tagExhibitionist & VoyeurDancing Naked in the Rain

Dancing Naked in the Rain


"Bryan, you fucking asshole!"

It wasn't the first time I'd said it. It wouldn't be the last. 'Bryan, you fucking asshole!' had sort of become my mantra in the days since my now ex-fiancé had abandoned me at Quarry Gap in Pennsylvania. Ok, "abandoned" isn't really fair. But fuck fair, he's still an asshole.


We'd planned the trip for a year. We were going to thru-hike the entire Appalachian Trail from Mount Katahdin, Maine to Springer Mountain, Georgia and get married at the end of the trip. We thought six months alone together on the trail would bring us closer together. We made it almost halfway before the fight.

An early spring in New England meant that the trail was more crowded than we expected. Shelters were full and campsites were tight. We met a lot of friendly people though. We'd drift along the trail with one group of hikers or another for a few days at a time. Along the way I picked up the trail name "Springer Mountain Bride" and they called Bryan "Captain Spreadsheet" because of his compulsively organized itinerary.

It was a great social life with great people, but made it tough to get alone-time. As we worked our way south, the weather grew hot and the crowds thinned out. Bryan and I finally got the quiet solitude we were looking for. I made the mistake of thinking it might be fun to test our boundaries a bit.

It started outside of Harrisburg. We had gotten an early start and were ahead of schedule, so I convinced Bryan to turn off the trail at Center Point Knob and take a short side-hike up to White Rocks Vista. It was the last week of August and the weather was hot and muggy, but on the way up, we passed a spring and filled our bottles with ice-cold water.

At the overlook, Bryan and I dropped our packs and sat down to catch our breath and admire the scenery. Eventually, Bryan got up to take some pictures for our trip blog, but I was feeling frisky. With the hot weather, it had been almost two months since we'd shared a sleeping bag—a girl has needs, y'know.

I peeled off my tank top and sports bra but the still air did nothing to cool me down, so I decided to sacrifice a bottle of water to the cause. I poured the cold spring water slowly over my shoulders and let it run down my chest. I gasped as the icy rivulets caressed my bare breasts and caused my nipples to pucker. The water soaked into my shorts cooling my nethers, and ran down my legs.

All too soon, the bottle was empty. I closed my eyes and sighed, savoring the coolness on my bare skin while I could. I let the bottle drop from my fingers.

"What are you doing!?"

I turned to see Bryan staring at me aghast.

"Cooling down," I replied, walking towards him with my shoulders back and a seductive swing in my hips. "And then maybe heating up again." I reached for his crotch to see if I could coax his cock to come out and play.

"Stop that," he snapped, pushing my hand away. "Put your clothes back on. Someone will see you."

"But there's no one around for miles," I purred. I spread my arms wide, felt my tits pull tighter against my chest, and spun in a slow circle

"You don't know that."

"I checked, silly. It's Tuesday." I brushed a hand against his cheek. "No local's are going to be out in a little state park on a Tuesday, and no other thru-hikers will come out here this late in the day. C'mon, play with me!" I made an attempt to pull up the hem of his T-shirt, but he backed away.

"There could be a ranger. There could be people down there right now watching you with binoculars. Will you please put your clothes back on." He tried to hand me my bra and tank top, but instead I made a show of opening the front of my wet shorts and pushing them to my ankles along with my panties, leaving my yearning vag glistening in the sun.

"C'mon Captain Spreadsheet. Don't you want to take your Bride on top of a mountain?" It was a little awkward stepping out of my pants with hiking boots on, but I managed it.

"You can look out over Pennsylvania while you pound your big, hot dick into my wet pussy." Fully naked now, I walked towards him again and ran a finger up my moist slit, shivering as I brushed against my swelling clit.

"You can feel the breeze on your balls when you jizz on my tits." I turned and bent over an outcropping of rock, bracing my hands.

"You can make me cum until I scream and no one will hear." I spread my legs to let him know where I wanted him and gave my tits a little jiggle.

"Don't you want to fuck me, Bryan?" I urged, giving him my best cum-hither look.

"No—don't be disgusting."



That was the beginning of the end. For two days, tempers flared back and forth. Words like "slut" and "prude" and "perverse" and "boring" were used. We were pretty awful to each other. At Quarry Gap, Bryan finally suggested that we just call off the rest of the trip, hitch into Fayetteville, and find a way to get home. I called him a coward and a quitter.

