starting to appear. I rocked my pelvis to rub myself against the towel. I could feel my wet inner folds bulging out, and contact with the moist towel sent delicious sensations pulsing through me. Chester lay with his eyes closed while I shaved his most personal areas, as I had done with Jeff and PJ. I must admit that I felt wonderfully naughty at having “practiced” on two other men before shaving my husband. It made the experience all the better. When I bent down to sip the crystal droplet from the tip of his dick, Chester opened his eyes in surprise. I’m sure he was wondering if this was the same Mormon girl he’d been married to for the last six years. I just winked and smiled. His dick throbbed in my hand. I continued the shaving, being as thorough as I had been with the other guys. (God! There I was again, comparing this experience with the others.) I wiped away the last of the shaving cream and toweled him dry.

Then I began a careful inspection for stubble, running my fingers over and over every square millimeter of Chester’s pubic area. I felt the velvety softness of his now hairless balls. I felt his dick throb and harden as I ran my hand slowly up and down its full length. With my finger, I spread his glistening crystalline liquid over the soft tip of his hard dick. It was slippery, and felt like an expensive skin oil. I momentarily wondered how much you could sell this stuff for, and had a mental image of the “factory” where the product was bottled. I slowly licked it all away, deciding that a production line just wouldn’t work. Then I lowered my mouth, feeling my lips slide below the purplish tip and down that long shaft. Halfway down, I reversed direction and started back up, sucking hard when I got to the rim. Then back down. I felt Chester’s hand feel around and find my snatch. I changed position, so that my pussy was over his face, and I felt him start moving his tongue up and down my slit while I moved my mouth up and down his dick. I exploded in a thunderous orgasm, and I could feel myself dripping onto his face. He pressed his tongue against my clit, causing a second orgasm almost before the first one was over. I could tell that he was on the verge of coming, and I wanted him inside me. I rolled off of him and turned around. His face was wet, and his eyes were closed. I straddled him and slowly lowered myself onto his dick. I could feel him slide deep inside me. Down I went, until I could feel his freshly shaved skin against mine, then back up. I moved slowly up and down, savoring the sensation, up until the tip was barely touching my vagina, then down, down, down until we were pressed tightly together. With each motion I could feel him swell inside me. Finally, at the bottom of my stroke, I pressed myself hard against him and changed to a rocking motion that kept him deep inside me. I could feel his flat, smooth skin against my burning, erect clit.

I rocked faster, and faster, feeling the pressure building up inside me. Then Chester suddenly thrust hard into me, and I felt the hot explosion of his orgasm flood my vagina. I kept rocking as he was wracked by spasms, and I felt my own release coming. Rocking, rocking, rocking, then the orgasm doubled me over, and I was seized by twitching and throbbing. I tumbled forward onto Chester’s chest, both of us gasping for breath. It was magnificent. There had been such a build-up of sexual tension over the last couple of days, that I was more than ready for some good old fashioned screwing with my husband. I think it was the first time we had ever experienced simultaneous orgasms, and I know it was the first time I had ever had multiple orgasms with Chester.

After a while, we went down to the creek and took a quick swim. Chester said he was going to do some fishing, and he wandered back toward camp, while I brushed my hair. He strolled to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of scotch. He rinsed his hands in a bucket of river water and dried them on a red towel, then he hung the towel on the lantern stand. Carrying his drink, he went and found his fishing gear, and took off upstream toward his favorite fishing hole. Behind him, everyone in camp was grinning. I was putting my hair brush into my fanny pack when I was startled by the sound of footsteps. Before I could even move, Torch came bursting through the brush. “Don’t get up,” he said as I drew my towel up in front of myself. An ominous feeling shot through me as I momentarily wondered if he knew. Wondering if changed quickly to wondering how. How could he possibly know? But clearly, he did know. He stripped off his shorts and reached for my towel. My heart was hammering in my chest. My mind was racing, looking for some way out, grasping for an explanation. But there was only one possible explanation: Chester had told them. The thought struck me like lightning. I sat there, dizzy at the idea that Chester would line up seven guys to screw his wife! How could he do it? And why? “Brought you something,” Torch was saying. He handed me a glass and poured me a drink of Bailey’s. “I kept this stashed away for a special occasion,” he said, holding up the full bottle. I gratefully accepted the drink. Anything to buy a moment’s time to try to figure this out! Why hadn’t Chester at least talked with me about it? I just couldn’t believe that he wanted me to do this! And yet the proof was naked before me.

My glass was empty, and Torch was refilling it. I felt like a trapped animal. My heart was pounding and I was breathing in rapid gasps, while trying to maintain an outwardly composed appearance. Now what! Torch spread my towel on the sand and knelt down next to me. He refilled my glass again. I thought I could already feel the alcohol, or was it just the mental frenzy I was in? Torch was reaching out and touching my breast.

“I can feel your heart,” he said softly. He pressed his palm over my breast, gently squeezing my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. My nipple turned firm under his touch. Then he moved behind me and reached around to hold both of my breasts, massaging both of my nipples, and they were both standing straight out with the fear and excitement. I took another gulp of Bailey’s and drew a deep breath. If this was what Chester wanted, I decided, then I’d go along with it, and make the most of it. I emptied my glass and put it aside. Yes, I definitely could feel the alcohol. And I could feel Torch running his hands down my sides toward my hips. He was kissing my shoulders and neck. He put his lips near my ear, and I could feel his breathing. He was getting my attention. His hands moved up and down, from my hips to my breasts and back, and he moved his lips down my neck onto my shoulder and along my collar bone. Was it possible? I was getting turned on! Oh, it must have been the alcohol, I thought as Torch took me by the shoulders and turned me to face him. Now we were both on our knees, and he was looking down into my face. My hands were still in my lap. He bent down and kissed my lips.

Somehow, that was unexpected. In my recent moments of horror and even in my fantasies, I never envisioned that my “violators” would kiss my mouth. I was no less surprised to find myself returning the kiss. My lips parted and I felt his tongue touch mine. My hands, as though controlled by some force outside of me, moved from my lap to Torch’s chest. I stroked the light covering of soft red hair and I felt his nipples. His hands moved from my shoulders to my breasts, which were heaving with my breath. He teased my nipples and continued kissing my mouth. My heart felt like it was about to explode. When he moved a hand down onto my leg, I shifted just enough to open a way for him to slide his hand up my thigh to my crotch. He ran his finger up between my leg and my snatch, then back down again. I slowly lowered myself backward onto my towel. That single movement from kneeling to lying down had left my knees up in the air and my heels drawn in close to my fanny. In other words, I was spread wide open in front of Torch. I could feel how completely exposed I was, and with a flash of guilt I realized that I was enjoying the feel of his eyes! An instant later, I was enjoying the feel of his hand, exploring my warm softness. I was soaking wet! I could feel myself opening up for him. His hard dick was hovering in front of me, as I arched my back and raised my hips.

