Dream Canyon

Dream Canyon

Author's note: All characters 18 or older. This is a fantasy about what might happen were a husband and wife to explore an outdoors spot known for public nudity and same-sex cruising together. As a result, there are a few scenes that feature gay sex and bi-curiosity. Kindly find another story if these activities aren't your thing.

The story was inspired by a Reddit post featuring a college-aged couple posing nude for a photo shoot in this location together. I'd already been interested in visiting the canyon for some time, and that photo helped me to both imagine what that would be like more clearly--and to wonder what would happen if my significant other and I were to cross paths with these quite-attractive individuals....

* * * * *

We have a lightly scheduled day and two full-day summer camps teed up for the kids. We drop the kids off and head to a coffee shop to catch up on email and try to get a few to-dos squared away.

Since we'd stayed up late binge watching a few sexy shows on Netflix the night before, we're both a little tired and a bit residually turned on and a lot unenthusiastic about really throwing ourselves into work. So after 45 minutes of noodling, we both decide to make the most of the lovely weather and spend a little time up in the mountains. I argue that since we always head up north, today we should try going west instead and maybe get some pizza in the neighboring mountain town before re-grouping for the afternoon. I also intimate that I know of a nice hike that we might be able to check out on the way up--doing a terrible job of disguising the fact that I might potentially (

very probably

) have another tacit agenda.

We head up the canyon, me tinkering with my phone as we leave the city to make sure that I have the directions to our real destination properly cached up before we lose cell phone service. When I make the hard turn off the main highway onto the side road, Kathryn seems curious but still unconcerned since we've gone this way to the city overlook a million times before. She gives me an inquisitive look as I remain on the side road past our usual right turn, and then she starts to press me for my intentions when I turn onto a winding, dirt track that leads to the trailhead's parking area.

I wheedle a bit, explaining that our destination, Dream Canyon, is a rock climber's paradise nestled along the creek upstream from the Falls and how it's a frequent destination for professional photography shoots from around the area. She frowns, suspicious about why anybody would venture so far down an unpaved road for a portfolio. As we reach the parking area, I give up and confess that it's a hiking area that's known among naturists. Kathryn frowns. "I'm not taking my clothes off, if that's what you're suggesting," she blusters. I explain that's not what I had in mind at all; that I was more interested in seeing what the scenery was about and going someplace that was likely to be lightly trafficked on such a lovely day. I don't think she buys it, but when we pull into the small parking turnout, there are only a couple of other cars there--many fewer than we would have encountered anywhere else. Since Kathryn is somewhat (but

only

somewhat) mollified, she agrees to at least go for a look, and we lock our backpacks in the back of the car and set off towards the shabbily marked trailhead.

We thread our way down the slowly descending path, taking our time to enjoy the sound of the birds and the mix of forests and meadows that the trail traverses. I offer Kathryn my hand a few times as we negotiate a tangle of tree roots or stumble over sudden drops in the trail; eventually, her mood seems to soften and she just keeps hold of my hand as we walk together. After a few minutes, we feel like we have the forest to ourselves...and it's

glorious

. I can tell that Kathryn is finally relaxing and coming around about my choice of a destination.

A few minutes farther on, the trail's descent steepens and we suddenly reach the edge of the canyon. The trail changes from a gentle downward slope to a rocky series of switchbacks, and we come to a halt, assessing how and whether to proceed while appreciating the grandeur of the sheer rock wall rising up in front of us on the other side of the chasm. We pick our way down the first couple of switchbacks, working our way around a rock outcropping and slowly revealing a perspective of the downstream portion of the canyon, with the rushing water far below finally coming into view. Across the canyon and a quarter of a mile farther on, we can make out a group of four climbers. One is slowly picking her way up the sheer rock face, with the others--all lean, college-aged guys--spotting her from a wide ledge above the creek's bank. Kathryn stops short, finally really appreciating the panorama with a quiet "whoa." It's really quite a nice spot, and she takes a deep breath before turning to take in the whole of the vista. Suddenly, something more directly below us captures her attention. "Oh!" she starts and takes a half-step back, blushing furiously.

