On the Mountainside

Her family, her friends, her colleagues, her neighbors... It seemed that everyone kept telling her that she was crazy, that a woman hiking alone in the middle of nowhere was just far too dangerous, that eventually she would be mauled by a bear or be raped by some guy she met on the trail or murdered by a serial killer in hiding.

Yet, despite these and many other risks, she kept returning to the middle of nowhere. She would drive for days just to spend a single night alone in the wilderness - often in the States, sometimes in Canada, depending on her preference at that moment and how much time she could be away from the office.

On this particular expedition, she had driven for four days - taking her time, stopping often to enjoy the scenery, staying at various campgrounds along the way - before finally arriving at the base of the mountain. The plan was simple: spend the morning hiking to the top, enjoy lunch and likely a well-deserved nap at the summit, then descend roughly halfway down the mountain to the clearing on the south side and camp there for the night.

The hike to the top of the mountain took most of the morning. With her vast hiking experience dating back to her pre-teen years, she could maintain a good, solid pace which allowed her to cover a significant distance with relative ease, although she did need to stop twice and further stretch her legs.

Lunch was spent beneath one of the few pines near the very tip of the peak. From such an altitude, the view was spectacular and very much worth the drive and the hike. Through the binoculars, she spotted what appeared to be a cozy rustic town to the south, and was already considering adding an extra day to the trip so she could drop by the town and explore.

She napped for maybe thirty minutes before the sun shifted enough to move the shade away from her bare legs. That was when she heard them: a pair of young women coming up the same trail she had taken on the north side of the mountain.

In the way of genuine lovers of the outdoors, the three of them settled into a comfortable conversation as the newcomers ate their lunch. They were Trish and Tina, sisters from the small village at the northern base of the mountain. While she remained behind to further bask in the afternoon sun, the sisters bade her farewell and began their trek back down the mountain so that they could be home in time for dinner with visiting relatives.

A long time passed as she napped anew, but at last, it was time to head down the mountain to the designated clearing.

All was well for the first thirty minutes or so of the descent, but then she thought she saw something off the trail to her left. She stopped and took a closer look:

The sisters' backpacks leaned against a tree.

Wondering if the two college students were okay, she hesitated. Perhaps they had a good reason for being well off the trail even in a place without any clearings or streams or springs according to the topographical map of the area. The plethora of trees in the immediate area would thwart any spectacular views. Yet she lingered, wondering, growing a bit concerned...

Cautiously stepping through the underbrush, she made her way toward the backpack, then paused for a moment, took out a knife from a pocket, and marked a tree so that she could find her way back to the trail with minimum effort if necessary. Every third tree she passed received a similar mark as twigs and fallen leaves and underbrush crunched beneath her feet.

Upon reaching the backpacks, she stopped and listened, looking all about her, but seeing nothing amiss and hearing only the calls of the birds and the rustling of the leaves. It was almost as if Trish and Tina had disappeared, perhaps having stepped through a time portal which had itself disappeared.

Then she saw it: a hand, gripping the trunk of a tree. The hand was slender, definitely feminine, and likely belonging to one of the sisters.

Then she heard it: a soft, husky moan.

"Hold back a little longer," she heard. Was that Trish's voice? She could not quite place the voice with the proper face, but that single sentence, that single command, brought back quite a few memories of an ex-husband who had loved to witness her desperate struggle to hold back an orgasm even though he would violate her ass while one or more vibrators were used on her.

The moan repeated itself, a bit louder, then: "Please let me cum!"

The words were still soft, yet the unmistakable desperation was the equivalent of a sonic boom. How many times had she begged her ex-husband to grant her the permission to enjoy one of the most instinctive moments of life? How many times had she actually cried because she was trying so valiantly to fend off the powerful orgasm he did not yet want her to enjoy?

The sounds and the memories combined. She became wet much more quickly than she would have expected. She watched as the hand shifted its grip on the tree trunk, wishing that there were not other trunks in the way which prevented her from seeing the two sisters in such an intimate moment.

"Do you promise to scream for me, Tina?"

"Yes!" Tina's voice was definitely louder.

"I mean really, truly scream so that even the woman we met can hear you?"

She wondered if Trish had been possessed by her ex-husband, for he had made her scream as well - she had always been a natural screamer, but he had enjoyed taunting her first, which he had often said made her screams all the more alluring.

"YESYESYES!!!"

"Then cum for me, sis!"

Her heart stopped as Tina's initial scream seemed to roll across the mountainside. Several other feminine outbursts assaulted her ears as she retreated to the trail, using those sounds to cover her footsteps crunching on the twigs and the fallen leaves and the underbrush.

She never did see the sisters after that, but as a gentle rain pelted her canvas home for the night, her head was filled with Tina's screams, and those screams caused her to eventually scream... but only after a significant self-denial.