Jason's Best Canoe Trip

"Alright," she said, trading the nervous look for the happy smirk. "Four of us got into the car and went to this store. It's a big convenience store right on the busy strip off the highway, dozens of fueling spots under a roofed area outside, customers in and out all over the place. It was a Saturday afternoon." She waited for a moment before continuing, letting me imagine the setting.

"We parked at one of the pumps. Allison and I waited for a lull in the foot traffic, then whipped off our shirts and walked into the store. All we had on was running shorts, sneakers, and socks. We went in and browsed around like nothing was out of the ordinary. Most of the customers and the clerk behind the counter were guys, so we didn't really get any flak from anyone, just mostly surprised smiles. When we finally picked out something and went to pay for it, the clerk recognized us from our cheering at football games. So, he pays enough attention to the cheerleaders at the game to remember us and now here we are in his store with our boobs out..." She furrowed her brow. "He was gonna drag that moment out, right? He started up a conversation about cheerleading and we must have stood there for five minutes talking. All the while, he was ringing up customers intermittently as we stood off to the side."

"If the clerk didn't mind your attire, how did the cops get involved?" I asked, trying to imagine what kind of sourpuss would call the police on a couple of hot, topless college girls.

"I don't know, really. Apparently, some old bag called the police on us. All I know is we walked out of the store and ran straight into two cops in the parking lot. Luckily, they were both guys, too. We stood there in the middle of the lot talking with one of them while the other contacted the clerk inside." Her eyes widened in an expression of disbelief. "And this cop we're talking with, he recognizes me too! I'm in my cheer outfit on an athletics department poster that hangs here and there around campus and he recognized me from it. So, he wants to chat about cheerleading, too!" She laughed and shook her head. "I never knew how famous I was or how interested everyone was in cheerleading until I took my shirt off in public, right?"

"That's why they say you have to dress for success. The right outfit can really lend weight to your message...make people take notice," I said, with an overdone, feigned tone of seriousness. We both laughed out loud for a moment. Switching to a genuine tone, I asked, "they let you go, though, didn't they?"

"Oh yeah! The clerk had zero complaints about us. I guess the old 'no shirt, no shoes' rule doesn't apply to everyone. The cops told us there was no law against free boobin' it, but we should be respectful of private establishments' rules, et cetera. They sent us on our way. It was a pretty fun experience, overall, actually."

That was a good story, putting mine to shame. It was so good, in fact, that I was in danger of pitching a tent in my trunks if I didn't wipe the imagery of it from my mind. I had really enjoyed our little storytelling session and wouldn't otherwise have wanted it to end so soon. But, the potential embarrassment or awkwardness that might accompany an uncontrollable boner was a real danger at that moment. Also, we needed to get back on the water if we were ever going to catch up with our group. "Maybe we should get moving again," I suggested.

"Yeah. Agreed. We need to find more beer somewhere," she said. She popped up and walked to the canoe, her movements fluid and graceful, as always. Her butt cheeks had small river rocks stuck to them all over and I had to fight the urge to reach over and brush them off for her. Reaching the canoe, she rifled through the dry bag and took out her phone. She scrolled through items on the screen while I dragged the boat off the shore. "Here. I have a picture my friend took that day," she said, holding the phone out for me.

Bracing my leg against the canoe to keep it from floating away, I eagerly accepted the phone from her and looked at the screen. Sure enough, there she was, along with her friend, topless in the convenience store parking lot and chatting with an officer. Both girls stood confidently with their hands on their hips, breasts displayed proudly.

The photo was taken from too great a distance for much detail to be seen. I tried to make out the piercings she had mentioned, but couldn't. Even from that distance, though, it was clear that neither woman had anything to be ashamed of. Both were athletic and shapely, their breasts high on their chests, tanned skin everywhere. There was no doubt in my mind that was the best call those officers had all year.

I kept my leering to a minimum and quickly returned the phone to her. "Wow. You two were bold. That's awesome," I told her.

"Yep. It was fun," was all she said. She wore a beaming smile, enjoying both the memory itself and sharing it with me, it seemed.

