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Parting Shot

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Fair Warning: This story contains a mild non-consensual/reluctant passage.

The vacation was going great and it was only half over!

Paul was loving these days, this week of blissful serenity out in the remote woods of North Carolina. He was loving them more than he'd ever expected he would. Actually, he'd originally suspected that a week out in the boondocks with nothing to do but drink beer would get incredibly boring incredibly fast. But he couldn't account for the immense sense of release he felt in throwing off all the stresses of exams and studying. In fact, just being away from the general crowded busyness of college and the city was a rejuvenating experience.

But by far the best part of the vacation was that he got to spend so much time with Kathy. Strictly speaking, they weren't alone, of course. But with Joe and Marcy sneaking off to fuck ten times a day, and with Brad frequently wandering off into the woods to amuse himself with his own juvenile antics (one of his favorite activities was shooting at squirrels with a hunting rifle), Paul essentially had Kathy all to himself in these beautiful, romantic woods.

Sweet Kathy: the gorgeous flaxen-haired angel whom he'd secretly doted on since their first days together in junior high. Even after all these years, the warmth in her eyes and the sweetness of her smile still made him melt. She was a wonderful friend: so warm and caring and fun and supportive. In fact she was so wonderful that mere friendship wasn't enough for Paul. He wanted to be closer to her; he wanted to be her boyfriend.

That was his grand ambition for this vacation: to consummate a serious relationship with the love of his life, before the hustle and bustle of post-college life swept them apart forever.

It wasn't about the sex, not much anyway. In his mind, it was more about using sex as a springboard to the next level. Paul was not naive and he knew that having sex with someone didn't mean marriage and happily-ever-after; especially not in the 21st century. But Kathy and Paul already really enjoyed each other's company. So if he and Kathy shared a really wonderful moment together, that might be the push she needed to fall seriously in love with him.

That being said, the prospect of screwing Kathy, even just as a one night stand, was an electrifying thought. She was a very sexy woman.

Her face was fair and so beautiful, especially when she let her shiny blonde hair loose to frame it. Some might've even said it had an innocent character to it, though in truth Kathy was as worldly as most young women her age.

The rest of her body was just as attractive. However, unlike her BFF Marcy, Kathy didn't make a habit of showing hers off. Sometimes the dowdy, loose clothing she wore belied the fine figure beneath. But when she stripped down to her swimwear, she proved to be a very well-proportioned young woman.

Her ample breasts - Paul would guess generous 'B', or perhaps even 'C' cups -- crowned an enticing hourglass waist and broad hips. Her flawless, slender legs had a way of looking deceptively long, so much so that they made it easy to forget that Kathy stood at a mere 5 feet tall.

With all the years Paul's doting eyes had spent gazing upon Kathy, it was inevitable that his eager adolescent loins would become just as obsessed with her as his heart. Beneath his love roiled a powerful sea of suppressed lust. At times, Paul had to admit to himself that he just wanted to have a hot, messy screw with his gorgeous friend, regardless of whether or not they would ever be a couple.

Love, or just a one night stand with his dream girl. Either way, Paul had a good feeling about this night. Over the past four days, he had felt himself and Kathy growing closer and closer. Their banter was more playful; Kathy's manner was more flirtatious.

Today, they had enjoyed a leisurely stroll through the picturesque woods alone together, and Kathy had laughed at virtually every lame joke Paul had made.

He could feel it. Kathy was more into him now than ever. He was *so* close to sealing the deal. Tonight would be the night!

The weather had been clear all day and was unusually balmy for this time of fall, so the group had decided to spend the evening on the lake edge about a 10-minute walk from their rented cabin. They all pitched in to carry the bare essentials out, including Paul's boombox and enough beer to kill an elephant.

The girls donned their swimsuits: Marcy in a spaghetti-string yellow bikini with white trim that left nothing to the imagination, while Kathy wore a somewhat more modest black bikini. The boys all stripped down to their shorts.

Before they got in the water, though, Joe realized that they would need wood for their campfire. They all ventured back into the woods to help collect it, but Joe, Brad and Marcy soon lost interest in the errand and went off to frolic in the lake, leaving Paul and Kathy to build up a decent stockpile by themselves. Not that either of them minded.