He plunged deep into me, sliding all the way in with one motion and not a trace of resistance. My pussy was yawning wide and wet, still flooded with Chester’s semen. Torch began moving in and out, slamming in and pulling out. He pumped faster and faster, slapping against me harder and harder. Each time he slammed against my now exposed clit, an ecstatic jolt would course through me. His hands cupped my ass, pulling me up as he thrust in. He was grunting with each thrust, and I was gasping with each jolt!

“Oh God!” I heard myself moan as my pelvis started to quiver with my fourth orgasm of the afternoon. Torch kept pumping, and after a dozen more strokes I felt him go tense. With a surge of hot liquid, Torch came. Over and over, he thrust into me, and with each thrust came another convulsive flood of cum deep inside me. I was gasping for breath, and so was Torch. When he finally withdrew his drooping penis from me, it was glistening with a mixture of his fluids and Chester’s and mine. I don’t know why I pulled him up to my mouth and sucked him clean. But when I did, I was rattled by another orgasm. I started wondering who was next. With a start, I remembered the numbers drawn for the previous night’s game. Torch and Hot Lips had drawn number 1 and had sat to our left. Chester and I were number 2. Shark and Crisco had sat to our right. Torch poured me another glass of Bailey’s. He put on his shorts and smiled at me. Leaving the half full bottle of Bailey’s, he gave me a wink and walked slowly away without comment. There really wasn’t anything to say. I hadn’t fully caught my breath when The Shark appeared from the brush. So I was right about the numbers. I tried to remember where everyone had been sitting. Shark held out his hand for my glass, and took a sip of my Bailey’s. “I really thought you were just kidding,” he said. “So did I,” I answered honestly. “But you’re doing it,” he said almost apologetically. “With a smile,” I said, retrieving my glass and taking another sip. From the instant he caught sight of me sitting nude on my soggy towel, his penis started pushing his shorts outward. As he pulled them down, his dick sprang free. It was as white as ivory, and looked as hard. And he had that same boyish look as a result of being shaven clean. I lay back and let him thoroughly explore me with his eyes. I closed mine. His hands touched me. Tentatively at first, then more boldly. He bent down and kissed my nipples, then sucked them into his mouth. I reached out and found his dick. I closed my fingers around it and squeezed. It throbbed in my hand, and Shark quickly moved to straddle me. I still held onto him, but now with both hands. He scooted forward, bringing himself up close to my face. I guided his hot, hard dick into my mouth. All the way in, sucking hard. I dropped my hands and let him pump in and out of my mouth.

He started gushing cum down my throat, and I just kept sucking and swallowing. Then he pulled out of my mouth and plunged straight into my pussy. I never knew a guy could do that. Any time Chester came, it would take an hour before he could get started again. But Shark just kept going. Maybe we should change his name to “Energizer.” I thought irrationally as he kept slamming into my swampy snatch. I felt myself building up to my sixth orgasm of the day, when the Shark filled me with whatever he had left in him. He kept pumping and I came with a mild shudder. I was starting to feel weary, and I still had five more to go! I thought back to game night. Conan was next. Conan! My God, he’s my cousin! My mother’s cousin, I reminded myself. I don’t know if that makes it better or worse. But there he was, with that familiar casual grin as he peeled off his shorts.

His didn’t yet have a hard-on, but his dick was bigger than any of the other guys’ had been when fully erect! I was riveted by the sight of it, and I wondered just how big it would get. I didn’t have long to wonder, as it started rising before my eyes. I wondered if Conan was going to be a barbarian, as his name suggested. I found myself fearing him for a few moments. But I need not have. He bent down and drew me up to a sitting position, cupping my face between his hands. He drew my face to his and kissed me gently and passionately. I relaxed a little and enjoyed the kiss. He kept kissing, first on my mouth, then on my neck and collar bones, then on my breasts. He had his hands on my hips, lifting, coaxing me to stand with my pussy in front of his face. He softly kissed the tender, damp folds that protruded from my pussy. When I looked down, I could actually see my clit sticking out from under its hood. Conan saw it too, and he put his mouth over it and sucked it in, teasing me with his tongue. Without warning, I came. Number seven. I felt myself dripping. Fluids were running down my legs. I was twitching while Conan sucked my clit into his mouth.

I dropped to the ground, feeling thoroughly spent. But when I looked up I saw something I will never forget. Conan’s dick was standing up in a full erection. It was longer than anyone else’s, but really only by an inch, maybe two. What was stunning was its thickness. It was as big around as a baseball bat! I reached out and closed my hand around it. My fingers couldn’t come close to reaching clear around. I rolled over onto my front, and pulled my knees up, thrusting my ass up in front of Conan’s awesome hard-on. He moved in and brought his dick into contact with the opening of my pussy, then he started to push. I felt myself stretch as he entered me. It seemed like I could feel every detail of his shape as he pushed into my pussy. I actually felt a soft, wet pop as the head of his dick slipped past the tightest part of my vagina.

Surely he must be ripping me wide open, but I didn’t care. I arched my back and rotated my hips back toward him, and he went further inside me. He retracted a bit, then came back, a little deeper. He did it again, then again, each time going deeper, opening me wider than I ever imagined possible. Then I felt his hips against my ass, softly at first, then pushing hard. He was stroking slowly, all the way out until the tip of his huge dick was just touching me, then all the way in. Each time he entered me, I felt an electric shock of pleasure. Conan’s hands moved from my breasts to my clit, massaging each while he kept thrusting into my now well-used cunt. Faster and faster he pumped until he shot me full of his cum in a frenzy of spasms and thrusting. My own orgasm was less spectacular. After Conan, came Jeff, then Mooney, then Lucky. After Conan, I found myself just going through the motions, and trying my best to act like each guy was better than the last. I did a lot of fucking and a little bit more sucking. Sometimes I was on top, sometimes on the bottom. I let Mooney squeeze his dick between my breasts and take a few strokes, but I didn’t want him to come that way. I made sure that every one of them came inside me. It seemed like a nice touch. Last was PJ, who it seemed to me had started it all.

“Bad luck on the draw,” I chided him, without enthusiasm. “First in line or last in line, there’s no such thing as bad luck when it involves someone like you.” That was a nice thing to hear. “I must look like a mess,” I said apologetically. “Actually, you are just about the most desirable, sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. You look absolutely great.”

The bulge in his shorts proved that he meant every word. I took a deep breath and summoned up the determination to live up to his expectations. I had always liked PJ. I rose to my feet and slithered up next to PJ, sliding my hand down to the front of his shorts. He moved his hand to my breast. I squeezed his dick, and he squeezed my nipple. I ran my hand up and down, then reached inside his shorts, and got a little thrill at the feel of his warm skin. I turned toward him and pressed my lips against his chest. He bent down and kissed my ear. He raised my chin and kissed my mouth, gently at first, then more aggressively. I parted my lips and returned his kiss, pressing my tongue against his. In spite of my long afternoon, I was actually starting to feel some heat of my own.