That night I slept in our tent and he slept in the three-sided log-cabin shelter with a troop of boy scouts. When I woke up in the morning Bryan was gone.

I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of following him. I broke camp by myself, packed up, and prepared to hit the trail solo. But first, I cut a bit of utility cord, tied it around my engagement ring, and hung it by the shelter in case Bryan came back.

Bryan, you fucking asshole. You fucking bailed on me. I've been dreaming of this trip for longer than I've known you. I shared that dream with you. You don't get to take it with you. I am finishing my adventure without you.

I let my rage fuel me and pushed hard for Deer Lick shelter, the next stop on our itinerary. I was making really great time, although I was a bit of a bitch to everyone I met on the trail.

Around lunchtime I was ready to take a break and refuel. Tumbling Run shelter was just up ahead and should have been a good place to rest. As I came up on the shelter clearing through the woods, I could hear voices up ahead of me. I wasn't ready to deal with people yet, but fuck it, it was time to stop.

As I rounded a bend in the trail, a shelter cabin appeared through the trees. There was movement and I saw people. And then I stopped short with a gasp.

They were naked. They were fucking.

I was less than 10 yards away when I spotted them, out in the open on a picnic table under the simmering noonday sun. Their attention was too focused on each other to notice me. My attention was too focused on them to even think about moving.

They were both young—college students maybe. She was black, with skin the color of espresso, and he was pale white with a hint of sunburn. He took her from behind, her knees on the picnic table bench and her body supported by her elbows on the table. The contrast of their skin tones pressed together was startlingly erotic.

She was tall and athletic, with round tits, toned muscles, and wide hips that he clung to doggedly. He was lean and rangy with shaggy, blonde hair and a marathon runner's build. Her loose curls were bound together in a shoulder-length ponytail. He wore a scruffy goatee, but otherwise both of their bodies were shaved smooth and sheened in sweat. His chest was bare; his running shorts were down around his ankles. Both of them still wore expensive trail running shoes, but otherwise she was nude, her clothes tossed carelessly on the table.

From where I stood, half concealed by trees, I could see his ass and thighs flex with every thrust. I could see her hanging tits sway back and forth every time his hips jolted her ass. I could hear her gasp and cry out as he pumped his cock deep into her body.

"Ughn!... Yes!... Give it to me, baby!... Fuck that pussy hard... Ah! Yeah!... Make me feel every inch... every inch of that dick... So fucking deep, baby... Mmmph!"

His pale fingers dug into the ebony flesh around her waist. With his other hand, he reached forward and grabbed at one of her heavy tits. This leaned him forward, off balance on his toes. He lost the leverage he needed to fuck her properly so she picked up the slack, slowly working her ass up and down as his hips pressed steadily into her.

"God you're so fucking tight... I love the way your hungry little pussy feels on my cock!" he hissed into her ear.

With one hand she reached back between her legs and caressed his nuts, rolling his pale pink sack between her ebony fingers.

"I love it too, baby!... I love that dick in me... Oh God... Sun on my skin and dick in my pussy... This is heaven, baby... I wanna die on this dick..."

It was the most lewd and erotic thing I'd ever seen and I so badly wanted to be her. I wanted to be that bold and that passionate. I wanted to feel my tits swinging free in the air and squeezed in his grip. I wanted to feel my cunt stuffed full of hot cock meat. I wanted his hips slapping against my ass, and his firm balls in my fingers.

I tucked a hand down into my shorts and found my swollen clit, slick and begging for attention. I gasped at my own touch, then bit my lip and prayed they hadn't heard.

"Oh!... Oh!... Uhn!... Deeper!... Ahn!... Fuck me deeper!... Ungh!... I want it all!... Ugnh!... Make it hurt, baby!... AH!... Make me scream!"

He was back on his feet, ramming his cock into her in long strokes, pulling out slowly to nearly the head, and then slamming everything back in deep and hard. She was madly rubbing her clit, crying out in pleasure and pain every time his shaft pushed the limits of her depth just a little bit further.

"You want it to hurt, you little cock-slut? I can make it hurt..."

He smacked her ass hard and she yelped, more in surprise than in pain. He grabbed a handful of her sable hair, yanked her head back and redoubled his effort to drive his cock all the way through her body.