Shortly after joining the frivolity, Kathy discovered a pink rubber ball, a toy that some preschooler on vacation probably lost during the summer, half-buried in the sand. A game of wading dodgeball ensued, with plenty of laughter to go with it.

When the sun sank beneath the horizon, the group started their campfire and fired up their amalgamated collection of CDs. But the fun continued in the water for some time.

Only the dimmest glow of dusky purple lingered in the sky when the group collectively decided to get out of the water and start on dinner. The boys, especially Brad and Joe, were quick to get the night's drinking underway, while Marcy got to work cooking their dinner and Kathy helped by unpacking the bowls and utensils. Marcy had prepared their dinner, chili, earlier in the cabin. All she needed to do now was cook it over the campfire.

Dinner itself went off without any major hitches. Paul accidentally spilled his serving, but there was plenty left in the pot.

But after dinner, somewhere around the second or third round of beers, Paul started sensing trouble on the horizon. Brad was being just a little too boisterous and a little too friendly with Marcy. He was taking every opportunity he had to make physical contact with her. They were brief, seemingly innocent gestures, but it was abundantly clear that they made Marcy uncomfortable.

Their relationship had always been confrontational. Clearly there was some kind of history between them and Paul had often wondered what it was. There was no mystery about why Marcy disliked Brad; he was painfully immature and had a tendency to be an obnoxious asshole. But Brad's attitude towards Marcy was more telling. He'd address her as "you slut" with only the slightest provocation and it seemed every word he spoke to her, even at the best of times, was venomous.

Paul had begun to suspect that once upon a time Marcy had actually fucked Brad, but then refused to give him another taste, much to his frustration. Then again, it may have been just the opposite. Marcy was well known to have had countless partners during her college years, and perhaps Brad was just ticked off that he hadn't been one of them.

Either way, Paul began to realize that the pieces were all in place for a perfect storm to brew between them tonight:

Brad, an unabashed playboy, had spent the last 4 days in close quarters with a couple of drop-dead gorgeous women, neither of whom were available. Their swimsuits had been showing plenty of skin, and even Marcy's tight sweaters would've lit a fire in his nuts. Not to mention all the noise she and Joe had been making throughout the vacation. By now, Brad was probably feeling the strain of having all that stimulation, but no release.

Meanwhile, Marcy, a statuesque beauty with long chestnut-brown hair, was once again flaunting her buxom, athletic body in her barely-there bikini. Between her stunning looks and her reputation for being 'easy', it was hardly surprising that sex-starved Brad might be tempted try his chances with her.

Add beer into that mix and all bets were off.

Every awkwardly brazen move Brad made towards Marcy gave Paul a rush of apprehensive excitement, like the feeling he got when he was in a rollercoaster just about to reach the top of the rise. On one hand, a blow-up between those two could spoil the night for everyone and completely ruin his chances with Kathy. But on the other hand he took some guilty pleasure in the thought of getting to witness some juicy drama play out.

The drinks kept coming and less and less of what followed would ever be remembered by Paul in the future. Part of him was reluctant to dull his wits so badly on the night he hoped to finally seduce Kathy. But he was more concerned about not being "fun" enough for her, than he was about devolving into a drunken fool.

Somehow the group managed to turn 'six degrees of Kevin Bacon' into the basis of a drinking game. Taking turns, they'd drink whenever they miscast an actor, or stalled too long contemplating their next move. It was governed by a slew of absurdly complex rules, the likes of which only drunk people could come up with.

Then, things started to get really wild.

Giggling tomfoolery back in the water, between the two ladies, was juxtaposed with Brad and Paul having a deep philosophical conversation on the beach about why NASCAR drivers are more badass than heavyweight boxers.

Brad's advances on Marcy not only persisted, but grew bolder and bolder. At the same time, her resistance to them seemed to be waning. Joe seemed far too wasted to notice what was happening. Paul, on the other hand, saw what was going on, but was too drunk to really care about it. Though judging by the headway Brad seemed to be making, Paul started to wonder if it was all leading to an even wilder outcome than the fight he'd initially predicted.

The night rolled on. So did the beers. They played in the water. They played near the roaring fire.

