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All characters are above the age of 18 unless otherwise specified.
Just as a preemptive warning, this features swapping/swinging/cheating, and is fairly dark. It’s also pretty lengthy. If that’s not your cup of tea, please check out one of my other, lighter works.
*********
“Just a little bit further!”
“Can’t we stop? Just real quick? I need a breather.”
“We said we weren’t gonna stop again before the overlook. It’s literally a mile and a half away, like maybe twenty, thirty minutes.”
“You haven’t given birth twice! I need to rest.”
Jackson and Tammy argued just ahead of us.
“I wouldn’t mind a rest myself,” my wife chipped in. She squeezed my hand a little tighter, maybe partially for re-assurance, or backup.
Tammy turned to face my wife. “Thank you,” she mouthed.
A subtle nod returned from Erica, my wife, completed their silent interaction.
“Fine,” Jackson sighed. “We’ll stop here.”
He threw the pack off his back onto a stump on the side of the trail. It was less of a trail and more of a “three people in history have walked on this before, so it’s a bit more trodden than anywhere else” path.
Jackson grabbed a seat on the stump and took a long swig from his Camelbak. He carefully poured some of the water into his hands and then splashed it into his face.
I’d known Jackson for a few months now. He was a nice enough guy. A little bit more crunchy than me, but I was already a pretty big hiker so I knew the type and could get along with them well. He had a thick black hipster mustache surrounded by a stubbled full beard that he clearly could grow out if he wanted to, but purposefully chose to kept trimmed.
His long black hair was tied in a knot behind his head. An intricate green and blue inked sleeve came up his left arm and encompassed his pec and scapula as well. His body was tan and well-built enough for me to be more than a little jealous. He wasn’t a gym type, but extensive hiking, off-road biking, and rock climbing apparently was a very intense and fruitful workout regimen.
Right now he sat in just a pair of lightweight hiking shorts and his hiking shoes. All his gear was well-worn but very expensive. He had more experience with this type of thing than I did.
I liked hiking and the outdoors. A half-day hike was usually pretty good for me, maybe a couple days if I was really pushing it. So when my wife suggested a week-long excursion through the Appalachians in West Virginia? I was intrigued, and challenged, but definitely a little in over my head.
Really it was Tammy who was making me do it.
Tammy had been my closest female friend since college. We’d grown up in neighboring towns in eastern Pennsylvania our whole lives without realizing it. After meeting at Penn State, we’d become instant friends hanging out through the summers.
My boys in school meant a lot to me and I was probably “closer” with them, but Tammy had been my best girl ally, and had blossomed into one of my deepest friends in the years since. She had been the one who encouraged me to go after my now-wife Erica.
A failed first marriage at 24 had given Tammy the joys of her life, her two young boys Hunter and Caden (both of whom called me Uncle Aaron). Her shithead ex-husband had been kicked to the curb two years ago, and she had been seeing Jackson for nearly a year at this point.
Originally Tammy was more of an off-road biker than a hiker, but she accommodated her new beau’s interests, and found herself bringing him and me together on the trails a lot more. After the disaster of her ex (which I took some responsibility for, not having seen what was going on earlier), it was a good way for me to get to know and vet Jackson, just to make sure Tammy was staying safe.
She had been the one to ask me to go on the trip. It was Jackson’s idea. He’d wanted to do it for ages. A quick 3 hour drive to the Appalachians in Northeastern West Virginia, and then a long 9-day hike around the area, just exploring, staying clear of civilization.
It was a fun idea. As I said, the longest hike of my life, but fun. Realistically, I wouldn’t have done it if Tammy hadn’t asked me. She was trying really hard to make things perfect with Jackson. She wanted to take this week for him. She’d already been able to arrange for time off work and her sister to stay in the house to watch the boys. It being mid-August, there was still a little time left before school came back.
So when she laid out the plan, showing me all the work she’d put in and begging me to come, I couldn’t say no. A chance to bond more with Jackson, what promised to be an exciting (if daunting) hike, and 9 days off work with my wife and one of my closest friends, enjoying nature.
Of course, it wasn’t just my decision. Erica had to approve as well. No way would I be puttering around West Virginia without my rock by my side. Erica was far less adventurous than any of the rest of us. She enjoyed the outdoors but never really strived to do super intensive activities.