In fact, as my excitement built up, certain muscles started to relax, and I could feel myself opening up. Warm liquids started escaping from inside me and I felt them running down my legs. I slowly dropped to a kneeling position, then I slipped PJ’s shorts off. His familiar erection waved in my face. I grabbed it with both hands, and took it into my mouth and began moving and sucking. I might have kept at it until he came, but he pulled out and dragged me down onto my back on my towel. He kissed my breasts and put his hand over my dripping pussy. His fingers ran up and down my slit, where everything was sloppy wet but, surprisingly, still sensitive. He found my clit and started rubbing it, causing me to get genuinely aroused. I wasn’t faking when I started twitching and contracting in a delightful orgasm. When I was again still, he gave me another wet kiss, while rubbing his dick against my pussy. He pushed my knees up and slipped inside me. He must have felt like he was falling into a cavern. Or at least that’s how it felt to me. I was sure that by now my cunt was open wide enough to park a small car in. He thrust in, slamming against me, over and over again. I was dizzy, I was delirious. I was coming. Oh my God, I was coming again.

My hips were heaving beneath PJ, and he just kept slamming into me. I could hear the sloshing sound as he went in and out. He was drawing clear out on each stroke, then punching back in. Every time he went back in, he pumped air into me, and it was making vulgar noises when it escaped around his dick. And still he kept screwing, faster and faster, until I could feel his muscles begin to tense up. I wrapped my legs around him and held him tightly inside me. I held him there on the verge. He gave one last shove, and doubled over with a loud groan. As he pumped his semen into me, I could actually feel bubbles being forced out from my overflowing pussy. The appalling depravity of it all was shocking to me, even in my nearly incoherent condition, but I was caught up in the thrill of what I had done and what I was doing. When PJ finally withdrew, I reached out and found his half-soft dick, and pulled it toward me. I was gasping for breath, but I took him into my mouth, and tasted the mixture of eight men’s semen. Panting, I licked and sucked and gulped. I pushed my face down until he was completely inside my mouth, and my lips touched the soft wrinkled skin of his balls. I could feel the hardness starting to return, as I ran my tongue around the rim and over the tip.

Gripping PJ’s swelling dick in my hands, I teased and sucked, coaxing him back to full erection. Then I started working my mouth up and down this shaft. Two fingers entered my gaping cunt, and felt around in the sloppy wetness. In a single motion, PJ drew his fingers out of me and stroked them up to my tender clit. He squeezed it gently for a moment, then ran his fingers back down, this time pushing three of them into me. He tried four, and for an instant I thought he was actually going to get his whole hand in. But no, he had found my limit.

Faster and faster I moved my mouth up and down his dick, and I could feel it throbbing in my hand. PJ started moving his hips up and down, so I stopped moving and let him fuck my mouth. Now he had his fingers buried in me, and his thumb was massaging my clit. I was starting to twitch when PJ suddenly went rigid. With one last thrust into my mouth, he gushed his hot fluid down my throat. My hips moved in spasms, and the familiar contractions wracked my whole abdominal area as I reached the peak of my final shuddering orgasm of the day. I dropped to the ground and rolled onto my back and lay still, catching my breath. I was exhausted, half drunk, dazed and thoroughly confused. I wondered who I was. What had become of the prissy little Mormon girl who had never worn a bikini before this trip? How, in the span of twenty days had I become this? My face was wet with cum, and it dripped from my chin, and I could feel a puddle forming beneath my hips. I felt degraded and used. How had I ever let this happen. No, I corrected myself, I hadn’t let it happen, I had made it happen! I felt like a whore. A few minutes passed before PJ sat up and started wiping himself off. He put his shorts on and got up to leave. I lay with my eyes closed, spread out in full view, not caring who might see. PJ reached down and touched my cheek, then walked away.

Eight men had shot their loads inside me, and I imagined that I could feel half a gallon of semen sloshing around in there. I wondered if just by sheer numbers one of these sperms would find a way to get to an egg, even though I was on the pill. Diligently on the pill, thank God. I was too exhausted to move for a while after PJ left. It was still only mid-afternoon. It had taken me just under three hours to fuck eight men and have over a dozen orgasms. I think I dozed off for a while. Awareness returned, though I was briefly disoriented, probably from the rather substantial amount of Bailey’s I had consumed. I walked down to the creek to wash up. Actually I waddled to the creek. My legs were sticky with the by-products of my activities. I was swimming around, trying to make myself feel clean again when I looked up to see Xena. She waded in without speaking and started swimming with me. I really was starting to feel better. The alcohol was wearing off, and so was the “used” feeling. “How you feeling?” Xena asked quietly. I looked at her in surprise, a questioning look on my face. “I just heard what’s been going on,” she said, moving close to me. Without warning, I burst into tears, and Xena came and put her arms around me. I buried my face against her breasts and sobbed uncontrollably. She just held me, stroking my wet hair. At last, she led me up to the beach, where she shared a dry towel with me. My own towel was soaking in the creek. At least my bikini was dry. I hadn’t had it on since Chester left. Chester! Why had he done this to me? I started crying again. And I heard myself asking the question out loud.

Xena held me and comforted me. “Chester didn’t do it. He didn’t know anything about it. I don’t think he knows now, either.” “No, you don’t understand. He had to know. He was the only one who could have done it,” I sobbed. “Believe me. He didn’t know,” Xena said earnestly. She took a deep breath and continued, “This is all the work of a jealous woman. A jealous woman and a group of men and women-including me, Julia-who willingly went along with her scheme.” I wiped my eyes and looked at her. “I don’t understand. Why would you do this?” Xena looked at me sadly, and began telling me the whole story. It had happened something like this: Sometime after my little ‘Let’s Make a Deal’ show, the guys (except Chester, of course) got together and debated whether or not I really meant it. Only because I had been, throughout the trip, so brash in my teasing and so bold in showing off my body, they decided I probably really did mean it. And I guess that Jeff had shared some more good reasons to believe that I really would go along with a gang bang. Anyway, that’s how it happened that they all decided to go for it. Of course, they all had to get their partners to go along with the deal, without telling them what the deal was. In other words, each guy had to suggest to his partner that he’d like to be shaved. Since all of the women except Mae and Xena were themselves shaven, most of the guys simply said, “I’ve decided I want to be like you.” And their partners went along without suspicion.

