Under normal circumstances, I would consider hiking in 36 degree Celsius heat, an act of insanity. But these were not normal circumstances. I'd broken up with my long-time boyfriend two weeks ago, and countless Facebook updates and comments weren't helping my depressed state of mind at all.
Which was why I decided on a girls' weekend getaway in the most remote — yet close to home — place I could think of. The 'Wit Els' river hiking trail was classed as advanced, and various permits were needed to access the privately owned farmland that overlapped the nature reserve. But I didn't bother with such formalities.
I, Jennifer Hult, was on a mission.
The mission was involved getting familiar with Beth Weinstein. Beth was not your average young, rich Cape Town Jewish girl. Yes, she was a law student, and yes she had an apartment and fancy Audi paid for by daddy-dearest, but there was more to it than that.
For one thing, she'd volunteered to do her two years in the Israeli Army, despite her family spending the last three generations in South Africa. The other issue she had, was a slight coke habit, which is why she ended up working at the same upmarket ethnic cuisine restaurant as me: daddy's funding didn't cover all of her extra-curricular activities.
We basically earn a ton of tax-free cash for doing very little, other than selling over-priced wine to tourists. The food is wonderful there too, so the place has a great reputation amongst celebs. The problem with that, was I once ended up calling Sir Ian McKellan “Gandalf” by accident. 'Don't go to work baked' ought to be my number one rule.
But I digress.
None of the other waitrons had gotten anywhere with Beth. We'd all gone out in groups or pairs after work on the weekends… for those of us in the hospitality industry, the weekend starts at 3 AM. She was fucking hot, to be honest. Long, perfectly black hair, sensual body, and awesome double-D breasts. I'd already seen those in all their magnificence on Camps Bay beach, earlier in the summer season. I was still with my idiot boyfriend at the time, and believe me, his eyes were constantly straying to Beth's incredible boobs. The past three years of civilian life had softened and rounded her figure a little, but she retained her strength and muscle tone. She even gave self-defence classes to female students at the University, using adapted Krav Maga techniques.
I'd always been slightly bi-curious during high school, but the only girls who were open to same-sex experimentation were kinda diesel dykes, and not in a good way at all. Looking that butch was quite an achievement in a country that uses school uniforms — where girls wear dresses and skirts. By the time I was 15, I was heavily into guys, and this carried on until the grand old age of 25 — which was when my ex-boyfriend started his ridiculous string of cyber affairs with school girls, using mobile phone chatroom applications.
Don't go thinking he cheated on me because I wasn't interested in him anymore, or because I'd let myself go physically. Quite the opposite. I do rock climbing three times a week, jog on the other days, and I really, really like sex. I look great with clothing, and even better without it — but I suppose some guys are hardwired to be perverts and idiots, all at the same time.
Like Beth, I was above-average in height. I weighed around 120 pounds, but bear in mind, muscle is heavier than rolls of lard. Her hair was so dark black, it had that blue shine to it. On the day of the hike, she had it plaited, but when it was loose, it could hang low enough to cover her breasts. My family's Swedish origins were obvious: I had fairly strong facial features, and my hair was a nice strawberry blonde — not a that horrid carroty ginger color. Beth had pure brown eyes, and mine were a deep blue. Since we both did physical activities; we were in better shape than a lot of our friends. I just have to make it quite clear that I didn't include other people on this hike on purpose. I could fill a notebook with the number of guys who'd have been willing to come along with us.
That's partly why I didn't bother getting an official permit for the cabin, so her friends and classmates at the university wouldn't find out. The university has an official hiking club, with permission to use the large cabin, located halfway up the mountain. My intended sleeping spot was right at the top, away from any potential interruptions.
The morning hours seemed to drag on forever, and even though we were walking through narrow canyons most of the time, there was precious little shadow.
Luckily by noon, we'd reached the first tributary to the main river, running deep inside a high gorge. The water was waist high and icy cold. Beth was walking ahead of me, holding her backpack above her head. She lost her footing on a loose rock and stumbled forward, soaking herself form the neck down. She turned around, joking about how clumsy she was. Her nipples were erect, their outlines clearly visible under her white top.
