The tale, based on true life events, resumes as Scott, Molly and Mick head down in the Canyon with sexual tension building. But the comments to the first two installments made me realize I should have included a TRIGGER WARNING:
BE WARNED! Do not read this story if you are offended by (1) a tale in which a cuckolded husband takes perverse pleasure in sharing his wife with a more domineering lover; (2) a Mistress who pampers rather than is abusive too her submissive husband / ‘slave’; (3) purportedly erotic stories that don’t use words like “cunt”, “pussy” or “dick”; or (4) the inclusion to too many nouns or adjectives.
By way of explanation, this story was listed under the “Loving Wives” category because the term “Cuckold” seems to fit with “sharing”, “swinging” or “infidelity”.
SETTING UP CAMP
Through the last 1.5 miles down to Havasupai Gardens, Slave led the way down the trail. Scott and Mistress lingered back a bit, talking. I suspected they were exploring what Scott had said about two “interesting nights” ahead for us. It was a tad intimidating that Scott already had a peak “behind the curtain” of our particular kinks. Example: Most of Mistress’s past lovers had never actually read our blog, didn’t know about things like my cock cage, our contract, or the occasional pegging that happens in our marital bed.
All that was simmering in my brain when we finally reached the campgrounds, nursing sore feet and shoulders IBy now it was early afternoon, and we had our pick of available campsites, selecting two adjoining sites in a quiet corner, set against a hillside at the boundary of the campgrounds. Scott was already in “take charge” mode.
We were seated around a wooden picnic table at our site, back packs off, sipping water and snacking on more trail mix.
“Before we set things up here, let’s make sure we understand ourselves, OK?”
This seems directed at me. My sense was Mistress knew where this was headed.
“Molly…. I take it you enjoyed our ‘activities’ last night. Are you willing to explore further?”
She didn’t hesitate.
“Absolutely.”
“Mick, as I understand your ‘contract’ with Molly, you have no objection to whatever she and I might get up to over the next two nights?”
“As long as she is comfortable with it, then sure. It’s her call.”
“In fact, all this is actually a turn on for you?”
“True….”
“OK then…. here’s how this is going to work. Molly and I will take this campsite”, pointing to the most private location near a looming cottonwood tree. “We’ll take your two person tent. You can have that site over there and my one person tent. Sounds good?”
Gulp. This was actually happening.
My voluptuous wife simply nodded with what seemed to me to be a slight blush, glancing my way, no doubt contemplating her upcoming time with Scott in that tent.
“Fine by me”, I said, with a surge of arousal as this take charge guy took firm charge of our sleeping arrangements on the trail.
That decided, we set to work setting up camp. Mistress has far more backpacking experience than me – one of her many competencies beyond looking hot and having a robust sexual appetite. She confidently assembled our long dormant tent once detached from my pack. Scott focused on setting up his own tent – the one I would occupy – under a shelter about 50 feet away from theirs.
Tents up, packs were unloaded. It was hard not to take note of Mistress and Scott unfurling their sleeping bags and unpacking some of their clothes inside their temporary habitat. For a while they both were inside the tent as Slave set up in his more modest accommodation. It was hard not to take note of some giggling and murmuring emerging from their tent, or wonder whether their intimacies had already resumed.
As set-up was nearly complete, Mistress had a logical request.
“Slave, you know that two person inflatable sleeping mat you bought for us? It seems best if we use that in our tent, don’t you think? You can borrow Scott’s single mat.”
“Of course, Mistress.”
Scott was hovering nearby. It was hard not to notice his slight smirk as he heard our “Slave / Mistress” terminology live for the first time. Seemed our roles were getting fixed for this excursion, with him as top dog and me as the runt of the litter.
“So he’s the ‘slave’ and you’re the ‘Mistress’, what’s that make me?”
“What would you like to be?”, Molly responded, a glint of mischief in her eye. He slid next to her, a possessive arm around her waist. They were standing, looming over me as I knelt next to my pack, pulling out our (now their) two person inflatable sleeping pad.
“Master seems a little heavy handed. Plain old Scott, maybe a little too informal under these circumstances. I guess “Sir” will do, don’t you think?”
“That sounds reasonable, don’t you think Slave?”
Another gulp.
Yes, Sir.”
Yes, this was going to be an interesting two nights.
FIRST NIGHT IN THE CANYON
After our frank conversation with Scott (who says he now prefers me to address him as “Sir”), Mistress excused herself to their tent to “change into something more comfortable”. In her absence, Scott got even more frank with me.
“So Mick, or ‘Slave’, as your wife calls you…. you really are OK with me having my way with her?”
“Believe it or not, yes.”
“You’re not going to go all postal on me if we make love in that tent over there? Or if she gives me the blow job she promises is in my future?”
So that’s what they’ve been whispering about?