I found her confidence really appealing. My early appraisal of her as a prude had certainly been inaccurate. To the contrary, she actually had an exhibitionist streak in her. I couldn't help but wonder just how strong it was and whether she would show it again while I was around. Once again in danger of pitching a tent in front of her, I changed the subject, commenting about my hopes for finding the other paddle downstream.

We boarded the boat and headed off. As luck would have it, we found and recovered the missing paddle beached in the shallows around the next bend. After that, with both of us paddling again, we charged downstream in earnest, looking to rejoin our party.

By that point, it was well past lunch time and we hadn't eaten anything. Emily had planned on eating lunch that her parents had with them. Having no idea when we might catch up to them, I offered to share my lunch with her. Being easy to please myself, all I had brought was turkey cold cuts and cheese in pita pockets and a can of plain Pringles. It was boring, but I had brought way more of it than I needed for myself. Once again, Emily proved to be less high maintenance than I expected, readily putting away her share of it.

After eating, we opened our last two beers and settled into a decent rhythm of paddling and talking. Easy conversation flowed between us as before and we alternated methodically between paddling and resting as we cruised down a quiet and relatively straight stretch of river. We nursed our final beers and chatted away most of the next hour. Despite making a fair pace the whole time, we didn't pass many people at all, much less find our group. A friendly couple with ice to spare gave us enough to refill our cooler, but we didn't get our hands on any more beer.

Despite our little spill and the resulting beer shortage, I was enjoying the day immensely. Far from the burden I had expected that morning, Emily had proven to be an excellent boatmate. As we hurried along for her sake, hoping to salvage some time for her with her parents, a part of me hoped we never caught up to them. Spending the rest of the day alone with her on the river didn't sound bad at all to me.

***

Just as my last beer was running dry, I heard chanting and laughter that sounded like it emanated from a large group of people up ahead. It was coming from somewhere down the river, but there was hardly anyone in sight on the river ahead of us. Eventually, as we drifted around a bend, the source of the crowd noise became apparent. Something like two dozen canoes and rafts were beached along the right bank. A crescent shaped crowd was gathered around a rope swing hanging from a huge tree overlooking a natural alcove in the river. Emily's eyes lit up when she saw the swing.

I guided our canoe to the edge of the crowd and dug my paddle into the riverbed like an anchor. Looking around, I saw no sign of anyone from our camping group there. I was about to suggest we keep going in an effort to find our crew when Emily's obvious interest in the party there caught my attention. Unusually for that river, we hadn't seen much in the way of party spots all day. The appeal of that environment to her wasn't hard to read. I took the last swallow from my beer and settled in to watch for a few minutes.

A wiry young man in jean shorts with eyes that looked glassy even from a distance was winding up for his turn on the swing. He walked high up the steep sloped bank, giving his swing more potential momentum. After lots of encouragement and cheering from the assembled peanut gallery, he let loose, swinging high out over the alcove. He let go at the apex of his upward swing, did a gainer, and went into the water below head first to raucous cheers from the onlookers. That he surfaced uninjured shortly after going in was an indication that the water must be fairly deep there.

Next up, apparently having waited their turn, were two young ladies in matching blue bikinis. As the pair, one a little overweight but curvy and the other very thin, ascended the bank, the crowd began chanting. "Topless swing! Topless swing!" Both girls looked over their shoulders as they climbed and shook their heads, though only the skinny one looked like she meant it.

Reaching the top, they gathered the rope as it was handed up by people below. Examining the rope, which had several knots in it for footing and handholds but no actual seat, they looked to be trying to figure out a way for both of them to swing at once. While they debated, the chant started again. "Topless swing! Topless swing!" This time, it increased in intensity and didn't stop. The thin girl went back to shaking her head, declining the crowd's challenge adamantly. The curvy girl, however, was smiling and clearly considering it. The chanting and cajoling went on for a while. Both girls procrastinated atop the bank, unsure of the plan for their rope swing routine and seeming to enjoy the attention they were receiving.