I laughed as well, saying something back to her, but fuck knows what it was. My mind was in another place, namely the small cabin on the southern peak of the mountain we were yet to get to. I imagined how absolutely hot and exhausted we'd be by the time we arrived there. How I'd immediately run the shower and stand underneath the the luke-warm water, hastily stripping off my hiking outfit.
Of course I'd be counting on Beth being too impatient to wait for me to finish showering, and join me. The low-budget shower stall would be tiny, forcing our naked bodies together.
I pictured myself lathering up, and offering to wash her back for her. She'd be tired and open to suggestion. I could almost feel her soft, sensual skin on my fingertips. I could see my hands 'accidentally' straying around her waist and grazing her breasts, gently coming to rest on her nipples. I could hear her sigh as my hands stayed there, fondling her breasts and feeling those nipples getting harder.
By then I was soaked I soaked inside and out. I was still daydreaming, wading through the stream on auto-pilot, when Beth suddenly came to a halt.
“Get down!” she shouted. Beth let out a string of curses like a Main Road whore and pulled out her.45 Norinka 1911 pistol. She pointed it like a giant black cock of death at a troop of Cape baboons. The baboons had been trailing us, and their leader was making his descent down the canyon, followed by two dozen raucous, fast-moving primates.
She fired off three rounds, hitting small rocks in front of the leader of the troop — a gigantic male with a long mane and vicious-looking yellow teeth. He stopped immediately, and rushed back up the steep cliff, followed by his troop. With agricultural land surrounding the mountain, the baboons knew gunfire when they heard it, and farmers usually didn't waste ammunition on warning shots.
Beth slid out the magazine, pulled back the slide and caught the bullet that jumped out the chamber. She inserted the magazine and clicked the safety on, before putting the weapon back into her water-proof bag. She really could make the most mundane tasks look sexy.
Since her tour of duty in Israel, Beth is kinda anal about making sure she is armed at all times — because you never know when someone is going try and kill you with a Defy 424 stove, dropped from a rooftop. She might have finished her military service physically unscathed, but mentally… I wonder sometimes.
Even so, I was happy she was armed… this was still South Africa, and criminals ranged from harmless petty thieves, to pathological murdering rapists. You just couldn't be too careful these days, and drug-related orgies of murder and mayhem were common place, with offenders as young as 8. 'Tik' a kind of crystal meth, really has united people in this country, making addicts equally stupid and problematic.
By 2pm, we got to Disa Falls, which is this really pretty waterfall, with a fair-sized rock pool at the bottom that flows into a narrow gorge. We dumped our gear and stripped off our clothing in no time at all. Beth dived in and swam across to large, flat rock beneath the falling water. I followed her. It was mid-summer, so the torrent was quite mild, allowing us to stand on the rock without getting washed away. I stood next to Beth, while she arched her back stretched her arms out. Her large breasts had water cascading off them. Her nipples were harder than granite. I've always been a fan of nice nips, to be honest. I was fascinated with my older brother's girly mags when I was growing up. He bought stuff like Hustler's Barely Legal and Private magazines. He always had some lying around under his bed, and I started taking an interest in them when I was about 13 or so. I'd already been experimenting with rubbing myself off, and the magazines were a natural step in my sexual development, I suppose. Playing merrily alone at that age also stopped me from becoming over-eager with boys, which is why I didn't end up being becoming a teen pregnancy case.
I rinsed off the mud and grime from the long hike, and looked down at my own boobs. My 34B's were not bad at all. My nipples aren't large, but are light pink in color, and really neat. I like neat. And speaking of all things neat and tidy, Beth's pussy was delightfully well-kept. Her bald vagina was crowned by a tiny landing strip of dark pubic hair. Her clitoral hood was slightly prominent, but not huge. I've had guys describe my kitten as “cute” and that's certainly true. Like Beth's, mine was an “innie” — my labia were well hidden when I wasn't fully aroused, and my clit was small, and the same light pearly pink as my nipples.