"Ah!... Yes!... Fuck me faster now!... Yeah!... Yeah!... Faster!... Oh God, baby... Just like that!... I'm gonna cum... Ah!... Ah!... Ah!... I'm... gonna... cum... on... your... dick... Uhn!... Uhn!... Uhn!"

Her fingers were a flurry on her clit, while he hammered his cock into her. My own fingers were furiously working my clit and digging for my G-spot, but my damn shorts were too tight. With one hand I managed to free my pack's hip belt and open my shorts, but I was afraid to move too much and draw their attention.

"Oh... my... God... I'm... gonna... I'm... cumming!..."

Her arms shuddered and she collapsed on the table, her dark breasts pressed flat under her chest. Her hand clutched at the sun-warmed wood and a long, trembling groan of ecstatic release escaped through her clenched teeth.

He held onto her hips and her hair and continued to pound her cunt like a machine, driving her through her orgasm, giving her frazzled nerves no chance to relax. Her orgasm went on and on and left her helpless to participate, quivering and delirious. Watching his muscles move under the pale skin of his chest and arms and legs, it was like watching him jerk off with her spent and satiated body.

God, I wanted that orgasm. I wanted that languid feeling of post-fuck bliss. I stifled a whimper in the hot, stagnant air as I rubbed my clit raw trying to push myself to the same place she was.

"I'm gonna cum..." he growled, and pulled his cock out of her.

The pale shaft glistened with her fuck-juice in the scorching sun. She recovered enough to roll over and slide down to the bench. Sitting in front of him, she grabbed his cock and together they stroked his shaft until he erupted with a gasp.

Jets of thick, white jiz sprayed across her ebony chest, and dribbled down her firm tits. The contrast of white cream on black skin was obscenely beautiful.

Bryan, you fucking asshole! That could have been us. Instead you left me on my own to try to cum... want to cum... desperately need to cum... Oh GOD why can't I cum!?

Then suddenly there was a bell.

A north-bound hiker with a bear bell clipped to his pack hadn't reached the shelter clearing yet, but would appear through the trees at any moment.

The couple at the picnic table looked up, startled, brought back to the real world too quickly from their orgasmic reverie. He yanked his shorts up while she pulled a sports bra over her cum-spattered tits. He held open her shorts while she madly pushed her legs into them, disregarding her underwear. They grabbed whatever was left and turned in my direction.

Oh God, Oh God, I fumbled and failed to close my shorts with sticky slick fingers as they saw me. The guy looked down at the damp crotch of my askew panties and grinned sheepishly without making eye contact. But she looked right at me. She smiled, unconcerned about the cum-stains showing through her blue sports bra. She winked as she passed.

And then they disappeared, running up the trail the way I had come.

In a stupor I stumbled to the picnic table. The aroma of their fuck-break dissipated slowly in the still air, and a slick outline of her open vag was drying into the wooden bench.

I badly needed to get off—to feel a release of all this tension that had been building over the last couple of days. But the bell kept ringing and a moment later a crew of four hikers emerged through the trees.

"Howdy!" the woman in the lead called. "Mind if we join you?"

"Uh, no... No, I was... I was just leaving." I managed to reply, while buckling my hip belt.

"You heading south?"

"Yep." I called back over my shoulder, desperate to not be caught up in a conversation. I knew I was being a bitch, but I had too many raw emotions to try to fake civility.

Antietam shelter was only another mile or so ahead. I was hungry but I needed the walk to clear my head. My ex-fiancé had called me 'disgusting' for wanting to try exactly what I had just witnessed. It left my head spinning. My stream of consciousness was more like a raging torrent, and I didn't even try to contain it. I just let it flow over me and before I knew it, I was at Antietam.

I unlimbered my pack, tossed it on the picnic table, and pulled out my meal bags to find some lunch. That's when I discovered my big problem.

When we restock, Bryan and I split the food evenly, so I should have had enough food to last just myself until the next mail-drop. But as I looked over my supplies, I realized that Bryan must have been cooking from my pack first. Probably some misguided attempt at chivalry to make my pack lighter sooner. Under other conditions, I could have probably forgiven him, but now I'm left with only four full meals and three days until I resupply. Bryan, you fucking asshole, I'm going to be hungry until Harper's Ferry.

While I ate about half the lunch I had been looking forward to, I took inventory. Of our shared equipment, I had the camp stove, but he had the fuel canisters. Once the current can runs out, I'd be cooking on a fire or eating cold. He also had the first aid kit, the clean-up kit, and the solar charger. I'd better send my folks a text before my battery is gone.

