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The Great Outdoors Ch. 01

By: andy_charles



Tales From Sechs City -- welcome to Sechs City, a wealthy, middle-class costal area of Western America in the state of California. A gorgeous, quiet largely uneventful place, people move to the city to follow their dreams, to live their day-to-day lives. It's almost too perfect to be true...

Time seemed to be working against Liz Seymour. Every time she glanced up at the clock on the wall of her office she could have sworn that the minute hand was ticking at least three seconds slower than usual. There were eight minutes to go -- eight long, slow, painfully boring minutes -- before freedom. 

It didn't help matters that today had been an unusually slow Friday afternoon for Sechs Solicitors. Liz had managed to get all of her work as a PA done well before lunch time, and now all she could really do was send one or two emails to various clients for her boss, who had taken the opportunity to leave work early and play nine holes at Sechs City's golf club, Rabbit Meadows. Liz had smiled politely as he had left, all the while thinking bitterly, 'Bastard, bastard, bastard!'

The afternoon sunshine flooded through the large wide window of the third floor office, and Liz saw grains of dust dancing in the bright yellowness of it. This did nothing to help her boredom and growing frustration. Now there were seven minutes left. Why did she have to be such a dutiful assistant? Why oh why couldn't she have had the guts to get up and go when she should of, when her boss had left? 

She sighed and, for the hundredth time that hour, opened her email inbox on her flat screen computer. The usual same old same old: business correspondences; memos from current clients; requests for more information from possible candidates. Add to that the spam that was sent by the thousands on a daily basis and you had yourself a pretty unspectacular inbox.

Except, of course, for the emails from Artie. These were saved in their very own special little folder, and Liz often opened this when she felt depressed or work was dragging her down. There was often a new addition daily, sometimes even two. Throughout the folder you could make a kind of history of their relationship, from his first slightly hesitant email two days after they had first met, through to the slightly naughtier memories of their first nights together, and to the surprise request to meet him in their favourite restaurant, Alesandros, which led to him getting down on one knee and proposing in the sweetest, most wonderful way any girl could ask for.

From then on the emails took a distinct wedding-planning feel before they started being headed as 'For the attention of Mrs Seymour' and, finally, through to today's message:

'Happy First Anniversary Mrs Seymour! Here's to the next year...and the one after that...and the one after that! See you tonight! XXXX'

A year. They had been married a whole year. Sometimes it was hard to take in properly. It seemed like only yesterday that Liz had been sitting in the back seat of a gorgeous classic Aston Martin in her beautiful cream wedding dress, her long wavy brown hair tied in an intricate bow, her father sitting next to her and squeezing her hand tightly, the proudest smile she had ever seen on his lips. The nerves had never kicked in until that very moment, just before they arrived at the church. Thank god she'd stayed in that car instead of jumping out of it as she had fantasised about then. Marrying Artie had been a decision she had never regretted.

Padded footsteps behind her, the faint whiff of a familiar perfume of lavender and the feel of a pair of hands with bright red fingernails squeezing her shoulders playfully told Liz instantly that Inga wanted to chat. She looked up from her computer and smiled as her friend and co-worker sat down on the desk beside her, long slender legs crossed, her feet in smart black stiletto heels. 

"So you all packed?" Inga asked, smiling. There was always a sense of mischief in that smile and those pretty features that was sure to be acted on sooner rather than later. Liz had learnt that very early on in their friendship. 

"Yes," Liz replied, sitting back in her office chair. "Just one or two little things left -- lotion, toiletries -- but apart from that, I'm all ready. Are you?" 

She knew what the answer was going to be; half of her wondered why she'd asked the question at all. "Nope. But don't worry, I'll sort it out tonight with a bottle of white wine. Just what every girl wants to do on a Friday evening."

"Oh? Paul not coming round?"

Inga sighed. "No, he's got some serious studying to do. It's partly my fault really. I've been distracting him a little too much recently. I told him that we'll be seeing so much of each other the next few days that tonight he should take the opportunity to do some actual work."

There was something that Inga wasn't telling Liz. She raised an inquisitive eyebrow, silently encouraging her to continue.

"Actually," her friend eventually said, a little slower, "I've been meaning to talk to you about that. I don't think it's going to last."

"What?" asked Liz, a little shocked. "Why?"

"I don't know. I guess...I guess I've been having those feelings again, you know? When it gets kind of stale? I'm too comfortable. I don't like it."

"But you two are so good together," protested Liz. "Artie and I thought it was going really well! You seemed so happy."

Inga started to fiddle with a strand of her long chestnut brown hair, which was slightly shorter than Liz's. "I was. I am. But I don't think I will be for much longer. I gotta listen to my feelings. You understand, right?"

Oh yes. Liz knew all about Inga's 'feelings'. It was typical of her friend to do this when a relationship started to get serious. She and Paul had been going out for a good five months now. Liz was actually not that surprised that they were having this conversation; she was more saddened. 

"Well, I understand," she said, sitting upright. "But will Paul?"

Inga shrugged and jumped off Liz's desk. "He'll have to. But look, I'm not going to ruin the big trip for you and Husband Dearest, okay? I'll wait until we're back home before breaking the bad news. Just don't tell Artie, okay? This is just between us girls."

Liz sighed. "Okay, sure."

"Great," said Inga, smiling again. "So what you got planned for tonight? A nice long bout of Anniversary Sex?"

Liz had been Inga's friend long enough not to be shocked by her openness, but she still blushed a little. "Actually, if you must know, we're going to Alessandro's for a meal."

"Ah! The scene of the crime where you were taken away from all those gorgeous guys we used to flirt with in clubs! Well, enjoy. Think of me when you're stuffing your face with fine food or delicious wine or Husband Dearest's cock..."

"I'll try not to," replied Liz quickly, blushing again and glancing over at the clock. Two minutes. Surely she could escape now without feeling too guilty?

As Inga blew her a kiss and started to walk back towards her own desk, Liz asked her, "Inga? You sure about this? You and Paul, I mean."

"Always," Inga replied, a sad sort of smile on her face.

*****

The afternoon sun was beating down on Sechs City as Liz left the tall office block and started to make her way through the busy streets towards the Subway. As she walked her spirits lifted higher and higher. She was bursting with happiness. If she was in a musical this would be the place to burst into song. 

The weather was forecast to be as good as this, if not better, over the weekend at least. Perfect camping weather. It brought back memories of childhood; the last time Liz had gone camping was when she had been twelve years old with her family. The weather had been just like this all week long, and it had been the best holiday she would have right up until her honeymoon with Artie in Jamaica. 

It was still hard to believe that those wonderful beaches, that gloriously warm sea, had only been a year ago. Time went by so quickly. Well, it did usually. Today had been like a slow torture just waiting for this glorious feeling of freedom and excited anticipation all rolled into one. 

Liz knew that she was very lucky with the whole holiday, let alone the weather. The nearest place for camping was Pleasant Peaks National Park, just outside of Sechs City. This was where having contacts in the right areas helped. After a couple of years of trying to make it as a doctor, Paul Taylor, who Artie had known from childhood and was still one of his closest friends, had decided to follow his love of the outdoors to become a Park Ranger. He was close to passing the final exams too, and was guaranteed a position at Pleasant Peaks, Liz was sure of it. He was a very intelligent, capable and warm human being; anyone who had been a friend of Artie's for as long as Paul had would have to be like that.

As Liz walked down the concrete steps with the masses, down into the dim and rather stuffy atmosphere of the Sechs City Subway, thinking of Paul made her remember the conversation she and Inga had had. It really was a shame that Inga felt the relationship had to end. Liz knew it was bound to cause problems. Though Paul was one of her closest friends, Inga had the distinct honour of being her first proper friend in Sechs City. The two women had started on the same day and bonded over a lunch of fresh salad at a diner nearby. They were both a similar age -- Liz twenty-seven, Inga twenty-six, and both shared the same interests in rock music and bad chick films. 

Inga knew Sechs City better than her own back hand, and so had taken it upon herself to show Liz around that very first week. Liz was really a country girl; her parents still lived on the small farm that she and her elder brother had grown up on. The city was relatively new and nerve-racking. But Inga had quelled those nerves and taught her all the best places to go to eat, to drink, to dance and, of course, to date. At the time Inga was far more interested than Liz was in the last of these, but a few weeks later, in a crowded sports bar, Liz had had the rather good fortune to bump into Paul and spill his drink down his top. 

The rest, as they say, was history. Liz spent the next two months switching between Inga for fun nights out and Paul for more serious, romantic evenings. He'd charmed her very socks off. Soon, of course, more would follow, and Liz couldn't help a small smile and shifting a little in the pale seat she had somehow managed to grab on the subway train as it moved through the three stations she needed to pass before home. 

She only wished that Inga could be so lucky. She'd seen her friend go through various relationships, some no longer than a week, and a hell of a lot of one night stands. And, of course, Liz heard all about them in rather more graphic detail than she had been used to from her friends back home. It wasn't that Liz was naïve; she just knew what she liked, thank you very much. 

But what was wrong with Paul? It was a dangerous relationship to begin, Liz supposed. It would certainly make parties a little difficult. Artie would naturally invite Paul, Liz would bring Inga. Would it be too uncomfortable? Paul was pretty easy going most of the time, and he'd certainly had no problem with finding a date. Would it make things awkward? 

Liz tried to push the thoughts to the back of her mind. She had to concentrate on tonight, and what a brilliant evening it was going to be, and then the weekend and the camping and being close to Artie. It was going to be fantastic.

She arrived at her apartment block and, feeling energetic with all the positive energy flowing through her body, quickly made her way up the four flights of stairs to her floor and her and Artie's home. She didn't need to unlock the front door to enter; her parents had arrived earlier in the day and were going to be looking after the place while she and Artie were away. 

When Liz entered the first thing she saw was her father dressed casually in a short sleeve shirt and plain shorts sitting on the sofa, a half-empty bottle of cold beer in one hand, the TV remote in the other. He was watching baseball highlights and chuckling at something one of the pitchers had just done.

"Hey there, butterfly," he greeted her warmly with the pet name he'd given her since she was seven. "How was work?"

"Long. Dull. Pointless," she replied, kissing him on the forehead. "You and Mom find everything okay? Got the parking forms?"

"Of course we did. It wouldn't have mattered if we hadn't anyway. Artie came home about half an hour after we arrived."

Liz's heart leapt. Artie had been in New York City for three days working on a deal for the bank he worked for. He had been one of the lucky few whose skin had been saved from the current crisis simply because of his talents as a deal negotiator. His boss had always told Liz at Christmas parties that Artie could have been as good a hostage negotiator as he was in business. 

"Great. Mom in the kitchen?"

"You know she is," her father replied. "Liz? I hope he's not taking that cell phone attachment thing with him, Artie I mean. He's leaving it here, right?"

"That's what we agreed," said Liz, picking up the two boring looking pieces of mail for her that was on the small dining table behind the sofa. "The both of us: no work calls, no work talk, no work period. Just relaxation all the way."

"Good. 'Cos I gotta tell ya, he was fixed onto that thing almost the second he walked through the door. It's not his fault; it just kept ringing and ringing. He tried his best to ignore it, but in the end it was driving me crazy so I told him to go ahead and answer it."

He was talking to the television now. Liz smiled. Nothing much had changed with her father. He was still the same person he had been when she was a little girl.

The same could definitely be said for her mother too. There she was, her back to the open door in the small kitchen, her apron tied around her smart flowery dress, peeling a large potato in the sink. Liz felt for a moment like she had travelled back in time, as if she was a schoolgirl coming back home for the day to delicious smells of pies baking and jams bubbling. 

"Hey, Mom," she greeted, resting herself against the doorframe.

Her mother looked up and beamed at her. "Back from the rat races?"

"Nothing quite as thrilling as that," Liz said, smiling. "Didn't take you long to get settled, did it?"

"I'm quite glad I did," replied her mother. "When was the last time you used this potato peeler? It was buried so far down the drawer I felt like I was looking for buried treasure."

Liz shrugged. "We do try to cook something every week, Mom, but we've just been so busy lately. And when Artie's away I don't really feel like fixing something up just for myself."

"Don't tell me you live off take-aways all the time?"

"No, Mom. Hardly ever, actually. It's more like Microwave meals."

Her mother shook her head. "Some of those are even worse, you know. The calories and the salt..."

"Okay, Mom," said Liz, annoyed now. Immediately she felt guilty. Her mother hadn't reacted to the slight outburst, but she knew that this was a woman who hid her emotions deep down inside. Artie often said that Liz had inherited this characteristic. She thought he was just kidding her around.

"I'm sorry, Mom," she said softly, walking into the kitchen and embracing her with a tight hug. ""It was just a really boring day at work and...well, I heard some pretty bad news so..."

"What bad news?" asked her mother, interrupting her.

"Don't worry, nothing to do with me. It was Inga, that's all."

"Oh, well, she seems to get into so many scrapes I sometimes think she's immune to them. What she needs is a good man, like you have. That's what Inga needs."

'That's what I thought she had,' thought Liz sadly, but she didn't say this to her mother. It would have started a whole different conversation that she didn't really want to get into now. "Artie around?" she asked instead.

"He said he was going to your bedroom to finish packing," replied her mother as she started to peel the white potato again. "Not sure what else he could need -- his suitcase was already fit to bulging when he arrived!"

Liz smiled and walked out of the kitchen, down the small hallway and into the master bedroom. There, sure enough, with his shirt unbuttoned showing off his smooth bare chest, and smart grey trousers, was Artie, folding some t-shirts and laying them neatly on top of their large double bed. He looked up as she entered and grinned widely, holding his arms out to catch her as she ran towards him. He squeezed her tightly as she breathed in the tangy musk of aftershave on his skin and the faint trace of shampoo in his short blonde hair that told her he'd just got out of the shower. 

"Well, this is a warm welcome," he said as he kissed the top of her head and her brown hair. 

"Shut up and kiss me," she demanded cheekily.

He willingly obliged and kissed her fully on the mouth. Even now his lips on hers still sent tingles down her spine, and his tongue on hers still sent tingles down even further. 

They broke apart and gazed into each other's eyes -- his warm sparkles, her wide chestnuts. 

"Happy Anniversary," he said softly.

"Right back at you," Liz replied, placing her head back on his warm chest and closing her eyes contentedly. "How was the Big Apple?"

"Insane. Noisy. But spectacular, too. I'll take you someday."

"It's a date. Just not this weekend. I've kinda been looking forward to it."

Artie chuckled. "I should hope so too. It was your suggestion after all."

Liz lifted her head up and looked into his eyes again. "You say that like it's a bad thing," she teased. "What's the matter? Not the outdoors type?"

"What can I say? I'm frightened of fresh air."

Liz laughed, kissed him hard right in the middle of the chest and sat herself down on the bed, glancing over to the window where the bright afternoon sunshine was slowly starting to fade into a soft evening glow. 

"Your folks brought everything you requested, by the way," Artie said pointedly as he started to button up his shirt. It was a smart white one with faint blue lines running down it. 

Liz's parents had brought with them every last piece of camping equipment that they owned for Liz and Artie to use. There were two heavy looking brown bags full of the stuff resting along the doors of their wardrobe. 

"Oh god, I completely forgot to thank them. Today's just been so crappy..."

"Rough day at work?"

"More like unbelievably-boringly-slower-than-death day, but yeah."

Artie finished the last button on his shirt and took his beautiful wife's hand, stroking it lightly with his thumb. It was exactly the way he had held it a year ago today in front of that altar. He knew she would probably be thinking the same thing too, but he wondered if she had ever thought that he might be remembering these things. Over the years he had proven, he hoped, to be a really romantic, sentimental person, and it made him grin like a madman thinking of how he still had a whole lifetime to try and outdo himself at every possible occasion. Tonight would be no different.

"So why don't you get that gorgeous butt of yours in the shower, and get even more pretty while I talk to your folks and then we'll head off to the restaurant?"

Now it was Liz's turn to smile widely. "Sounds like a plan!" she said. "Oh, and in case you didn't know, my dad's watching baseball, so..."

"I know, I know," Artie assured her. "Don't mention the Yankees. I got it."

Liz smiled and stood up. "I love you," she whispered, kissing him on the lips again.

"And I love you too. Now get into that shower quick or else you'll clear out the whole of Alesandros with that horrible smell."

"What horrible smell exactly?"


The Great Outdoors Ch. 01



"Inga's perfume. God, how much does that woman wear?"

*****

The evening was really starting to settle as the two of them left the apartment block. Alesandros was twenty minutes walk away from where they lived, but it was such a lovely evening, and neither of them felt particularly rooting to travel in the sweaty, stuffy Subway.

Artie had added to his shirt and trousers a simple grey jacket, with no tie and his top button undone. He felt relatively cool in this outfit and also quite stylish. He'd never been particularly fashion conscience, but he had grown up in a society where looking good was an important character trait, and so he grudgingly made the effort whenever he was out in town to keep at least one eye on the clothes stores. 

In his mind, though, there was no question that Liz looked absolutely stunning. She was wearing a tight black cocktail dress that hugged her body in all the right places. It went down to just above her knees, and her smooth bare legs ended in a pair of simple black heels. 

Glancing at his wife now made Artie remember how beautiful she'd looked the first time he'd met her, even in the old t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans that she had been wearing. She looked good in anything. 

The trouble was she never believed him when he told her. Though her confidence was better than it had been when they first started going out (and the dress she was wearing tonight was undeniable proof of that), Liz had never been comfortable with showing off a lot of her body. Even on their honeymoon in Jamaica, on those sandy beaches, she had insisted on wearing a one piece rather than a bikini like all the other beautiful women were sunbathing in. 

She had changed a little, Artie knew that, mainly because of his persistent claims that she was knock dead gorgeous and that any man who saw her would get a hard on in seconds. She kept herself trim and fit with the gym membership she had been given by Inga as a wedding present. (It had seemed a slightly odd gift to give, but then Inga was a slightly odd girl). Her breasts were gorgeous: firm, round, large 40Ds. They seemed to stretch the dress she was wearing tonight out perfectly, leaving enough to the imagination but also appearing entirely decent. As they walked, Artie tried to glance casually at the thin black straps of the dress, to see if they were hiding another pair. They weren't. Normally this would have meant that Liz was wearing a strapless bra, but the dress looked too tight for anything else to be worn underneath it, apart from of course panties. Liz would never even leave the bedroom without at least something covering her gorgeous ass.