I peer over the edge towards the stream bed far below where Kathryn was looking and locate the sight that's put her off balance, figuratively

and

literally. Directly below us, along the water's edge, is an older man who is sprawled out on a broad rock at the edge of the creek. He sports a beard and several tattoos. He's also stark naked. He seems to be very comfortable in his sliver of sunshine--laying still, with his eyes hidden behind dark glasses, his tanned, muscular physique--and a sizable, tumescent cock--very much on display for anyone in the world to see.

I turn to look back at Kathryn, who is continuing to turn all sorts of colors of red--but who also seems to be unable to tear her eyes away from the sight below. A quick glance down at her chest reveals the telltale shadows of her hardening nipples, visible through both her bra and her tennis dress.

Huh

, she appears to be at least a little bit turned on by this discovery.

After a long moment, we lock eyes, and my face slowly splits into a grin. "Sorry. I

did

mention it was popular with naturists," I shrug, obviously not apologetic at all.

Kathryn swallows hard, eyes flicking down into the chasm again. "We should go," she whispers, as if the man below might be able to hear her quiet voice over the rushing sound of the creek.

It's my turn to frown. "Of course not.

We're

not doing anything wrong," I reason. "We're just having a nice hike and appreciating the lovely scenery out here on public land."

Kathryn glances nervously back towards the climbers, who haven't acknowledged our presence--or that of the man below us--at all, even though it seems likely that they'd be able to see any of the three of us if they bothered to look. It's as if they're in their own all-encompassing, rock-climbing world. Kathryn's eyes dart back to the rock below us again. It's clear that she can't

not

look, and my heart is turning circles in delight about this turn of events. I couldn't have hoped for better, I mused. Turns out, I'm wrong.

Kathryn tries plead her case again. "We have to g--

oh

!" I quickly glance downward to determine what's thrown her for a second time. It's the appearance of another man, scrambling onto the rock from under the cliff's edge, previously obscured from our view by the rocks and vegetation below. He's

also

naked as a jaybird--a bit younger than the first man, but also tan, well-built, and sporting tattoos and a short, trendy (slicked-over) haircut. His back glistens with suntan lotion as he settles himself on his side next to the first man, glances furtively up and down the canyon (but, thankfully, not upwards toward our voyeuristic perch), and then leans over for a kiss while slowly reaching out to grasp the other man's cock.

Kathryn gasps softly next to me, and I look up to see her covering her mouth in shock, eyes wide. I glance back down and am a little surprised (but also delighted) to see that after a long embrace, New Man has now bent double to lower his mouth around Suntanning Man's rapidly hardening cock. "

Oh....my....God

!" Kathryn whispers in a tiny, shaky voice. She looks back to me, eyes wide. She suddenly appears very nervous. Or aroused. Or both. "We

have

to go."

I glance back at the path that we'd descended, but it passes directly above the men below us. If we beat a retreat that way, it seems plausible that we'd be heard and noticed. I'd rather not disturb the happily amorous couple below. Assessing alternatives, I look onward down the trail, seeing that it levels a bit around the next turn. I also happen to know that the main trail is a loop back up to the parking lot, with a series of spurs heading down into the canyon. I squeeze Kathryn's (suddenly very sweaty) hand and quietly pull her away from the cliff's edge and forward down the path. She silently balks, but I insist, mouthing "There's another way out in this direction" as I pull her along behind me.

We pad quietly away around two more curves, the trail leading us away from the main canyon's edge a bit and into a small copse of trees tucked into a side canyon. There's a ten-foot high wall of rock rising to our left and the sound of the water below to our right grows a bit fainter through the trees. It feels more secluded here; safer. In a particularly shadowy spot, Kathryn, still a half-step behind me, tugs on my hand, hard. I stop short and turn around to find out what's wrong, and she's immediately plastered against me, pinning me up against the rock wall with her entire body, her mouth urgently devouring mine, her hands clutching urgently at my shirt. I'm caught off guard for only a fraction of a second before I enthusiastically return her kiss, my hands wild on her back and in her hair.

Wow. That must have

really

gotten her fired up!

I muse, delightedly.