Eventually, an older woman, overweight and topless, considerable but unappealing white breasts swaying as she walked, emerged from the gaggle of onlookers and chastised the other two from the base of the bank. They seemed to be acquaintances and whatever she said was enough to convince Curvy. She untied her bikini top and tossed it down to her chunky friend, revealing a fairly impressive pair of breasts, topped by large, pink nipples. She shook her shoulders, wobbling her goods for the crowd, then quickly mounted the rope and swung out over the cove. Letting go well before the apex of the swing, she dropped unglamorously into the water with a big splash, garnering a smattering of cheers and applause.

The thinner girl went as soon as the rope returned to her, bikini top still firmly in place. She showed much better form, swinging high before releasing and cannonballing into the water with her knees tucked to her chest. That got her little acclaim from the crowd, though, as most of the attention was still on Curvy. She had met the older gal on the shoreline and they shared a drunken embrace, giving each other's bare, pillowy breasts a squeeze for the benefit of the audience. Hoots and whistles rained down at them. One particularly annoying middle aged guy with a prominent gut, wearing Harley-Davidson shorts, shouted encouragement at them in a shrill voice from a canoe not far from ours.

Scanning the throng of revelers around the cove, I took stock of what I saw. There were more tattoos, beer guts, and mullets than I would have preferred, but otherwise it was a fun, energetic, and loose group. There were several topless women and a few more in dental floss bikinis, though none of them were especially attractive. Beer bongs and Jell-O shots abounded. The only thing missing from this party was a few more attractive women. Emily set about doing her part to rectify that.

"Do you care if I try the swing?" she asked, sounding excited.

"Have at it. Show 'em how it's done," I replied. I was curious to see what kind of acrobatics she had in store for the crowd.

She went overboard, stood up in thigh deep water, and waded off toward the shore. As she made her way around and through some of the neighboring canoes, more than one person asked if she was going to swing, undisguised eagerness in their voices. As she passed by the middle aged guy in the Harley shorts, he commented loudly that it would be nice if she did it topless. Emily heard him, glanced his way, smiled, and kept wading. A step or two later, she did a double take, looking over her shoulder at his canoe and fixating there for a moment.

Following her gaze, I saw what had caught her eye. Stacked on the deck of his canoe, right in front of him, he had at least three cases of Busch Light. I had no idea why anyone would bring that much beer on the river and the brand was hardly my favorite, but I was jealous. No way was he running out of beer that day. I was wishing I had enough cash with me to convince him to part with some of his beer when Emily, apparently thinking similarly, made him a better offer.

"I'll swing topless for a 12 pack of that beer," she offered, bringing a few laughs and whistles from nearby boats. Her tone and the look on her face left little doubt that she was serious.

"That's a pretty steep price fer seein' yer tits fer a few seconds from far away," he said. He wasn't above paying to see a girl take off clothes, but wanted to be sure of getting his money's worth.

"You can take a picture with me afterward," she quickly offered in reply. That was a steep increase to her bid.

"I'll tell ya what," he countered, grinning. "Ya leave yer top in yer boat, do a flip off that rope, and then take that picture with me, n' ah'll give ya a whole case of birrr. But, no coverin' up fer the picture, now. Ah want a good one."

Without hesitation, she said, "Deal!" and offered a handshake to seal the agreement. That drew more whistles and laughter.

Emily splashed back over by me. Standing alongside our canoe, she smiled at me and said, "I got us some beer!"

"I heard," was all I said, though I wore what I thought was an approving smile. I neither wanted to discourage her, nor to appear overly in favor of her proposal.

She frowned at me, then she lowered her voice. "You don't approve."

"I didn't say that. Besides, you don't need my approval."

Cocking her head to the side, she took on a serious, and incredibly cute, expression. "No, but I want it. We've been having fun together and I don't want you to think badly of me."

"Why would I think badly of you?"

"You know, loose morals and such." She rolled her eyes. "I know how judgey you older people can be." A wink punctuated that line, taking some of the sting out of it. "If you're gonna think less of me, say so now and I'll get back in the canoe and keep my clothes on like a proper girl."

It was pretty cool to me that my opinion mattered so much to her but, of course, her concern was completely unfounded. If she only knew the debauchery I had taken part in during my lifetime, she would have laughed at the idea of me judging her. Her confident and bold demeanor was increasing my already high opinion of her, not lowering it. I was the last guy who would require a woman to be all modest and buttoned up to earn my respect. My concern was about coming off like a sleazeball for putting her up to it. It was hard to picture any acceptable explanation I could give Ted for encouraging his daughter to strip so I could get more beer. That and my desire not to appear too eager to see her topless were all that restrained me from telling her to go for it.