“She has her freedom on that front. Just be gentle…unless she indicates she’s looking for something more, say, forceful”
“Don’t worry Slave. I think we have an understanding about what’s in or out of her limits. And while I might push them a tad, she’s really the one in charge.”
“Good to know….Sir…..”
Just about then Mistress emerged from their tent, hiking pants gone, wearing one of those simple Eddie Bauer travel dresses she prefers for our road trips, in a deep green, a dress that stopped at mid thigh. Simple, but displaying those strong shapely legs to their full advantage, as she no doubt intended. And was that some soft crimson lipstick she had applied. On a camping trip? She was clearly pulling out all the stops to impress her new lover. Of course, she still had on those sturdy hiking boots.
“Guess I should have packed some camp shoes?”, She asked us.
“Oh, those will do …. “, Scott said, eyeing her admiringly. “Maybe you and I should go for a little walk while slave here is getting dinner together.”
He led Mistress off in the direction of a vista point north of our campsite, arm possessively around her waist, murmuring something into her ear that produced a nervous laugh, and an exaggerated sway of her hips.
Hmmm……was there a trail quickie in their near future?
While they strolled off, I busied myself getting our little camp stove set up, and assembled the variety of freeze dried meals we had packed for our trip. About 40 minutes later Mistress and Scott were back, guilty grins on their faces. Mistress’s hair seemed considerably more disheveled than when they had departed. The lipstick that had adorned her a short while ago had clearly seen better times.
She excused herself to the nearby campground “facilities” to “freshen up”.
Scott say down at our picnic table as I fiddled with dinner prep.
“Does she always walk off with other men without undies, Slave?”
“It’s been known to happen…uhhh….Sir.”
“I do appreciate a woman who’s clean shaven. Always tastes so much better that way….and I must say your wife is very tasty…..could get addictive.”
Why was this simple conversation making my cock surge? The pathetic plight of a cuckold I suppose.
“Chalk me up as an addict . . . Sir.”
“Understood. And she has such lovely soft lips too…..can’t say I’ve had such a satisfying blow job in a very long time….”
Yikes. I hoped Mistress would share all the naughty details when (or if) we got some private time.
Mistress ambled back to the camp site, still glowing from what I surmised was an al fresco cum. Or two.
As the sun was beginning to sink over the Canyon’s rim, the wind was picking up. Slave got the water boiling, then poured it into the foil packets that would reconstitute into our dinner meals. There was more water boiled for instant coffee and tea to wash dinner down. All of us added an extra layer to beat back the chill.
We chatted over our meal about plans for the morning – a hike down to the bottom of the Canyon – hopefully all the way to Phantom Ranch. It was an ambitious agenda – maybe 14 mile down and back to our camp site. But Mistress and slave were determined to make it down to the River on this trip. Scott, who had done it before, was game to lead the way.
As dusk settled onto our campgrounds, Scott slid off to the facilities and Mistress and Slave had a little heart-to-heart.
“So things got hot on your little walk, Mistress?”
“What do you think, Slave?”
“Well based on what Scott mentioned, seems he enjoyed your clean shaven folds and the attention of your lovely lips.”
“Oh, he spilled the beans, huh?”
“I think it was taunting.”
“Only because it turns you on.”
Sad, but true.
We could see Scott headed back our way. Our private time was running out.
“So you got to handle his cock, Mistress?”, I whispered.
“I did, Slave.”
“And?”
“Impressive. Not quite as big as that guy last summer from the Forest Service. But….impressive.”
“I have a feeling you may become more familiar with it tonight?”
“Seems inevitable. But remember…..no touching no matter how inspired you are by these developments. Without the cage, I guess you’re on the honor system. Can you handle that?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
She gave me a little kiss, her hand lingering at the back of my neck.
Scott was back now, sidling up to Mistress on the picnic table bench. Arm around her again. He helped himself to a kiss of his own, but this one ended up with tongue and wandering hands, laying it on a little thick for my benefit, no doubt. PDA’s in front of the pathetic hubby are just part of the cuckolder playbook I suppose, and Scott was learning fast.
Ultimately, they came up for air. “It’s getting cold now that the sun’s down. And we have a long day on the trail tomorrow. Maybe it’s time to snuggle into our sleeping bags?”
It wasn’t so much as a question from Scott as a directive.
“We don’t have a handy ‘do not disturb’ sign for our tent, Slave”, Scott smiled my way. “But I think that’s the ground rule for tonight. Am I right, Mistress?”
“I think Mick understands that he’s to behave himself in his tent tonight”, raising an eyebrow in my direction. We both knew what that meant.
“What a shame you forgot that cage. I’d love to get a peak.”
Then they said their good nights.
I finished stowing away our food and eating supplies as Mistress and her new lover zipped their tent flap closed.
It could be a lonely night. At least I had a warm down sleeping back to beat back the chill.