We make out passionately for a long moment before my ears perk at the sound of approaching footfalls coming down the trail. I freeze and Kathryn immediately follows suit, pulling ourselves apart just as a group of two young male climbers stride briskly around the corner towards us, encumbered with heavy packs of climbing gear. Although Kathryn and I must look the picture of guilt--breathing heavily, hair mussed, lips swollen--the climbers pass us by with only a polite nod, disappearing around the next bend in the train in a cloud of dust.

After the climbers are safely out of earshot, I glance down at Kathryn. "Wanna go a little farther?" I tease, enjoying the (very much intended) double enténdre.

Kathryn chews her bottom lip for a second before looking nervously around the corner behind us. "Not here," she breathes, quietly. "Too many people."

Oh

. She'd picked

that

meaning to fixate on.

Interesting.

Now my mental gears are turning, wondering how far that this little excursion might take the two of us....

I decide to give it a shot. I take a deep breath, reach for her hand, and slowly shrug. "Oh, I very much disagree," I grin at her, speaking quietly but firmly. "Here is just fine. Take off your bra and give it to me."

Kathryn's eyes flash and she yanks her hand out of mine. "

What

? No. I told you that I'm not taking my clothes off."

"I'm not asking you to strip," I reasoned. "I just want you to give me your bra."

"Why?" she demands. Her voice is tight. Not

pissed,

precisely, but still difficult to read.

I shrug. "Because it fucking turns me on," I reply, truthfully. "Because I want to be able to be able to caress your breasts whenever I want and feel nothing but your soft curves through the smooth, soft,

thin

fabric of that dress...."

She scrunches up her mouth, looking unimpressed. But she also does not interrupt me, which is

maybe

a positive sign that this

just might

work.

So I continue: "

And

I want your dress to rub against your nipples while we walk, keeping you as turned on as you are right now...."

She swallows hard and glances down at her chest. Her nipples

are

quite erect, their contours vaguely visible through the fabric. Without a bra, they'll be

much

more prominent. She knows this, and so do I. There's no point in denying it, and she doesn't. A very pregnant silence hangs in the air, so I take a step towards her and whisper the last part just loud enough for her to hear.

"Every time you take a step and your breasts jiggle, I want you to be thinking about how

naughty

it feels to be out here without anything on underneath that dress. And about what a goddess you are...."

Her nostrils flare the tiniest bit. Flattery will get you everywhere.

"And when we pass the next group of hikers on this trail..." Her eyes snap back up to bore into mine, a fire burning in them once again. "...or we happen to be seen by some of the other, more

casual

explorers on our walk today..." She gasps audibly at this. "...I want

them

to notice, too. I want them to appreciate how confident and uninhibited you are in your sexuality, even if you're not naked. I want them to

imagine

what you might look like without that dress on, and I want them to fantasize about what it would be like to touch you, to suckle your breast, to trace the hard nub of your nipple with their tongue, just like I'm going to get to do when we get back up to the car...."

Kathryn is straight-up panting now. Check...and....

mate

.

"Take your bra off and give it to me," I demand again, more firmly this time, holding out one outstretched hand expectantly. Then, once again more softly: "You know you

want

to. And you know you're

going

to."

Kathryn hesitates for a second longer--I can see her silently wrestling with the decision for several heartbeats--before her shoulders drop. She sighs and then begins slowly working her bra straps off her shoulders, tugging them out from under her sleeves and over her elbows, one at a time. She fumbles with the clasp behind her back for a moment--and I definitely don't help, enjoying the fact that she's complying with my order

all by herself.

Finally, she manages to tug the crumpled garment free and extracts it from her right sleeve, offering to drop it into my outstretched hand. She looks sheepish for a fraction of a second before she composes herself, flashes me a defiant look, and then thrusts her chest out triumphantly.

Naughty,

indeed.

I catch the delicate ball of fabric as Kathryn drops it into my palm, closing the remaining distance between us in a single step and clutching for one of her nearly-exposed breasts, kneading it roughly through the silky, Spandex-rich material of her dress. I trace its outside edge with my fingertips, circling closely--

so closely--

to her engorged nipple before letting my fingertips drift away. I bend down and kiss her gently, running the tip of my tongue softly over the sensitive spot on her top lip, before whispering to her: "

Delicious.