When the inhibitions were razor-thin and the boombox had segued on to a song with a funky beat, the girls decided, or perhaps were coaxed, to show off their talents at pole dancing... without the poles.

Paul's heart went crazy as the two superb female forms writhed sensuously in the firelight before him, often scandalously close to one another. Every curve undulated in time to the music, every part of their bodies was alive and nubile.

Marcy's bra was the first to go astray. After effortlessly untying the knot in the back, she pulled it off and cast it in to the shadowy distance with a playful cheer of, "Wooooo!"

Paul was shocked at how amazingly stacked Marcy was. Of course, it had always been obvious that she had large breasts. But now to actually see them, jiggling in their altogether, they were more grand than he ever would've envisioned. Not only were they large, they were also very pert. The unassuming little nipples, soft pink circles that barely contrasted with the surrounding skin, were utter perfection.

For a brief moment, Paul thought that Brad had the right idea in rolling the dice with this 5-star babe. But it was only a moment. There was another woman dancing in the light, the woman of his dreams. It would take a hell of a lot more than a couple of D-cup wonders to break him out of the spell she held over him.

Not to be outdone by her adventurous friend, Kathy began sliding her hands all over her upper body, eventually working their way back to the knot securing her top. Though by this point, Marcy seemed about two seconds away from dropping her own bikini bottoms.

Paul couldn't breathe. This was really happening! Kathy's tits!

Then God flipped Paul the bird.

At that precise moment, the boombox's battery died. The music stopped abruptly and with it, the dance and all of its sexual momentum.

"Awww!" The group groaned in chorus.

Paul felt like he'd been sucker punched.

"What the fuck, man?"

"C'mon, Paul!"

"It was just getting fun!"

"Fix it, man!"

"Didn't you remember to change the batteries, dipshit?" came the commentary from all sides of the fire.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry..." Paul apologized profusely as he staggered around, at first to check the boombox and then to search for new batteries, despite the fact that nobody had brought a second set of batteries down with them. His blurred mind was locked on a single idea: if he could get the music going again, the show would pick up just where it left off.

"I know where the batteries are! I know where they are! They're at the cabin! Just wait a sec and I'll be back in two shakes of a jiffy!" he proclaimed with determination, as he staggered up the grassy hill towards the woods. In his drunken stupor he had lost all concept of time and distance and couldn't appreciate the difference between a 10-minute hike through featureless woods and a 10-second stroll across a clearing.

As any sober person could've predicted, he got hopelessly lost. At some point, he completely forgot that he'd wanted to go to the cabin and instead believed he was trying to find the campfire again. He had no idea just how long he'd been lost in those trees.

The closest thing he had to a measure of time was the fact that he'd had to stop and take a piss twice before he found his way out, which considering his heroic intake of beer that night, didn't really mean much.

But find the campfire he did. He trotted back down the hill, eager to rejoin the party.

As he approached the beach, it seemed deserted. But then he noticed movement beyond the fire and off to one side. Someone... Brad, was laying buck naked upon the ground and... he was fucking!

Paul was shocked, appalled, but also titillated to discover that Brad's pushy advances on Marcy had actually paid off. Though judging by her open behavior earlier, he was hardly surprised. Still, he knew there'd be hell to pay if Joe found out about it.

He crept forward, unable to resist his voyeuristic urges. That's when he realized that the woman Brad was humping so commandingly wasn't a brunette, she was blonde. Kathy.

It felt like something out of a nightmare, but it was true. There she was, just as naked as him, her legs splayed and practically turned back far enough to scratch her ears with her toes. The tender nether regions that Paul had longed to know for so long were open in boundless welcome to the most arrogant, obnoxious asshole he could think of. The heavenly tits that he'd ached to see just a short time ago, now shimmied mockingly to and fro as this other guy had his way with her.

Then, through the crackling of the fire, he heard the sounds. Grunt-snorts of exertion and pleasure from him, and dainty brisk whimpers of erogenous shock from her. That, by far, was the worst of it.

Paul turned and stormed back to the woods as fast as his unsteady legs could move without collapsing beneath him. By chance, he had better luck staying on the path this time than his previous attempt. Once he was within sight of the cabin's porch light, the rest of the trip was easy.

