A weekend outing goes awry for three couples.
This story was created as part of the NUDE DAY STORY CONTEST 2009. I hope you enjoy it.
It’s a little long for a contest story, and I was going to split it up into three parts, but I think it flows pretty well, and there’s lot of diverse sexual situations that keep it interesting. Or at least I hope so.
You writers know how these things are: your creations keep surprising you, and sometimes the story takes twists you never intended. Never more true for me than in this one. It ended up very little like I originally intended, and easily twice as long. I have no doubt that someday I’ll probably have a follow-up.
The six of us had been planning on this trip for nearly a month. Three couples, three motorcycles, and a secluded cabin on Lake Texoma.
Dan and Robin had inherited Robin’s family cottage on the lake and had invited the rest of us up to ‘break it in’. We’d been friends a long time, and had taken some weekend jaunts together to San Antonio and Vegas, but this was going to be different – three glorious days of just the six of us.
We were looking forward to getting some fishing in, and lots of sun-bathing, but not much else. Just a long relaxing weekend, and a great way to ring in the summer. Temperatures were supposed to be in the low 90’s that weekend. Warmer than usual, and very welcome.
Everyone met at our house, distributing our gear for the trip. Dan had a nice deuce softail; I had my ‘baby’, the 100th anniversary Fatboy with about $6K of additional work. They were both gorgeous bikes, getting a lot of attention, but somewhat limited in the ‘luggage’ capacity. Dan had just picked up a great looking Biker’s Friend leather saddlebag that strapped onto the back of the passenger sissy bar. Jack had a custom Road King he’d recently traded up to, and by keeping our traveling gear to an absolute minimum, we could load most of our stuff in his two saddlebags, and Dan’s new bag. I had a large gym bag strapped to the back of my passenger upright, loaded with libations, and some towels to wrap them up. With so little storage we were limited to a couple of shorts and t-shirts, a bathing suit, towels, and too much toiletries. We had a good bit of food, a few soft drinks and some more bottles of hard stuff tucked away here and there. We were traveling light, but it should be enough for the short time we’d be away.
The trip was probably only about a hundred miles as the crow flies, but roads were a different matter altogether. We would take the back roads through north Texas, crossing the lake into Oklahoma near Cedar Mills, driving for another hour on paved roads before hitting the gravel, then a dirt road that lead to the old family homestead. Robin’s mother had told us that her father had built the original lake house, a real rustic cabin, in the middle of nowhere. The creation of Lake Texoma by damming the Red River made 120+ acres of inaccessible hillside a valuable commodity 30 years later. Most of the lake development had passed them by, and they still had more than 30 acres of property left, including the cabin, a dock, and a swimming platform. We’d heard about the place for years, but had never been out there.
Of course, I would have jumped at any excuse to see the lovely Jill and stunning Robin in a bikini. I’m sure my compadres were looking forward to an eye full of Sheri lusciously filling out her own two-piece.
And yes, Jack’s wife’s name was Jill. Unfortunate, but none of use was crass enough to every make light of it.
It was a beautiful day for a road trip, and the weather was supposed to be nice all weekend. There was a slight chance of rain on the first day, but clear skies were predicted from then on out.
We were supposed to leave early, getting away by noon, giving us the whole afternoon to settle in. An urgent call for Dan put us well behind schedule, as we had to wait for him to go into the office and get back. The ladies decided to get a small head start on the drinking, polishing off a blender of Margarita’s, but Jack and I stuck to a single light beer. Riding a motorcycle drunk was not the wisest of moves. Eventually we got things together and we left our place a little late, but still managed to get on the road by 4:00pm. We would deal with a little traffic, and then should have smooth sailing. We should even be able to stop for dinner. I thought we should have enough daylight, with the sun setting around 8:00pm.
Emphasis on should.
We were making great time, and decided to stop to eat at a local diner that was a favorite of Robin’s family, with a good sized crowd. According to Dan, we were less than 10 miles from the turnoff, where our progress would necessarily slow. We settled in for some good home-cooking, and after polishing off dinner and desert, figured we had maybe an hour of sunlight left. After paying the ridiculously reasonable bill, and picking up a bag of ice, we headed out to finish our trip. As we climbed onto our rides, I heard Dan scream out “God DAMN it!”
