Trailhead

You don’t have a friend named Nagi. You said you were friends in college, that she was a Polish exchange student. I checked your Facebook. I couldn’t find anyone named Nagi from Poland. I started to worry. Sure, new relationships always have some anxiety to them – especially when the phrases “I love you” and “let’s move in together” get thrown around.

Your lease was ending in a month, and we’d been together for six. I needed to know. You disappeared early Sunday mornings. I wouldn’t hear from you all day. But you were with “Nagi.”

I had never been cheated on, as far as I knew, but I was starting to think it had changed. We had such an amazing connection and so much in common. We went to the same small school in the mountains in western North Carolina. We were always outside when it was warm and bright. The woods was our calling, far more so than the beach. We had similar tastes in music, food, movies. And the sex was incredible.

I’ll never forget the night we fucked on my apartment balcony. We were drunk on two bottles of wine and a couple shots each. It was date night at home, and we cuddled up on the couch to get tipsy and watch bad scary movies. I don’t know how much of any of those movies we watched, but watching you pull down your skirt, then thong, and then pull off your shirt and unclasp your bra was easily better than any of them. You walked to the big glass patio door, opened it, and stepped out on the balcony wearing nothing but your tick socks.

You leaned on the railing, bending over, beckoning me to come out there. The cool summer night air and the crescent moon curve of your ass lured me to the outdoors. I was still fully clothed, but undid my jeans and pushed them down with my boxers. It’s amazing I didn’t trip and land boner-first on the concrete balcony. It wasn’t a long fuck, from what I remember. I started crouched down, spreading your ass apart and sloppily tasting you. Then I rubbed you and could feel how drenched you were. I doubt my drunken horniness had anything to do with how wet you were.

I slid into you easily. That was the only position we fucked in, and I don’t even know if you came. You weren’t loud, but you weren’t trying to hide either. It was like you knew someone would hear and watch. That excited me too. I came within minutes, and you weren’t on birth control at the time. I went back inside, and you stood there a while longer with my cum running out of you, down your thighs. That was the last time we bought plan B, but the first time anyone could see us. I don’t think we ever fucked with the curtains or blinds closed again. We still don’t.

However, now that things were getting serious, and we were talking about getting a place together, I started panicking. I needed to know who Nagi was. I was sure it was an ex, or something you did I’d be ashamed of, or… Fuck… I don’t know what I was thinking or what idea didn’t cross my mind. I probably role-played breaking up with you dozens of times after you told me something just heartbreaking.

We had to talk. We sat down at the coffee shop we had our first date at, a little boutique roaster beneath your apartment downtown. It was a hot enough day that most patrons were inside in the air conditioning with iced coffee. We sat outside. You were only wearing short shorts and a small bikini top. You blamed it on laundry day, but I just assumed you had been walking around naked in your apartment with the windows open like your Tinder bio said you did.

“I need to know where you’ll be tomorrow. Where you go on Sundays,” I said.

“I’m going to Nagi’s,” you said, nervously.

I sipped my iced latte, which was the color of your sun-kissed skin. “But who is Nagi? Why haven’t I met her?” I paused. “Or him?”

You could sense the concern in my voice, but tried to play it off at first. “Just a friend of mine, baby. Nothing to worry about.” You reached for my hand and I slid it away.

“How come no one on your Facebook is tagged as ‘Nagi?'” I asked. “You spend every Sunday together, but you don’t have pictures with him?” I was sure it was a “him” at this point.

You looked around us. There was one other couple sitting outside. They were clearly eavesdropping because their conversation had stopped and the man had rested his coffee on the biscotti wrapper. I saw his head cock a little to the side. She looked away from her table and gently set her cup down as well to listen. I was surprised that you kept talking.

“Nagi is not a him,” you said. “It’s a mountain.”

My first thought was, “Bullshit.” I was ready to dump you. All my trust in you was evaporating. Then you kept talking.

“I don’t know the real name of the mountain, but I go hike there on Sundays,” you said. “It’s remote, very remote. I call the woods and the trails Nagi’s.”

“We hike all the time,” I protested. “How come you never take me with you?” I don’t exactly remember what questions I had next, but I’m sure I got a more hysterical with each question – just not to the point of shouting. The other couple was intensely interested.