The water was crisp and cool and we were refreshed and recharged by the cold. Beth suggested we go lie in the shade on an outcropping further down the gorge. It was a 50m swim. “First one there gets a back rub!” I shouted, and dived in. Beth followed moments later. She caught up quickly and grabbed my legs, pulling me backwards. “No rules!” she said, laughing as she overtook me. She twisted to evade me, and swam ahead. I could have overtaken her, since swimming was something I'm pretty good at, but I had my reasons to hold back.
Beth was already lying down on her back by the time I climbed out of the water. I admired her hourglass figure while I stood next her. I took my time wiping off as much water as I could from my body. “Jonathan told me you're good at massage,” said Beth. This was true, and the main reason I gave him good massages, was to teach him how to do it right, and do the same for me. I felt a twinge if hatred for him again, as I imagined him using those skills on some young, dumb, internet-addict chick.
When we still dating, Jonathan and I had a couple of little coke parties with Beth and her boyfriend. We'd spend the night getting high, then pairing off to fuck until daylight, followed by the inevitable come-down. Although there was no weird group sex, we did get quite explicit when discussing our sex lives.
I put the bad thoughts out of my mind and concentrated on the task at hand. “Turn over, I'm going to wash you off quickly,” I told her. I used a couple of handfuls of water to get the little bits of grit and sand from the rock surface, off the soft skin on her back. I started massaging her neck and shoulders, firmly working through the knots I found.
“You've been kinda tense lately?” I asked. “Yeah, exam stress is getting to me, I really needed a break like this,” said Beth. It wasn't only exam stress, it was also the hectic schedule of midweek partying taking its toll. She was dealing with her break-up as best she knew how: going out, buying coke and picking up guys. I'm not saying she was a slut, she was damn choosy about who she took home.
A few minutes later, I was slowly working the muscles from her lower back, my hands moving up her spine, bit by bit. Eventually I got to her shoulder blades, and I stretched my long fingers out, clasping her ribcage at the front. I was just-just touching her boobs. My hands lingered there, until I moved them further apart. My fingers probed around her breasts, right up against her nipples. Without saying a word, she raised herself up on her elbows, high enough to give me full access to her firm, big tits.
I cupped them eagerly, my fingertips teasing and squeezing them into arousal. I adjusted my position, and straddled her right leg, rhythmically moving my hips up and down. My smooth pussy was rubbing against the back of her legs, traveling up to her beautifully rounded ass. I moved my right hand down, towards stomach. She raised herself a little, allowing me to reach lower down. I brushed past her neat landing strip of pubic hair and ran my finger tips along the outside of her pussy. I traced the edges of her labia and moved gently towards her clitoris. She moaned softly as I flicked her clit and ran my fingers down her pussy lips, towards the moistness gathering at her vulva. My fingers got coated in her slickness, and I lubed up her clit, increasing the pressure I and speed of my strokes.
“Put your fingers in me!” she hissed. I needed no further encouragement. I sat upright and used my free hand to massage her pussy, before inserting two fingers. She was tight, and I could feel her pussy muscles squeezing against my fingers. Despite the tightness, I was able to get my fingers in all the way up to the knuckles.
“More, more,” she begged. I put in three digits, my thumb resting between her butt cheeks. She got really wet and her cunt was able to take more, so I shifted my my pinkie in. I then hastily spun her over and kissed her violently, my tongue exploring her mouth. I bunched my fingers together into a wedge-shape, and started probing her marvelously elastic pussy opening. I took my time, moving my fingertips in and out, going deeper with every upward stroke. I kissed her hard on her neck, and she held me tighter, moving her hands to my ass. She was getting more and more worked up, her hips bucking forwards to meet my penetrating fingers. My long, slender fingers steadily made their way into her cunt, and I bent them towards me slightly, deep inside in her pussy. This gave me just enough leeway to get my entire hand inside. I was wrist-deep inside her.
I kept my fist inside her, while rubbing my clit in a frenzy. I came, the waves of pleasure building up, peaking, then slowly ebbing away. I carefully unclenched my hand and slowly moved my fist out of Beth's tightly stretched cunt. I finished her off by working on her clit with my free hand.