It was harder for Mooney and Conan, since their partners weren’t shaven. They had to suggest it as a mutual experience. “Hey, honey, let’s get our crotches shaved.” I guess it wasn’t too hard for Conan. I recall the little conversation I’d had with Xena the first time we went skinny dipping. She was thinking about it even then. But I also remember Mae’s part in that discussion. She had seemed very cold to the idea. So Mooney had a really tough challenge. Now, you have to understand the relationship between Mae and Mooney. They aren’t married. They don’t even live together. They’ve been taking turns sleeping-over at each other’s houses for several years, but they’ve never expressed any real commitment to each other. They’ve talked about splitting a couple of times, and have occasionally even dated others.

I can just imagine what would have happened if Mooney had gone to Mae and suggested, “I’ve got a great idea: Let’s go for the naked crotch look.” That simply wouldn’t work! Nor could he just do it. Mae was sure to notice. And when she did, how do you suppose she would have reacted? “Oh, that’s nice, Honey. Are you going to get a red bikini now too? What’s up with you and that little bitch!” No, that wasn’t going to work either. One way or another, Mooney figured that the only way he was going to get into my pants was to spill the whole story to Mae and offer her something in exchange. But what could he offer? Only one thing: revenge. He knew Mae. He knew that she had been harboring a smoldering jealousy ever since the guys, especially Mooney, had started paying attention to me. She was sick of hearing about The Bikini Queen. So he told her the truth. “She dared the guys to get shaved and promised a gang bang if we all did it. She thinks she’ll never have to do it, because she knows that Chester will never go along with a deal like that. Now, just suppose that Chester could be tricked into getting shaved . . . ” Mae smiled, but said, “So let me understand this. I get the pleasure of knowing the little bitch gets gang banged, and you get the pleasure of participating in it. Is that how it goes?” “Not exactly. We can double the pleasure, double the fun. How many of the girls would like to gang bang Chester? Suppose we could give Chester essentially the same challenge that the Bikini Queen gave the guys?”

Now Mae was interested. “You mean we tell him that he can screw all of us if he gets shaved? The bitch gets gang banged while her husband is screwing all of us! That really is fun to imagine!” “So it wouldn’t bother you that I would get into the Queen?” “It’s worth it. And I just might get laid myself, you know.” Mooney got down to business. “Okay. How do the other girls feel about the Queen? Are they as fed up as you are, and do you think they’d spread their legs once for a good cause?” “Gosh, I don’t know. I think some may do it just because Chester’s a good looking stud.” A smile and a wink. “Maybe even me. I think a couple of them might do it just for the sport of it; who knows?” Mae started laying the groundwork that same evening. She started in on Chester, making sexual comments, and giving him an occasional good look at her rather spectacular cleavage. Flirting and teasing. The very thing I had been doing. Damn! Mae was known to spend her afternoons sunbathing. She’d find a private spot, strip off her suit and spread out in the sun. It was a matter of pride with her that she had no tan line. She suddenly became careless in her selection of private spots. Somehow, she kept finding sunbathing spots that were on the path between camp and whatever place Chester had gone fishing. Chester had even mentioned it to me the first time he had stumbled across Mae, spread-eagled in the sun. He described how she had pulled a towel over herself, but not before he had seen her bare boobs. He was obviously amused, but the whole thing seemed harmless. He never mentioned that it happened several more times after that. The next time, Mae had pretended modesty and tried to cover her breasts with her hands. She asked Chester to hand her the towel, which was conveniently beyond her reach. She had to let go of a boob to take the towel. It took both hands, of course, to wrap the towel around her back. She brought the ends together in front of herself, not too quickly, and not too carefully, because her bush remained in full view. She caught Chester’s eyes at that moment gazing at her now more or less covered breasts. “How’s my tan?” She smiled warmly and held the towel open for him. “Do I still have a tan line?” she asked. “It’s so hard to avoid it when I have to wear a suit all day.” “You don’t have to wear a suit on my account,” Chester offered. “Well, okay, but is there a line on my back?” she asked, turning and lowering the towel. There was no line.

On another occasion, she asked him to put lotion on her back. “I love the sun, but it sure dries out my skin. Would you be a sweetheart and do my back?” She sat naked with her hands cupping and lifting her huge breasts, with nipples barely covered. Chester obliged. He spread the white lotion across Mae’s golden tan back. She bent her head forward so he could do the back of her neck, and her shoulders. “That feels sooo good,” she cooed. “You have such nice hands. Oh, massage it in really well, will you? I don’t want to end up looking like an old boot!” He added more lotion, maybe a little too much. Accidents happen. Nothing to do but spread it out further. Down onto the hips, around onto the sides, up the sides under the arms and onto the breasts. She let him do a full-body massage, and did not have to fake a wonderful orgasm when he massaged a place that didn’t need any lotion. And she was really starting to desire him. But her plan wouldn’t let her do anything about it. Not yet.

Throughout the same time period, she was working to get the other girls involved. Peaches seemed like an easy mark. And Hot Lips too. Mae picked a spot for skinny dipping one day, and invited the other two along. While swimming, she told them how Chester had stumbled across her sunbathing spot, and how he wound up giving her a massage. “Oh, it was wonderful! He has such soft, strong hands.” “Mae, did you get it on with Chester?” Hot Lips begged. “No! It was just a massage!” Mae protested. “It doesn’t sound like just a massage.” “Well, maybe there was a little bit more. But not what you’re thinking. It’s no more sexual than skinny dipping,” she lied. “Oh. So you’re skinny dipping with him, too?” Peaches asked, with amusement. “No, but I like the idea.” “Well, you let me know when you do,” Hot Lips chuckled, “I want in on it.” Behind her, Peaches was nodding in agreement. “If you’re serious, I’ll bet he’d join us now if I can find him.” “Well, go get him, girl! What are you waiting for?” Mae knew that Chester was fishing just a hundred yards away. She found him and said, “Hi.” Then she unhooked the front of her bikini and spread it open. “Want to go skinny dipping?” “Might as well, the fish aren’t biting,” he chuckled. Mae led Chester up to the swimming hole. She stripped off her bikini and tossed it aside and splashed into the warm, clear water. Chester stepped out of his shorts and followed her in. “Hey, big guy!” Peaches said, catching Chester by complete surprise. He whipped around to see the other two nude women in a little cove to his left. “Woah! I didn’t see you there!” Chester said in surprise. Not knowing what else to do, he waded forward and plunged head first into the deep part of the pool. He surfaced in the middle, treading water and looking back at Hot Lips and Peaches. “Isn’t this great?” Mae asked him. He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Skinny dipping with three beautiful women. How could that be anything but great.