But like the angel she was, she was escort vip willing to take an interest (or at least feign it) in what I was passionate about. She went along hiking with me often, was fine biking with Tammy occasionally. Besides, she wanted the opportunity to interact more with Jackson herself. Erica and I had gotten married a year before Tammy and her ex finally separated for good, so she had a keen interest in making sure the new man was a good fit.
And so, she agreed. The Fellowship had been formed.
And day one was going pretty smooth.
The rest of us joined Jackson sitting down. I wished I had the body or self-esteem to fee comfortable going shirtless as well. My shirt’s moisture-wicking fabric was fairly soaked in sweat. The 90-degree sun baked down on us. Sweat, sunscreen, and copious bugspray were now seeping out of my pores straight into the wet fabric.
Alas, I wasn’t one to flaunt a “sun’s out, guns out” mantra. Even in very close company. Which admittedly was stupid. But still.
Compared to Jackson, I looked very different. While his upper body and abs were sculpted, my frame was more naturally slender, although still well-built. I wasn’t bad-looking by any means, I thought, with my close-cropped dirty blonde hair now sticking to my sweaty forehead. While Jackson had a very rugged and macho hipster aesthetic, I was a bit more clean-cut and traditional: blonde hair, blue eyes, no stubble, a wholly unremarkable 5’10 frame. Not that there was anything wrong with traditional. Or rugged for that matter.
Erica sat right next to me, sipping water from her Nalgene while Tammy mirrored her next to Jackson.
“Where exactly is this outlook?” I asked our pseudo-guide, the man most familiar with this sort of thing.
“Right on the ridgeline half a mile up. We’ll cut closer to the cliff and then it’ll jut out. Based on what I saw earlier, it should give us a great view of the valley and be a perfect spot to stop for the night.”
“Works for me boss,” I responded.
“Yeah, if yinz wanna give me just two minutes, we’ll be fine.” A lot of Tammy’s family was from Pittsburgh. She still kept some of the mannerisms.
Like preferring Sheetz to Wawa.
Barbarian.
Jackson sighed. He was amped. First day out, after a long drive. He was ready to go.
“Don’t give me that shit,” Tammy said affectionately, but also being entirely serious. “Or you’re gonna be sleeping outside the tent tonight.”
“I’ll kick Aaron out if you do. Just so Jackson has some company,” my wife joked.
I shot her an incredulous look.
“Hey what did I do??”
The women shared a knowing look.
“Men,” Erica said.
“You’re telling me. Love my boys to death but what I wouldn’t give for a daughter.”
For someone who’d had two kids, Tammy sure as hell didn’t look it. She still had her college body, a result of all the exercise and an active lifestyle. She was wearing a sweat-wicking Underarmour like my own, although hers was a much tighter and more revealing fit around her well-endowed chest. A pair of black bike shorts hugged her butt and thighs like a second skin, showing off her muscular, toned legs.
You could tell she biked.
Not that I was really paying attention. I knew Tammy was attractive. The hot blonde in college with big boobs who drew all the stares. But we’d never been anything more than friends.
Maybe because we were never single at the same time. But we just knew and read each other really well, and I don’t think either of us wanted anything more than what we had.
Because my eyes only stared for one woman.
Okay, well Madison Beer exists, so two women.
Madison was my one “celebrity exception.” Interestingly, she was also my wife’s.
But the woman sitting next to me captured all of the attention from me that wasn’t reserved for Ms. Beer.
Erica, in comparison to my rather Arian look, was a bit more Gaelic. Her hair existed on a plane somewhere between ginger orange and strawberry blonde. It came down to her mid-back, although right now she had it tied up in a bun (matching Jackson, strangely).
Her body was thin and lithe, very graceful and elegant. She stood barely over 5 feet, with small boobs, a small butt, and narrow hips. Subtle sunspots pocked her nose, cheeks, and body, betraying her otherwise pale skin. Her elevated cheekbones, strong jaw, and full lips gave her a very striking, eye-catching appearance, but nothing beyond those stunning green eyes.
Those eyes are what made me fall in love with her. So much emotion, so much passion, so much depth. In just two little orbs.
Erica if she were 10 inches taller had the build and looks of a model. And she was certainly a perfect model to me.
On a level only with Madison Beer.
For the first day, my wife was in a green tank top and short pink gym shorts that showed most of her skin. With the heat, she and Jackson had the right idea. Beating off the heat, and developing the tan lines.
Tammy rose, breaking the momentary peace that had enveloped our merry escort rus troupe.
“Alright I’m good, let’s get moving.”