“I hike naked,” you said leaning across the table and grabbing my hand. Your voice was surprisingly calm and, at the same time, seductive.

“You just drive out to some park, strip down, and hike naked in public?” I was damn near shouting. The woman’s eyes widened as her ears soaked up the drama.

“It’s way out there, more than an hour-and-a-half drive. I wouldn’t exactly call it ‘public,'” you said

“Is it a nudist colony or something? Are you a nudist?” I demanded, still with a raised voice.

“Have you not figured that out by now?” you asked. You were slightly embarrassed for me. “Have you not noticed that I like to show off?” You gestured at your current outfit. “But no, it’s not a nudist resort. There’s almost nobody ever out there.”

“Almost nobody?” I asked. “That is different from ‘nobody.'”

“Babe,” you said, “relax.” You sat back in your chair. The couple behind you wasn’t even trying to pretend not to be hanging on every word. “Come with me tomorrow, if you want.”

I almost audibly scoffed. I was absolutely flabbergasted. “I don’t know about that,” I said, which was true. I wasn’t sure that I was upset yet, but I think the news of my girlfriend walking around the woods on hiking trails with nothing but boots, socks, and a small backpack on stunned me. I was more in shock than anything.

“Think about it?” you asked. “Look, I am head over heels in love with you. You’re everything I want in a guy. I’m worried that I’m losing you right now.” You leaned back towards me. “We were going to have to have this conversation sometime. I’m an exhibitionist. I like being naked. I like the thrill of being seen, caught, and being vulnerable.”

“Not in public though!” I protested.

“My windows for the last three years are right there,” you said pointing at the second floor. “The blinds are never closed and I am always naked unless I have to leave the house.” Then you sat back for your wild-card. “We fucked on the balcony at your place, remember?”

I didn’t know what to say. Or think. You could have imagined my mind being like a tetris-like puzzled. Pieces started falling into place. The process was agonizingly awkward, and absolutely overheard by that nosy couple.

“I’ll have to think about it,” I said. I stood up to go home.

“Babe,” you said, rushing to your feet and grabbing my arms as I turned away. “I love you. I mean that. You don’t have anything to be afraid of.”

I wasn’t sure I believed you, but, for some reason, I wasn’t mad at you at all. I was pissed at the gossip-hounds at the other table, but not you. “Give me tonight to think?” I said hoping it would appease you.

“Okay,” you replied. “I leave tomorrow at 5 in the morning. I’m at the trailhead by 7.”

“That is fucking early,” I said. You laughed and smiled that infectious smile that was the first damn thing I ever noticed about you.

You took a deep breath to collect yourself. “What should I think if I don’t see you in the morning?”

“That I was asleep,” I replied sarcastically. You laughed again. “I’m not kidding when I say ‘that’s early.'”

“I know,” you said.

“At the very least,” I said, “I will text you tomorrow, no matter what.”

I know that didn’t inspire confidence in you, but I really did need the time to think. I’m sorry that night must have been rough for you. It was miserable for me. I couldn’t help but think about you coming across some hot hiker guy and then cumming on hot hiker guy’s dick. But, you had invited me. Fuck, was I confused. Not mad, not sad, but confused.

Either way, I was at your place at 5am waiting by your car with water, boots, a backpack, and plenty of sunscreen. I bought an extra bottle for obvious reasons.

The drive was long and nerve-wracking. You weren’t joking about it being really, really remote. You expanded on the area on the way. You told me about all the trails, where they connected, and what to be concerned about. You also told me about the views, the cliffs, the trees and shade, and how wild and untamed it was. You did make it sound beautiful. I started to imagine you sunbathing naked on a rocky overlook. I can’t lie, as beautiful as the mental image was, it was also very sensual.

We got to the trailhead, just as you said, before 7. We parked your pickup, and both got out. I walked to your side of the truck and you had already opened the back cab door. You stripped off your t-shirt and slid down your shorts. You were naked except for your boots and hiking socks, just like I pictured. It all came off so smoothly and quickly that I barely had a moment to realize you were naked in the woods on a public trail.