" Kathryn whimpers, very,

very

softly. I continue, "Alright, beautiful. Let's go explore."

I tuck Kathryn's discarded bra into the cargo pocket on my shorts, and I can feel her whole body tense as I take her hand again and gently tug her onward with me on the path. I can feel the nervous energy radiating from her as we emerge from the copse of trees back into the sun, where the trail begins bending back towards the canyon's edge.

We walk for another five minutes before the trail emerges onto a rock outcropping that provides a different vantage point over a wide swath of the canyon. As I pull Kathryn with me to the edge, I can see that we're much nearer to the rock climbers now-- they're almost directly below us, with the climbing woman somewhat higher up the wall than when we saw them previously. I can feel Kathryn craning her neck to see if they've noticed us (they haven't) and then glancing nervously back upstream to see if the men that we'd seen before are visible from here (they aren't). It's as if we exist in a bubble above and apart from the other people in the canyon--the two of us, the rocks, the gently swaying trees, the glorious early summer sun, and an endless blue sky.

I pull Kathryn a single step closer to the edge of the path, then gently hold her in place as I tuck in behind her, pressing the length of my body against hers and sliding my hands first to her sides and then up her body to cradle and knead her breasts. I can feel her shudder and then lean back into me as I alternate between kneading her breasts nearly flat under my palms and cupping them as if holding them up in offering to the world around us. I can see that Kathryn is peering down under half-lidded eyes to see if we've been noticed yet, but she's making no move to stop me. Kathryn's breath catches just a bit, suggesting that my ministrations are doing

something

nice for her. After a moment, she throws caution to the wind entirely, throwing one arm up and over her head to tousle my hair, giving me even better access to her outstretched chest.

We remain entangled like this, caressing one another in the sunshine, for a long moment. I'm just weighing whether to try and slip one my hands inside the open neckline of her dress to move things along when I hear the distinctive

crunch

of footsteps on gravel behind us once again. I grab Kathryn more firmly, more assertively mauling her breasts and very much pinning her in place against me. Half a moment later, she also hears the sound and freezes, her body suddenly as taut as a bowstring.

I hear the footsteps approach to a short distance behind us and then slow. I glance down at Kathryn, who has squeezed her eyes shut tightly (this time in embarrassment, for sure!), and then I slowly turn my head to see who's approaching. It's a young-ish couple, maybe college-aged. The young man is wearing only a pair of soccer shorts. His muscular chest is gleaming with a fine sheen of perspiration. The woman, clad in a white sports bra and a pair of hot pink running shorts, has her hair pulled up in a messy ponytail. Both are wearing dark sunglasses, but given their faint smirks, there's no doubt that they've seen us.

I stand fast at the side of the trail, my hands continuing to slowly caress Kathryn's breasts and pin her in place against me, waiting for our interlopers to pass by behind us. Instead, they come to stop a few yards away. The woman smiles mischievously and whispers something inaudible to her partner while he takes a leisurely pull from the water bottle that he's carrying. She fiddles with the strap of her day bag but doesn't move on or turn away. This turn of events raises the stakes significantly-- Kathryn and I haven't just been

seen

, we're being

watched

.

Well, anybody who knows me knows that I'm a

bona fide

people pleaser. And an unrepentant exhibitionist. So: give the people what they want!

I begin to turn the two of us around to face our new audience, and Kathryn emits a tiny squeak of protest, too bashful to marshal a full complaint. My response is to tighten my grip on her torso even more firmly and assertively guide her in a wide circle around me as I turn in place. She reluctantly follows, but remains rigid, trembling slightly. I don't have to look down to know that her eyes are still closed. I take a deep breath and resume kneading Kathryn's breasts through the fabric of her dress, locking eyes for a long moment with the woman and then with the man as I firmly manipulate my wife's breasts, exposing her contours to these strangers. When I begin to roll her (still achingly hard) nipples between my fingertips and thumbs, I hear Kathryn softly whimper. The couple also appears to be growing affected by our public display of affection; the man reaches down to adjust his hardening erection through the fabric of his shorts. The woman licks her lips, her restless fingertips slowly and unconsciously working down the strap of her bag towards her own breast.