They reached Alesandros and made their way inside, where they were surprised to find it some what quieter then they had been expecting for a Friday evening. They were welcomed warmly by the head waiter who recognised them immediately and shown to their favourite booth, which was in a secluded area of the room. Artie immediately ordered two glasses of champagne and they toasted their first happy year together as a married couple. 

Artie was a little disappointed by the lack of other eaters. He liked to eat out in loud, vibrant places where there was a lot of chatter or a good band playing. This had really been Liz's choice to come back to. Originally Artie had offered her three possible candidates for their anniversary meal: Alesandros, a new Sushi Bar or a highly-recommended Chinese Restaurant. 

But Liz had looked at him as if he were mad and said, "Alesandros, of course. Every time." 

The menus were handed to them and they studied them closely. Artie was pleased to see that there were some new additions. 

"The fish soup looks good," he said, pointing it out to Liz on her own menu. "What do you think? Should we have a bowl between us?"

But Liz wrinkled her nose slightly. "I don't know. They're still doing that salad starter I love. I might just go for that."

"You have that every single time we come here. Wouldn't you rather have something different?"

Liz looked at the photograph of the soup again. "I'm tempted," she said finally. "It does look good. But...no, I think I'm going to stick with the usual. After all, it's what I was eating when you proposed to me."

Artie closed his menu. "Okay, that's cool. But I'm gonna go for the soup."

"It better come with breath mints because I am NOT kissing you with fish breath," Liz said with mock snobbery. 

Artie grinned and kissed her hand. "Yes, m'lady."

They ordered the food and a bottle of rose wine that would compliment both meals perfectly. Artie had opted for a special new lasagne recipe as a main course, while Liz had chosen her favourite ravioli in a thick, creamy white sauce. 

As they waited patiently for their starters, Artie began to tell Liz a little more about his trip to New York. He tried as hard as he could to keep talk of work out of it, but it was necessary for a few details to be mentioned. Liz knew this, but still felt slightly annoyed that work was even mentioned at all. She wanted to forget about the pain of employment and concentrate on the pleasure of being together with the man she adored. 

Thoughts of the weekend to come filled her with joy and excitement, but a new feeling was also approaching. Artie looked so handsome in his smart casual attire. She couldn't believe that she'd been as bold as she had been, but she wasn't wearing a bra underneath the dress. The material, slightly smooth to the touch, was tight against her breasts and her nipples were obviously enjoying it. Their stimulation, getting harder and harder, was affecting a small dampness in her sheer black panties. Quickly she swallowed half a glass of the cool wine in an attempt to cool herself down. Already she was beginning to feel slightly light headed from the bubbles of the champagne. 

After they had eaten their starters, which were both as delicious as had been promised, Artie reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small velvet case. He placed it on the table in front of Liz who looked ay it curiously.

"I got you something," he explained simply. 

She batted his arm playfully with her hand. "We said we weren't going to get ourselves any presents," she said. "I haven't got you anything! I feel awful now."

Artie smiled. "I'm sorry, but I saw this in New York and I couldn't resist. Open it. Go on."

He moved closer to her as she grudgingly picked the box up, smelling her delicious perfume of rosemary dabbed around her smooth throat as he did so, and his eyes just caught the top of her silky breasts. He felt a familiar hardness in his trousers and shifted his body so it was less obvious to the casual onlooker. 

Liz carefully opened the velvet lid and gasped as she saw what was inside. It was a small silver key, on which were embedded three tiny, sparkling diamonds. A thin silver chain looped through the end of it. It was beautiful.

"You like it?" Artie asked, scanning her pretty face for her reaction.

"I love it!" she breathed. "Wow! How much?"

"Doesn't matter. Here, let me help you put it on."

Liz turned round slightly and felt his warm, strong hands graze the back of her neck as he attached the tiny clasp of the necklace behind her. She displayed herself proudly as he looked at it admiringly, happy with his choice.

"It looks perfect on you," he said. 

"Glad to hear it," she replied. "But I've got to admit, it's a little strange, isn't it? I mean, what's it the key to?"

Artie looked at her with mock seriousness. "Why, to my heart, of course."

The line was so cheesy that neither of them could hold their straight faces for long. 

*****

The apartment was almost completely dark when they arrived back home. Liz's parents, tired after the long drive to Sechs City that morning, had retired early for the night. The blinds were drawn, and only a dim hallway light was on to light the way. 

The rest of their meal had been as delicious as their starters, and because of the lack of people waiting to be seated, they had been able to take as long as they liked without fear of causing anyone any distress. The fact that neither of them would be driving also meant that a couple of bottles of wine had been consumed at least. They knew that they were tipsy, and were trying their hardest not to make too much noise as they walked through the front door. 

"Oops," whispered Liz, giggling as she almost tripped up with her first step into the apartment. 

"Watch yourself," Artie warned, unable to stop the smile from his face as he carefully locked the front door behind them. 

"I thought that was your job, Mr Seymour," Liz replied, slowly taking off her heels and breathing a sigh of relief as her feet touched the soothingly cold floor.

"What?"

"To watch me," she went on. She turned round to face him and slowly put the index finger of her left hand in her mouth, playfully sucking it, before running it down her body, over the gorgeous material of the dress and down onto the smooth bare skin of her legs.

Artie grinned and took a step forward, but he was stopped by her right hand pressing against his chest.

"Uh uh, not here. We don't want to wake Mama and Papa. Let's go to bed," she said softly, her hand now stroking his chest over the silk of his shirt.

'Bed,' thought Artie. It wouldn't have mattered if her folks hadn't been staying over; they would still be going to bed. From the first time they had made love, even on their honeymoon, always in bed. Well, if it made her happy.

"Okay, honey," he said, taking her hand and kissing each finger lightly on the tip. "I'll be with you in two minutes; let me do something first."

She nodded and walked as steadily as she could down the dim lit hallway towards the dark open doorway of their bedroom. Artie waited until he saw the even dimmer glow of one of their bedside lamps flicker on before making his way into the dark kitchen. He opened the fridge as quietly as he could and pulled out from it a small bucket holding a large unopened bottle of champagne that he had hidden in there earlier that afternoon. He grabbed two glasses and went back to the bedroom, concealing everything as best as he could behind his back, closing the door silently behind him.

Liz was standing with her back to him, her brunette hair looking wild and untamed against her bare back, exposed by the dip in the material of her tight dress. She had closed the bedroom blinds as tight as they could go -- another of her everyday routines. She turned to face Artie as he entered and smiled happily.

"Thank you for a beautiful evening, my darling," she murmured, walking slowly towards him.

"It's not over yet," replied Artie, grinning craftily and producing the champagne and glasses from behind him.

Liz giggled loudly and tried to calm herself down, worried about waking her parents who were in the box room across the hall on a pull out sofa bed. "I don't know, Artie. We've already had a lot tonight; I don't want to overdo it."

Artie raised an eyebrow. "One glass?" he encouraged her. "It is a special occasion, after all."

Liz hesitated before nodding finally. "Okay. One glass. Maybe we could have the rest for breakfast with Mom and Dad tomorrow?"

"Maybe," replied Artie, already opening the bottle with his handkerchief. The cork made a sudden loud pop as it was released and it provoked more laughter from the two of them. 

Artie poured two glasses and rested both bottle and bucket by the side of their bed. He gave one glass of frothy bubbly liquid to Liz and raised his own.

"To you, my darling," he said simply.

"To us," she replied cheekily.

They took a long gulp of the champagne before leaning in and kissing fully on the mouth. Their mouths opened and their tongues explored one another, before a mixture of strong lust and alcohol induced light-headiness took over. Their hands dropped the glasses they were holding, uncaring of the stains on the carpet as light yellow liquid flowed into two separate puddles on dark cream, and they held each other tightly, his hands travelling along the bare skin of her back, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up with excitement, while she ran her own through his short blonde hair.

Kissing her lips once more before travelling around her neck with his own lips and tongue, Artie breathed in the intoxicating perfume that she had lightly dabbed herself with several hours ago. It was so much nicer than the stuff Inga always wore. Liz had better tastes in almost everything. Almost everything.

Liz's hands travelled downwards and around to the stiff lump in Artie's trousers. She stroked it and toyed with it with two fingers, feeling it get harder with every touch, before she slowly took the small metal zipper between her nails and pulled it down. 

Liz sank down to her knees as her hands carefully tugged Artie's hard erection out into the open. She kissed it softly before, after quietly taking a breath, placing the whole thing in her mouth, beginning to gently suck.

Artie watched her as her mouth caressed his cock, his hands running through her tangled brown hair. When they had first met she had never put a man's dick in her mouth and had never wanted to. It had taken a lot of gentle persuading and reassurance for her to even attempt to kiss it. Now she seemed to enjoy the taste of him, and she was getting better and better each time. Practice made perfect after all.

Liz continued her routine blowjob. She hated to think of it like that but it was the only way she could force herself to do it. It wasn't that she hated the taste of Artie's cock or his cum -- in fact she had been incredibly surprised when she'd first tasted it at how deliciously salty it was. But it had never seemed completely right to her. Her definition of sex was and always had been his dick in her pussy. She enjoyed that -- she loved that. This kept Artie happy, and she always wanted to make him happy, but she had limits. Thankfully, he seemed to understand that and never complained even when she had first attempted to suck him off and had hidden her face under the pillow when she couldn't do it.

Now she licked the member goodbye, a trail of hair thin white cum on her lips, as she went about removing his trousers completely, boxers and all. Artie stepped out of them and stood there in only his shirt and short black socks, his throbbing dick poking out from just under the white hem of the shirt. He looked so damn sexy it made Liz want to cum right there and then.

Artie took her by the arms and turned her round, kissing the exposed nape of her back before unzipping the tight black dress. It peeled off her already hot skin like a sticky label, and her nipples, hard and firm, silently cheered at their release. Artie let it hang around her midriff while he continued to kiss around her back, his hands caressing and stroking Liz's large aching breasts as she closed her eyes and sighed in ecstasy, one arm around his neck. 

Artie took the hem of the dress and pulled it slowly down Liz's slender, smooth legs, making sire to take her simple black panties with it. Now she was naked and he ran his hands back up and between her legs to prove it, thrilling at her sudden loud gasp as his strong hands hit the lips of her sex. Liz grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him to the bed, their mouths meeting again before she knelt aside him and gently lowered herself down onto his erection. She sighed as flesh entered flesh, and Artie too felt a wave of pleasure hit him as he felt the warmth enfold his member. 

As Liz slowly rode him, running her hands through her hair and moaning as quietly as she could for fear of waking her parents, Artie reached out and down to the side of the bed, picking up the open bottle of champagne. 

Quickly, before Liz could realise what was going on, he tipped it upside down, pouring the cold yellow liquid all over her beautiful breasts. Liz squealed at the sudden temperature change, then moaned louder as Artie sat up to begin to suck and lick the champagne off of her body, flicking at her nipples with his tongue. 

Sitting upright, supporting himself with his hand behind him, Artie pushed himself further into her. The combination was too much; Liz felt herself beginning to cum. Pressing her face into Artie's shoulder as his tongue continued its infuriating work, she moaned into his skin in an attempt to dim it down. But the moaning increased as Artie, stimulated by the feel of her pussy grinding away in mid-orgasm, throbbed violently and released itself into her. 

They held each other tightly as each independent orgasm slowly died away, before Artie slowly laid back onto the bed and Liz rested her head on his heaving chest, feeling his heart still beating quickly but beginning to slow down through the material of his still buttoned shirt.

After a while of just lying together Liz slowly moved herself off of him and lay down properly next to him, kissing his arm as she did so. 

"Artie?"

"Hmm?"

"That was really nice. Thank you."

"Hopefully not just my pleasure, but you're welcome, honey."

"It was a bit naughty, though."

"Well, yes, it's meant to be..."

"You know what I mean."

Artie sighed inwardly; he already knew what was coming next, what she was about to raise up.

"I just don't like the idea of the champagne. It was nice maybe for this one off time, but...well, it's a bit of an expensive sex toy, isn't it?"

"It's hardly a sex toy," said Artie. "It would be if I'd placed it just about here," and his finger lightly flicked the soaking lips of her mound.

"All right," said Liz, playfully slapping his hand away. "But maybe we should just leave it off in future. I like just being with you, experiencing you. I don't need anything else."

"Okay, Liz. No more champagne."

"Thank you. Now what time is it?" She slowly raised her head to glance at their bedside clock. "Oh, shit, have you seen that? Have you seen the time? We've got to be up in like five hours!"

Artie glanced up. "Well then, time to sleep I think. You want the sheets?"

Liz yawned and cuddled up closer to his semi-naked body, her gradually closing eyes idly watching his still wilting cock as it shrunk back to its everyday size. "No, it's too hot. Can we just stay like this for a while?"

"Sure, Liz. Whatever you want, baby."

Within five minutes Liz was sound asleep, snoring quietly, her legs curled around one of Artie's own. But Artie was still wide awake. His mind was going at a mile a minute. 

He wasn't happy. No, he was happy -- he was the happiest he'd ever been in his life. He had a good job, had a beautiful wife, good friends, a great apartment. Why then was he feeling more and more frustrated with it all? It was little things that were becoming more and more apparent, and they all had something to do with Liz. It wasn't just the sex; Artie appreciated that she had never had that much experience before meeting him. It was other things too, like picking exactly the same restaurant they went to every time -- though it did have a romantic and significant meaning to it as well. Then there was this holiday. Camping wasn't exactly the most inspiring choice for her to make -- although they were getting a very good deal through Paul, hence why they could do it in the first place.

Artie swore under his breath and looked down at his sleeping wife. He was being stupid. He'd had a busy and shit week at work and he was tired, that was all. He needed to get some sleep. After that, things would be okay. Yeah, this holiday was going to be brilliant.



The Great Outdoors Ch. 02



This is a belated Part 2 for my latest novel. It's a little light on the sex, due to story developments, but things will heat up in later instalments. 

The radio alarm clock on top of her bedside cabinet bursting into a loud, fast rock song woke Inga Jennings from a deep sleep and a wonderful dream involving Hugh Jackman that was only just starting to get interesting. She groaned croakily and, pulling the duvet over her head, reached out blindly to thump the off switch and stop the cacophony. Her arm hung loose over the side of the bed, and she screwed her eyes shut tight in an attempt to return to dreamland. 

Why the hell did they have to leave so early on a Saturday? Admittedly, Paul wasn't due to pick her up from her apartment until eleven, and she had set her alarm for ten, but Inga enjoyed having her Saturday lie in. She was used to partying all night the Friday and snoozing away until sometimes two in the afternoon the next day. She hadn't done much partying recently, but that didn't mean she couldn't stick to some kind of routine, surely? 

It was no good. The bright morning sunshine, through the bedroom window whose curtains she never pulled, was now resting heavily on top of her duvet and it was getting too stuffy under there. 

Grudgingly, blinking in the bright light, Inga threw the covers off her naked body and wearily sat up, rubbing her eyes and stretching her long arms. She always slept naked; she had done since a teenager. In fact she had very little problems with nudity, often walking around her apartment naked in the morning. She enjoyed the feel of the air against her tanned skin, the feel of it hitting the more intimate parts of her body, the places it would never go when she was dressed.

Inga often put this openness down to her mother's influence. Ever since she could remember her family home – at first in her native Sweden before they moved to America for her father's work when Inga was six – had been a very free environment when it came to sex and sexuality. Her parents had many lovers even now, and it had never been unusual for Inga to see them walking around in next to nothing, holding each other intimately. 

It had been Inga's mother who had given her some of the best advice regarding this topic. "If you like it, keep doing it," she had always said. "If you don't like it, stop doing it. If you love it, never let it go."

Since the loss of her virginity to now Inga had lived her life by this simple rule, and it had never failed her. Though she was still only twenty-nine years old she felt she truly knew everything there was to know about pleasure; at least she felt she knew a lot more than a lot of women her age. She was positive that she knew more about it then Liz anyway. It was difficult to tell because Liz didn't like to talk about this kind of topic when they were together. She would listen to what Inga had to say, no denying she was a good listener, but she felt that for her, personally, this sort of conversation should remain in the bedroom between her and Husband Dearest.

Inga jumped off the bed onto the red carpeted floor, her small breasts shaking slightly as she did so. Glancing briefly at the time on her radio alarm clock and seeing that she had forty minutes before Paul was due to arrive, she knew that, having packed everything in one gloriously dull sitting last night, all she needed was to eat some breakfast and have a nice long shower. After all, one of the main disadvantages of camping was the distinct lack of hot running water. 

Inga wandered over to her small en-suite bathroom with her even smaller shower and twisted the taps to get the right temperature. Maybe she was feeling a little more reluctant to wake up than usual because she knew this would be the last weekend of fun she and Paul would have. She wasn't looking forward to breaking up with him – she never enjoyed breaking up with anybody. But she was becoming restless, an old familiar feeling. She needed a change before things got too serious. They had had their fun, almost six months of it; now it was time for someone else to have a go with both of them.

Six months. This had probably been the longest relationship Inga had ever had. Compared to the countless number of lovers she had encountered it could definitely class as a long term relationship. 

All in all she had had three of these: Paul was one. Then there was Brad. Typical jock name for a typical jock. Not much of a talker, but he had known how to use his cock, so he had been pleasant company nevertheless, and a good relief from revision blues during her final years of college. He had broken it off with her because apparently he had fallen in love with his cousin and was going to marry her. Inga had taken this all in, then wished him well and slammed the door in his face. She didn't cry – she was not a crier – but she did sulk for the rest of the afternoon on account of never been able to put that beautiful cock of his back in any of her orifices. 

And of course there had been Jess. Ah, Jess. She hadn't been Inga's first female lover but she'd been good enough to keep around for a while. She and Inga had had a strong, often tempestuous relationship that had involved a mixture of arguments, tantrums and some of the most amazing make-up sex Inga had ever had in her life. It had got a little too intense for Inga's liking, and she had broken it off after three months. Jess had promptly burst into tears and run straight to the closest lesbian bar to pick up the first pretty thing she saw and fuck her frustration out. 