I collapsed on top of her, my head resting between her breasts. Our sweat cooled us rapidly in the slight afternoon breeze. Our rapid breathing slowed and I gradually became more aware of our surroundings. I could hear the waterfall, birds singing and chirping, and reeds moving in the current. Amongst all these sounds, was the distinct noise of clattering stones. Small pieces of rock were being dislodged. Which meant there were people, or animals above the gorge. I jerked upright as soon as I realized that it could be the baboons again. And here we were, separated from our backpacks. Beth arrived at the same conclusion as I did. “Shit!” she shouted, as she sprang up and dived in, and swam through the water, to get our vulnerable gear before them.
Baboons are pretty damn sly. I won't call them 'clever', but definitely 'crafty'. They'd waited for us to get nice and distracted, before making their move. By the time we got to the opposite edge of the rock pool, the dominant males were already fiddling with the catches on the rucksacks. They knew there was food inside the bags. Since we carried fully packed kits, the baboons couldn't carry the bags off. They tried in vain to drag the bags along the rocky ground, reluctant to leave so much booty behind.
We stood there, our path blocked by the baboons, and separated from our clothing and supplies. Although we were outnumbered, the baboons were wary, and stayed back. They were looking for a reaction from the leading male.
The giant leader jumped in front of Beth, challenging her. The Norinka.45 was stashed in the top compartment of her bag, safety engaged and no round in the chamber — so even if a baboon managed to find it, there was no chance of an accidental discharge. Still, facing a wild baboon is no joke, especially when they are aggressive. One bite can kill, and there is a good chance of dying from infection, even if a bite or scratch is minor.
I was too shit-scared to move. Although Beth wasn't giving ground, I'm sure she was planning on how to take the fucker down without getting mauled. The younger males and some females started closing in around us, in attempt to make us retreat into the water. One of the baboons figured out how to unzip a long side compartment on my bag, and my thermos flask fell out. It bounced on the hard ground and rolled down the slope towards me.
Acting on pure instinct, I lunged forward and grabbed the flask. It was full of hot, black coffee. I unscrewed the lid and shot my arm forwards, aiming at the leader. The scalding hot contents hit the giant male in his face. The baboon screamed and backed off. With their leader in a state of confusion, and howling in pain, the baboons retreated slightly.
The two big males let go of our bags and ran back a couple of steps. Beth reacted and charged towards the leader. He was temporarily blinded, giving her time to pick up a small rock. She didn't want to risk trying to land a kick — he could still lash out and cause serious injury. Instead, she hurled the rock into his chest at close range. I joined in, and started pelting stones at the leader, and any baboons that still lingered. He turned and ran, and all the others followed.
Beth retrieved her firearm and sprinted after them, emptying the remaining rounds of the magazine at their heels. I gathered our clothing into a small heap and secured the backpacks. Beth screamed obscenities at the retreating baboons, as they scurried through the indigenous bushes and trees. They made their way up the gorge at high speed. She watched them disappear over the summit, then turned around and walked back slowly. Her wet black hair hung down over her shoulders, and her proudly exposed breasts moved sensually as she walked. The gun was at her side, the hot barrel still giving off wisps of white smoke.
When she got back to me, she calmly said: “That, Jen, was pretty fucking intense.”
“The fucking part, or the part where we routed a small army of monkeys?” I asked, grinning.
“Both,” she replied, “You really saved my ass there, hitting the big guy with your coffee. I was sure I'd get hurt. Badly. I owe you big time.”
I wasn't sure how much of that was true, but she seemed genuinely thrilled with the day's events, so I was looking forward to our evening together. The prospect of spending the night with her, after a failed lesbo encounter, would have been awful.
Our ascent to the top of the mountain went without further mishaps. Once we got to the contour paths, it was easy-going: there were no streams to wade through, or rocks to climb. We managed to get to the cabin an hour before sunset, giving us time clean up, and unpack our gear. Supper consisted of canned pasta, heated over a mini camping gas burner. Beth's equipment and supplies were well organized. Plenty of water, energy bars, dried fruit and some canned food — even a first aid kit. I was equally well kitted out, but in a completely different way. I had water, booze, bags of crisps, a couple of candles, massage oil, a big tube of Astroglide, and a battery-powered vibrator.