Turning to look at him, it didn’t take 10 seconds to see his problem. His brand new, $250 saddlebag was missing off his bike. Along with it, a third of our gear.
We had a quick huddle, and looked up at the darkening sky. It looked like clouds were rolling in just to make our day that much better. It was decided to quickly head to the cabin, and re-inventory there. We could pop out the next day to replace whatever we’d lost. The missing gear did give us an open place to strap down the ice bag.
We were about 5 minutes down the gravel road when the skies opened up. Soon we were all soaked, but there was no place reasonable to stop, and with just a few miles left, we decided to gut it out. We continued through the darkening evening, and hit the dirt road, with only about 2 miles to go. Of course, God in his infinite good humor thought it would be funny to hit us with one of those real downpours, until we were crawling along at about 10 miles an hour, slipping and sliding through the mud and slick grass, branches reaching out to swat us from the side, and making our little journey Hell on Earth. We were slowly advancing with Dan in the front, since he was most familiar with the unmarked road, followed by Jack, with Sheri and me in the rear getting splattered with their mud.
It was great to see the cabin show up in Dan’s headlights. It had gotten as dark as midnight, with the setting sun and pounding storm. We quickly parked in the carport, and stripped our gear off the bikes. Dan wandered behind the building and managed to get the Honda generator running, giving us lights.
The doors were padlocked and windows shuttered to keep out intruders. While Dan was unlocking the side door, we were all complaining about our rotten luck.
“There’s not a lot of space inside, and we haven’t been here since last year, after Mom passed.” Robin informed us. “We have bed linens, towels, fishing gear, swimming gear, and some dried and canned foods. How about if I get some towels for us and we get rid of our wet clothing out here and dry off, so we don’t soak the place?”
She had barely gotten the words out of her mouth before we heard Dan bellowing “God Damn it to HELL! SHIT! DAMN! FUCK!”
Now, Dan’s a little guy, about 5’4, and pretty quiet most of the time. He’d shaved his head to look a little older, which made him look like a short bald 8th grader. He almost never cursed, but he was certainly making up for it on this trip.
Looking past Robin, which was easy enough – she didn’t even come up to my chest; I could see the source of his ire. Someone had been in their cabin, and hadn’t left it in as good a shape as they’d found it. Only one light bulb in the kitchen was working but we all filed in behind Robin to see the disaster. Our wetness and muddiness wasn’t going to make a lick of difference.
Vandals had broken in through a window on the far side of the cabin. There were beer cans all over the place, piled up dirty bed sheets on the two beds, and water was pouring in through the broken window. Critters had been in the house, and a dead bird was in a corner, with feathers all around. Animal feces were scattered all around the kitchen area. Couches were overturned in the sitting area, their pillows scattered. I watched Jack turn and head back outside, and a few seconds later he had re-closed the shutters, somehow jimmying them shut, stopping the worst of the rain.
You could feel the atmosphere of the place just sinking. The mood was as dark as the sky. Our hopes for a fabulous weekend getaway were getting washed away with the torrential rain.
I walked over to one of the two storage closets that had been looted and found a box of four 17 watt fluorescent light bulbs on the top shelf. I walked around and replaced the lights in two lamps, but it didn’t make the place look any better. We were all behaving sort of lost when Jill started cleaning up. “Alex, any towels left in that closet?”
There were some indeterminate cloth objects on the middle shelf. Garbage bags, paper towels, plastic utensils and toilet paper, were on the bottom shelf, with some cleaning supplies on the floor along with a bucket a broom and a mop. I dragged the main cleaning supplies out, setting them to the side and then I started pulling out the contents of what appeared to be the towel shelf, and found we had at least 8 towels. They were mostly pretty threadbare beach towels, with a few hand towels thrown in. I unfolded and snapped each one open, checking for anything living in them. On this one thing we lucked out. They were all in pretty good shape. On the next shelf up I found replacement basic white bed linens. There were some critter droppings on the shelf, but the sheets themselves didn’t seem to have been bothered. I passed those out as well.