Peaches and Hot Lips strolled over the edge of the water, giving Chester a tantalizing long look at their bodies-including their very, very clean shaven pussies. They slowly waded in, and paddled around, keeping their hair as dry as they could. After a while, they all got out of the water, and the girls toweled themselves dry. Chester didn’t have a towel. He smiled sheepishly when he couldn’t hide his obvious arousal. “A mind of it’s own,” he said with an exaggerated shrug. Mae tossed him her towel, leaving herself completely exposed, and making no effort avoid Chester’s appreciative gaze. Peaches and Hot Lips exchanged a meaningful glance. That was it for the day. But that was enough. The plan was going to work. Mae was sure that it wouldn’t take much to get Peaches and Hot Lips to go for the gang bang of Chester. The next day, Chester stumbled across both Mae and Crisco out sunbathing on the trail back from where he’d been fishing. Crisco quickly wrapped in her towel, but Mae took advantage of the “chance” encounter and asked Chester to put lotion on her back. Crisco could see that this wasn’t the first time Chester had put lotion on Mae’s back. “How about you?” Chester offered when his eyes met Crisco’s. “Okay,” she answered tentatively. She kept her towel clutched modestly against the front of her body while Chester massaged the lotion into her back and shoulders. She noticed that Chester made no effort to conceal his hard dick, which seemed almost ready to pop out over the waistband of his nylon shorts. Crisco drew the towel in at the sides, so Chester could do her hips and the sides of her breasts. “Do you do legs too?” she asked. She turned toward him and extended a leg. He rubbed the lotion into both of her lower legs, then he squirted some lotion on her thigh. With both hands, Chester rubbed the lotion into her skin. He worked his way up her thigh, all the way to the towel. He saw her smile, and noticed that she was breathing hard. He started on the other thigh, again working both hands slowly upward from her knee to the towel. And under it. His hand brushed against a smooth pussy and came away wet. Then he shot his load. A widening dark spot appeared on the front of his shorts. Chester wasn’t used to this sort of excitement. I’m sure that in all of the last nine years, until this trip, he hadn’t touched another woman.

I have no idea what he must have been thinking. Accidental encounters with four naked women in two days. Erotic massage with two of them. Could he have possibly believed that he was suddenly that lucky? Yeah, he probably could-that’s how the male ego works. But time was running short. There were only a few days left before the end of the trip. She knew she could get Mutt on board. That left only Xena and LJ. Both were on that evening’s dinner crew. The menu called for an enchilada casserole, accompanied by nachos and a Dutch oven apple crisp dessert. Mae recruited Chester to start the charcoal briquets for baking, while the girls worked on the food. She also took charge of mixing cocktails that evening. Extra strong.

Four of the girls worked on the dinner, while the others sat close by, keeping up the gab and helping out where needed. A couple of Mae’s strong cocktails had the girls pretty giggly by the time the casserole and Dutch oven were ready to bake. Chester arranged the red-hot charcoal over and under the Dutch oven and cast aluminum casserole. He noted the time, then went and got a glass of Scotch. He pulled up a chair where we were sitting. I didn’t notice anything unusual about it. Even when Crisco said to Chester, “Hey, what’s that spot on your shorts?” He looked quickly at his lap, before recognizing the question as a tease. (Of course he had washed out the spot right after the accident.) The question was conspicuously suggestive, but there was nothing unusual about that. “I must have spilled something on them,” he answered honestly. Criso kept on, “Oh. I hope it’s not something that stains. That suit looks good on you.” I failed to notice that Chester was becoming embarrassed as the conversation veered perilously close to more truth than he wanted everyone-especially me-to hear. “Oh, I think it’ll wash out,” he said. I put my drink down and stood up. “Well, if I didn’t go pee, there’ll be a spot on my suit, too.” I strolled down toward the other end of the beach, where our porta-potty was set up. Behind me I heard Mae offer, “Come on down to the river, and I’ll scrub it out for you.” “No thanks,” Chester answered, “I think I can handle it.” Then I got too far away to hear any more. “I don’t see a spot,” Xena said. “Maybe I need a closer look.” “Oh, there’s not much to see,” Chester said with feigned modesty as he leaned back in his chair and thrust his hips forward as if looking for the nonexistent spot. “Here, I’ll get that for you.” Crisco said, grabbing a wet dishcloth. She playfully scurried over and dabbed it in Chester’s lap, saturating the front of his shorts.” “Okay, I see the spot now.” Xena raised her glass in a toast. “And that’s not all I see!” Chester’s gray shorts had turned more or less transparent once wet, and the outline of his rapidly hardening sex organ was quite visible. Mae quipped, “Why didn’t we think of this sooner! It’s only fair that you show us as much as Julia shows the guys!” Might as well bring the bitch into the picture. “In fact, why don’t you just use spray paint?” “Good idea!” Xena added brightly. “But how about finger paint instead?” Okay! Xena was in!

There was a good round of giggling. Chester was blushing, but he was in the game. “I’ll get the finger paint, if you’ll put it on,” he offered. “Ugh! I don’t think I’d want finger paint in my pubic hair,” Mae said, arming the trap. “Maybe you should make an appointment with Mutt’s Muff Mowing Service!” No one had ever described Mutt’s “specialty” that way before, and everyone laughed uproariously. “Yeah,” Hot Lips said, “Then you’ll show through your suit the way the Bikini Queen shows through hers!” Mae could have kissed her for saying that. “Hey, Chester, I’ll tell you what,” Mae offered. “You do that, and I’ll put on the finger paint.” “Wait a minute! It was my idea!” complained Xena. “Okay, we’ll take turns,” Mae said. “Who else wants a turn?” Mae was leading the conversation right where she wanted it to go. Mae heard answers from Peaches, Hot Lips and LJ. Okay, she thought, the table is set! “You think you could handle all of us, Chester? What do you say,” Mae asked. “I say it’s time to check the Dutch oven.” he answered. He stood and walked over to the fire pan. His shorts stretched out like a small tent. Damn! So close, so very close, Mae thought to herself. Oh well, you can’t do it all in one step. Things just kept going this way for the next couple of days. No big developments, but the teasing continued. Then came that first afternoon in the layover camp. While I was still up washing his cum out of my hair, PJ went to thank Mooney for suggesting that he come to me for his ‘haircut,’ and he shared some details of his experience. Damn! I should have known that he would tell his buddies that I’d sucked his dick! Even if that wasn’t exactly what had happened, it was close enough. If that word got around . . . The word didn’t get around. But it got far enough. Mooney went straight to Mae and told her that The Bikini Queen had been up in the bushes doing blow jobs. “It’s hard for me to tell you this,” Mae quietly said to LJ after drawing her aside. Then she repeated what Mooney had told her.

LJ wasn’t terribly surprised. She had half expected some kind of action when she had told PJ that he’d have to get his ‘haircut’ someplace else, because she just wasn’t all that enthusiastic about the whole idea. But she had thought that PJ was simply going to Mutt’s Muff Mowing Service, and she didn’t feel threatened by Mutt. She didn’t know that Mutt had an apprentice until PJ and Torch flipped a coin to who did whom.