Like I said, I too, was prepared. We finished supper and snacks in the dark. I lit the four candles from my bag, and placed them around the sleeping area. The cabin was open-plan, built with mountain rocks, stones and treated lumber. It was solidly constructed, but didn't have much along the line of luxury or comfort. Still, it was better than a flimsy tent on a cold night. This place often had frost and snow in winter.
The night air became chilly very quickly after sunset. We moved our drinks inside and shut the door. I was eager to take my lesbian experience with Beth even further. We'd polished off a bottle of Spiced Gold together, before heading to the bed. Earlier on, we pushed the two steel framed beds together, and joined the legs in the middle with heavy-duty cable ties. Cable ties, guns and condoms were Beth's default travel essentials. Then came make up and underwear.
We got undressed and slipped into the insulated double-sleeping bag. The candle flames danced and flickered we kissed and caressed in our cocoon of warmth. Beth sucked on my breasts, then held a nipple between her teeth. The stab of pain only made my already moist pussy completely wet. Beth's fingers started probing my vagina, lubricated by my state of arousal. She moved her head downwards, towards my stomach, her tongue darting in and around my navel, then tracing a line towards my silky smooth mound.
Beth licked my clit, while fingering me at the same time. I was lost in pleasure. The alcohol stopped me from cumming, but I was enjoying myself too much to care. She carried on for a short while longer, then emerged from the sleeping bag. The skin around her lips glistened with my juices. I pulled her head towards me, my tongue darting into her mouth. I could taste my pussy on her tongue and lips. Beth fingered me harder, her pace increasing. Despite all the booze, I was convinced I could climax. The pleasure was building up like a tide coming in: slowly, steadily and completely unstoppable.
I was just about to come, saying: “Just a little more, not so fast… yes, there, fuck yes, yes! Ye-” when there was a loud 'thump' from somewhere outside the cabin.
At first I thought it was the wind, or those damn baboons — then I heard some muttered words. Beth heard the noises too, and immediately extinguished the candles. She grabbed the Mag Light in her left hand, and the.45 pistol in her right, while locking her wrists together. This allowed her to aim in the dark, using the cone of light as her target finder.
We waited and listened. It sounded like just one set of footsteps. I was in a panic. It was pitch dark outside, and the trail was treacherous at night. No normal hiker would be outside under these conditions, especially since there were two emergency huts further down the mountain. I was convinced we'd been followed. Our attention had been focused on the baboons the whole day, so we weren't looking out for potential human threats.
We heard gravel crunching near the front of the cabin. The intruder was going to try the door. Beth stood and faced the door, the torch aimed squarely at head height. “Jen, swing it open on as soon as the handle moves…” She whispered. The handle creaked and rotated. I flung the door open, landed on my back and rolled into a crouched position.
“Whoah!” shouted the intruder, “What the fuck?” It was a guy's voice — most likely Caucasian, and he sounded like he was from the southern suburbs… Cape Town residents have a whole bunch of different accents, even among the same race groups, depending on which area they grew up in. Just because he was a white guy, didn't make the situation any less threatening for me.
There were plenty of Grade-A psychopaths from all walks of life in the city, especially since the government decided to cut medical spending. They released the 'mostly harmless' psychiatric patients from the provincial institutions. Of course, they only stay harmless if they keep taking their meds. In Cape Town, you can make fairly decent money selling your prescription meds to dealers and addicts, assuming you don't smoke them yourself. That's why we overreacted. It was late, we were isolated, there was zero mobile phone coverage, no police station nearby, and no one knew where we were. And Cape Town is full of assholes.
Beth charged the guy, and brought her knee up into his stomach. He bent over and she hit him on the back of the neck with the torch. He collapsed onto the floor, breathing hard, but not saying anything. Beth passed me the Norinka and the Mag Light.
“Cover me,” she said. She was taking this rather well, all things considered. I was shaking with adrenaline and shock. I could hardly keep the gun straight, never mind actually aim properly. I kept my finger out of the trigger guard.