"I'm not gonna think badly of you for being confident and having some fun. Don't worry about that. I just don't want you to feel pressured. There are other ways to get beer." I hoped that struck the right tone.

My words seemed to ease her mind. She broke into an easy smile. "No worries about that. I'm not much of a follower and I don't get pressured into anything." That wasn't hard for me to believe.

Reaching behind her with one hand, she unclasped her top, grabbing and lifting it away with the other. She casually handed the top to me and stood there smiling, as if daring me to look at her exposed chest. I chose not to be bashful, taking a long glance.

Emily's breasts were fantastic. Though they were probably about B cup size, they looked larger on her petite frame. Round, perky, and high on her chest, they had no sag to them. They were capped with perfect, erect, brown nipples, each of which was pierced horizontally by a silver barbell. She pushed out her chest a little as I checked them out, clearly proud of them and rightfully so.

After giving me fair time to ogle her, she shot me another wink and headed off. As she slogged through the knee deep water toward the swing, her breasts were in constant and tantalizing motion. Cheers, whistles, and lewd comments erupted from the nearby partiers as she passed. Stopping briefly to face the canoe of Harley Shorts Guy, she gave him a thumbs up and asked, "you want a flip, right?" He replied affirmatively, grinning ear to ear, clearly enjoying the view and pleased with the deal he had struck.

Within minutes Emily had threaded through the crowd to the location of the swing. A young man with long blonde hair had hold of the rope and had been ready to take a turn himself. When she approached, he eagerly gave up his spot, passing the rope to her. Taking it in hand, she scaled the bank, the muscles in her legs and butt rippling with the effort. As she had done repeatedly that day, she showed off her balance during the climb. She ascended the steep slope on her feet, choosing footholds carefully, an arm extended for balance, as opposed to on all fours as the others had done.

Reaching the top, she faced the water, rope in hand, assorted cheers and whistles sailing her way from the douchebag guys in the peanut gallery. Her eyes scanned the crowd before focusing on me. She gave me a searching look, still looking for signs of my approval, I imagined. I responded with a big smile and a thumbs up.

As she lined up for her performance, she paused momentarily, tucking the rope under an arm and reaching up with both hands to adjust her ponytail. Strong legs in a wide stance, shapely breasts bobbing slightly over a washboard stomach, upturned nipples prominent, piercings glinting in the sun, she looked absolutely sublime up on that riverbank. That image was likely to stick with me for a long time and, truth be told, figure in more than a few future 'me time' sessions.

Her ponytail set and her plan decided upon, she wound up and pushed off the bank, sailing out over the cove with a fury. As her trajectory curved upward and she began to lose momentum, she swung her legs upward and threw herself off the rope. Her body continued upward, feet first and head down, for a moment. Tucking her head to her chest, she brought her legs in with enough force to spin her body. She spun head over heels one and a half times before stretching back out and hitting the water feet first with legs fully extended. The impact with the surface was so smooth that it hardly generated a splash. It was quite a display, leaving no doubt that she had been practicing that kind of maneuver for years.

After lingering underwater for an almost concerning amount of time, Emily surfaced ten feet away from her splash point in water up to her navel. She smiled broadly, looking even better than before, water dripping from her ponytail and breasts as the crowd gave her a round of applause and cheers. She started wading in the direction of our canoe, but a gaggle of boys surrounded her before she could get very far. Unsurprisingly, there was no shortage of guys who wanted to be her new friend.

Her performance left me shaking my head, but I was equally impressed at how easily she chatted her way through the throng of boys. She gave them enough attention that she didn't come off looking stuck up, but left no reason for any of them to think he had a chance with her. She high-fived and shook hands with a few guys. One handsome young man even got a half hug, complete with a breast smashed into his ribs. But none of them got more than a few seconds of attention. Walking the line between friendly and aloof to perfection, she was soon done with them and on her way back in my direction.