Maybe it was time to wander down the Sapphic route again, Inga thought now, as she stood under the piping hot water and felt it tumble down her short brown hair, down her beautiful body, her nipples tingling as the drops played with them.

She rubbed the water into her breasts, encouraging the hardness more and more. She'd wanted to wait until later on in the day, wait until Paul was with her, but she had woken up too horny for that, and the thought of Brad's cock combined with Jess' tongue along with Paul's enthusiasm was getting her wetter by the second.

Dipping her head back so that the water fell onto her face, Inga slowly slid her hands down the side of her hips and around her tight buttocks. Then playfully, teasingly, three fingers from her right hand carried on underneath and through her legs, stroking the lips of her sex and sending a slight shudder through the rest of her body.

Already she was dripping down there, and it was easy to slide all three fingers slowly in. They weren't a good enough substitute for Brad's cock, or Paul's for that matter, but they were sure more than a match for Jess' fingers.

Inga stroked her breasts, pinched and teased her nipples as she slowly began to slide the fingers in and out of her, her thumb toying with the swollen hood of her clit. Already her breath was quickening, already the shuddering was more intense, already the stuttered groans and pleasurable giggles were escaping from her lips.

In her mind she could feel Paul's warm breath on the back of her neck, feel his masterful, strong arms on hers, feel his hard, gorgeous cock pressed up against her begging sex. Oh she was going to have so much fun with him. If this was going to be their last time together, then they were going to have so...much...fun...

As Inga came she spat out high pitched yelps, grabbed onto the exploring hand to try to push it in deeper still to get an extra volt of pleasure run up her spine. Her knees buckled and she collapsed on the glass screen of the shower, slowly sliding down it until she was sitting in a pool of warm water, eyes closed in ecstasy, heart pounding, her breath slowing, her fingers still entangled between the warm, sticky, grateful lips of what was her own dear little pussy.

She had lost track of time, and when she at last removed her wrinkly fingers from her, turned off the shower and stood unsteadily up, she began to panic slightly. Paul was usually incredibly punctual. How much time did she have before he arrived? Shit, fifteen minutes. 

Wrapping a blue towel around her satisfied body, Inga ran out of her bedroom and down the corridor into her kitchen, where she placed two pieces of bread in the toaster and made herself a big steaming mug of black coffee. Post-orgasm drowsiness was beginning to set in, and now was not the time. She chugged the coffee down, removed the two slightly burnt pieces of toast and shoved both into her mouth, running back into her bedroom. There was no way Paul was going to see her in this state. He would just have to wait.

*****

In fact, due to rather heavy traffic that morning, Paul was actually running late when he pulled up on the kerb by Inga's apartment block in his smart looking SUV. The vehicle admittedly seemed a little out of place in Sechs City, but was the ideal mode of transport when out on the roads between Pleasant Peaks and his home. The boot was packed with all the camping equipment he and Inga were going to need for this weekend, as well as a bag of loose clothes for him in anticipation of the scorching hot weather that had been predicted, and a folder of work in case he got the opportunity to do any studying.

He hoped that he would not have to even think about opening the latter, because he wanted to use this weekend as an opportunity to escape from his course and the looming exam dates. He had been looking forward to this weekend since it had first been suggested, and couldn't wait to spend some quality time with his best friend Artie and also, more importantly, Inga.

More and more now he felt a yearning desire to spend as much time as possible with the beautiful brunette. He hated the fact that his studies had recently got more in the way of their time together then he would have liked. 

Of course he knew what was going on; falling in love wasn't a new experience for him. He was just a little taken aback by the realisation of it suddenly. He had lived a fun lifestyle for almost eight years, had kept to his word, to the promise he had made himself one September evening in a lonely bar, never to do anything so stupid as to fall in love again. For almost eight years he had enjoyed a variety of women in his life, more one night stands then casual fuck buddies.

But from the moment he and Inga had met at Artie and Liz's engagement party, he had been fascinated by her. She seemed to have the same love for life and fun that he had, and definitely enjoyed sex as much as he did. At that time she had been arm and arm with a rather handsome looking stud who she constantly referred to as 'Big Man'. It hadn't bothered Paul that much; he hooked up with an attractive waitress and spent the rest of the night making sure she had an amazing time. 

For a while he and Inga had spent every opportunity they saw each other to flirt harmlessly, before one night six months ago when they had both seemingly decided at the same time to take their relationship to the next level. They'd been very clear with each other at the beginning that they should never stay completely exclusive. If ever an opportunity came along for them to have some fun when they weren't together, they were not to let that moment fly by. Oddly enough, since getting together with Inga, Paul had never really had any other chances come across his way. He didn't know if Inga had, and he didn't want to know; it was her life after all. 

And now he was falling in love with her and he had no idea if she felt the same way. He thought it might be reciprocated, but he didn't want to get his hopes up. Inga was a rarity over most other women he had met. She never wanted to stop living her life her way. It was one of the aspects of her that Paul so admired. But Paul was feeling a general weariness with the way he lived his own. It was hard to believe he was thinking this, but maybe the time had come to start settling down.

The front door of the building opened and Paul felt himself grinning stupidly as Inga, dressed in a pair of tight blue denim shorts and white crop top, with a large pair of sunglasses over her eyes, and an average sized backpack across one shoulder, stepped out into the bright sunlight. She waved at him as she closed the door, skipping down the three concrete steps onto the pavement and, opening one of the rear doors of the SUV, threw her backpack onto the backseat.

Carefully she crossed round the back of the vehicle and hopped up into the front passenger seat, the door opened by Paul as a gentlemanly gesture.

"Morning, sweetie," she sang, kissing him full on the lips before reaching for her seatbelt. "All set?"

"Good morning," Paul replied. "I certainly am. You sure you are? That bag doesn't look like there's much in it."

"Don't worry, I packed all the essentials. It took me ages to figure out what clothes to bring, you know, it's not like I can pack my really nice stuff, is it? We could get really dirty somewhere, and I don't want my nice new jeans to get ripped on some rocks or something, do I?"

Paul smiled. "No, honey," he said as he started the SUV's engine.

"I've got enough change of clothes and underwear for the whole four days. Though I may be mistaken about the underwear..."

"You may?"

"Yeah. I think I might have to go commando one day, if that's all right?"

The brilliant thing about Inga, thought Paul as they pulled out back onto the street, was that from the way she was talking you would think she was talking about something mundane like the gas bill or the weather. She was so open, so honest about these kinds of things. It made her unique, and it made him love her just a little bit more.

*****

Liz looked at her watch and tapped her feet impatiently. It was typical of time that, from yesterday's slow, never-ending thud, it had upped the pace considerably and now seemed to be going by faster than ever. 

They had been all set to go, bags by the door, ready to take down into the apartment garage, when Artie's cell phone had awoken from its slumber and sent Artie apologising into their bedroom. That had been twenty minutes ago. 

Her parents were sitting patiently on the sofa, the television on a news channel, the volume down low, though her father was looking even more annoyed than Liz was.

"I swear, Liz," he muttered. "If he doesn't leave that phone here I'm going to smash it with a hammer!"

"Sam," warned Liz's mother, keeping her eyes on the screen in front of her.

"I'm sorry, honey, and I know it's not Artie's fault either, butterfly."

"It's okay, dad, really. I'm kind of getting used to it more and more these days. I'm just grateful he's still got a job, you know?"

A few moments later Artie came back into the hallway, looking a little sheepish, and apologised to them all. "Something's gone rotten with that deal I was working on this week in New York," he explained. "So now my boss is looking for blood, trying to figure out whose fault it is so he can fire them and clean up the bank, so to speak."

"Does he blame you?" asked Liz, shocked. 

"Not yet, but if he talks to Tom Garden...well, you know how he feels about me. He'd point the finger almost immediately, anything to cover his own back for the interesting stuff he's been involved in lately."

"And they say you bankers can't be trusted," said Liz's father. "Artie, I don't know why you would work for such people, I really don't."

Artie looked at Liz. "Anyway, I told him all I could, and then reminded him that I won't be able to be reached for the next few days. I don't think that helped my cause much, but we'll have to wait and see."

Liz put her arms around her husband and squeezed tightly. "Let's just forget about it all, okay?" she said, looking into his eyes. "This trip is all about us – you and me..."

"And Paul and Inga," Artie reminded her with a wry grin.

"Yeah, okay, okay. But still, we both made a promise. No work stuff!"

"Absolutely, my darling. 'Tis the commandment and I shall obey."

Liz's father coughed. "Then let's be having your phone and off with the pair of you."

Albeit a little grudgingly Artie handed over his phone before he and Liz, kissing and hugging her parents goodbye, picked up their bags and made their way down the service elevator into the apartment garage and towards Artie's own blue Ford. 

If they had had any idea of trying to make up for lost time, then they were severely disappointed, for the streets of Sechs City were packed. Liz switched the radio on to one of their favourite stations, and rolled down her window to let some air into the stuffy car.

There were no real problems on the streets of the city this morning; the traffic was just naturally slow. They were constantly moving at a steady pace, save for one moment just before they got to the turnoff onto the road that led to the highway, where they had to be stopped due to a police blockade around one of the dingier looking apartment blocks, which stretched out into the road and so traffic had to be guided through. There were two police vehicles, but nothing that looked too serious.

As they made their way onto the wider stretches of road, Artie could drive faster and so the air through the open windows picked up considerably. Liz laughed as her long brunette hair started to constantly blow into her face, and quickly had to tie it up behind her in a bow. 

"You haven't had your hair like that for a while," Artie noted as he quickly glanced over at her. "Must have been before we were married, I'm sure."

"That's because you always told me you liked it hanging loose," Liz replied, resting an arm on the open window. 

Artie grinned. "I did? Well, I can't deny I've got good taste."

Liz laughed. The sunshine was brilliant today, and as it fell across her pretty face through the windscreen she closed her eyes and basked in the warmth of it. "You know," she said after a while, "this kind of reminds me of that impromptu road trip we made when we first started dating, remember?"

"Of course I do. It was my idea."

"Ha ha, yes. And then the gas ran out when we were just on one of the loneliest stretches of road as it was getting dark, and we had to wait hours and hours for another car to pass us by."

"I was half-afraid we'd have some psycho come along," Artie laughed. 

"We sat in the back seat, didn't we? And we held each other tight and wouldn't let go."

And that's all we did, thought Artie. I suggested it once or twice; I could have made you feel so much better, so much safer. You were such a nervous wreck. But you didn't like the idea of it. What if someone sees us, you said?

Liz was watching her husband now. She was a little worried; something was playing on his mind, she could tell. "Honey, is something wrong?" she asked.

"No, not at all. Why?"

"You just look like there's something bothering you."

What, Artie thought, this growing uneasiness about the rest of our lives together? The fact that we've already sunk into a routine? But he said to her, "Just all that work crap, honey. I won't think about it again, I promise."

Liz took his free hand and kissed it lightly. "Good! I won't say anything about it either."

Artie smiled, but it was a little bit of a struggle. These feelings of slight anger were alarming. He didn't hate her; he loved her completely. He shook himself and concentrated on the rest of the journey. 

*****

Pleasant Peaks was one of the largest and most internationally loved areas of natural beauty this side of the United States. Every day during the busy summer season, hundreds of people would hike through it, camp in it, paint in it, spot wildlife in it, or just simply relax in it. Many people described it as one of the most peaceful experiences of their lifetime. 

On a day like today, when the weather was this fantastic, Pleasant Peaks looked even more spectacular than ever. There were two large hill tops peeping out above the high, lush, green tree tops, and on the one nearest to where Artie and Liz parked, in a large open area where there were few parked vehicles, you could actually see the sparkles of light bouncing off the clear water of a small river that ran down the side in various waterfalls into a larger river that cut away from Sechs City and inwards towards the rest of America. 




The Great Outdoors Ch. 02



As Artie stopped the engine, he and Liz gazed out in impressed wonder at the view before them. Already they felt a sense of calm wash over them, looking at the glorious example of nature at its height.

A sudden knocking on Liz's door window woke them up from their daze and they saw Inga, grinning wildly with that slight hint of mischief in her smile, waving frantically. 

"Where have you guys been?" she asked as Liz got out of the car. "We've been waiting ages for you two! Look at this place; isn't it awesome?"

Liz embraced her friend with a tight hug. "We're so sorry," she apologised. "Artie's work called him with a sudden crisis."

"Not going to spoil the holiday, is it?"

Liz shook her head. "Not in the slightest. Dad made Artie leave his cell at home."

"If anyone calls, I can bet your father will know exactly what to say," said Artie with wry amusement. "Hey there, Inga."

"Arthur," nodded Inga, winking at Liz. They both knew how much Artie hated being called by his full name; he thought it sounded incredibly pretentious. 

"Where's Paul?" Artie asked, trying to change the subject as he opened the back of the car.

"In the welcome centre, talking to his boss. He says we're going to be incredibly lucky for the nest few days."

"With the weather?"

"Not just that, Arthur," Inga grinned. "Apparently, because it's right in the middle of the school exams time, they hardly expect the numbers they usually get on a weekend like this, particularly in the area that we have been based in."

"Sounds wonderful," sighed Liz, stretching her arms behind her body and gazing up at the tall trees in front of her. "The last thing I could do with right now is a lot of company."

"Oh?" said Inga, raising an eyebrow. "Well, Paul and I will just go then, leave you and Husband Dearest alone."

Liz laughed. "You know what I mean. Look, here comes Paul."

Paul and Artie shook hands warmly, asking each other how their journeys were, and Paul and Liz kissed on the cheeks. 

"How are the studies going?" asked Liz.

"Stressful, but I think I'm actually gonna pull it off."

"That's great, man," said Artie. "Always knew you'd do well here."

"Thanks. Right, the Ranger just wants to have a quick word with us before we set off, so I reckon we should unpack everything now and take it into the centre with us."

"Good idea, babes," said Inga, kissing him on the mouth. Liz watched this with an awkward feeling hit her belly, Inga's words from their conversation yesterday coming back to her. She tried to shake it off and helped Artie unload the car of all her parents' camping equipment and their own essential supplies. 

The Welcome Centre was a plush, modern looking building that had just recently been refurbished with new state of the art information desks and lots of rooms for school visits and various other groups. 

The Head Ranger welcomed them all in a smart green uniform. He was about fifty-five with long thick glasses over his brown eyes and a wealth of experience in his weathered face. 

"Welcome to Pleasant Peaks," he said, shaking each of them by the hand. "Paul's told me a lot about you all already, so I know immediately I can trust you all to stay safe and sensible."

The three others knew he spoke with good intentions, but it still didn't make them feel any less like they were back in school being taught by a strict teacher.

"Now the area you guys have for the next few days is one of our most sought after spots; it's a perfect little circle because it's about thirty minutes walk from nearly everything you'll want to see, including the Waterfall Walk around Peak One. It's secluded and not along any major paths, so hopefully you won't be disturbed by anything except the wildlife. There are of course quite a few safety measures I need to make you guys all ware of, but it shouldn't take longer than five minutes. And don't worry; you've got Paul with you and he's proving to be a very capable man in this field. I doubt anything will go seriously wrong with your trip."

*****

Five miles from the Welcome Centre, in a secluded, shaded area of forest, a small squirrel sat on a large log, sniffing the air for any trace of food. Its nostrils and whiskers quivered as it did so, its bushy tail moving occasionally from side to side. 

Suddenly it stood right up, face and body frozen, ears listening intently. It leapt off the log and hopped in great bounds towards the safety of the nearest tree, which it scrabbled frantically up.

There was a moment's silence, then a crackling of twigs underfoot and the source of the squirrel's agitation revealed herself through the rays of sunlight that burst through the leaves above her. She was walking briskly, dressed in a short light blue t-shirt and hiking shorts over her petite body, with large hiking boots that looked worn and well-used. Her long ebony black hair hung loose down her back; occasionally she would brush a strand of it from out of her beautiful face as she walked. 

She stopped by the tree log and placed a foot on it, hands on her hips, looking around her surroundings before grabbing a water bottle from one of the side pockets of the large backpack on her shoulders. She glanced briefly at the contents before taking a quick swig from it. There was half left in this one, plus the full bottle in the other pocket. She should be fine as long as she was careful and conserved as much as possible. 

The progress she was making was good, but not great; she knew she could do better. If she picked up the pace she could get to her and Freddie's special place just before nightfall. She'd rest there and spend tomorrow doing what needed to be done. If she was up early enough and had no problems, there was always the chance she wouldn't need to stay any longer in the park. 

She had wasted time; she needed to make a move now. She felt reinvigorated already, the adrenaline rushing through her blood and small, gorgeous body. She replaced the bottle in its pocket, stretched her legs quickly and set off further into the trees.

The noise of her footsteps died away, and the forest became still again. After a while the squirrel tentatively hopped down from its perch and back onto the log, sniffing the air and catching the scent of a mixture of sweat and orange perfume.



The Great Outdoors Ch. 03



It took around an hour for the four campers to walk through the lush forest towards their base. Throughout the walk they chatted between them good naturedly, enjoying the cool shade of the trees from the brilliant sunlight shining all around them. 

They arrived at a large semi-circle which had obviously been used countless times. A small charcoal stained ring in the heart of it suggested where they could build a safe small fire. From here the path divided into three.

"That way will take us to the top of one of the smaller hills, though the views are still pretty amazing," explained Paul as they took off their backpacks and put down their gear. "The middle path will take us further on towards the Waterfalls Walk, and that last one goes right round the first peak and starts a two day trek to Peak Two."

"You know your way round here well," said Artie, impressed.

"Like the back of my hand," grinned Paul. "It was beaten into me on the first day."

"I did the beating," giggled Inga, making Liz blush slightly and Artie roll his eyes.

They began to set up their tents. Paul and Inga's was brand new, state-of-the-art equipment, easy to put up within half an hour. Artie and Liz's, being Liz's parents that had been used for decades, took a lot longer and was a tad more complicated. When their dull orange tent was fully and safely up next to the big new green one, it was like comparing the White House to a mud hut. 

"I reckon we've got time for the short hill walk if we keep up the pace," suggested Paul as they were gulping down a much needed cup of coffee from a flask Liz had prepared earlier in the morning.