“Pass me some cable ties,” asked Beth. I fumbled in her bag and grabbed a handful of long black cable ties. She bound his hands and feet together, then dragged him to the bed and secured his wrists to the bed frame. She used a T-shirt as a gag, then stepped away and took the gun from me. She scouted outside, to make sure there weren't other attackers. Beth came back, closed the door and bolted it. The windows were too small to climb through, so if there was an attack, we only needed to defend the door. Besides which, if there was a gang out there, we had a hostage.
It was then that I realized I was still naked. I quickly put on a pair of shorts and a long sleeve top. Beth got dressed and sat next to me. She was calm, and already assessing the situation logically. Of course, dealing with potentially violent people was second nature to her, given her experience doing patrols along the West Bank and Gaza Strip.
I was still in shock, not sure what to make of it. Nothing really made sense. This was the 'off-season': January 10th — schools were open again, and businesses were in full operation. Students were too busy getting enrolled, or partying it up the city. It was unlikely that criminals would be lurking here. Unless, of course, he showed up here by sheer coincidence and bad luck, or he was some kind of serial rapist who'd been tracking us the whole day.
The second scenario seemed more believable to me at the time. Granted, I had a one-woman army as a companion, but as Leonardo DiCaprio once said: 'T.I.A.' This Is Africa. Which means anything is possible in Africa, no matter how fucked-up and unlikely it may seem to an outsider.
With the immediate threat over, Beth went over to interrogate our 'prisoner'. His eyes were bulging and he was trying to speak. “Calm down, I'm taking the gag off,” said Beth. He nodded. She removed the shirt that was tied around his head.
“Who the fuck are you? What are you doing here?” shouted Beth. She wanted to keep the upper hand, control the conversation. “It's not… what you think,” stammered the guy. I shone the torch into his face. He had longish blonde hair, bleached by the sun. “I got lost, I'm supposed to like, be at the Protea cabin,” he said. His hair, his tan, and his speech made me think he was a surfer or a hippie-type.
“Then why the fuck would you walk all the way up the fucking contour path, in the fucking dark, to this cabin?” demanded Beth.
He answered: “Nah, dude, it was those frikkin' monkeys. They stole my shit. I ran up the path, and kept running until I couldn't hear them. Then I was lost for a while. I figured I should rather go higher up, because this cabin is easier to find. And I didn't want to run into those baboons again.”
This made sense to me. I was starting to feel like we'd fucked up. “Do you have a permit,” asked Beth.
“Hey wow, yeah I got it still,” said the guy. “Check my back pocket. Fuckin' monkeys took all my space cakes. All I got is this stupid permit.” Sure enough, he had a permit for the trail, and for use of the Protea cabin. Technically, he had more right to be on the mountain than we did.
“Sorry I scared you, I wasn't like, expecting anyone else to be here,” he said. “You chicks hit pretty hard. My name's Brian. Brian DeWet. You can check me out on Facebook, and I got a blog about Dagga recipes too.”
I lit the candles and offered the guy a drink. He was still tied up, so I held the cup for him while he drank. Beth looked concerned. We were both thinking the same thing: he really didn't fit the criminal deviant profile, and besides, what potential rapist gets a permit for a hiking trail, and rocks up without so much as a knife, rope, or handcuffs? We felt like the bad guys here.
“So why are two all alone here tonight? Were you like, getting high?” Clearly, our prisoner was a weed fiend, and had a one-track mind. Again, the threat level was dropping, and we both felt more and more guilty. “We were just scared,” I said to Brian. “We had a rough day, and those fucking baboons gave us grief too. Twice. Beth shot at them.”
“Wow man, that's pretty intense, hey. You girls don't take shit,” he said. This was when his gaze shifted, to something glinting in the corner of the room. I'd knocked over stuff during the scuffle earlier on, and was too preoccupied to pick everything up again. I shone the torch into the corner, and illuminated the 8-inch long vibrator I'd brought along for the trip. It was pink and sparkly, with a rotating head.
“Oh, I see.. sorry for breaking up your fun tonight,” said Brian, grinning.