I had the water filter, the repair kit, and even though we usually split it between us, the whole tent. It wasn't great, but it could be worse. I'd be hungry and dirty with no phone until Harper's Ferry but at least I could keep going.

With inventory taken, I set off again but I was still a wreck emotionally. My rage-driven pace of the morning slowed to a sort of shell-shocked meander. I moved forward without really walking, just sort of drifting along the trail, unconscious of everything and everyone I passed. The protein bars I'd had for lunch left me hungry for more and the gnawing in my stomach had to compete with the ache in my heart and the unsatisfied yearning in my shorts. Somehow I managed to keep it together and pushed on until I reached the Deer Lick shelter a little before sunset.

It was empty. In the gloaming twilight I suddenly felt very alone and very vulnerable. Bryan, you fucking asshole, you left me all alone out here.

Alone in the woods in the dark, I was both terrified and numb.

I unrolled my sleeping bag in one of the two shelters; I treated a blister with a bit of duct tape because Bryan took the first aid kit; I ate a cold dinner because Bryan took all the stove fuel; I rinsed off with cold water because Bryan took the soap; and I went to bed alone. All alone. As I lay awake, every snap and rustle in the woods was a new terror in my raw imagination.

I tried to sleep, but my mind was a dervish of conflicting thoughts and emotions.

I tried to masturbate, but I couldn't focus on anything arousing.

I tried to cry, but I just felt dead inside. Bryan, you fucking asshole.

Somehow, morning dawned.

A small, besieged part of me that still wanted to carry on managed to get up and on the trail. Today would be a long a day—23 miles to Pine Knob. As I trudged along the trail, stomach growling and eyelids heavy, I started to think about quitting. Maybe I would just bail at Harper's Ferry—try again another year with someone else.

Somehow I managed to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I'd decided to use the last of my stove fuel for half of a hot dinner tonight. I had a pouch of freeze-dried Jamaican jerk chicken with rice—one of my favorites. I'd eat half tonight and save half for breakfast.

It was late afternoon when I rolled into Pine Knob. The day had been hot and muggy again, and gathering clouds overhead threatened rain. Four others hikers were there ahead of me, preparing their dinner at the picnic table. They had a campfire built.

Still in no mood to be social, I just waved hello, tossed my pack in the shelter, and found a flat piece of ground away from the others to cook my dinner. My stomach was growling after a meager breakfast and lunch, but I just needed to boil two cups of water for the chicken and rice I'd been looking forward to all day. The stove claimed it could boil two cups of water in about two minutes.

Ninety second later the stove sputtered and died, the last of the fuel canister spent.

That was it. That was the last straw. I collapsed on my ass and I cried. Bryan, you fucking asshole, how could you do this to me?

I probably sat there on the ground sobbing for as much time as it should have taken to boil two damn cups of water, when a hand touched my shoulder and a gentle voice said "S'cuse me, but... you look like you could use some trail magic," and he handed me a can of beer.

Beer! On the Appalachian Trail—where every ounce you carry makes a difference—some idiot had actually hauled a can of beer all the way up here! The absolute unexpected absurdity of it caught me so off guard that I actually laughed and cried at the same time.

I looked at the can in my hand. I looked at him. I looked back at the can in disbelief. I sobbed and I laughed and I asked "Why... Why the hell... do you have... beer out here?... And what the hell is... 'National Bohemian'?"

He sat down next to me and smiled—a strong smile with an easy confidence that suggested he wouldn't take it personally if I told him to fuck off.

"Natty Boh—the pride of Baltimore," he answered reaching over to crack the can open. I took a sip. It wasn't ice cold, but it was cool enough. It was crisp, but also corny, thin, and watery. Meh.

"Really? You're proud of this?" I wiped a tear away and took a swallow.

"Well," he shrugged, "whenever I pack Heavy Seas, it always turns into a fight about ales vs lagers vs pilsners. It's just easier to pack a case of Natty Boh so everyone agrees."

"You carried a whole case up here?" I asked incredulously, taking another swallow.

He wasn't handsome in any conventional way, but he had a rugged, unkempt kind of appeal. His eyes were blue and his wavy hair was dark and his features were swarthy and vaguely mediterranean. He had an average build, like a guy who got to the gym often enough to keep from going to pot, but didn't obsess about it.

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