Slamming the door behind him, he kicked one of the dinner table's chairs across the room as he stormed in to his bedroom. Furious and weary all at once, he flopped down on to his mattress and proceeded to batter both it and his pillow with punch after punch. The fury of hell itself flowed through him, on to that unfortunate bed, until his arms were stiff and burning and could hit no more.

Soon after, the alcohol in his system lulled him off to merciful sleep.

---------

So naughty, so shameful, but so much fun, too! Marcy let the music move her as she danced, free and comfortable as could be. She let the inertial motions of her unbound breasts guide the undulations of her body, so that all would move as one.

The heat of the flame amorously caressed her bare skin on one side, while the cool night air caressed it on the other. But by far the most exciting force upon her skin was the attention she felt upon it.

She relished the familiar giddy thrill of captivating men with her lovely body. Tonight, it was triple her pleasure, with three drooling admirers sitting before her instead of just one. Their eyes were locked upon her full, naked breasts as they swelled and jiggled proudly. Their manberries were almost certainly secreting profusely, in silent applause of her beauty.

She was just about to wow them with the money shot when the hypnotic party flow abruptly turned deathly silent.

"Ohhhh..." she moaned, voicing her disappointment in unison with the others. "It was just getting fun," she gently grumbled.

"Srry, srry, srry..." Paul slurred as he began staggering around aimlessly, hoping to accomplish God knows what. She knew he'd been drinking as much as any of them, but she liked to think that the sight of her tits also had a hand in making him so disoriented.

Then he loudly announced that he was going to get some more batteries for the CD player and ran off in to the shadows.

"Well, boys, who'd you like best?" Marcy cooed as her playfulness reasserted itself. The dance had originally begun as a good-natured contest to determine who could pole-dance better, herself or Kathy. "Me?"

"Totally," Brad applauded before taking another swig of beer.

"Definitely you, babe," Joe agreed with an affectionate caress of her thigh.

"Oh my god, that is such bullshit!" Kathy protested in good humor. "We didn't get to finish!"

"Oh, you think so?" Marcy taunted her with a smile.

"I call fucking rain-delay, or rain-check, or rain... rain... something. Whatever they fucking call it when they can't finish the game properly," Kathy rambled as Marcy giggled at her silliness. "Shut up!" she chided her friend.

"Rematch! Rematch! I demand a rematch!" Kathy announced, loud enough for the whole county to hear.

"Bring it, sister!" Marcy playfully trash talked her.

"Oh, I will," Kathy replied with equal facetiousness.

"Alright!" Brad cheered with enthusiasm as the dual dance/striptease resumed. The boys helped get the girls started by giving them a rhythm - humming the bassline from the song they'd just been listening to. But they trailed off into silence after a few bars and just sat back and enjoyed the show.

Already being half-naked, Marcy was at a disadvantage in terms of mystique. But she made up for it by rhythmically kneading her breasts to show off their malleability and contorting her body into various angles, to show how gravity changed their shape.

Kathy finished her artistic teasing and finally released her top.

"Woo!"

"Alright!" the boys cheered and briefly applauded, as she dropped the bikini top at her feet with a beaming grin.

The rhythmic swaying continued for a while. For a few seconds , the girls collaborated on an especially erotic display; bumping and grinding close to one another without actually making contact, before they pantomimed feeling one another up.

Then Marcy decided that the boys had dangled on the hook long enough and pulled loose the side knots of her bottoms. They flopped to the ground, revealing her wide, thick, yet neatly trimmed landing strip.

"Oh yeah! That's what I love to see," Joe complimented her, with the heartiest applause yet. Brad, however, was eerily silent.

Kicking the last of her clothing aside, Marcy continued to dance, making her crotch writhe invitingly before her lover's eyes.

She did an extremely slow 360 degree spin. As her ass turned towards Brad she heard a sound: an impulsive, crude grunt. She thought he might've jizzed his pants, but on reflection she figured it was more likely he was just having lewd thoughts about her. For the first time, one of the leering gazes she felt on her body didn't feel so good. In fact, it made her a little uncomfortable. But she continued dancing without letting on and after a few seconds, the unpleasant thoughts were forgotten in her euphoric drunkenness.

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