“Perfect,” Jackson said, standing up swiftly and wasting no time taking off further up the mountain.
Erica remained seated next to me as Tammy turned to follow her boyfriend.
“You good?” I asked, offering her a hand as I stood.
“Yeah, just feeling a little stiff after the car ride,” she said with a smile, taking my hand. “Just gotta stay moving, keep the blood flowing, and I’ll be fine.”
“Okay,” I said as we started to catch up to Tammy and Jackson. “We can stop again if you need to, we’re not really in a rush.”
“You calling me a little bitch?” Erica joked, playfully punching my arm. “It’s nothing, we won’t need to stop again.”
“That hurt you know,” I replied.
“It was supposed to.”
“Jackass.”
“Douchebag.”
Both of us chuckled. Being married to your best friend was pretty perfect. Erica and I had actually been friends for a few years before we started dating. It gave us a really good foundation already, and made us super comfortable. No awkward start-of-relationship-feeling-things-out phase. We’d clicked as friends, and worked even better as spouses.
Thank God Tammy gave me a kick in the dick to man up and actually ask her out.
And thank God I hadn’t been friendzoned.
Three years later, it all seemed to have worked out. We loved, supported, trusted each other, tried to accommodate the other’s interests, had plans for a family down the line.
Really outside of the bedroom, we hadn’t even fell into a rhythm or rut or anything either. We kept things interesting, whether it be secret presents, trying new things, or just little getaways like this.
And even in the bedroom; there wasn’t really any room for complaints. Major complaints, at least. The sex was good, and we both enjoyed it. We definitely tried to keep it from being stale. But after three years of marriage, you get to know each other’s likes, dislikes, and boundaries pretty well.
So the envelope remained relatively stationary. We knew what we liked, and we stuck to it. Erica was pretty vanilla, and I worked within that. Any of the more experimental side that I maybe wanted to see a little bit more of, we just sort of agreed to tuck away. And it worked.
As I said, no complaints. No major complaints.
We continued on up the track, closing in on Jackson and Tammy after their head start, although they remained at about yelling distance in front of us.
“You might have to give me a shoulder massage or something when we get up there, I’m still feeling stiff,” Erica remarked.
“Might’ve sat funny in the car,” I offered as an explanation.
“Yeah probably, a good night’s sleep will take care of it. And we brought Ibuprofen right?”
“Uhh, yeah,” I said, mentally pulling up the inventory screen for my pack.
We walked in silence for another minute.
“Only fair that I get a massage for my arm then,” I broke the still air.
“Oh come on, it does not still hurt.”
“Maybe not, but my ego does. So you’ll have to do it. It’s an even trade.”
“Screw-” Erica punched me in the arm again, “you.”
“Nah I think that’s the wife’s job to do the screwing,” I countered with a giggle, too proud of my own wordplay.
Erica rolled her eyes dramatically. “Pig.”
“Fine I’ll Rochambeau you for the massage,” I said.
“What?”
“If I win, I get the massage; you win, you get it.”
“Figured but I meant what’s Rochambeau?”
“Urban Dictionary it,” I replied, tssking at my wife’s lack of South Park memory. “Cartman would be disappointed.”
“Ohhh,” she said in realization. “Well that’s a really bad deal for you, seeing as I have no-“
“Alright this is it!” Jackson yelled out from ahead, cutting off my wife.
We scurried faster up the path, coming up to where Jackson and Tammy stood.
Emerging out through the trees on our right was a massive rocky crag. The path continued onwards, but we peeled off to the cliff, making our way out onto the wide semi-circle ridge that jutted out from the rest of the cliff.
“Goddamn,” I muttered.
The view was fantastic. Trees as far as the eye could see in the valley below, with every shade of green imaginable, and some reds and oranges mixed in. Big mountains stood tall on either side. Our current path would take us towards the one on our left.
“Quite a sight,” Jackson added. Tammy and Erica were already taking photos. The start of a sunset added a warm glow to the scene, casting vibrant yellows and pinks overhead.
“Yeah, really pretty,” Tammy concurred.
“Yeah. I’m glad we’re doing this,” Erica said, reaching over and squeezing my forearm. We smiled at each other.
“Me too,” I echoed.
We soaked up the view for another minute or two before Jackson kicked us into gear.
“Alright, nightfall should be soon. We should set up camp here and eat something.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
I had the tent for me and Erica, and we got to work setting escort elit everything up. It wasn’t a particularly spacious tent, but it was enough. Our two sleeping bags lay next to each other and took up most of the room. The important thing was keeping it lightweight for the hike.