Everyone pitched in, sweeping, picking up trash, straightening out furniture, mopping up excess water and mud, and anything else that needed doing. Once the worst of it was taken care of, we noticed that we were making less progress as we tracked our own mud and water all over the place. Nobody had wanted to walk around the wooden floors in the shape they were in when we got there, but after an hour or so of teamwork, the worst had been taken care of.
After that, the guys were ushered outside to remove our wet things and dry off, while the girls did the same inside. The place was a one room cabin, with a small basic bathroom added on as an afterthought. This was really roughing it.
I took a seat and scraped the worst of the mud off my boots with a stick while waiting. They had said they’d just be a second, but this wasn’t my first rodeo.
The girls kept us outside a good bit longer as they did another floor mopping and passed their wet clothing outside to us. As I saw the ladies soaked undergarments make their way out the door, I started getting naughty thoughts. I’m sure I wasn’t alone.
By the time we had stripped down, dried off, hung up some clothing, and re-entered the place wearing only towels, we were in slightly better moods. Dan took on the task of getting the 100 year old stone fireplace cranked up, since it was starting to get a little chilly out. I started shuttling our gear into the kitchen, while Jack made himself useful cleaning up where ever he was directed.
I couldn’t help but ogle our women a bit. Wearing nothing but a towel suited all of them. Tiny Robin was well covered, with her towel wrapped around her body and reaching almost to her knees. Sheri looked really tempting. She is the bustiest, and her towel was pretty tight across her chest, looking ready to pop open at any time. Her outfit reached just a hands length below her butt, having the guys hoping and praying she’d bend over for a quick show.
Jill’s was a different story. She was tall, nearly 6 foot, taller than everyone there but me. She had incredibly long legs which were a blessing. If her legs had been any shorter, we all would have been getting a show all of the time. In order for her towel to cover her privates, she was wearing it lower on her chest than the other two. It appeared to just barely cover her nipples. Even then, her towel barely covered her ass, and any stray movement gave us glorious hints as to what was just out of sight.
Any stray movement such as when she flipped over the mattresses and brushed them clean. Shame on her. It was blatant teasing. And it was causing a tent in my towel.
Watching Robin move around, I wondered if anybody had told her that she had a large tear in her towel. It was quite strategically place — a big triangular opening, at least four inches across, which exposed the oh-so-white flesh of her left ass-cheek. I guess God was making up a little for that whole downpour thing.
When Sheri moved to the carport to start hanging up the wet clothing to dry, I couldn’t help but notice both Jack and Dan watching her carefully. Each time she stretched up to hang another item on the clothesline, you could just see the bottom of her ass. I bet she knew just what she was doing.
Jack and Robin were going through our supplies, when I heard Robin start giggling almost hysterically. “Of course. It had to happen, on a day like this.”
“What?” Dan asked, as he stoked his fire into a bright blaze.
“Do you remember what we had packed in our saddlebag?”
“A bunch of stuff,” he answered.
“No. We decided to put the clothing in there, since we could stuff it full so much easier. ALL the clothing.” She laughed, nervously.
“What about Alex’s bag?” Sheri asked.
“Just a lot of booze, wrapped in what was once paper bags and two soaked beach towels.”
Dan headed out to try to find a little more dry wood at the bottom of the woodpile. “Some fucking vacation,” I heard him mutter. Poor guy was having a bad day. First the emergency at work, then the expensive bag, then the rain, and now his cabin.
In the carport, he took off his towel, and went behind the hut naked as a jaybird. He showed back up with several pieces of wood, and made a couple more trips, making a dry stack of wood under the cover of the carport.
I noticed what he was up to since I was constantly going in and out, being tasked with taking out the dirty linens, three full garbage bags, and the broken glass from the window. Sheri came out to hang up the wet towels from our bag; she was treated to an eye full as Dan finished his last trip. He looked like a drowned rat.
“Sorry, but I wasn’t about to get the only semi-dry thing I have any wetter.” He explained to my wife, while he turned his back to her, dried off, and got re-wrapped.
Sheri laughed, making light of the whole situation, taking it better than I could have hoped. “Don’t sweat it. I’ve got a feeling, that we’ll all be seeing a lot more of each other than we expected to by the end of this weekend.”