Both Artie and Liz were enthusiastic, but Inga looked slightly downbeat. "How steep is it going to be?" she asked. "And just how much of a pace do you intend on keeping up?"

Paul grinned and hugged her tightly. "As quick or as slow as you want, baby," he assured her in a way just innocent enough not to be taken as a double entendre. "And if your cute little feet get tired I'll carry you on my back."

"Yay!" replied Inga, kissing him on the lips. 

Again a flash of guilt flooded through Liz's body. If she felt like this, how on earth must Inga be feeling? How could she be so normal around Paul when she was going to dump him a few days later?

They set off after stretching quickly. At first the walk was easy; the path was relatively flat, and the cool shade of the trees above them protected them from the harsh but appreciated sunshine that was beaming down on seemingly the whole world, let alone the forest. 

But soon the climb began to get steeper sharply; there were fewer and fewer trees surrounding them, and the path was rockier and rockier. Within five minutes they were out of the forest and right into the heat of the afternoon sun, on a grey, tough route that seemingly had no end. 

Liz and Artie took great steps, sometimes helping each other across the uneven stones and up the worn rocky steps that had been formed by so many pairs of feet before them. Paul kept up with them for a while, but he became more and more conscious of Inga lagging behind them. Finally his girlfriend stopped, bent over, resting her hands on her knees before looking back up at the retreating figures in front if her.

"You guys," she called breathlessly. "You guys...wait up. I think I've got...a mountain in my shoe or something..."

The other three stopped, secretly grateful for the chance to catch their own breaths too. Paul headed back towards her, resting a strong hand on her shoulder as they talked quietly. Liz watched this, her mind going into fantasies about what would happen when Inga eventually sat him down and said those dreaded four words: "We need to talk." 

Artie was staring out into the open beyond them; there was a look of frustration on his face. He looked back at Paul and Inga and shook his head slowly.

"Artie? What's up?" Liz asked, putting her own hand on his hard shoulder.

"I knew she'd do something like this," he muttered. "Holding us up. At this rate we might not get back to the campsite by nightfall..."

"Of course we will. Do you have to be so hard on Inga all the time? I know you're not all that fond of her, but she's my best friend. Besides you and Paul she's also probably the only real friend I've got." 

Artie looked at her, an eyebrow raised in good humour. "Oh, I'm your friend now, am I?"

Liz playfully slapped his arm. "You know what I mean. Just try to get on. For me?"

Artie sighed and gazed into her eyes. "I'd do anything for you, my darling," he said seriously. "Would you do anything for me?"

There was something about the way he asked her this question that made Liz do an inward double take. It wasn't your usual playful banter between a couple; it seemed more serious, more important.

Before she could answer, there was a loud, "Coming through!" from behind them and Paul, with Inga on his back, her slender legs wrapped round his stomach, her arms around his neck, made his way purposefully forward at a very fast pace. Inga waved, grinning from ear to ear as they passed the startled Seymours.

Liz laughed out loud, and even Artie couldn't help but grin at the comical sight. 

"Come on," he said, grabbing his wife's hand. "Otherwise we'll never catch up with them."

Soon they were standing at the top of the hill. The climb had been so steep that all of them besides Paul were surprised at how low the top actually was compared to the first peak towering behind them in the distance. The view was still pretty astounding despite this, however. The forest stretched out beneath them like a green carpet. And somewhere to the right in the distance, silhouetted in the sun that was gradually starting to set, was the outline of the buildings of Sechs City. 

Paul had removed a big thick pair of black binoculars from his bag and handed them to Inga, pointing down towards the trees. 

"Look there," he said, the excitement obvious in his voice. "That nest has been there for a few weeks now."

"Where? I don't see it."

"There, sweets, can you see it now? It is a little hidden, but..."

"No, wait! Yeah, I see it!"

Paul beamed as he looked up at Liz and Artie. "These are really rare birds at work here," he explained. "Scarlet Eagles. We never thought we'd see them in this area again, but wouldn't you know it, suddenly they just turned up."

Suddenly Inga gasped. "I see one, I see one," she whispered hoarsely, afraid that if she made too much noise even from this distance she would scare it off. "Oh my god, oh my god, it's beautiful! Liz, Liz, come look at this!"

Liz stood beside her and Inga, the binoculars still round her neck, passed them over to her friend, doing her best not to let them wander from the sight. Liz breathed slowly as she saw the magnificent creature sitting just by the large nest; it's sharp beak, it's proud stature. It looked incredible.

Taking the binoculars completely from Inga, Liz passed them on to Artie, who whistled softly. "That is one gorgeous looking creature," he said.

Paul was placing his bag back over his shoulders. "We're going to have to make a move now," he told the others. "Especially if we want to get back with enough light to be able to get some firewood in. Guess I should have thought about that first; sorry."

Liz shook her head. "Stop it, it's fine. This was 

a lovely walk and it was all totally worth it."

Inga raised an eyebrow. "My feet may have to disagree with you there," she joked. "But yeah, I guess seeing those birds was pretty cool."

"Good," replied Paul, happier. "Art? You ready?"

Artie was still standing looking through the binoculars, but his focus had changed to somewhere lower down, deeper in the forest. He was frowning. "I thought..." he muttered.

"Artie? What's up?" asked Liz, crossing over to him.

Artie leant a little further, then stood up straight and shook his head. Handing the binoculars back to Paul he said, "It's okay. I just thought I saw something, that's all. Something moving through the forest."

"Ooh, scary," said Inga sarcastically.

"Ah, it was probably an animal or something. There wouldn't be any walkers around this deep into the park at this time of day – they'd all be heading in the opposite direction."

Artie nodded, but he was still a little unsure. Maybe he hadn't seen anything at all? He'd like to think it was the breeze rustling the leaves that had caught the corner of his eye, but there didn't seem to be much of a wind even up here. Maybe his mind was just playing tricks on him. He was worrying about so much the last couple of days it was probably natural for this to happen. 

He smiled and took Liz's outstretched hand, and the four friends set off back along the trek down the slope towards camp. 

*****

Down below the hill, standing still in amongst the trees, the black haired woman stared up curiously. She was sure she had seen something glinting in the sun, as if light was been reflected off of something up there. It couldn't have been water; the stream didn't start until the first proper peak.

It had vanished now, whatever it was. What could it have been? Her heart had leapt into her mouth when she had first caught sight of it. It had a beauty all of its own. She loved the shine of things in the sunshine; it could make something cold and steel seem warm and beautiful. What could it have been?

She shook herself. She was wasting time – this was not helping her purpose at all. She was close, very close, to that secret place, where she could finally rest, where she could finally stop walking, finally sit down and close her eyes and dream of what tomorrow would bring, what happiness would come her way. 

She set off again, the adrenaline rushing through her beautiful body, her goal so close, so very close. 

*****

As the evening drew on, the new light of the campfire reminded the four campers, seated round it in collapsible chairs, holding bottles of beer and empty plates that had previously contained some of the best hot dogs Liz thought she had ever tasted, of the amazing luck they had had with the glorious sunshine so far.

"Gotta hand it to your woman, Arthur," Inga sighed happily, raising her half-empty bottle up in a mock toast, "she knows when to book a holiday."

"Thank you, Miss Jennings," replied Liz, giggling. "And thank you for finding the grub. Delicious."

"Ah, that was all Mister Paul's responsibility," Inga corrected her. 

"To Mister Paul then," said Liz, raising her bottle. "Good grub."

Paul grinned. "It was nothing," he said modestly. "Really, you just need to know these kinds of things when you're training to be a ranger."

"It's obvious you're gonna be a great ranger," said Liz. "You'll pass the exams with flying colours."

"Here, here," agreed Artie.

They had got back to the campsite with plenty of time to relax and find firewood, mainly Paul explained because they had naturally travelled quicker down the slope than they had up it, as it was so steep. As they had prepared for their first evening meal out in the forest, Liz noticed Paul taking a large black box out of his bag as he was roaming around for utensils. She picked it up off the ground and examined it closely; it was a radio.

"Yeah," said Paul when she had questioned him about it, "well, we need one with us at all time. Forest regulations. In case of any problems, you know."

"Sure," she had replied. "I just hope no one else can get through on it, like someone calling Artie from work."

"Nope, just the guys back at the centre," laughed Paul. "Nothing else can really get a signal here. Definitely not any cell phone I've seen, anyway."

That made Liz feel a little better. Though she had made Artie leave his own phone behind, out of courtesy to her parents she had brought hers along with them. But now she was confident that their holiday wouldn't be interrupted by anything from outside the forest, and maybe Artie would be able to relax a little and enjoy himself more. He still seemed quite tense; was it because of Inga still? How would he feel if Liz told him what she knew of Inga's plans for her and Paul's relationship?

Inga stood up and stretched. "I'm beat. All this fresh air does wonders for a girl but it wears you out no end."

Liz grinned. "Yeah, I'm actually pretty tired too. Think I'll call it a night."

"Honestly, no stamina," said Paul cheekily. "Oh, well. Guess we'll see you both in the morning."

"Goodnight, guys."

"Night, Artie."

Artie turned to look at his wife. "You sure you don't want to stay up a little bit longer? It's such a gorgeous evening."

"Yeah, I know, but...well, after last night I'm suffering the after effects of little sleep," Liz said, giggling a little.

Artie smiled back at her. "Okay, but tomorrow night I intend to stay up as long as possible. I mean, look at this sky. Just look at it."

He was right; it was achingly beautiful. The stars – so many of them – twinkling away like fairy dust, with the moon almost fully round in its splendour. It was tempting, Liz agreed, to stay out here longer just to bask in the wonder of it all, but a large yawn triggered an overwhelming desire for sleep.

"Promise we'll do that tomorrow, babes," she said. "I'm sorry I have to miss it."

They were interrupted by Paul who had come back out of his tent, a little sheepishly, and was rooting around the ground where he and Inga had been sitting on their chairs. "Sorry, guys," he said, his hands roaming about. "Inga thinks she dropped her phone here. You haven't seen it, have you?"

"Sorry," said Liz, a little annoyed that Inga had brought her phone as well. 

"Is it really that important?" said Artie. "You said yourself we'll have no signal here."

"You know Inga – her phone is like a security blanket to her." He sighed, got up and wiped the dry soil off of his trousers. "Never mind, I'll look for it in the morning when we've got more light. Night, guys. Don't let the various bugs bite, okay?"

"Okay, Paul. Night."

Artie shook his head as his best friend went back to his tent. "Honestly, the way she treats him sometimes..." he murmured quietly.

Another moment of unsettling nerves washed over Liz. "Don't worry," she said, more to herself than to her husband. "Come on, put out the fire and we'll go to bed."

*****

Despite Artie speaking as low as possible, Paul had heard his friend's comments. He tried to ignore them. He knew how Artie felt about Inga; there had been many a time over a cold bottle of beer that he had been warned about her, that she wasn't a girl that Artie really thought was right for Paul. Well, what did he know? Despite being a thoroughly brilliant person, and an obviously wonderful wife to Artie, there were times when Paul thought that Liz was a little...well, controlling. He didn't have it perfect, that was for sure.

He stepped into his tent and zipped the door flap closed. There was a rustle from the large double sleeping bag behind him while his back was turned; when he looked over his shoulder he saw Inga standing there, naked apart from a pair of black frilly briefs with pink polka dots and tiny pink bows. On anyone else, Paul reckoned they would have looked slightly comical; on her they looked amazing.

She stood there, confident and assured, so beautiful and sexy; her small breasts, perfect in their roundness, the nipples already erect with anticipation.

"Fooled you," she said huskily. "Now come over here."

Willingly, Paul did as he was told, already stiffening at the sight of her. She took his head in her hands and kissed him, a kiss that started slow and sweet but which quickly turned hungry, passionate, longing. Breaking apart, and grinning wickedly, Inga got down onto her knees and unzipped his jeans, freeing his wonderful large member. After licking all around the edge and tip with her famished tongue, she took it in her mouth as deeply as she knew she could go, an expert at pleasuring her man this way.

If this is to be our last weekend together, she thought, I'm gonna make it a weekend he'll never forget. 

Paul stroked her soft hair as he felt an immense rush all over his body. He stripped off his shirt as Inga sucked and licked, his own nipples hardened on his impressive chest, a result of many sessions in the gym and out here in the wild. He'd had a lot of women go down on him, but Inga was the only one who really knew exactly what to do.

"Oh, baby," he croaked. "That feels amazing! Mmm. I love that, ha ha. Mmm."

*****

Liz was sitting up in the fold out bed, reading a dog-eared paperback novel that she was more than three-fifths of the way through. It was one of her favourites: a rather tacky romance about a nineteenth-century lady in love with a dashing stable boy. At least, that's what Artie thought it was about. She had a rather large collection of these books and they all seemed to be more or less about the same thing.

"Thought you were tired," he said to her, taking off his shirt.

"I am," she said, not breaking her gaze from the words on the page. "But I just wanna finish this chapter."

Artie grinned, and continued to take off his clothes. Soon he was standing naked in front of her, his semi-erection feeling amazing in the warm fresh air. Liz glanced causally over at him before doing a double-take, her eyes widening.

"You're going to sleep naked?" she asked him disbelievingly.

Artie shrugged. "Figured it was too hot for PJs," he said. "Aren't you going to be uncomfortable in yours?"

Liz was dressed in a simple nightshirt and girl's boxer shorts, all white. She shook her head. "I'll be fine. These are designed to not heat up the body much."

I'll say, thought Artie. He hopped into the bed next to her and lay on his side, his arm resting his head as he looked at her closely. His erection became harder as he revelled in how her large breasts stretched against the material of her shirt. Memories of the previous night – of their passionate lovemaking back home – came flooding back to him; he wanted her now.

He leaned over and began to nuzzle her neck. At first she grinned, then she started to squirm a little.

"Artie," she said, laughing. "Come on, stop it. I'm trying to read."

"Yeah?" he said innocently, kissing her arm all the way down to her hand. "And I'm trying to turn you on."

She looked at him with a slight hint of disapproving in her eyes. "Well, don't. It's not gonna happen so you can put this back where he came from." She took his hard flesh away from her leg where it had been teasingly poking and moved it away slightly, forcing Artie to roll over.

He looked at her, his lust slowly beginning to fade. Here we go again, he thought. 

She saw his obvious frustration. "What's the matter? You look pissed off."

"It's just...you're too tired to sleep with me but you're awake enough to read."

"It's not just that and you know it," she said, trying to be as understanding as she could be. "I'm just not comfortable with doing anything like that out here, especially with our best friends so close to us in the other tent."

"Like they're not fucking their brains out right now?"

"Come on, Artie. You know me..."

"Yeah, I know you," he said moodily, sitting up and reaching for his underwear, his erection now gone. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked him, a little hurt.

He looked over at her. "I'm just...nothing. It's nothing."

"Artie, talk to me. What's wrong? You've been weird all day. This is supposed to be our anniversary holiday."

"Yeah, with two other people along for the ride."

Liz gaped. "You were fine with Inga and Paul coming along. You said so. We wouldn't have got here if it wasn't for Paul."

"Why do I get the feeling that the only reason you wanted them along was to stop me from convincing you to do something new, something you've never done before?"




The Great Outdoors Ch. 03



Now Liz looked pissed off. "That's bullshit, Artie. They're our freinds - our best friends. You're just sulking 'cos you can't get your own way once again. Just show me a little respect; you know how I feel about this kind of thing."

Artie got up and looked at her, shaking his head. "But why, Liz? Why do you feel so uncomfortable when it's me? When you know I'll never ever hurt you no matter how far we take things?"

Liz snapped her book shut. "You just don't understand," she replied quietly.

"You're right, I don't. I don't have a fucking clue." He unzipped the flap to the tent.

"Now where are you going?" she asked him, exasparated.

"To cool off."

"Great idea! Fuck off!"

*****

They were both naked now, their bodies entwined. It felt so glorious, thought Paul, to be inside the woman he loved. They moved quickly, the heat from their bodies matching the heat all around them. Inga whimpered as he thrust himself inside of her, his hardness hitting everywhere that felt so right. This was exactly what she had been missing earlier in the morning, when her fingers had being a poor substitute. This was pure satisfaction. 

She kissed him passionately again, their tongues exploring, bumping each other, before she quickly pulled herself way from him and turned onto her front, raised up onto her knees. Quickly he was inside her again, up right on his own legs. The sound of his flesh slapping onto hers, the feel of her wetness drowning his member, so warm, so sticky. 

She started to moan louder now, lost in the moment, forgetting that they were so close to their two friends. Paul didn't stop her; in the rather cruel, selfish way that men think when all they're feeling is desire and lust, he counted it as a tiny revenge against Artie's comments earlier. He knew his friend wouldn't be experiencing anything like this right now.

An overwhelming desire to unveil everything to her came at the worst possible time, but he had enough sense not to let it ruin this. Instead he said through gritted teeth as he pumped, "I love this, baby. Oh god, don't you just love this?"

Inga moaned in response. "Oh, fuck yes. Yes! Oh baby, I love...yes, yes, yes!"

*****

Standing out in the warm night air in his boxers, Artie fumed. How could he have been so fucking selfish? How could she be so stubborn? He was torn between the two. What they needed to do was talk about this, openly and honestly. But he couldn't help but feel it would be useless. She was set in her ways. There would be no changing her mind on this subject.

For the first time in a long time, Artie felt useless. He felt as if everything was spiralling out of control. He had the very uncomfortable feeling that he was in danger of losing the most amazing thing that had ever happened to him. He had to calm down and look at this rationally.

There was a noise from the green tent next to their orange one. No prizes for guessing what that was. From the sound of it, Paul was giving her a good seeing to. Artie couldn't help but grin: attaboy. 

Absent-mindedly he began to move closer to the tent, listening to the sounds of the lovers' pleasure. Though he had never really like Inga's company much, as a down-to-earth guy he obviously could see how attractive she was. The stories he had heard from various sources about her performances in the sack had of course made him semi-curious. 

Now he was a little shocked to find himself feeling aroused by what was happening in that tent. Somehow he got it into his head that what he was about to do would be a good idea. 