You looked over at me. “You don’t have to strip down if you don’t want to.”

“I hadn’t planned on it,” I said, somewhat joking. Somewhat.

You giggled and grabbed your bag. You opened the very front pouch. “Keys go on this carabiner,” you said, showing me your process. “Clothes go in the bag, just in case, with a poncho.” You stuffed your shorts and shirts in the bag. I could see extra socks and a first aid kit. You had bug spray and sunscreen on the sides of the small pack within easy reach. “Meals are in this detachable bag.”

“Why?” I asked.

“We usually hike in the city. There are no bears in the city,” you said.

“Isn’t that what the bear-spray is for?” I asked. I noticed it in the bag next to some glinting gold foil, which I assumed was a poncho.

“That’s good for creeps too,” you quipped. I worried that you had encountered one or two, but obviously you’d come out fine – otherwise I doubted that you’d have been there.

We got onto the trail shortly after that. Breakfast was a bar of yogurt and granola with protein. We arrived at an overlook by lunch. We had fresh fruits and nuts, and I are your pussy for dessert. You swallowed my cum for yours. Standing on that rocky overlook while you gagged on my cock was like nothing I’d ever felt before. You were a mess of spit and cum by the time we were done. We rested a little while longer, then continued along a loop you’d taken many times before.

It was early in the afternoon, and we were on our last quarter of the hike. I was still clothed, but I was starting to understand your excitement of being naked in the woods. That’s when we saw the other hiker.

I was worried. I felt tingly all over. He definitely saw us; the surprise on his face was something I’ll probably never forget. You smiled and waived like you weren’t completely nude at all.

He stopped, and we walked up to him. Not past him, but right over to him for a friendly conversation. He was about our age, about an inch taller than me, and wet with sweat from his grueling hike.

“That’s not the most common outfit I see out on the trails,” he said, chortling.

“I like it,” you replied with a shrug. “It’s also cute, and it was free. Except the footwear and backpack.” Your hip swung out as you said that. It was cute. I noticed. He definitely noticed. And I definitely noticed that he definitely noticed. We’re you flirting?

“You’re cool with her just walking around here naked,” he said to me while pointing at you.

I didn’t know what to say. I just ended up blurting out, “It’s her thing.” I shrugged.

“Not yours?” He pointed up and down at me, motioning at my clothes.

“It’s his first time out here with me,” you said. You looked back at me, and I could see in your widened eyes: you were horny as fuck.

We continued to chat with him a while longer. Well, you and he chatted. I stood there, somehow falling further for you. You just exuded confidence. It turned me on, but I think my brain was too stuck between “fight” and “flight” for it to go into “fuck” mode and get me hard.

At the conclusion of our trail encounter, he reached to shake your hand, which you obliged. I was stunned and somehow managed to mopingly shake his hand too.

“You’re a lucky bastard,” he said. I smiled and nodded.

We walked on to your truck. We were both tired and wet with perspiration. You wiped yourself down and put your shirt and shorts back on. We both climbed into the truck. I wanted to lower your tailgate and fuck you hard right there where you parked.

“If I hadn’t been here,” I asked, “how different would that conversation have been?”

You chuckled, turned the truck on, and turned around in your seat to back us out to face the road or of here. I was so tired that I didn’t follow up on your non-answer. I kept wondering about it though. I still do all these months later. I wondered about it while we fucked in the shower after getting home.

You still go out there every Sunday. I go with you sometimes, but I still haven’t been naked the whole time like you. I think I’ll get there one day.

We’ve seen that guy again since that first day. And others, mostly solo guys and couples. Every interaction has either been like that first one I saw, or the other hikers have completely, and sometimes disdainfully, ignored you.

I always thought it was funny when the women in couples would be jealous or mad at you, but the guys would gawk behind their backs. One gave me a fist bump as they passed.

You loved the attention, and I loved how happy it made you. We always fucked like untamed animals when you, or we, got back and had showered.

Needless to say, everything made sense from that point on. You definitely like to show off. And fuck, was it so goddamn hot to me!

Well, almost everything made sense to me. I’m still not sure if the word “trailhead” has multiple meanings for you, but, I’m starting to hope that it does.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/tnbike/trailhead