He seemed to be good-natured and genuine. After Jonathan, my 'Asshole Radar' got a major upgrade, and I was confident with my improved character judging ability. We'd presumed the worst earlier on, not even giving him a chance to explain, before assaulting him and holding him at gunpoint. Even Beth looked remorseful, despite the detachment that came with being a law student, and a former soldier.
This wasn't some Meth-head in a dark alley behind a Sea Point club, or a Palestinian insurgent with an IED hidden in his kid's school case. This was a nice, normal guy. He wasn't in the wrong at all.
We were wrong. We were the assholes. We had to make it up to him, right there, right then, the best way we knew how, with the best resources we had available.
We had to initiate a threesome.
I was still amped for sex, and with Brian seeing the vibrator, and knowing what we were doing there, the whole plan just made sense. I took Beth outside, and quietly plotted out the escapade. She was easily convinced by the plan's sheer awesomeness. I though the guy was kinda good-looking, with a nice build. I was pretty sure that by the time we were done, Brian wouldn't know what had hit him — for the second time that night!
We went in together. Beth took out her Gerber multi-tool, and clipped through the cable ties that bound Brian's legs together. She left his arms tied to the bed though. This was done partly because it made it more fun, and partly out of lingering safety concerns. Last thing we needed, was to find out he was faking his nice-guy routine.
Beth and I stood in front of Brian and stripped. I figured naked was better, since we didn't have any really hot-looking underwear with us. We took turns pouring Astroglide over our bodies, starting with our breasts, then thighs and asses. I lubed up my pussy, three fingers sliding in effortlessly. With my free hand, I shone the concentrated torch beam from the Mag Light onto my slick, smooth cunt. I spread my pussy lips, giving him a view of my eager, wet fuck hole.
Beth crawled on all fours towards Brian. She pulled his jeans and boxers down, as far as his ankles. He shuffled and kicked them off. She pulled his shirt over his head, then let it rest on his back. The bonds on his wrists prevented his shirt from coming off completely. He had amazingly nice shoulders and arms; they were strong-looking and deeply tanned. Beth trickled some lube around his balls and the base of his shaft. He was mostly hard already. By the time she finished working his shaft, he was as hard as the vibrator I had in my hand.
Beth licked his cock, slowly going up and down his shaft, and teasing his head. I lay back on the floor, my legs spread wide, and inserted the vibrator. I switched it on, and the head rotated slowly inside me, probing the full depth of my pussy. I arched back, raising my hips off the floor, driving the vibrator as deep as it could go.
I then sat upright, the vibrator still doing its thing, and watched Brian getting his fat, hard cock sucked. He was uncut and average length, but his cock was nice and thick. Like Cosmo keeps saying, 'girth is where it's at'. I wasn't fussed at the time. All I needed was hard cock inside me, but Beth wasn't planning on sharing right away. She reached up onto the bed, where her wallet lay near the pillow. She retrieved a string of high-grade condoms. That's one of the things with Beth. She doesn't mind condoms, as long as they aren't those cheap government-issue rubbers — the ones that the whores stock up on at the community clinics. The girl gets around, but she's got standards. Besides, not using condoms in a country with the highest infection rate in the world, is kinda stupid and suicidal.
Beth jammed her pillow behind Brian's back, between his body and the bed frame. She tore open the foil package and unrolled the condom onto Brian's eager, pulsing cock. She then straddled his legs and lowered herself onto his stiff pole, facing me. She let it go all the way in, then started grinding her hips. I leaned forward and pulled into her, my tongue deep in her mouth. She grabbed at my breasts, roughly groping them, pinching my nipples. I moved back and removed the vibrator from my wet twat. It glistened and shone in the light from the torch, which I'd positioned on top of my rucksack. I moved out the way, allowing the light to fall on Beth and Brian, while they fucked in an ever-faster rhythm.
Brian was getting ridden mercilessly; he lay back and bucked his hips in time with Beth's movements. I was inspired by our fisting session earlier that day, and poured extra lubrication onto the vibrator. I lay down over Brian's legs, and propped myself up on my elbows. I licked his balls and rubbed Beth's clit, as she slowed down her gyrations. Slowly, slowly I pushed the vibrator into her already-filled cunt. I took my time, making sure it could jam in there, pressed against Brian's big hard cock. I set it to the lowest frequency vibration. Beth squirmed and groaned.
