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college kids on a hiking trip

Maybe it was the crisp, sun-filled mountain air that filled her lungs and made her feel so alive and sights so vivid. Or the soft scented carpet of pine needles that felt so good beneath her feet after stepping on all those stones. But Hyacinth just couldn’t help smiling as she looked up at Wendy Macalester -- or “Mac”, as the girls called her -- dancing up the high vertical rock face on the single rope.

Hank was standing next to her in his big hiking boots and climbing outfit, holding a coiled rope and various climbing implements, and he was smiling too as he watched his girlfriend, naked and unadorned with any equipment, prance up away from them. “Beautiful, isn’t she?” he said, clearly in love, and in a way so was Hyacinth, admiring the skillful and strong girl as she bounced off the rocks, her toes grabbing an outcropping here, then splaying the other leg to grab another outcropping there, as if she were upright and dancing happily on moon in one-sixth gravity. The muscles of her tanned shoulders and butt worked quickly and gracefully, moving deceptively fast and pretty soon she was up, up, way up onto the top of the cliff, then she disappeared. A moment later, having undone the grappling hook and tied the rope securely so as to take all of their weight, she reappeared, on hands and knees so all they saw was her head and her taut, brown breasts. Her yell of “come up!” pierced easily through the quiet clean air.

Scott, Ahmad and Tommy came up behind and now all eyes turned to Hyacinth. “You first, Hy,” Scott said, maybe too eagerly. “That way we can spot you.” Hyacinth’s face burned with shame. Yeah, right. And also look up at my crotch. Scott wasn’t really a bad guy, but was a pimply gawking type who was doofy and mostly likely a virgin, probably quite an accomplishment here at Alturas where, it was joked, the girls had a reputation for being horny all the time and wearing the guys out.

Hyacinth felt Scott’s breathing on her breasts as he helped Hyacinth into her belt and cinched it tight around her thin waist. And then up she went. She had never scaled a rock face before, but it turned out not to be so hard. She was used to climbing ropes in her daily body conditioning course, and this was much easier, with part of her weight on her feet. Her soles weren’t as tough as Mac’s but it didn’t hurt at all as she went from one rock to the next. She knew she was being looked at by the guys who were following below. Fortunately when climbing rocks, she was told, looking down is not a good idea.

When she got to the top it was just her and Mac, naked women on top of the cliff and maybe on top of the world. She felt the moment lost when Scott lumbered up and stood behind them. Ahmad, originally from Syria, came up next, a shy guy. Then Hank, who went to stand over next to his girlfriend. And finally Tommy Chen, exhuberant as always, saying, “I love this place. . . Where now, Four O’Clock?”

“Four O’Clock” . . . she had heard some of the guys call Mac that. Odd nickname. The tanned athlete, pretty tall anyway but standing higher than the rest on a rock, pointed to a steep, rocky rise that ended with a grove of pines on top. And off they went.

It was pretty rugged hiking, and then it turned into climbing -- “bouldering” -- as they scaled from one rock to the next. The girls, not carrying any equipment, just their naked selves, climbed crablike on spread arms and legs and found it easier going than the guys, pulling away ahead until Tommy complained. “This isn’t exactly fair, you know.” Which was a good point, so Mac and Hyacinth each strapped a backpack on, one strap just under their breasts and the other across their taut midriffs, leaving the guys with just carrying the ropes and climbing gear.

Hyacinth grunted as she hefted herself up onto another rock. This backpack was heavy, though in her improved physical condition it was no big deal. Up ahead of her Mac seemed impeded not at all. And with the benefit of toes to grab with and no clothes to hinder them the girls seemed to be at an advantage. Except for the shame, that is. As Hyacinth spread her foot out to grab another rock, then spread the other foot the other way to grab another, she was blushingly aware of her pussy opening slightly and the air hitting her inside and also her butthole. She knew Scott was staring right up inside her. And looking at her anus! She just never could get used to the idea, of her most private place being constantly on display in public, always looked at.

As she hefted up again she looked up at Mac, whose crotch was equally widely spread. Even Mac’s pussy lips looked strong, somehow. And her butthole. Mac paused for a moment unexpectedly and Hyacinth found herself right under her. She couldn’t help but look, in a kind of morbid fascination, curious as to what guys would look at. Mac had a little birthmark just above the wrinkled little asterisk, and another a little off to the right and down. Four O’Clock!

The shaming ordeal ended with all six BSC students up on the high land, looking into a grove of trees. Mac knew the way and the rest followed wordlessly. Hyacinth felt the hotness in her face but the blushing went to the back of her mind as she took in their surroundings. The sun was hot on her shoulders and the soft wind was bracing as it brushed her nipples and filled her nostrils, sticks warmed by the sun cracking underneath her bare feet. To the side, she saw the land fall off and a great vista of crags and hills that went on for miles, in the far distance the great grey figure of an immense mountain. She had always thought the ocean and beach were beautiful, but this! She had an odd urge to stand there and raise her arms out and pray, thanking God -- maybe thanking “Gaea”, that Earth Mother Goddess a lot of the BSC females had gotten interested in -- for such beauty. Maybe she would have done that if she was alone, but then she heard the guys’ big hiking boots behind her. Maybe another time.

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