He carefully tiptoed around the tent in a wide circle, so as not to be seen by the pair as a silhouette on their tent wall. He grabbed one of the collapsible camping chairs that was still sitting upright by the fireplace, peeled off his boxers and sat naked on the rough material of the seat. It felt good on his ass; kind of rough but in an oddly good way, like soft sandpaper. 

He slowly started to run his hands all the way down the shaft of his stiffening cock, his eyes semi-closed, listening to the sounds of Inga's pleasure as they began to increase. 

In his mind he wondered if Liz could hear all this? There was no way she couldn't. He fantasised now about what she could be doing. Has she been aroused by the sight of him naked, by his tender kissing? Her hands could now be exploring her body, under that tight white material, around her gorgeous breasts, her nipples like bullets. Her mouth could be as dry as his was right now as she tentatively reached under the girls boxers to find the wetness.

He began to work his hands faster, imagining Liz doing the same, as Inga started to moan and moan. He saw Liz's fingers enter her body, heard her gasp as she felt the sudden jolt of pleasure, saw them start slowly then quickly gather pace, in and out, in and out, her own imagination playing on the idea of him inside her. 

Artie felt a familiar movement, gasped a little and slowed the pace down as he finished, half-attempting to make sure none of the hot white liquid ended up on the seat cover. Thankfully, Inga also sounded as if she was in the middle of a loud, finishing orgasm. As her cries died away into breathless pants, Artie relaxed into the seat, his eyes fully closed, his cock dripping onto the ground.

He must have dozed off for a few minutes, because when he opened his eyes again all was still and quiet. Getting up slowly, he pulled his boxers up from round his ankles and made his way back into the green tent as quietly as he could. 

Liz was fast asleep. He watched her, her chest moving up and down in slow, quiet breaths. Was there a chance that his fantasies had been accurate? As he lay down next to her he couldn't help but feel her hand. It was bone dry. 

*****

Inga was also fast asleep, thoroughly contented. Paul held her in his arms, happiness flooding him to the brim. He knew now this was exactly what he wanted for the rest of his life. This weekend he would tell her everything; he would tell her he loved her.   



The Great Outdoors Ch. 04



This Chapter is a little light on the sex - you need to really have read the other chapters to get an idea of what's going on - enjoy!

Liz woke early the next morning. For a brief moment she suffered from short term memory loss, having no clue as to where she was or what she was doing there. But as she became accustomed to the orange surroundings she grinned and slowly sat up, the sheet slipping off of her as she did so. 

Artie was still fast asleep beside her, breathing gently. He very rarely snored, which Liz knew was a real blessing. Her father still to this day could be heard on the other side of the house when he was at full volume, like a saw gnawing through a large log. 

As she gazed at her gorgeous husband, watching his body rise slightly with every breath, the groggy memory of their quiet fight during the night came back to her. She felt ashamed and a little guilty, but resolved not to feel too bad about it. This was what marriage was all about, a little give and take. Artie just had to accept the fact that she was never going to be as wild an animal in bed as Inga obviously was.

Liz carefully moved off of the bed and, as quietly as she could, dressed herself in yesterday's clothes, unzipped the flap and stepped out into the bright early morning sunshine. The air was fresh and clean, she could feel it in her lungs. So much better than city air; already she was wondering why the hell she had ever moved to Sechs City in the first place. Still, she thought, as she zipped the flap back up and caught sight of her peaceful husband, it hadn't been all bad. 

The birds in the trees around them had been singing for quite a while now. It was a glorious sound, and Liz closed her eyes, breathing in and out heavily, listening to the music in the air. Why couldn't all sound be as sweet as this?

Her eyes opened and she looked over her shoulder at the expensive tent next to her own shabby one. It had been difficult to ignore the obvious sounds of lovemaking during the night; Liz could sympathise with Artie on that level. She would have been lying too if she had said she hadn't felt a small dampness down below hearing those sounds. 

She'd seen a few pornos in her time, mainly through Inga's persuasion. Whether or not the orgasms the (mostly) beautiful women had been having in those had been real or not wasn't the point. Liz still felt that, if her parents had been so good as to be so quiet that you would never have thought they ever made love, she should carry on with that tradition. For her, sex was an intimate, loving act between two people. If Inga wanted to live the way she did that was her choice and Liz could have no say in that; she respected that, the same was she hoped Inga respected the way she lived. 

Maybe she should say something? Or would that make things a little uncomfortable? With her knowledge of Inga's intended break up with Paul maybe it would make things a little too uncomfortable. It was probably best to leave it. 

It was another hour at least before anybody else stirred from the two tents. First Paul, looking as exhilarated as Liz felt about waking up in the forest, then Inga, who didn't look half as excited. Though she was still a little groggy, Liz had to hand it to her friend; she still somehow looked amazing first thing in the morning. 

"Morning, Liz," said Paul happily. 

"Coff-ee," croaked Inga. "Coffee please."

Liz laughed. "Okay," she said, "good morning to you two too. Let's give your girlfriend some coffee or she may not last the morning, let alone the day, Paul."

The last of the small collection of logs was placed in the small stone ring and the fire was started for a kettle of water. As it began to boil, Artie emerged from the orange tent, scratching the small hairs that had popped up across his chin. He wandered over to Liz and stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her loving on the neck.

"I'm sorry about last night," he whispered. "It was a little pathetic of me."

Liz smiled broadly and squeezed his arms. "We both were," she whispered back. "I'm sorry too."

"Hey, hey! Enough with the gross displays of public affection!" called Inga from over by the campfire. 

"She can talk," murmured Artie quietly, causing Liz to giggle slightly.

After the much needed coffee and a quick breakfast of bacon sandwiches cooked over the fire, the four friends talked about their plans for the day. Inga wanted to chill out, claiming that her feet were still sore from their walk the previous day. Though Artie rolled his eyes at this, he admitted that he also felt like just a day of relaxing at the camp site would be perfect. 

"Okay," said Paul, nodding. "Well, we can save the hiking up Peak One till tomorrow. Rest and relaxation it is. Although we are at some point going to have to get some more wood for the fire."

Artie stood up from his camping chair and brushed the bread crumps off his legs. "Well, why don't you and I go do that now and then it's out of the way?"

"Sounds like a plan," agreed Paul. "You girls be all right until we get back?"

Inga raised an eyebrow. "No, Paul, we're gonna hide in our tents from all the scary little creepy crawlies. We'll be fine, now go gather firewood like the cavemen you really are."

Paul laughed and grunted in response. "Come, Artie," he said gruffly. "We get wood. Make fire. Cook many things. Then bash pretty ladies on head and drag to cave."

Liz laughed out loud as Artie grunted in agreement. "Don't forget beer. Many bottles."

"Ugh!"

"Ugh!"

*****

The girl woke slowly, coming to in an aftermath of strange, haunting dreams and dark memories she wished would just leave her alone. She had slept in her clothes, too tired to remove any clothing when she had eventually settled down for the night. For one brief second as she regained her sense of where she was, she thought she could feel Freddie's naked body between her legs; smell his hair; taste the back of his neck with her lips. But then she opened her eyes wider and found herself licking the rough material of her rucksack. 

She sighed and sat up as best as she could in the small tent, not wanting to stretch too much for fear she would bring the whole thing down on top of her. She thought it was a miracle that it had stayed standing all through the night. It had taken longer to put up then she thought it would have; Freddie was the better person at these things. Still, now as she crawled out through the small entrance and into the warm air of the morning, she had to admire her handiwork and was impressed with herself. 

The morning air was full of birdsong and a light breeze whistling through the trees; apart from that, there was silence. It was so peaceful, almost hypnotically so. The girl loved this time of the day when she was put here in the middle of nature. It was like she was the only human left alive on the planet. 

But she wasn't. She knew that there was always a danger of someone coming along and discovering her here. Her chances were better in the forest, she knew that, but could she play with her luck anymore than she already had? 

She wished Freddie was here with her; he would have known exactly what they had to do. He would have made her feel safer, calmer, more focussed. In his own special ways of course: sometimes by looking deep into her brown hazelnut eyes and speaking softly to her; or sometimes by making stupid jokes about their situation just to make her laugh; or sometimes...sometimes he would take her in his arms and make love to her, beautiful, gorgeous, thrilling love that would leave her breathless and make her feel loved.

Just remembering it made her skin buzz and her pussy tingle. She smiled sneakily to herself before reaching back into the tent and pulling out the dirty sleeping bag she had been using. 

She lay down upon it and closed her eyes, listening to the forest around her, as she gently stroked her hands across her young body. She imagined they were Freddie's hands caressing her, exploring her. They travelled up and under her white top, finding her bare breasts; small, round, perfect 34Cs. The nipples stood up as she teased them, hard and tingling. She sighed as she stroked them, imagining Freddie's tongue all over them, devouring them. 

She raised a free hand and placed her middle finger in his mouth, sucking at it and gently nibbling the skin before the hand moved away from one set of lips and towards another. She unbuttoned the single button on the top of her shorts and without undoing the zip pushed the hand under the material and under the pair of white panties towards the increasing dampness. 

The girl moaned as her fingers entered her, thrilling to the feel of flesh, any flesh, inside of her. Her thumb found the top of her mound, felt the small nub of her clit, sending volts of pleasure coursing through her body. She gasped at each one, a large smile on her lips as she felt the continuing satisfaction. It all felt so good, so fucking good... 

*****

The two men set off down a path that Paul said would take them towards an area that had been designated for firewood. For a while they walked in silence, their minds on their mission rather than anything else. 

Then Artie broke the silence. "So you and Inga still seem to be getting along okay. I hope you don't mind me saying this, but I'm actually a little surprised."

Paul grinned. "That I've lasted this long? I think I am a little, too. It's been great, it really has."

They continued to walk through the trees, the peaceful sounds of nature all around them. The path was easy; incredibly flat at times, which made it a lot more pleasant to walk along than the trail they had taken the other day. 

"Actually," Paul went on, a little hesitantly, as if he was unsure of what Artie's reaction would be, "it's been a lot more than great. It's been the greatest. Ever."

Artie stopped in his tracks and looked at his best friend curiously. "What are you saying?"

"I'm in love with her," Paul shrugged. "Didn't think it would happen, but I'm absolutely crazy about this girl. And it's not just because the sex is great, if that's what you're thinking..."

"It wasn't actually," said Artie a little hurriedly, remembering with a little embarrassment what he had heard and pleasured himself to the previous night. 

Paul studied his friend closely. "Are you okay with this?" he asked. "I know you've never exactly been fond of Inga..."

Artie sighed. "Paul, I'm happy for you. Really, I am. But it's just that Inga Jennings isn't the kind of girl I expect to see in ten years time settled down with a house in the suburbs, a husband and two kids. I just don't want you to get your hopes up, okay?"

Paul nodded. "I appreciate it, dude. But I think I can handle it. I mean, I've done it before, right?"

"Yeah, and you were a total mess because of it."

"But it taught me some things. I think that, worst case scenario, Inga doesn't feel the same way, I won't go down the same road as I did last time. I'll make sure I don't."

Artie nodded. "Well, I'm there for you, man. But I think it's really great."

There was an embarrassed silence between the two of them.

"See, this is why dudes don't talk about this kind of stuff," said Paul finally.

But Artie stuck his hand up in the air, his eyebrows raised, puzzled. "Shush," he said. "Listen."

Paul frowned and concentrated on the air around them. There was nothing strange or unfamiliar that he could hear.

"I can't hear anything..." he began to say, but Artie hushed him again and pointed somewhere off to the left of where they were standing. Paul sighed and listened again. Now he heard it; it was a little faint, but it was definitely not something he'd heard before in the forest. It sounded almost like someone in pain. It was either that or...

Artie set off in the direction of the sound, a somewhat reluctant Paul following him. The noise got louder as they went further on, and it became more obvious that the cries they were hearing were not of pain but of intense pleasure.

Suddenly Artie stopped and gestured for Paul to do the same. They were standing behind a thick row of tree stumps, but there, in the middle of a small circle, right in front of them and completely unbeknownst to them, was a gorgeous young girl, with long black hair. She was sitting up slightly, one hand in her beautiful hair, the other buried underneath her somewhat dirty looking denim shorts. 

Paul and Artie's eyes widened as they watched the girl playing with herself, bringing herself to the brink of some blissful utopia. She was crying with pleasure now, so incredibly loudly; at some points she would spit out the words, "Yes! Oh...oh fuck, yes!" and, once or twice, "Oh, Freddie! Yes! Freddie!"

Artie felt his cock bulging; he felt an incredible urge to release it into the air and jerk himself off furiously to this beautiful sight, but he swallowed and put his hands firmly in the back pockets of his jeans. Paul and he were close friends, but they weren't that close that Paul needed to see his member. Besides, he'd had enough of that for one holiday.

Paul was having similar problems controlling himself. This had to be one of the most beautiful girls he has ever seen. She couldn't have been older than early twenties, with such peachy skin, and that hair of us was so dark, the darkest shade he'd ever seen. It hung low, lying around her on the purpled sleeping bag as the cries became higher and higher, less audible. Her face screwed up tight, so obviously on the brink, before one final almighty gasp and she collapsed back onto the ground, exhausted.

Both guys looked at each other.

"That," whispered Paul slowly, "is the hottest thing I've ever seen."

Artie nodded in agreement, but was starting to feel incredibly guilty. This was so wrong for him – what would happen if Liz found out? Worse still, what would happen if this girl found out they had been spying on her like a couple of peeping toms?

"Come on," he whispered back to his friend, who was stretching his neck to see if he could get an even better view of the comatose beauty. "Let's get out of here."

Paul rolled his eyes. "Fine, let's go."

They turned and took a few steps forwards.

Crack!

Paul froze, eyes wide with shock. Artie's jaw dropped. They both looked down to see Paul's foot standing between two halves of a previously whole dry branch. Paul looked at Artie, panic in his whitening face. Should they make a run for it?

"Ahem."

Too late.

The two men, sheepish and horrified at their discovery, turned to see the brunette girl standing behind them, arms folded, eyebrow raised. 

"Hi," she said, shortly.

Artie's mouth moved like a goldfish. What the hell were they going to do now?

"We didn't see anything," Paul blurted out.

Artie screwed his eyes tight shut. "Smooth," he muttered through gritted teeth at his unhappy looking friend.

"What didn't you see?" asked the girl. It was almost nonchalant, casual. There was no anger in her voice, no fear, no hurt. It took both men by surprise. Again they were at a loss for words. 

Finally the girl laughed and held out her hand. "God, where are my manners, huh? I'm Rachel. You are...?"

For a brief moment both men were stunned into silence, before Artie snapped back to reality and, taking her hand, replied, "Er, Artie. Artie Seymour. This is Paul Taylor, my best buddy."

"Pleasure to meet you," said Paul, grinning like a madman.

"Likewise," said Rachel, returning the smile. "Are you two alone or...?"

"Oh, no, no, no," said Artie hurriedly. "No, our other halves are back at our camp. Juts the four of us. Little holiday. It's actually my wife and I...it's our first anniversary, that's why we're out here." He didn't know why he'd blurted out that particular pieces of info; possibly mainly for himself to try and cool down.

"Aw, that's sweet. Congratulations!"

"Er, thanks."

"Yeah, his wife and my girlfriend are back at camp," repeated Paul, making sure not to put too much emphasis on the word girlfriend unless it would sound too obvious. "We were just out collecting some firewood."

"Really? I know a great place that's not that far from here. Think it's in that direction," Rachel said, pointing back towards the way the guys had come from. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's right. I know this forest pretty well."

"Me too," said Paul. "I'm actually training to be a ranger here."

"No kidding, that's so cool."

How old is she, thought Artie? She looks quite young, not in her teens though; she talks like a young person. God, I feel so old now!

"You want me to show you where it is?" she asked helpfully. "It's just me so I'm not leaving anyone behind or anything."

Something jarred in Artie slightly. "Would that be so wrong?" he asked her.

"No, not at all," she said, still smiling good-naturedly. "But you never know what's in the forest, do you?" 

*****

Inga was sitting in one of the camping chairs, catching the morning rays; shades on her face, wearing her tight denim shorts from yesterday and a plain white bra over her small breasts. Liz was sitting next to her, her paperback novel in her hands, but her mind was concentrating on other things.

"Artie and I had a bit of an argument last night," she admitted finally.

"I thought you might," replied her best friend. "He was in a bit of a mood all day, wasn't he?"

"I don't know why. He seems okay today. It's weird."

Inga shrugged. "Men. They think we're complicated? I reckon men are actually so simple to understand we actually take it for granted half the time and make them more complicated than they actually are!"

Liz nodded, deep in thought. She began to toy with her key necklace; she hadn't taken it off since her and Artie's anniversary meal. That had been two nights ago. It had all seemed so much better two nights ago. 

"I think I know why he was so moody," she said slowly. "I think it's got something to do with...sex."

Inga raised the shades off of her eyes and stared at her friend in amazement. "I've known you three years, Liz Seymour, and I believe this is the first time a conversation between us about sex has been started by someone other than myself."

Liz smiled slightly. "Well, out of the two of us, you're certainly the most experienced?"

"Are you calling me a slut?"

"No, but...do you think you're like a...what's the word...nymphomaniac?"

Inga sat up. "A sex addict? You think I'm a sex addict?"

"Well, yeah. No! I don't know..."

"Isn't every woman one of those?" asked Inga, taking off her shades fully now. "How could we not be? When else do you ever feel more pleasure than you've ever felt in your life before?"

"When you're in love," replied Liz quietly.

Inga grunted a little. "Sorry, hun, but until I've tasted it for myself, I can't possibly comment."

Liz was starting to get a little annoyed now. Maybe it was the heat that was making everyone she cared about so irritable? "Look, all I'm saying is...all right, take last night for example."

"Last night?" asked Inga innocently.

"Come on, Inga; they could have heard you two going at it up on Peak One last night."

"So?"

"So...? Inga!" Liz lowered her voice a little. "You told me on Friday you were going to break up with Paul, and then you go and have the loudest, most passionate sex I've ever heard with him."

"Did it turn you on?"

Liz's eyes widened. "What?"