That had been Mutt’s doing. She wasn’t part of Mae’s conspiracy. I think she just wanted to escalate my involvement in her pastime. But she was the one who scheduled both guys at the same time. For LJ, it was some consolation knowing that Torch and won the coin toss. She guessed (correctly) that Torch knew better than to pick me, and make Hot Lips feel the way she was feeling now. Well, it wasn’t as though she had never cheated. She had never fooled around with anyone PJ knew, but that was just hair-splitting. Which was the greater sin, PJ getting a BJ or her screwing some guy she picked up in a country-western bar?

But Mae expected her to show some level of outrage, so she said, “The little bitch! From the day this trip started, she’s been trying to seduce every the guy in sight.” Mae was understanding. “I’m sorry I had to be the one to tell you,” she said with a pained expression. Then she brightened up. “Hey, at least it was just a BJ, right? It probably doesn’t mean anything. I mean, it’s not like the two of them have been romping off in the bushes and screwing.” “Oh, I know. But still . . .” “. . . you’d like to give some of it back to her,” Mae said, finishing LJ’s thought. “Yeah. I guess I would,” LJ admitted without conviction. “I think I know a way,” Mae offered, just being a good friend. “What if some of us could get her guy?” “You mean seduce Chester?” she asked skeptically, but not without interest. “Sure, why not? Remember the other night when we were making the enchiladas?” “Well . . . but that was just teasing.” “Yeah, but he was interested. If he thought the challenge was serious, I’ll bet he’d go for it. You saw how excited he got when we talked about finger painting.” “Do you really think he’d go for that?” LJ wondered. “Maybe not for finger painting, but if we can get some of the other girls to go along with us, I know he’ll go for it!” Mae said enthusiastically, as if the idea had just occurred to her. “You don’t mean . . .” “Sure! Why not?” Mae challenged. “You would actually screw Chester, just to spite Julia?” “No. I’d screw Chester for the pleasure of it. Getting even with the little whore is just a fringe benefit. What about you?” “Well, when you put it that way . . .” “Come on, LJ, in two days we’ll all be on our way home and none of this will matter anyway,” Mae persisted. “Good point. Well, how do we go about setting it up?” LJ asked. “Not we,” Mae corrected, “You. I can’t go around asking the other girls to spread their legs for Chester so that you can have your revenge. You have to do it.” “How do we get Chester to sign on?” “You just get the girls on board. Chester will be easy. He’s a man. He’ll go where his penis leads him!” With some help from Mae, LJ worked out how she would present the idea to the other girls. At Mae’s suggestion, she went first to Crisco. “Buy you a drink?” she asked, holding a bottle of bourbon. “Sure,” Crisco said. She was sitting in the shade under the kitchen tarp reading a book. “You think we’ll run out of booze?” “No, but we all have to do our part.” They clicked their glasses (Plastic glasses don’t clink. They click.) and sipped the bourbon. “Hey, Crisco, you remember the other night when we were teasing Chester about the finger paint?” LJ asked. “Sure, why?” “Did you really mean it?” “Mean what?” “Some of us are actually going to challenge him. You know, see if we can get him to shave it.” “Why would he do that. For that matter, why would you do that?” LJ asked. “He would do it because we’re gonna screw his balls off if he does,” Crisco said. LJ’s eyes widened. “You what?” “We’re going to line up and screw him till he can’t stand up!” LJ laughed. “Come on, Cris. What’s the joke?” “No joke. Listen. I just found out that The Bikini Queen has been out in the brush getting it on with our guys. I think it’s only fair that we get it on with her guy.” “No Way!” protested LJ, “She’s a little tease, I’ll grant you that, but she’s not doing the guys. Get serious!” “She is, and I am serious,” LJ said earnestly, “PJ bragged to Mooney that The Queen sucked him off just this afternoon. I found out from Mae.” “You sure about it? “Yeah. I’m sure.” “And you want all of us to screw Chester, so that you can get even with her?” LJ asked rhetorically. “Hey, if she can get PJ’s dick in her mouth, she can get Shark’s. Or anyone else’s. For all I know, she already has. This is for all of us!” Then the closing argument, “Besides, we think it’ll be great fun!” “Well, yeah. It would be. Okay, I’ll play along. But only if everyone else does.” “Great! I’m making the rounds. I’ll let you know how it comes out.” LJ said, getting up. She carried the bourbon with her and went looking for Peaches. With minor differences, the conversations with Peaches, Hot Lips and Xena went pretty much the same way. Mutt was the only one left.