Jackson and Tammy worked diligently on their own abode. We got everything set up just as the last of the sunlight dipped beneath the horizon.
Dinner consisted of dehydrated bacon mac and cheese. We started a small campfire on the stone face to heat up the water for the food, and sat around the flames as we ate. Jackson had packed a jug of his friend’s homemade moonshine that was very potent, and we all partook with our meal.
It was peaceful. The orange flicker lit up our faces as we sat in a circle and simply enjoyed nature and each other’s company.
The conversation ranged from the Phillies’ lost season to Andy Warhol to the plan for tomorrow, which turned into a reflection on how glad all of us were to be doing this.
“It’s just nice to be able to escape life. Even if just for a little bit,” Tammy mused.
“God, yes, that’s so true,” my wife parroted. “Break up the rhythm of work and everything for a bit and just step outside.”
“Yeah, it’ll probably just get worse in our 30’s,” Jackson said. “For like a boring rhythm.”
I was the closest to 30. The milestone was just a few months away. I told myself nothing would change, but at the same time, I was a little afraid of this conversation. I didn’t want to turn into the person whose Instagram consisted of nothing but posts of baby milestones and photos at other people’s weddings.
“I don’t know, there’s nothing really wrong with rhythm,” Erica chimed in. “It doesn’t have to be boring.”
“Well yeah but you have to find ways to spice it up,” Jackson responded. “Like what we’re doing right now.”
“Yeah of course,” Erica responded. “But if you settle into a rhythm, it’s because the rhythm works. Because you find something-” she turned to look at me, “or someone, that you like enough to be comfortable with it.”
“I wouldn’t say we’re really in a rhythm,” I pushed back a little. “We do a lot of cute spontaneous things.”
“Well yeah of course, but you know what I mean,” Erica said.
“What do you guys do to avoid falling into that?” Tammy asked. “Like a rut.”
“Spontaneous things,” I repeated. “Surprise each other. Do stuff like we’re doing right now. Try new things on the weekends. You know, just so every day’s not the same.”
“Yeah,” Erica agreed. “And I didn’t mean to say that we weren’t doing that. Just when you get comfortable with a person, there’s a certain security to staying there, staying where you’re at. And I think that’s a sign of true trust.”
Those green eyes were looking at me with the same gaze of love and security that I’d become used to seeing for the past half-decade. Just because I was used to it didn’t make them any less dazzling.
“I don’t know, I just think if you settle into boring, you can never really escape that,” Tammy argued. “I think actual true trust is being able to experiment and push boundaries with each other and still know you’re gonna be there for each other at the end of the day. No matter what.”
“Fair point,” Erica conceded.
We remained silent for a few seconds, just approaching the threshold of awkwardness. I took another sip of moonshine, the grain alcohol scalding my throat on the way down.
Tammy broke the seal. “I know that mindset is super important in the bedroom too.”
To be honest, I wasn’t entirely surprised that that’s what Tammy had chosen to say to break an awkward silence. I knew her well enough. She was upfront and very forward. It’s why I adored her as a friend. You’d always get her true feelings on a matter or a person. And that was valuable.
But damn if it didn’t make the situation more awkward than just letting the silence linger.
My wife fidgeted. She was tensed up a little bit, noticeably uncomfortable to my trained eye although she tried to hide it. As I’d said, our sex was pretty vanilla.
Definitely fit the description of a rhythm. Maybe not a rut, since that sounded too negative, but certainly a rhythm. And Erica didn’t want to change that, or showed no indication of it. Again, the greatness of security and that. I couldn’t really disagree with her. Or complain.
But still, there was that nagging in me that wondered….
“I don’t think I want to hear about your sex life Tam,” I responded with a chuckle, trying to save the situation.
“I’m serious,” she pressed. “You can’t say we’ve ever approached a rhythm. Or failed to challenge each other’s boundaries.” She was looking at Jackson.
“Agreed.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Erica said, trying to defuse the conversation. It had the opposite effect.
“Well just being unafraid to try things we’ve always thought or fantasized about,” Tammy explained.
“Or keeping each other on our toes,” Jackson added. “Challenging norms.”
“Yeah, I never in my life would’ve considered doing some of the stuff we’ve done,” Tammy continued. “Like swinging. But having such an open and adventurous experience allows you to really appreciate the person who will always be there for you. The true trust.”
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