"Did we turn you on?" asked Inga seriously, looking at her friend square in the face now. "When you heard us fucking our brains out – when you heard me moaning. Did it turn you on? 'Cos I gotta tell you, Liz, honey; knowing that you and husband dearest could hear everything that was going on just made it even hotter for me. It can't not have affected you in any other way than that, could it?"




The Great Outdoors Ch. 04



Liz was silent. "I just don't think it was the right thing to do," she said finally, quieter. "You're messing with Paul's emotions."

"He's a big boy, he can take care of himself." Inga sighed. "Oh, honey, come on, I don't want to fight with you. Not on our holiday. Okay, I'm sorry we were so loud. If you want I'll totally respect your privacy and make sure we take care next time. I'll get him to gag me or something."

Liz couldn't help but laugh at this, blushing as she did so. "No, I'm sorry. I'm such a prude. Listen: I think I can hear the boys coming back."

Inga listened too. "Sounds like they've got someone with them," she said curiously.

Sure enough, half a minute later, Artie and Paul arrived with a young woman walking and chatting away quite happily next to them. Both Liz and Inga raised an eyebrow; the girl was certainly a looker. She smiled broadly at the pair of them now and walked right up to them, hand held out. 

"Hi, I'm Rachel Boden. Now which one of you's the wife and who's the girlfriend?"

Inga raised an eyebrow at Paul, who looked sheepishly away.

"Hello," said Liz in reply, taking the hand and shaking it as warmly as her sudden anxieties would let her. "I'm Liz Seymour; this is Inga. Nice to meet you, Rachel."

"Oh, likewise, likewise," replied Rachel, laughing politely. "Honestly, these boys have been talking so much about you two I feel like I know your life stories backwards."

"Aw, you boys have been talking about your little women?" said Inga to the two men. "I hope they kept things clean for you, Rachel. Notice a distinct lack of firewood – what happened to the hunter-gatherer-cavemen?"

"We bumped into Rachel just a little way off in that direction," explained Artie. "She said she knew a better place to get some wood, so we...we asked her to show us it." He stopped himself a little too quickly after his accidental innuendo for Liz's liking. 

"That was kind of her," she said, her smile becoming a little less genuine. 

Rachel began to blush; her eyes lost a little of the twinkle they had had when she had first arrived. "Oh god, I'm becoming a huge fucking spanner, aren't I?" she said out loud. "I'm intruding; I'm sorry. Look, guys, I'll give you the directions and you can take it from here."

Liz noticed Artie slightly frowning – was it in her direction? Even if it wasn't, she didn't want to have another argument today. "No, no, I'm sorry," she said, swallowing her pride. "Honestly, it's really nice to meet you. Are you here with anyone else?" 

Rachel smiled again. You had to admit it was a pretty cute smile. "Nope. On my uno for a while. Just camping and hiking. I would have brought my boyfriend, Freddie, but he didn't really wanna come along, so I came on my lonesome."

Artie and Paul looked at each other; the mention of 'Freddie' brought back images from five minutes ago they would gladly pay to relive again.

"It's actually pretty cool," Rachel continued. "I mean, I don't often get the chance to be on my own. I've never really wanted it, really. God, I'm twenty-five and I need commitment. Got to be something wrong with me, right?" She laughed out loud. Damn it if it wasn't a cute laugh.

"Look, I've got an idea," said Paul. "Your tent is only a little way away from us. There's plenty of room here; why don't you just bring it here and stay with us? I mean, we're going to only be here a couple more days but the more the merrier, right?"

Rachel beamed wider. "You know what, that would be amazing? But I'd really hate to impose. I'd be up for it if everyone else was, but I seriously don't wanna like mooch on your holiday. I mean, I'm here for myself, you know."

Liz looked at Artie again. He seemed to not want to make a decision until she did. She sighed inwardly and said, "No, I think that would be lovely. I'd hate the idea of you being on your own, especially with us being so close."

"Sounds fine to me," Artie chipped in. He looked relieved, Liz noticed. This wasn't a good sign. 

"Cool," replied Rachel, before turning to Inga. "How about you, beautiful? Seriously, if it's going to be a problem...?"

It was only now that Liz suddenly remembered that Inga was still only in her bra and shorts. The two boys hadn't been fazed by this at all – after all, this was Inga she was thinking about – but it seemed slightly odd that Rachel didn't seem to have batted an eyelid at it. Didn't it? Or maybe Liz was just being prude again.

But Inga shook her head. "No, not at all. The more the merrier."

"Brilliant," said Rachel happily. "Okay, so would you guys be able to help me with my things? I've only got a small amount of stuff. My tent's easy – it's one of those new compact fold-up thingies."

"Sure," said Paul. "Art, you coming?"

"Yeah, just give me a second."

"Sure, catch up."

As Paul and Rachel headed back off in the direction they had come from, Inga went back towards her tent, a blank look on her face. Artie went up to Liz. "You're seriously okay with this?" he asked. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind..."

"No, its fine," Liz lied, interrupting him. "Honestly. She seems...she seems like a lot of fun."

Artie smiled warmly and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "Oh, you'll never guess what?" he said just as he was turning to run after Paul and Rachel, whispering now. "Paul told me he's in love with Inga."

Liz's face fell. "What? When, just now? In love with her?"

"Shhh," warned Artie. "He hasn't told her yet. I figured there's going to be trouble, but for now he's like the happiest I've ever seen him for a long time. You okay? You look a little pale."

"I'm fine, fine," she said hurriedly. "You'd better, er, you know..."

"Right," said Artie. He kissed her again and hurried off after the other two, leaving Liz alone in the clearing, a mixture of anxieties and emotions running all over the place.



The Great Outdoors Ch. 05



+Liz found Inga rubbing lotion onto her bare arms in her and Paul's tent. The revelation she had learnt from Artie buzzed through her skull. She was desperate to tell her best friend that Paul was in love with her, and that maybe she should reconsider her plans to break the whole thing off with him.

Instead, she lost her nerve. "Can you believe those two?" she asked her instead, trying to sound half amused, half annoyed. "Honestly. What the hell were they thinking, inviting her to hang round with us?"

"Hmm," replied Inga, not looking up, "I doubt they were thinking with their brains, Liz."

Liz shook her head. "Obviously."

"Still," Inga continued, replacing the cap on her bottle of lotion, "I can't really be hypocritical. I can understand what those two morons were going through." 

"Really?"

"Oh, yeah. Definitely. I mean, she's hot. Extremely hot, actually. Fucking gorgeous. I doubt anyone would find it easy to kick her out of bed. Killer body, beautiful smile, and those eyes." 

Liz knew all about Inga's past experiences with the same sex, so the fact that her best friend was saying all this now was of no great surprise to her. "Yeah, well, forgive me for not being so enthusiastic as you, or Paul, or my husband for that matter."

"You don't think she's attractive?"

"No, I agree with you. Rachel's beautiful. She really is. But you know me; we've had this talk a lot of times. I'm just not that kind of girl."

"A sad fact, but true," grinned Inga. "And I gave you my best moves, remember?"

Liz blushed a little, but smiled back. "You were totally wasted on vodka and cokes that night. I could have been anybody and you would have stuck your tongue down my throat. Frankly, if those are your best moves, I'm surprised you've got a reputation at all."

Inga gasped playfully. "Bitch," she beamed. "Look, at the end of the day, what have you got to worry about? You're married to a guy who's utterly devoted to you. I can say many things about Artie, but the one thing I know he's not is a cheater. He loves you."

Memories of the night before, of the fight, came back to Liz in a flood. "Yes," she said slowly, "he does."

*****

Rachel had been right -- she didn't have a lot of stuff. Why it needed two guys to help her move it all was beyond Artie, yet here he was, willingly volunteering. Was he such a sucker for a hot girl? He certainly had been when he'd first laid eyes on Liz, that was for sure. But he was past all that now, wasn't he? He was a married man, married to a woman who still made him hard by the softest of kisses, let alone naked. 

Paul seemed to be intoxicated with the woman; hanging on every word, laughing at every joke. Okay, so Artie knew he was doing exactly the same thing, but he liked to think he had some kind of common sense about the whole situation. Besides, up until now he had seen a very different side to Paul: a Paul who was after commitment, a lasting relationship, a Paul who was in love. There was no way he could jeopardise that.

When they got back to the main camp it took them a while to set Rachel's tent up. "I wasn't all that great at it last night," she said, slightly shamefully. "Freddie's the expert; it's his tent anyway, so of course he would be."

Soon, however, it was up and ready to be slept in. The two men looked at it with a certain pride, while Inga, back to sunbathing in her chair and shades, only showed a slightly bored interest in the whole thing. Liz had been hanging round the outer edges of the group, watching events closely. She was torn between so many different paths: tell Inga how Paul felt about her; tell Artie of Inga's plans to break up with Paul; tell Rachel to stop flirting so much with her husband.

Were they flirting? They were, very much so. It was an innocent kind of flirting, a flirting where both parties knew it wasn't going to go anywhere beyond that. It still hurt though, thought Liz sadly. It stung deeply.

When Artie came over to her after the tent was finished she wrapped her arms around his neck and, in what she felt was a pretty bold move for her, kissed him deeply, more deeply than she had done in public for a very long time.

"You're happy about something," murmured Artie as their lips broke apart. "I'm glad."

"Me too," Liz said, smiling. "Want to go for a walk? Just the two of us?"

Artie looked longingly at his wife. "I'd love to, but I promised I'd help get the firewood, remember?"

Paul came over to them. "It's okay, I think I can mange that," he said honestly. "This is supposed to be your anniversary holiday, yeah? Spend some quality time, just the two of you. Take the Waterfalls walk; it's spectacular, trust me."

Liz grinned, then looked excited. "No, oooh, wait. Can we borrow your binoculars? I wanna do that walk we did yesterday and see those birds again?"

Artie raised an eyebrow. "Really? Well, okay then. If that's what you want, babe, that's what we'll do."

As Paul went back into his tent to fetch the binoculars, a curious Rachel picked up the paperback novel that lay resting open face down on one of the seats. "Oh god," she breathed excitedly, "who's reading Thomas Gregory?"

"That would be the President of the Fan Fiction club over there," said Inga dryly, pointing in Liz's direction.

Liz blushed. "Yeah, it's mine. Have you read it?"

"About fifty-three times, I think," replied Rachel, flicking through the pages whilst being careful not to lose Liz's place. "Don't you just love them? They're so full of passion and energy."

Liz blushed a deeper shade of red. "I'm more interested in the stories, really," she said, ignoring a less than subtle snort from Inga. 

"Oh, totally, totally," smiled Rachel. "I think I've got all his books back at mine and Freddie's place."

Paul resurfaced from the orange tent, binoculars in hand. As he handed them over to a grateful Liz he said to Rachel, "Right, firewood: lead the way. Inga, you wanna come with us?"

"Yeah, how about it, beautiful?" Rachel chimed in good-naturedly. 

Inga looked at him through her shades. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking under the black lenses. "No, I'm good here," she said slowly. "Think I might take a nap."

"Okay, babes," he replied, kissing her on the forehead, causing one of her eyebrows to raise. "We'll see you later. You got the radio if there's any problems, yeah?"

"Sure, sure."

One pair went one way, one pair went another. Inga was left on her own in the middle of the clearing. She waited for a moment until she was sure the coast was clear, and then muttered savagely, "Shit!"

Now what the hell was this? Why this sudden overwhelming negative feeling had suddenly swept over her, she hadn't the faintest idea. Where had it sprung from? This wasn't like her at all -- correction, this wasn't her at all.

Nope, that was right. She was just tired; last night, though amazing, had worn her out even now. She would sure miss that feeling when the time came to kiss Paul goodbye. Still, it had to be done. That burning itch inside of her to embark on a new adventure had sparked off again. She would kiss Paul goodbye and fuck someone else hello.

*****

As Liz and Artie walked together, hand in hand, through the forest that was becoming more and more familiar to them, Liz's mind was half-begging her husband not to bring up the topic of Inga and Paul's relationship. Unfortunately, it ran out of luck fairly quickly.

"So what do you really think about what Paul told me?" Artie asked her as they started the slow, steep climb up the hill. "You were kind of vague earlier. You looked shell shocked, actually."

"Did I?" asked Liz, trying to sound as casual as possible. "Well, it was just a little bit unexpected. I mean, I've never thought of Paul being the type of guy to settle down before."

Artie laughed. "You're right. Though he was once, quite a while ago."

This was new. Liz looked at him inquisitively. "What do you mean?"

Artie sighed. "It's pretty private, I don't know if I should tell you."

"Artie, please. You can trust me, you know you can."

"Okay, okay." The walked for a moment in silence, concentrating on getting their steps right up a particularly difficult stretch of path, before Artie started to talk again.

"Okay, so it was about eight or nine years ago, and Paul met this girl. I can't remember her name -- I think it was something like Kaylee or something like that. Anyway, she was this terrific piece of work. Good looker, great fun at parties, and an honestly nice woman."

"You can remember all that but you can't remember her name? What was her bra size?" asked Liz teasingly.

"Shut up," he replied playfully. "So we all thought she was great and that it was brilliant that Paul was finally happy and we all thought it was going to go the usual way: marriage, kids, suburbs, so forth."

"That sounds nice."

"Yeah, it does, doesn't it?"

There was a moment's silence.

"So...er...what went wrong?" asked Liz awkwardly. "With Paul and Kaylee, I mean."

Artie sighed. "Turns out she was cheating on him. With two other guys."

Liz gasped. "Oh god, poor Paul. What a slut! Bitch!"

"He was devastated. I mean, serious depression. He'd never had his heart broken before. It was awful to watch; he went into like this spiral of self-destruction. I was still too young really to fully appreciate it all. It wasn't until he decided to jump off the Sechs City Bridge after one too many beers that I realised what he was going though."

Liz stopped straight in her tracks, turning white as a sheet. "He tried to kill himself?"

Artie shook his head. "No, he talked about it in the bar. I stopped him -- just, I gotta add, he was dead set on ending it there and then. If it hadn't been for me reaching his nerves through all that booze I dunno what could have happened."

"What did you do?" asked Liz curiously.

"I knocked him out cold with my fist," he replied. "First and only time I've ever hit a man. Hurt, too; my hand was sore for about a week. The real icing on the cake was that we then both got thrown out of the bar for fighting. To this day we're still not allowed in."

Liz couldn't help giggling. "My husband -- the bar room brawler."

"Yeah, well. After that he started going to like a counsellor, worked through some stuff, and decided he wasn't going to mope about any more. He was going to live his life and have some fun. Which he certainly has done, I can tell you that. I mean, eight year of fun is a long time. No wonder he wants to settle down with Inga."

Liz went very quiet, staring at the ground beneath her feet as they walked. "Do you think..." she started hesitantly, "...do you think it could happen again? That he could...slip back into depression?"

Artie shrugged. "Don't know, really. God, I hope not. I might have to hit him again."

"Artie, be serious."

"Okay, I'm sorry. See, I knew I shouldn't have brought it up; I've got you all upset. Come on, let's change the subject. How many of those birds do you think we'll see today?" 

*****

"So how long have you and Inga been together?" Rachel asked.

They had been walking through the forest for quite some time now, and she had told them they were nearing the place she had suggested for firewood. All the way there they had talked quite casually; Paul determined to keep his eyes on her pretty face and not on her gorgeous body, her small breasts, her tight ass... 

"About six months now," he replied.

"Six months, wow, that's great. You're really lucky; I think she's stunning."

"She is," he said warmly and truthfully, "in every sense of the word."

"How did you meet?"

"She was best friends with Liz and I was best friends with Artie; we'd known each other a while but never really thought of dating. It just sort of happened, really."

"Cool. So you were seeing someone else before then?"

For the first time, Paul felt a little bashful. He didn't like to brag about his love life that much, especially not to a strange woman. "Er...yeah," he replied eventually. "Sort of?"

"Sort of?" Rachel asked. She had a slight hint of mischief in her eyes, goading him on to tell her more.

"Well, really, I was actually seeing a few people before I started dating Inga."

"Really?" said Rachel slyly. "Good for you; I think life's too short to worry about things like that, until you've actually got it in front of you, of course."

"Sure."

"Have you had a lot of lovers?"

Now things were getting personal, thought Paul's brain, but his mouth moved seemingly of its own accord as he answered, "Yeah, a fair few."

"Me too," Rachel said proudly. 

"But now you're with Freddie."

"Oh, yeah, and I love him to bits, believe me, but even then that's never stopped me before."

"Really?"

"God, no. Openness is the only way to go in relationships these days."

Paul's mouth felt suddenly very dry. He felt the spark between them; the anticipation was there. He was becoming aroused, the soft flesh quickly swelling to a noticeable bulge. 

Rachel turned round suddenly, stopping him in his tracks. "We're here," she said. "Now -- take off your pants."

Paul was slightly startled. "What?"

She slowly walked towards him, that wicked glint in her eyes, unzipping the small zip of her denim shorts as she said slowly, "Ever since I saw you and Artie watching me this morning, knowing how hot I was making you...it was such a fucking turn on." The shorts slipped off the smooth legs, revealing a gorgeous pair of black French knickers. "And now I want your cock in my mouth. Take. Off. Your. Pants."

With that she pushed him backwards into a tree quickly. Before he had time to fully comprehend what was going on she was on her knees on the forest floor, her hands ripping his own zip down and unbuckling his jeans. She reached into his boxers and pulled out his still hardening member.

"God, you're big," she said huskily, taking him into her wet mouth for one tantalising suck. "Mmm, tasty too," she added, giggling naughtily. 

Her lips closed round it again and Paul put his head back onto the hard, rough bark of the tree in ecstasy. This girl was good; she knew what she was doing with that mouth of hers. He ran his fingers through her silky black hair, grunting as she continued to suck and lick happily away. She began to play with his balls, stroking and caressing them, playfully pulling and pinching them on occasions. Her other hand slipped down into her French knickers, down into the wetness, flicking her clit to the rhythm of her sucking. She moaned with her mouthful. 

This was too good to be true, and try as he might, Paul couldn't help but started to get over excited. Carefully he removed her head from his cock, a thin trail of white thread connecting her lips to the very tip. Without thinking, Paul tore down the French knickers, revealing her bare mound, and after they had kissed passionately, deeply, he spun her round with a slightly startled, "Oh!" and entered her from behind, his jeans falling down his strong legs as he did so. 