She had to modify her approach with Mutt, since she had been there when The Queen had gone down on LJ. She found Mutt back at the swimming hole and offered the bourbon. LJ was pretty well wasted, having already shared drinks with the other four. “Hey party girl,” she said to Mutt, “how about a drink?” “Sure. Coming in for a swim?” She shed her bikini and waded in. For a while, she put the “mission” on hold and just enjoyed the cool water. Having repeated her story of indignation four times, plus rehearsals with Mae, she had started to get depressed. She was starting to believe it. She was relieved that she didn’t need to lie to Mutt. “What’ca got planned for tomorrow?” she asked. Mutt said, “Oh, I may just sleep all day. Why, you have something going?” “Well,” she smiled, “since you asked. We’re all going to line up and screw Chester.” “Get serious.” “No, I think it’ll be great to get it on with a guy fifteen years younger than me. I’d love to test his staying power. “Who else?” “Everyone.” “Xena? Peaches? Hot Lips?” “Everyone.” “What about The Queen?” “What about her? We’re going to go one at a time, so she won’t notice that anything unusual is happening. She’ll just think Chester’s out fishing. What do you say?” “Wouldn’t miss it.” It was done. LJ went back and found Mae. It had all been done in a couple of hours. The great gang bang was on! Mae went out looking for Chester. She found him about half a mile from camp, fishing in a broad eddy. He had just about enough trout to feed the whole group. “Good thing I’m not the game warden,” she said. Chester turned and smiled. Mae was in her sexiest bikini. It wasn’t really all that skimpy. Her huge breasts demanded structural support, and she was opposed to the bikini shave that a truly skimpy suit would require. But it emphasized her best features. “Thought you’d be out somewhere working on those tan lines,” he said, reeling in his line. “No. Just out looking for trouble.” “You think you’ll find it here?” “I was hoping,” she said with her foxiest smile. Chester checked his lure and cast out to where he knew the fish were. “I want to ask you a question,” Mae opened. “Sure.” “It’s Personal.” “Go ahead.” “You’ve had sex with Julia since she shaved her . . . since she shaved,” Mae said, leading into the subject. “Yes . . .” “Well, how is it. I mean is it . . . better?” “It certainly is different! Yeah. I’d say it’s better. You thinking of shaving yours?” Chester was grinning now. Mae stretched the bottom of her bikini forward and downward, as if to contemplate the question, giving Chester a good look at her bush. “You never know. I might. You ever think of shaving yours?” “Not seriously.” He paused. “Well, except for when you and the girls were teasing me about finger painting,” he said with a coy smile. Mae moved closer to him. “Oh? You think they were just teasing?” she challenged as she reached for the connector between her breasts. She opened her top and let her breasts fall free. Chester’s response to the sight was becoming increasingly visible in the front of his shorts. “I happen to know that some girls in this group would just love to have an excuse to get you alone in the bushes.” Chester reeled in his line and stood his fishing rod against a boulder. “You’ve had plenty of chances,” he said, running his eyes carefully up and down Mae’s voluptuous body.” “I wasn’t talking about me. Well, not just about me,” Mae teased. “Ah. Who, then. Who else?” She walked over to Chester and ran her hand up the front of his shorts, getting a good feel of his erection. She closed her hand around it and held on. “Oh, I shouldn’t say. It’s all just fantasy, after all. Isn’t it?” Chester was ready to be seduced on the spot. He reached out with both hands and cupped Mae’s breasts. Her nipples turned hard at his touch. She squeezed him tightly. “It doesn’t have to be,” he offered. “Mmmmm . . . you’re so hard!” There’s nothing like sexual flattery to get your way with a male. “I think that any woman would like to feel this . . . one way or another” “Well, bring ’em on, then.” “You get yourself shaved, and I’ll do just that!” “Seriously?” “Seriously,” she said firmly. Chester ran his hands down Mae’s sides to her hips. One hand found it’s way under her bikini and down between her legs, where he found her moist warmth. He ran a finger up between her wet folds, causing her to draw a quick breath. “So, are you going to do the shaving?” he whispered. “I think you’d better have Julia do that,” she coached, “Otherwise, she’d probably question your motives, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I guess she would,” he said, coming back toward reality. “So just slip away with Julia. You can have your fun with each other, then we can have our fun with you.” Mae said earnestly, steering him back to the fantasy. She gave a couple of long, slow strokes on his erection, to emphasize the point. “You really are serious,” he said, finally grasping the fact. Time to close the deal. “Do it after brunch tomorrow. After the shave, just hang your red towel on the lantern stand in the kitchen, then go fishing. We’ll come and find you.” “Or maybe it’ll be the other way around. We’ll find you and come,” she said with a mischievous grin. “You had this all planned out . . .” “Every detail.” She continued fondling him for a few more seconds, then she took his hand in hers and pressed it into her snatch. “You can have it all. Tomorrow,” she said with a suggestive thrust of her hips. She gave him one last, long look at her breasts before putting her top back on. “I can’t wait!” she whispered, and she meant it, too. Mae was triumphant! She strolled back into camp with a smug smile on her face and a damp spot at the lowest part of her bikini.

She sought out Mooney and told him that it was on for tomorrow. Chester was going to do it. Mooney would spread the word, and make sure that if any of the guys hadn’t shaved yet, they’d better do it tonight. She cautioned him to remind the guys not to mention the “Let’s Make a Deal” arrangement with Chester, or the whole thing would fall apart. A red flag hanging on the lantern stand in the kitchen would be the signal that it was time for the festivities to begin. No one should do anything before the flag went up. And it would have to be one at a time. If all the guys got up at once and followed The Queen into the bushes, someone was bound to wonder why.

“So who goes first,” Mooney wondered. “I’ve got that covered,” Mae said. “Tonight is ‘Game Night.’ We will have assigned seating based on numbers drawn from a hat. The numbers drawn will be the pecking order (so to speak) for tomorrow’s festivities. “Wow. I can’t believe you managed to pull it off!” “Sweetheart, when you want something bad enough . . .” Mae said with a conspiratorial grin. Next Mae went and found LJ, and told her essentially the same story. Don’t say anything to The Queen. Just watch for the red flag, go one or two at a time, and remember the game number. “It was a perfect setup,” Xena told me. “Everyone was getting something, and nobody would talk.” “You did,” I reminded her. “Yeah,” she said, “I just don’t know how to keep my mouth shut.” I just sat there, numb. I had gone through a full range of emotions as she spoke. I had boiled with anger at what Mae had done. I felt betrayed by Chester. And I was especially furious with Mooney. He was the one who had caused it all! But even as that thought passed through my mind, I had to admit to myself that it hadn’t really been Mooney’s fault. It was my own. Nobody made me wear the bikinis. Not even Chester, even though it had been his idea in the beginning. The truth was that I wouldn’t have worn them if I hadn’t wanted to feel the excitement. I paused on that thought. I hadn’t forgotten how it felt to be invisible in a group. I had been that way all my life, and I didn’t want to be invisible anymore. I liked being noticed. For the first time in my life I had been the center of attention, and it felt good. It was the first time that I had experienced how it felt to be desired for how I looked. (I know it is terribly fashionable to dismiss that as shallow and superficial, but I don’t care. I’ve seen both sides, and I won’t go back to being a mousy Mormon!)

I gave Xena a long hug and thanked her for being a friend. I was starting to feel better. “I’ll be okay now,” I told her. “I’d like to be alone for a little while, though.” Xena nodded, squeezed my hand, then turned to walk back down to camp. I fished my towel out of the creek and wrung it out. There was a smooth flat rock in the sun next to the pool, so I spread out the damp towel and sat down to brush my hair and let it dry. I thought about Chester, and wondered if he was still “busy” with the girls. There was no way he could get it up eight times in a row. Certainly not in two hours! Whatever ideas I had about feeling jealous were quickly squelched by the knowledge that he was doing exactly the same thing I had done. I knew that life between us would never be the same, but I had no idea how it would be. Even though he didn’t know what I had done, nor that I knew what he had done, he was bound to find out sooner or later. I might even be the one to tell him. But what would I say? It was clear that we had both misunderstood each other’s sexuality for all the time we had known each other. Had we misunderstood our own as well? It was obvious: Of course we had. All of this happened because we had wanted it to happen. The realization struck me. I had wanted it to happen. I had made it happen. From the instant the idea had first come up, I had been fantasizing about taking on all the guys. I really had wanted to do it. More to the point, I really had enjoyed doing it! Once again I was surprised by my own feelings. I was confused. How could I possibly feel all of the things that had made me cry on Xena’s shoulder, and at the same time say that I had enjoyed what I had done? Clearly it would take some time to sort this out.

I got up and walked around behind a boulder, where I slipped out of my bikini bottom and squatted to pee. I still felt like a water balloon, with all of the male fluids that had been pumped inside me. But I felt good. I had actually done it! I walked back and found the bottle of Baileys. It was still nearly half full, so a poured some and sat down again. Maybe things weren’t so bad after all. The longer I thought about it, the clearer it was that my orgasms were what defined my role in all that had happened. It would not have been possible for me to have even one orgasm if I hadn’t been enjoying what was happening. And I had had more than I could count. I must have enjoyed it. I must have enjoyed it a lot!