“I'm gonna come!” exclaimed Brian. “NO! Not yet!” shouted Beth. I pulled out the vibrator, and Beth raised her hips, freeing the large cock from her stretched hole. I grabbed the torch and watched his cock intently, fully expecting him to come. I had reacted just in time, his cock was incredibly stiff and throbbing slightly, but he was just short of climaxing.
Beth got behind me and licked my pussy, pushing her tongue into my hole. I pressed two fingers hard against the muscles between Brian's balls and ass. I knew this would delay him coming long enough for me to ride his cock. I faced him, and lowered myself onto his cock. It slid right in. Beth stood in front of me, Brian's face buried in her ass. She opened her pussy with her fingertips, allowing my tongue to explore every part it. I rode Brian's cock, until he tapped my leg, saying breathlessly: “I'm gonna come! Can't hold back!”
I got off him in a heartbeat. Beth knelt down in front of and ripped the condom off. She placed his hard, throbbing cock between her lubricated, shiny, slippery boobs. The soft, huge breasts and the skin-on-skin contact was too much for him. His cock shot out messy, sticky ropes of cum. He was really excited, with cum squirting high enough to reach Beth's chin. She sat back, letting the cum drip down her neck, onto her breasts, where she rubbed it onto her nipples. I set the vibrator to maximum speed and pressed it up against my clit, climaxing moments later.
Beth cut the last cable ties, freeing our captive fuck-buddy. We collapsed on the bed together. I was way too wired-up to sleep, so I scratched around in my bag, and pulled three small rolled-up cellophane balls, each containing a gram of high-grade coke. We did lines, taking turns performing oral sex on each other. It was nothing too hectic, just slow, comfortable sucking, without any goals.
By the time the sun rose, the drugs were finished. Beth was sucking Brian's cock as the first rays came in through the tiny window. She stopped sucking him off, and leaned over to kiss me. She gave him a handjob, and after a minute, he shot a small load. She licked her fingers and polished his cock clean with her mouth and eager tongue.
She got up and rinsed her mouth out with rum.
“Let's get the fuck out of here, guys. Today's going to be a scorcher.”
Beth was quite right about that. We packed up and took Brian with us, making our way down the contour path before the heat of the morning could catch us. By noon, we reached the delicious coolness of the river and streams, between the canyons. The cold water kept us awake, as the coke wore off and our exhaustion set in. By late afternoon, we had one last short section of the trail ahead of us. We were about 10 minutes away from before the parking lot. Our adventure was drawing to a close, and we were sure nothing more could happen to us — until we rounded the last bend in the path.
There was a commotion to left of us, the sound coming from where a couple of tall trees grew, surrounded by large boulders and low bushes. We could see our baboon friends, lazing in the afternoon sun, content as all hell. Beth's hand automatically went for her Norinka, but the baboons made no attempt at stalking us. They just sat there on the rocks, and in the branches of the tree, chilling. One of the baboons had a remnant of Brian's hiking gear: an empty Tupperware container.
Brian chuckled and said: “Dagga cookies, man, dagga cookies.”
We walked on, leaving the baboons to enjoy the stolen space cakes. For a change, they were stoned in a good way.
We made our way back to our cars and drove to the city. I slept over at Beth's place. The extra drive to my apartment was too risky, because we'd been awake for 38 hours straight. We slept for a solid day. By Tuesday, things were back to normal. The routine of working, studying and partying, was in full swing.
Beth and I didn't become partners or regular lovers, but occasional tryst did occur at random times. I added Brian on Facebook, but we didn't pursue any kind of relationship. I didn't have much in common with him, and he lived on the other side of the peninsula. It just wasn't worth the effort.
On the outside, nothing much changed for me after that weekend's events. Inside, a lot has changed. I have decided to explore my sexuality more, push my boundaries, and not tie myself down to relationships that restrict me. I'm eager to experience new things in my sex life.
And I'm looking forward to my next adventure.