Their movements were quick, fast, rough. She began to whimper and screw her face tight shut as he moved his throbbing hardness in and out of her. His hands reached under her top and found her breasts, braless, the nipples hard. He squeezed and toyed with them, causing her to start moaning louder and louder. 

Finally, just when he was reaching the edge, Rachel bent her back forwards and down, stretching her hands down to her toes, as if she was attempting to touch them. This seemed to increase her wonderful pleasure only further. She began to cry out in ecastasy.

"Yes, yes, yes! God, yes! Fuck me, fuck me, oh, baby, baby, fuck me, Freddie, fuck me! Ohh! Oh god! Oh!"

Paul was lost in a sea of warmth, oblivious to the obvious oddities; as he buckled and felt the white hotness leave, he grunted, biting his lower lip. In turn Rachel stood straight up, her hands on his legs, squeezing them tightly as she came in gasps and strangled yelps, shuddering.

As her cries died down, she lay back onto his body in utter exhaustion. They were sweating badly; the heat of their quick encounter mirrored only by the heat of the early afternoon sun. They stayed like that until his member had shrunken down and out of her with a sticky, warm mess covering it. 

Rachel took a step forwards, pulling up her French knickers as she did so. "That was fun," she smiled, a little breathlessly. "Inga's a very lucky girl to have you in her bed every night."

The mention of Inga's name hit Paul in the face like a wet cloth; though they had always insisted to each other that their relationship would remain open, this had been the firs chance Paul had actually had to screw someone other than her. It didn't feel right, though. It felt all wrong, all of it. He felt foolish and pathetic. 

"What's wrong?" asked Rachel casually. "Didn't you enjoy that? 'Cos I've got a funny feeling dripping down my legs at the moment that seems to suggest you did." To prove a point she traced a finger up her inner left leg and placed it in her mouth, sucking it for a second. "Mmm...yup, definitely tastes like Cum Of Paul. Nice flavour."

Was this girl for real? Paul thought as he grabbed the nearest leaf he could find in an attempt to wipe the mess of their encounter from around his cock. "It's not that I didn't enjoy it," he explained. "I guess...this kind of thing isn't for me anymore."

Rachel shrugged. "If that's your call, then live with it, honey. Now let's find some of that firewood, shall we?"

She wondered a little way off, zipping her shorts back up as she did so, leaving Paul standing there, still slightly dazed, his jeans round his ankles, a leaf wrapped round his shrivelled, dripping cock.

*****

The afternoon drew on. Liz and Artie got back to camp before Paul and Rachel, a fact that only heightened Inga's inner cynicism. When the other pair eventually returned, however, their arms were so full of logs that she almost began to question her emotions. Almost, though; there was still that hint of something not quite right.

Why should I care, she thought for the fourteenth time. After all, if he screwed her, good for him; she's adorable. This is the way we wanted our relationship after all. 

Artie decided he wanted a snooze in the tent, while Paul and Inga, who said she was bored, went for a short walk on their own. Liz settled down back into one of the camping chairs with her book, but was quickly joined by Rachel, who was halfway through eating a tin of peaches. 

"So which is your favourite Thomas Gregory book, then?" she asked Liz as she sat down in the chair next to her.

Liz smiled and thought carefully. "I think I'd have to say A Woman's Castle," she replied.

"Oh, good choice. Why?"

"Are you kidding? I mean, the scene where Sir Oliver goes to her room to convince her not to marry that French moron...I mean, that's the best piece of writing Gregroy's ever done!"

"In your opinion," said Rachel, popping another peach slice into her mouth, a little of the sweet juice glistening on her lips in the sunlight. "I mean, yeah, it's a great scene, but I reckon he's written better. Wanna know my fave?"

"Of course."

She grinned and said, in an over the top, dramatic voice that made Liz giggle, "Choices Of A Scoundrel."

"Ha ha, you're right; that's a great one. I'd say that was my number three choice after my choice and...erm...oh, Henry's Daughter. Oh, the ending's so sad on that one."

"Yeah, I cried like a baby when I read that," Rachel agreed, finishing the last of the peaches and placing the empty tin carefully by the side of her chair. "You know, there's some pretty racy stuff in his books."

Liz blushed. "There is, you're right."

"Have you got to the scene in that one yet in the stable?"

"Actually, yeah, it's just coming up to that part."




The Great Outdoors Ch. 05



Rachel grinned widely. "God, I was so horny after reading that chapter -- I had to play with myself for two hours before I could get to sleep properly."

Liz nodded slowly. It felt a little weird listening to this girl she barely knew talk so openly about these things. With Inga she was used to it, she expected it; this had caught her slightly off guard. 

What was even more unsettling was the fact that, try as she might disguise it, she knew she felt exactly the same about that scene. There had been nights, when Artie had been away on business, that she had sometimes taken the book off the shelves and read that scene purposely to stop from feeling so lonely. She'd never gone as far as do anything like Rachel was describing though. 

The thought now struck her: why hadn't she? There'd been no one there, she'd been in her own bedroom. She could have done whatever the damn she wanted to. The thought of it made her feel very warm all of a sudden.

"You know that one I was talking about -- Choices Of A Scoundrel?" Rachel said, sitting upright and looking at her. "I reckon that's the hottest one he's ever written."

"You're probably right."

"You know that scene in the labyrinth?"

Liz's eyes widened slightly. "Oh yes, that scene?"

"I read an interview with Gregory," Rachel continued, "and he said that he would never write another scene like that again because he felt it was too perfect. Can you imagine? The only woman on woman scene he's ever written and he thinks it's perfect."

Liz cleared her throat. "It wasn't exactly fully...woman on woman, though, was it?"

"Guess not. Depends what you definition is, doesn't it? I mean, would you even class it as a sex scene? Georgina's hands exploring Lucia's body while she sleeps -- I doubt it really is. Not full on sapphic erotica, is it? Hot, though. Did the trick."

Liz looked at the girl's pretty face carefully. There seemed to be nothing false in its gaze, no hidden meaning. She stood up out of her chair, closing the book after turning the top corner down on the page she had reached.

"Did you bring a lot of food?" she asked Rachel. "I'm gonna have to start thinking about dinner in a moment -- you're obviously more than welcome to share ours." 

Rachel laughed. "Yeah, I doubt what I brought could feed the five thousand, but I'd love to share it with you guys too, if that's possible."

"I'm sure we can work something out," replied Liz, smiling warmly.

The young woman nodded. "Can I take a look at that?" she asked suddenly, pointing towards Liz's key necklace.

Before Liz had time to answer Rachel had removed herself from the chair and was standing right in front of her, holding the sparkling piece of jewellery between two smooth fingers. 

She was incredibly close now. Liz could smell the faint scent of moss in her black hair; the tinned peaches on her breath, sweet and slightly sickly. She could see clearly the smooth skin of her neck and shoulders, with the odd freckle dotted around just above the hem of the material of her top, just before the rise of her small breasts.

"It's beautiful," Rachel said quietly, her eyes fixed on the necklace. "Precious, even. It's a wonderful match for someone like you." Here her eyes rose, gazed intently into Liz's own, unblinking. A hand rose and placed itself gently on Liz's arm, stroking it lightly. "You're an incredibly lucky woman, Liz. I wish I had someone as loving as you do to give me gifts like this."

Liz was feeling slightly nauseous, due perhaps to the mix of moss and peaches in her lungs. "I...I know I'm very lucky..." she stammered.

"Very lucky," repeated Rachel, now so close that their breasts were almost touching through the fabric of their tops. "How much luckier do you want to be in your life, Liz?"

Liz couldn't answer; the words were stuck in her throat. She was filled with an overwhelming feeling of opportunity; aware of a life-defining moment which who knew what would happen afterwards if she followed those eyes? Her mouth was dry; she wanted to lick her lips, but she was too afraid, as if the beautiful girl in front of her might take it as an invitation to bring her own supple lips closer still. 

Thoughts of Artie flooded her mind and brought her back to reality. She cleared her throat, smiled lightly and took the necklace back from Rachel's tender grasp, stepping backwards as she did so. 

"I'm luckier than I ever thought I would be," she replied truthfully, trying her best not to stammer, to betray the sudden quickening of the beat of her heart. 

She expected to see some kind of disappointment in those eyes; instead there was a strange kind of warmth.

"I'm glad," the girl replied, sounding like she meant what she said. "Maybe one day I'll be as lucky as you."

The slight unease in Liz's stomach now gave way to a sense of pity. Though Rachel was now smiling, there seemed to be something sad in her eyes. 

"Haven't you ever been in love before, Rachel?" she asked. 

"Of course," replied Rachel. "I'm in love with Freddie. It took me a while to find him, though. I needed someone like him -- a man who could treat me the way I wanted to be treated. We argue occasionally, of course. Every couple does. But as long as we both give each other as much as we expect to get from each other...you know what I'm saying?"

"I think so," said Liz slowly.

"Couples should share; they should sacrifice for the other." Rachel wasn't really looking anywhere now; just into the near distance. "Otherwise you could die."

*****

When night came the starts were as bright as they had been the previous evening, perhaps even more so. The moon was almost full. The whole sight had a magical feel to it.

The campfire burned brightly in the middle of the semi-circle as the campers, full on a wonderful shared meal, talked and laughed happily away. For a long moment there were no anxieties, no fears, no secrets causing inner turmoil. Everyone was content. 

"Who wants another beer?" asked Rachel. "You guys sure brought a lot of booze with you."

"God, that sounds bad," said Artie. "We look like proper alcoholics now, I'll bet."

"No way," laughed Rachel, raising her voice. "More excuse to party, whoo!"

They laughed at the infectious enthusiasm, and soon more bottles had been consumed. They were all beginning to feel a little light headed, but not too drunk that they weren't aware of what was going on and what people were saying.

"Let's do something," said Inga after a while. "What shall we do?"

"Spin The Bottle!" cried out Rachel.

"No-ho-ho way," said Paul, laughing. "I ain't gonna kiss Artie on the mouth."

"What's wrong with my husband?" asked Liz in mock-disgust.

"I'm a straight guy, that's what's wrong with it!" Artie blurted out, causing them all to collapse with laughter again.

"I know, I know," said Rachel excitedly. "Truth or Dare!" 

Inga's eyes brightened up. "I LOVE Truth or Dare! Come on, let's play it?"

"What are we, fifteen?" asked Paul wearily.

"Truth or Dare!" Inga and Rachel chanted together in unison. "Truth or Dare! Truth or Dare!"

"Okay, okay," said Paul, putting his hands up. "I give in. Truth or Dare. But only if I can go first!"

"Fine -- what's your choice?"

"No, wait," said Paul hurriedly, "I meant, I wanted to pick..."

"Choose now, Paul! Hurry hurry hurry," said Inga, tapping her wrist.

"All right, all right. Truth."

"I've got one," said Rachel. "HAVE you ever kissed another man before?"

The whole group save Paul laughed out loud. Eventually he answered, "If you must know, yeah, I have."

That stunned them into semi-silence. 

"Seriously?" asked Artie, almost choking on his merriment.

"When was this?" asked Inga, slapping his arm playfully.

"Playing Spin The Bottle at a party...."

The rest of his explanation was drowned out in a chorus of laughter and mock jeers. 

*****

It drew late, even too late for Rachel, who couldn't disguise her yawns with laughter for much longer.

"Gotta hit the hay," she said sleepily. "Thanks for such a brilliant evening, guys. See you in the morning!"

They all said their goodnights to her before getting up themselves and stretching, ready to make their way into their own tents. As the men talked for a bit longer and started to put the fire out, Liz drew Inga to one side.

"She's not so bad, is she?" Inga said. "Bit loud when she's had a few drinks, but she's fun, I'll give her that."

"Yeah," said Liz slowly. "Funny thing happened earlier this afternoon -- I've wanted to tell you but haven't had the opportunity..."

"Is it about Paul?" asked Inga quietly, interrupting her best friend in mid-flow.

"What? No. Why? Has something happened?"

"I don't know...yet," frowned Inga. "Sorry, you were saying something else had happened?"

"Yeah, well, I was talking to Rachel this afternoon and...well, I'm pretty sure she came onto me."

Inga looked surprised. "Seriously? As in...like coming onto you...?"

"Well, how else is it supposed to be?" asked Liz, a little annoyed. "Yeah."

"What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," hissed Liz. "I just...I guess I kind of politely refused."

"Wow," said Inga. "I mean, she's obviously a party type of girl but...never thought she was on both teams."

Paul wandered over, the fire now safely extinguished, a faint orange light glowing from amongst the burnt ashes. "You ready for bed, Inga?" he asked.

"Yeah, sure thing, hun." Inga hugged Liz good night, called, "Good night, Arthur," rather too loudly, and disappeared into the orange tent with Paul closely following her.

Artie went over to the green tent and stepped in. Liz started to follow but stopped by the chairs. Rachel had left her backpack there open. Tutting slightly at the potential fire hazard she picked it up and made to put it back by the young woman's tent. It felt heavy -- surprisingly heavy. 

Her curiosity, plus the amount of alcohol she had drunk that evening, got the better of her; she opened the bag a little wider and had a quick rummage. Almost immediately her hand hit something cold and metal. It felt like a bottle of deodorant, except bottles of deodorant didn't stretch out and have a trigger.

Stunned, she almost dropped the bag. Her mind whirred; there had to be a logical explanation. After all, they were in the forest. Who knew if there were bears here or other wild creatures? Well, Paul did, obviously; that's why they were safe. It was perfectly reasonable for Rachel to have a gun with her in the forest, particularly if she had been intending to camp alone. It was a security measure; that was all.

Satisfied, Liz placed the bag at the door of the tent and, yawning quietly, made her way back to her and Artie's own green shabby one. 

As she closed the flap, a hand came out of Rachel's tent and carefully picked the bag up. It was a hand that knew exactly where the bag had been placed; for eyes had been watching all the time, and breath had been held. 

Enough fooling around; it was time to make a move.



The Great Outdoors Ch. 06



The morning sun rose slowly on the final day of the holiday, as if it didn't have the heart to wake up the people whose lives were about to be changed. If that had been its intention, it failed badly. 

Liz and Artie were the first people up and about. Both had had a better night's sleep than the previous one, though this was due in part effect to the amount of alcohol they had drunk. As memories stirred in Liz's mind when she woke, the sense of cold, hard metal in her hand came back to haunt her. 

A rather shocking selfishness came over. She and Artie had to get away from this place for a while, even if it was just for the morning. She couldn't bear to look Paul in the eyes, knowing that this would be his and Inga's last day as a couple; she didn't want to run the risk of being picked on by Rachel the way she had done yesterday afternoon -- her dreams had been confusing and bewildering enough as it was. 

"Artie," she began slowly, quietly, "what do you say the pair of us go for a long walk this morning? Just the two of us?"

Artie grinned and kissed his wife lightly on the lips. "I'd say that sounds like a lovely idea. We'd better wait until the others are up though to tell them what we're doing..."

"No!" said Liz sharply. She took a breath. "Sorry, it's just...I don't know, all of a sudden I just want to be alone with you. They're big enough and ugly enough to take care of themselves, aren't they? If we leave now they won't notice we're gone until they wake up -- it gives us more time. It's our last day, and I'm losing you to your office and vice versa -- what do you say?"

Artie studied his wife's pretty features closely. "Okay," he said finally, smiling warmly. "Let's hurry."

They packed a couple of fresh bottle of water and some food into a small backpack that Artie strapped to his back, before, making painfully sure that they didn't make a sound, the couple set off into the forest, along the path that would take them to the Waterfalls Walk. 

*****

They had been gone more than an hour and a half by the time Inga and Paul eventually stirred into life. 

"Unbelievable," muttered Inga as she surveyed their empty tent. "Still, could be worse I suppose -- they could have completely abandoned us altogether."

"Ah, let them have their fun," grinned Paul, scratching his naked back casually, T-Shirt in his other hand. "It's our last day here, and I've got a feeling from what Artie's been telling me that his work's gonna be shit for a while. Not for me, though -- all I need is the fresh outdoors and my woman and I'm good."

"Hmm," replied Inga as he kissed her on the cheek and wrapped his arms around her, "but which woman?"

Paul's heart stopped beating for a nanosecond. "Sorry, babes?"

"I just wondered...you know...I suppose it takes a long time to collect firewood..."

There was silence, save for the birds singing in the trees around them.

"Inga," Paul said eventually. "I've got something I need to tell you...well, two things actually..."

"Oh, TWO things?" said Inga with a hint of laughter in her voice. "Well, this should be interesting."

Paul looked annoyed. "Hang on; we set ground rules when we started going out or have you forgotten that? I didn't complain about you sleeping with random people, you didn't complain about me doing the same. That was what we agreed."

"Yeah, well, the reason you haven't had to complain is because I haven't...I haven't actually..." She couldn't finish the sentence. She was actually a little embarrassed; weirdly it felt like she had let them both down or something.

"What, you haven't slept with anyone else?"

"No, I have!" she lied. Why was she lying? What the hell was her mouth doing? It was on automatic or something. "I've slept with tonnes of men and lots of women while we've been together. I just haven't...haven't told you yet."

Paul felt as if a crushing weight had been thrown against his chest. It had taken him so long -- so long to give into temptation, and yes, he shouldn't have, yes, he had been weak, but this was just so unexpected. He'd always suspected she had never had the opportunity nor the actual urge to sleep with anyone else? Had he been that arrogant? Had he been stupid enough to believe that even Inga Jennings needed to settle down at some point? 

He quickly put his T-Shirt on over his chest and turned round, heading towards the path they had taken to get to the clearing in the first place.

"Where are you going now?" asked Inga, a cold fear in her veins. "Wait, you've got to listen to me!"

"I just need to be on my own for a while, Inga," he called back in a voice that sounded like it would break. With that he was off.

Inga watched him go dejectedly; a tear was forming in her left eye and she quickly wiped it away. What was the point in crying? Good fucking riddance to him. If anything, he missed the opportunity now for one last almighty screw. Today was the day she was going commando, just as she had promised him. She'd have let him discover it quite by accident - it would have been so much more of a turn on that way.