My hair was nearly dry, and was reverting back to its natural curl. I picked up my fanny pack and found a makeup mirror. I took a long look at myself and decided that I looked okay. No, I looked pretty damn good, actually. I added some eye makeup and lipstick. It was time to rejoin the rest of the group. I rounded up all my stuff and strolled back down the creek. I stopped at our tent to hang up my towel and put things away, and for a moment I considered changing clothes. But no. I started with the red bikini, and I would finish with it. Chester was nowhere to be seen as I walked down through the kitchen area toward the beach chairs at the edge of the river. I could account for about half of the group as I looked around. It wasn’t quite 4:00 in the afternoon, and it would be another hour before anyone would feel compelled to start dinner. Smiling, I joined the group in the “cocktail lounge.” Torch and Hot Lips were there, along with Mutt and Jeff, Crisco and Mae. Did the absence of Peaches and LJ, who had drawn numbers 7 and 8, mean that they were taking their turns with Chester? Probably. “Anybody want to help finish off the Baileys?” I asked. “Sure,” Mutt said. She held out her glass and let me pour. “Where have you been all afternoon?” she asked.

I noticed a distinct smirk on Mae’s face. “Oh, you know. Just exploring new territory,” I said lightly. The guys both grinned slyly, and I thought I saw Jeff wink at me. Mae raised an eyebrow, and smiled. “You went exploring all by yourself?” she asked. She was obviously trying to put me on the spot, though I had no idea for what purpose. “No,” I answered truthfully, “Some of the guys came with me.” It seemed like a terribly clever thing to say. “Really? Did you find anything interesting?” she persisted. “New experiences are what make life interesting,” I answered. Mae changed directions. “Hey, where’s Chester? I haven’t seen him around.” “If he isn’t fishing, I suppose he’s out exploring,” I answered. I wasn’t about to take her bait. I got up and went back up to the kitchen. One thing was clear. I was going to have to find a way to make peace with Mae. Otherwise, we’d never be able to go rafting with this group again. I started organizing things for preparing dinner. Bran muffins from the Dutch oven, Creole made from canned shrimp. We could still eat well. After a while, I waved Mae up to give me a hand. She started in on a cherry cobbler dessert. “Listen, Mae,” I said, “I know where Chester is, and I know what he’s doing.” Mae looked surprised. “I don’t . . .” “Yes you do,” I interrupted. “You know all about it, because you set it up.” “What are you talking about?” she asked, still hoping that I didn’t know. But I did.

“Look, Mae. I know the whole story. I know that Chester is still out finishing the deal you set up. I know that you set me up too.” “Wait a minute,” Mae protested, “You set yourself up. All I did was fix it up so that you’d have to follow through on your word.” “Yes, you did that, but it certainly isn’t all you did, and you know it. You set up Chester, just to get to me. I’d like to know why.” I already knew why, but I wanted to hear her say it. “Okay. I did it because I wanted you to stop teasing the guys. I thought you’d back down when things got serious.” “Come on, Mae,” I said, “You didn’t think I’d back down; and you didn’t want me to. What you wanted to happen is exactly what did happen.” “No, I . . .” “Mae,” I interrupted, “Have you ever had multiple partners? A threesome, maybe?” “I don’t have to answer that,” she protested with indignation. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’ Come on, Mae. We’re not in Sunday school here.” I smiled. “You’re right,” she said. “One time, many years ago. My ex-husband had three of his friends over to watch the Super Bowl. The game was over in the first quarter, and I was tired of fetching beers. So I decided to provide some halftime entertainment.” Now she was smiling. “I put on a little see-through bra and panty set from Victoria’s Secret and walked into the room carrying a tray of beers. The guys-and especially my husband-almost passed out. I struck a pose between them and the TV, and let them take a good look.” “And then . . .” I prodded. “I handed out the beers. As I did, I opened their zippers.” She grinned at the memory. “You should have seen them! The other guys looked at my husband and he looked at me. I smiled at him, and he just shrugged. I don’t think any of them touched their beers. I pulled my husband’s dick out and started some lip work while the others watched. Pretty soon, I had dicks and hands and tongues everywhere. It was quite a party!”

“Wow.” That was all I could say. Mae finished her story. “Only problem was that these were guys we saw all the time. They were all married guys and we often socialized with them and their wives. It made me pretty uncomfortable. But my husband told me he’d like to do it again. Of course he would. He’s male.” “You enjoyed it too,” I reminded her. “Yeah. I did. Not that I’d make a habit of it. But it was an exciting afternoon!” “Mae, I kind of feel the same way about today.” She studied my face. Clearly, she was seeing things a different way. “Listen,” she said, “I was envious of the way all the guys were gaping at you in your bikini. I guess I was hoping that it would turn into a sort of a gang rape. It looks like it backfired on me.” “Well, look. I got into the whole thing without thinking it through. I thought I was just kidding, but when it came right down to it, I got what I really wanted. Even if I didn’t know it was what I wanted.” Mae looked relieved. “So you’re okay with this?” “I don’t want us to go away enemies,” I said. “I guess neither of us had thought through what we were doing. If I had, I’d have chickened out. But now that it’s done . . .” “So what happens now,” she asked. “I don’t know,” I answered, “We’ll all go home tomorrow, and won’t see each other until our next raft trip, assuming there is one. No telling what might happen then!” Mae flashed a conspiratorial smile. “Think what we could do if we work together!” “Here comes Chester,” I said, pointing up toward the path. He was walking into camp, carrying his fishing gear. He didn’t look particularly worse for wear. Maybe some day I would find out the details of his afternoon. That evening, we all sat around the fire reliving various adventures we had shared during the trip. There were veiled references to the day’s activities, but just about everyone there had secrets to protect, so nothing was revealed. The fire died out, and the beach was illuminated only by the moon. The next day we made the short float to the take-out, where our vehicles were waiting. We loaded everything onto the trailers, then before going our separate ways, we made our traditional leftover lunch. At last it was time to go. We said our good-byes and exchanged hugs. To make sure that none of the guys went home feeling any guilt about the events of the day before, I made a point of finding and squeezing their dicks as we hugged. It was just my way of saying that everything was okay. So now, months later, I wonder. Is everything okay? I’ve never talked about any of this with Chester. He and I have experienced a welcome change in our relationship. As I think back on our first six years, I wonder how we had held ourselves and each other in such restraint. I have not been tempted to do anything like what happened on the river, and I’m sure that Chester has been faithful to me. And yet, I have the feeling that someday it will happen again. There are times when I feel like the whole thing couldn’t possibly have ever happened, because I would never do any of it. But I did. I did it all. The question of whether it will happen may remain open until the next time we go rafting. Then it will have to be answered. All of the guys will be expecting it. And I have built a dozen different fantasies around the idea. Even now, as I write this, my pulse rate tells the whole story.

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