Truer words were never uttered.
With the garbage out, most of the place cleaned up, the bathroom, kitchen, floor, and any surfaces we could reached wiped down, and the furniture set right, you could hardly tell it was the same place we’d arrived at just a couple of hours earlier. It was almost a miracle what six people could do in less than three hours. The place was decently lit and smelled of Clorox and Pinesol, which was a whole lot better than it had started out. The front door opened onto a covered porch, which faced the water about 50 yards away downhill. We had the door open, with the screen door closed, helping air out the place. The windows were all still shuttered, except for the two in the front facing the porch. You didn’t have to get soaked to open those, and we could even open the windows themselves, with the screens in place.
The storm outside was not letting up, and there was no doubt we were going to be spending the night in this place. I finally gave it a good look over, seeing what we had, instead of what was wrong.
The cabin was basically quartered. Entering from the side door, the kitchen area was on the left. It had a propane stove, an icebox, and a simple sink and some counter space. It also had a table with 6 chairs. The front door divided the front of the house into two, the kitchen, and sitting area. The sitting area had two couches and a table that bracketed the huge fireplace. The back of the cabin had two queen sized beds, some dressers, and the small but efficient bathroom.
Dan was still upset. “I don’t understand it. They didn’t have to trash the place.”
Truth was it could have been a lot worse. I have rental houses that were left in much worse shape by tenants. Whoever had been there had broken the window, letting the weather and animals in, and had left a lot of trash around, but hadn’t gone out of their way to damage the place beyond that. They were just slobs.
The storm was picking up intensity outside, which also didn’t make sense. The forecast had been for possible showers. Friggin’ weathermen.
Robin had done her best to make the beds, with help from Jill, and had complained bitterly that the home invaders had torn down her privacy curtains which separated the two beds and the back of the house from the front. Once she mentioned it, I looked up and saw the evidence of the missing curtains and the busted tracks.
Jill, on the other hand was still bound and determined to make the best of things. “Leave it to Alex to make sure we at least have tequila, vodka, and rum. I suggest we break out the bottles, and just thank our stars that the place is still standing. What if they’d burned it down or damaged the roof? We’d be out in that slop, trying to get back to civilization.”
She was waving a bottle of tequila, a salt shaker, and a squeeze lemon. “What do you say, gang?”
Robin plopped down on the couch, in the seat nearest the fire. “Pass it here. I sure as hell need a drink.” The couches were in a bit of a V shape, further apart nearest the fireplace, and only an arm span apart at the opposite end.
Within a few seconds we were all gathered in the sitting area, tired and ready for a break, listening to the storm continue outside, and maneuvering for a place to sit. I ended up next to Robin, with Sheri by my side. On the other couch Jack was opposite Robin, Dan opposite Sheri, and Jill was firmly ensconced in the middle. I looked her over, anticipating a great view, but she had her legs demurely crossed.
Robin sprinkled some salt on her hand, licked it and took a drink from the bottle. You could see the surprise on her face. “Wow! That’s the best tequila I’ve ever had. I swear it’s like a single malt scotch!”
“El Tesoro Anejo, it’s been sitting on my shelf for the last three years. Not the best but pretty damned good.” I informed her.
The bottle made a circuit of the room, with the salt leading the way, followed by the tequila, with the squeeze lemon following behind. Before it had completed a second trip, Jill started in again. “This isn’t really that bad. I’m just thankful that we have a roof over our heads.”
That got a conversation going and it was decided that each person had to say one thing they were glad of on this trip.
Dan had the bottle, and was about to lick the salt off of his hand. “I’m glad that only one window was broken, and Jack was able to close it.” He licked the salt, took a swig from the bottle and leaned over to pass it to Sheri, who had just passed the salt to me.
As she leaned forward to take the bottle, her towel fell open giving everyone paying attention, and Dan in particular, a full on view of her chest. She set the bottle down on the table, re-did her towel, and grabbed the bottle again. “Didn’t I tell you?” she told Dan who gave her a smile. It was his first smile in a while.
“I’m glad that we remembered to bring the booze,” she said, before taking a healthy swig.