She folded her arms across her chest and walked back to the inner semi-circle, towards the remains of the fire. There was still the faintest of glows coming from the white and black ashes. 

Maybe the lie she had told to Paul would make it easier for her to break up with him -- maybe it would make it worse. She wished Liz were here; Liz would know exactly what to do and say in this situation. 

Inga watched the last dying embers on the fire fade away, as if someone had turned a dimmer switch on them. She couldn't help but wish the same could happen for her life at the moment; the last thing she wanted to do was to be seen by anyone.

Movement from behind her quickly destroyed the weak wish, and Rachel stepped out of her tent. She was wearing her white top and tight fitting shorts, with those big weathered hiking boots over short white socks. Her black hair hung clumsily across her shoulders and her rucksack, which she was putting her arms into.

"Hey, beautiful," she said warmly, smiling. "You okay?"

Inga smiled shortly back. "As always," she replied. "I'm guessing you may have heard some of...erm...that..."

Rachel nodded, then shrugged her shoulders. "It's no big deal. My parents used to fight all the time before they got divorced. Freddie and I have the most amazing arguments ever!"

"What about?"

"Oh, stupid things: leaving the toilet seat up, you know? Taking out the trash, seeing my mother, money...all stupid things."

"How do you guys get through it?"

"I usually go for a long walk, slamming the door hard as I leave; the fresh air helps me think, keeps me focussed on what's really important. Then when I get back, Freddie's usually forgiven me and we have the most amazing make up sex ever! Sometimes I just pick a fight with him for the sex!"

Inga laughed out loud at the look of genuine enthusiasm on Rachel's face. Rachel giggled in reply. 

"Maybe you're right," Inga said after they had finished. "Maybe I need to get away from this place for a bit. Where are you off to?"

Rachel looked at her for a moment before replying, "Just for a hike. To one of my absolutely favourite spots."

"Great, I'll come with you."

Again Rachel paused before saying, "I don't know, Inga. It's a pretty tough walk. Do you think you'll be up to it?"

Inga frowned slightly. What was with the hesitation? "I reckon I'll manage. I'm a lot stronger than some people might think."

Rachel, again pausing, finally smiled and said, "Okay, beautiful, you win. I'm sorry. I hope I didn't offend you."

"You didn't, don't worry," said Inga, lying slightly. The girl was cute but boy was she a little weird. "Can you wait just a second while I get my shoes?"

"Sure thing, partner."

*****

Paul stormed through the forest for what seemed like hours; nothing stood in his way, be he on the path or off it. Images flashed through his jealous mind, feeling him with a burning rage; of Inga entwined in the arms of another lover, male or female, of them giving her the pleasure she obviously wasn't getting from him.

Lies -- it had all be fucking lies. And he'd been the fool again. The naive fool that he had been the last time he'd tried to give someone his heart. Life -- love -- was such a fucking bitch!

Tears welled in his eyes; he let them fall down his cheek freely. He didn't even notice he was crying. He just had to keep on moving, on and on, away from her and her scent and her lies.

Finally he tripped over an overgrown tree root and collapsed in a heap on the soft forest floor. His head in his hands, he wiped the saltwater from off of his cheeks and let out all his frustration in a bitter, angry yell to the forest itself. 

*****

The waterfalls were certainly spectacular, an amazing feat of nature. Liz held onto Artie tightly as they stood as close to the water's edge as they dared, feeling the spray hit their face, hearing the roar of water upon rock. It was overwhelming.

"This is more like it," said Artie contentedly. "You, me and Mother Nature."

"Hmm," said Liz. "It's beautiful."

"As are you."

"As beautiful as Rachel?"

Artie looked curiously at his wife. "Where did that come from?" he asked her.

She looked deep into his eyes. "Let's not talk about it here," she said. "I can hardly hear myself think - I know that's such a sacrilege to say while we're standing by this...this...just THIS...but I need to talk to you about something and I think it's better if we did it somewhere quieter."

"Okay," said Artie, looking over their shoulders. "Well, look there, see? There's a path to the left that seems to be going uphill. Maybe if we follow that we'll move away from the water."

It seemed like a wonderful idea, so they set off along the path. 

*****

The Head Ranger was drinking his mandatory cup of morning coffee and looking over some paperwork in the Welcome Centre when the door burst open and three armed policemen walked through.

"What the hell...?" he began to say, spluttering his coffee out onto the documents. 

Two men in suits approached the desk. "I'm Agent Crawford, this is Lt. Gold," said the first one, showing the Head Ranger his badge. "We need your assistance desperately, sir. We have a shared problem."

"I see," said the Head Ranger looking grave. "What might that be exactly?"

"A fugitive," said Gold, handing a photo over. "Not only that, but a murderer too."

*****

Inga panted slightly, trying to keep up with Rachel, who was only really a few steps in front of her. When this girl said she enjoyed hiking, she meant hiking! She'd found it easy going at first -- the girls had chatted away quite naturally about the woods around them, favourite wines, music, all the usual small talk subjects. Now Rachel talked less and seemed more focussed on the path in front of them.

The hiking method for arguments was also seemingly working. Inga had been feeling guiltier and guiltier about her fight with Paul, about the things they had said to each other. But no; what was the point in thinking about these things? If their relationship was coming to its natural conclusion, then surely she had better forget what had happened and begin the process of moving on, before things were set in stone.

They had passed the waterfall earlier in the walk. It was a magnificent sight which took Inga's breath away. The two girls had stood side by side watching the mighty water flow down from such a height, falling into a deep lake and running off into three different directions. 

"Isn't it amazing?" Rachel said in her ear as the noise was so loud. 

"It's gorgeous," replied Inga. "Stunning!"

"You liked that, then you're gonna love this," Rachel grinned and, grabbing Inga's arm, she had begun to lead the way down the trek they were now walking along. One of the rivers from the lake -- the thinnest of the three -- was by their right hand side as they walked. Slowly the sound of the waterfall faded away behind them into the distance, and soon it was as if it had never existed in the first place.

Suddenly Rachel stopped in front of a thicket. "We're here," she breathed.

It was a lagoon, small in size but deep. It was surrounded by trees, almost cutting it off from the path completely. Hikers could easily have walked right past it and not known it was there. The silence was awe inspiring. Inga couldn't even hear the birds singing. 

"I don't care what any guide book or ranger will tell you," said Rachel, beaming with happiness. "In my opinion this is the best part of the whole park."

Inga could only gape at the beauty of it, at the serenity. She had forgotten everything -- all her worries and guilt over Paul, all her plans and ambitions for the next few weeks. She was half-afraid that she would forget who she was next.

"Thank you for bringing me here," she said, turning to Rachel, who was watching her reactions closely. "This place is so amazing!"

"You're welcome, beautiful," said Rachel. "Come on, this way."

She grabbed Inga's hand again and led her over to a small patch of dried mud by the edge of the lagoon. Taking off her rucksack she glanced over at the water and said, "I'm going for a dip. Wanna join me?"

Inga was about to say that she didn't have her swimsuit with her, but then realised how stupid a statement that would have been to make. Instead she replied, "It looks kind of cold."

"Refreshing, I'd say. That is, it always has been. Every time I come here I go for a swim in this lagoon, whether I'm with Freddie or not. What do you say?"

Already she had begun to take her white top off, revealing a bright red bra over her 34C breasts. Inga felt her breath catch slightly, her eyes firmly on the beautiful girl who now removed her shorts to show the matching pair of panties underneath. She looked even more amazing in the bright afternoon sunshine then she had done by firelight. 

Inga's lips and mouth felt dry. She wanted to see Rachel naked so badly now, to see the beautiful peachiness all over. But, as if she was playing a game with her, Rachel was still in her underwear, waiting for a reply. Was she playing a game? It was so hard to tell with that cute face of hers.

Then Inga heard herself say, "Ok, sure, why not?" and immediately her hands went to her short white skirt, kicking off her shoes as she did so. She felt a sudden rush of excitement flow through her body as, when she pulled the skirt down, Rachel's eyebrows raised at the sight of her bareness underneath.

"It's a brave girl who goes commando on a camping trip," she said slowly, her eyes still on the flesh as Rachel moved her black strappy top over her head. "You have my respect, beautiful."

"Why, thank you," replied Inga with a wry smile, unhooking the back of her black bra. She stood there, proudly naked, feeling an immense buzz of pleasure at the sight of Rachel seemingly at a loss for words. 

Finally, in the only response the beautiful girl in front of her could muster, she quickly unbuttoned her bra, slipped the panties down her legs and jumped straight into the lagoon, disappearing under the water with a giant splash. 

Inga was caught off guard by the movement, and ran to the edge of the water just as Rachel surfaced, her gorgeous black hair soaked back, gasping for air. The girl looked over at Inga, saw the slight look of concern on her face and began to laugh. It sounded a little off, almost uncontrollable. 

Inga was just staring to feel creped out when Rachel stopped, raised her eyebrow again and said, half-mockingly, "Well? Are you coming in or not?"

Inga grinned and, taking a couple of steps back, she leapt into the air and down into the water. It felt cool but not too cold as she sank down. She could see remarkably well down there; the water was so clear. There was nothing that spectacular -- a few interesting looking rocks, some plant life. When she needed to surface, she looked round as she ascended for something more interesting, namely Rachel's legs. But she couldn't see the young girl anywhere.

Inga broke the surface of the water, gulping in a huge lungful of air. She wiped the water from her mouth and kicked her legs round and round, trying to find where Rachel had disappeared to. There was no sign of the ebony haired beauty anywhere.

Suddenly Inga felt something touch her foot lightly. At first she was afraid there was something else living in the lagoon with them -- something hungry- but then she sighed with relief as she saw the body outline of Rachel. The girl surfaced next to her, very close. They bobbed about in the water, looking around them at the nature that surrounded this magical place.

"This place is just so peaceful," said Inga after a while.

"Mmm," said Rachel in agreement. "Nothing but the birds, the breeze and us."

The hand was back again. But this time it wasn't confining itself to Inga's foot. It made its way slowly along the skin, up the leg, resting just on the inner thing, inches away from her mound. 

Inga tried to concentrate on the surroundings more. So this was the game the girl wanted to play, huh? Well, she wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of seeing what torture she was currently going through. The girl was a tease; that was all. She couldn't really be after what Inga wanted her, needed her to be after, could she?

"Inga," the girl murmured, her face ever closer, "do you want to hear a secret?"

"I'm not good with secrets," replied Inga. She was shivering slightly -- what the hell was that all about? She wasn't this worked up, was she? "I can hardly keep them. As for my own, I usually find myself jeopardising everything to keep those quiet too. My family, my friends..."

"That's so sad," said Rachel softly. Her hand was stroking the thigh now, soft touches through the water. "You seem so happy to me."

"That's because I'm not keeping a hell of a lot of secrets at the moment," smiled Inga. "I'm happiest when everything's all out in the open."

"Me too," declared Rachel. "So...do you want to know mine?"

For the first time, Inga turned to face her. She saw the water dripping down her beautiful face, the moistness of her pink lips, the tremendous lust in her hazelnut eyes. Inga became lost in them, almost as if she was being pulled into them just as she had been pulled down into the water of the lagoon. Everything -- every feeling, every fear, every failing -- was forgotten. 

Inga grabbed the back of Rachel's head and quickly, suddenly pulled it towards her own. Their lips met hungrily, longingly, their tongues quickly exploring deeper and deeper; their bodies so close now; their nipples, so hard with desire, grazing against each other and sending volts through their bodies.

Rachel broke from the kiss first but continued to kiss, lick and suck at Inga's skin, travelling down along her cheek and neck. Inga closed her eyes in rapture, her arms now around the beautiful brunette's shoulders, so soft and smooth.

Suddenly Inga gasped, eyes wide open. That hand, that had stayed stroking her thigh all this time, was inside her; three or four fingers exploring, playing, teasing in and out. It was already almost more than she could bear. A woman's touch, so knowledgeable with what to do, where to go, how to stroke. She hadn't felt it in so long. How could she have been so stupid not to have missed this?

Between the intense, lustful kisses and her expert hand movements, Rachel, her breathing heavy, said huskily, "Ever since I first saw you, beautiful...oh, I've wanted this so badly...so badly....wanted you so badly, to touch you like this...to taste you..."

The hint was obvious, but so unbelievably sexy when it was whispered in that way that all of Inga's self-control vanished in an instant. She felt herself be pushed to the side of the lagoon, raise herself up out onto rocks that were smooth and warm from the bright sun, her legs still dangling into the cool, cool water. 




The Great Outdoors Ch. 06



Rachel, her eyes looking up into Inga's own, kissed lightly around her willing lover's stomach before lips met lips playfully. Resting her hands on Inga's legs, Rachel let her tongue begin to perform pure magic. 

Inga moaned as pleasure overwhelmed her, stroking the brunette's wet hair in an attempt to keep that face down there forever and ever. She never wanted this to end -- such a beautiful moment in such a beautiful place. This girl was good...so good! She knew exactly what she was doing, as if she knew Inga inside out. It felt that she was certainly attempting to do that anyway -- her tongue was going deeper and deeper still. 

Inga could feel herself on the brink of an almighty orgasm. "More," she stuttered loudly, eyes closed in ecstasy, "more...yes...yes...more...no! No! No!"

Because all of a sudden, right on the edge, the tongue had vanished and Rachel had moved her face well away, a devilish grin on her face. The bitch! The absolute bitch!

"Please," cried Inga, almost welling up, "please...please don't stop..."

But Rachel shook her head. "It's my turn," she said.

"Oh, is it? Is that how this is going?" replied Inga, laughing now. "If that's how you want to play the game...fine. Come here."

Rachel stepped up out of the lagoon, water running off her beautiful young body as she did so. She took Inga by the hand and helped her somewhat unsteadily to her feet. Their mouths met again, slower this time but with perhaps even more passion. They were beyond excitement; now it was nothing but enjoyment, making this last and last as much as they could. Inga thrilled to hold Rachel's naked body so close to her own, thrilled to taste her own excitement everywhere and anywhere on Rachel's mouth, thrilled to have the opportunity to show now how good she was.

Inga took Rachel's hands and guided her slowly to the ground. She grabbed the clothes they had scattered and discarded around them, tucking them under the brunette's gorgeous body, acting as a make-shift blanket. Rachel lay right back onto them, her hands lightly stroking her body, her eyes pleading for Inga to give her what she wanted. The sense of power was an immediate head rush and an absolute turn on. 

Inga got onto her knees, kissed Rachel again, quickly, before making her way down the wonderful young body. She tenderly licked and nibbled at the hard nipples standing erect on those beautiful breasts, smiling as she did so to hear a replying gasp and moan. 

She shifted her body so that she was sitting between Rachel's long, smooth, inviting legs, looking up into the glistening wetness that was a mixture of water and excitement. Her tongue travelled along the skin of her left inner thigh slowly; it was her turn to tease now. 

As she got higher up, Inga could smell that wonderful delicious smell of warm juices; it had been so long since she'd met with that. Warm recognition flowed through her, along with memories of happier times, of sweet lovemaking with Jess all that time ago. Now she was going to make Jess proud, wherever she was. 

The taste was sweeter than she remembered it, but the passion she produced from the lips of her lover were certainly familiar. She became greedy, hungry for more, both of pussy and of pleasure. She felt Rachel's hands on the top of her head, grabbing onto her hair, trying to push her face and tongue further and further.

"Oh!" Rachel moaned loudly, her face screwed up as she began to buckle, to shudder. "Oh...oh, beautiful! Oh fuck! Fuck! Yes!"

This was all going a little too fast from Inga's original ideas, but she herself was getting too carried away not to care. She loved the taste of Rachel's juices so much -- it seemed so much sweeter because it was even better than she had fantasised about it. She felt the gorgeous girl wriggle, her hips buck, her hands tightening further still on her hair before one travelled down her bare back and started to lightly scratch at her skin in sweet desperation.

As Inga' tongue continued to probe, Rachel began to laugh. It started lightly, casually, breathlessly, before it started to increase in both volume and intensity. It was almost wild, uncontrollable. Every so often a laugh would become mixed up in an even louder moan of delight, a shudder of enjoyment. 

This was all starting to get a little weird for Inga's liking. Much as she was absolutely loving eating Rachel out, this reaction was not exactly what she had been expecting. To hide the slight offence she was feeling, she kissed the soaking lips one last time before pulling herself up and looking down at the still beaming face of Rachel, as if she too had been playing a game with her.

"I knew..." Rachel whispered, half sitting up so that her face was close to Inga's. "I knew you'd know just what to do...that you could make me feel that way again..."

"What way?" asked Inga quietly back, curious.

Rachel stared into her eyes, serious yet still so full of longing. "Loved," she replied.

Inga felt goose pimples start to appear all over her body. This game seemed to be getting a little too out of hand for her liking. Maybe it was time to put a stop to it?

But before she could even speak, Rachel, as if she had read her mind, took her face by the hand, drawing it closer still. "We're not done yet," she breathed.

They kissed again, deeper than before. Inga let the soft lips caress her own, breathing in the sweet smell of her lover's perfume, feeling her anxieties melt away once more.

"I love how I taste on your lips," sighed Rachel between each long kiss. "So sweet...so pure..."

She began to move those beautiful legs of hers around and under Inga's own; already Inga knew what was going to happen next, and she was filled with such an immense sense of anticipation. She willingly shifted her own body, taking another opportunity to kiss those beautiful lips, before placing her hands behind her back onto the short, dry grass that surrounded their make-shift bed for support.

Hips bucked; wetness met wetness. The added pleasure doubled by the fact that neither of them had climaxed, it didn't take long before the two lovers were screaming out loud. 

'Fuck everyone else,' thought Inga as she bit her bottom lip and whimpered. 'Let them hear us, hell let them see us. Oh fuck, this is incredible! Oh fuck!'

When she came it felt like wave after wave of pleasure covered her entire body, buzzing and brimming. This felt so good, so right. Feeling Rachel climax against her -- the sudden release of a deafening yelp, the feel of it physically on her own body -- forced another spasm for herself. 

It was then that she knew, as she collapsed panting on the ground, her chest heaving, that this would be her next adventure. She would kiss Paul goodbye and fuck Rachel hello.