Going for a hike all alone in the mountains of northern Montana sure sounded like a good idea at the time. It was June, I was out of school for the summer, and ready for a break from The City, from work, from friends and bars and online dating; I was ready for some time away from civilization. Plane tickets were cheap: baggage restrictions were a pain in my ass.
I wasn’t worried about hiking alone as a single woman: I know I can handle myself if I need to. I was a little bit worried about hiking alone just in terms of hiking alone; there is plenty that can go wrong in the back country, where one bad step could lead to a sprained ankle miles and miles from help. It was dangerous, but also exciting, and I was confident in my abilities and looking forward to the adventure.
It was hot for early June, hotter than I had expected, and I found myself sweating profusely. I wore shorts and a tank top, and I slathered myself in sunscreen (though probably not enough sunscreen) and in insect repellant (ditto).
My pack felt heavier than I remembered, and the shoulder straps chafed, and I thought I might be getting a blister from my boots already. I saw a ton of people on the trail in the beginning, and I was beginning to wonder if I was actually going to get any solitude at all. But after the first few miles, the tourists and casual day-trippers began to thin out and disappear, and soon all that was left was the occasional hiker, in small groups or couples or solo like me.
I had lunch near a glacier-blue-green mountain lake, drinking luke-warm Gatorade and eating a cheese-and-salami sandwich. It was one of the most delicious meals I had ever tasted! A marmot watched longingly while I ate, and unable to resist his cuteness, I tossed him the crumbs when I was finished eating.
Not long after that, I forked away from the main trail, off into the real back country. The trail wound steadily up, switch-backing up a mountain, and soon enough my legs were aching and my feet felt like they were made out of lead. I was glad to reach the lean-to near the top of the ridge, happy to find out that the shelter was unoccupied, and very ready to make dinner and settle in for the night.
Often I find I have trouble sleeping the first night of a hike: the excitement of the trail, the strange surroundings, the less-than-entirely comfortable bivouac; all these things conspire to keep me awake. Not this time. I had walked some 20 miles, mostly uphill and in the hot summer sun, with a heavy pack on. I fell asleep right away, and I slept hard until dawn.
The next morning found me bleary-eyed, bug-bitten, and stiff and sore. I had breakfast and hit the trail, resolving to drink more water and to try and stay hydrated.
It was really beautiful, perfect clear weather. The hiking was easier, downhill and then more level as I followed the meandering path of a mountain stream. I only saw three people the entire day: a granola-looking middle-aged lesbian couple who I stopped and chatted for a while with; and a lone hiker, a guy about my own age who had such a cute smile and such an appetizing bulge in his cut-off shorts that I really wished he would have stopped and talked for a while, but who didn’t. Both parties were going the opposite direction from me, back toward the trailhead.
I pitched my tent that evening as the shadows were getting long, and cooked dinner over my little gas stove. I drank a little of the wine that I had brought with me in a thermos and watched the stars come out. They were glorious, bright and piercing and infinite. The moon was just starting to rise, full and incredibly bright, shining bright enough to cast a shadow, hovering luminously above the jagged peaks. On the opposite horizon, a storm was brewing, heavy clouds already starting to obscure the stars.
I dug through my backpack for my toy kit. Dildo, lube, and butt-plug may not be on other people list of 10 backcountry essentials, but they’re definitely on mine! I’m a big fan of vibrators and all, but vaginas (and anuses) were made to be penetrated, and penetration feels GOOD! I rarely if ever masturbate to orgasm without something (or things) up inside me.
I stripped naked, savoring the cool mountain air on my bare skin, reveling in the sensation of being totally nude in the wild. I touched my pussy, caressing between the lips. I was already wet. Mmm, nice.
It felt so raunchy to be naked in the outdoors. I felt like a wild woman. I swear, this was half the reason I liked hiking by myself so much: the nasty outdoors masturbation sessions. I poured lube all over my little blue butt-toy and smeared it generously around.
I’ve been a butt-pervert for as long as I can remember. As long as I’ve been masturbating, I’ve been putting things up my butt: fingers, toothbrushes, carrots, dildos, butt plugs, and of course, the occasional penis. I love the sensation of being penetrated back there, the hyper-sensitivity, the feeling of being on the edge, the pleasurable feeling of fullness, the nastiness of it all. I got down on all fours on my sleeping pad with my rump thrust up in the air and my tits hanging down swaying in the breeze, and imagining it was that cute hiker-boy from the afternoon, slipped the toy right up my tight ass.
I butt-fucked myself for a little while, just enjoying the sensation, feeling like a dirty little slut. My cunt was super-wet and making squooshy slurpy hungry sounds and my clit was fat and swollen and just squeezing my thighs together was threatening to send me off. Every time the fat part of the toy pushed past my anus, I got a jolt of pleasure. I tortured myself, twisting and tugging on my nipples, making them long and red and sensitive. I fantasized about what I must look like, alone in the moonlight, totally naked and exposed. I fantasized about the cute hiker-boy stumbling onto my camp and catching me like this.
I couldn’t take it any more. I stuck the butt-plug all the way up my ass- it would stay there, but I would have to concentrate to keep it from popping out, that was part of the thrill- and grabbed my dildo.
It looked just like a cock, an ideal, perfect-sized, always-hard cock, except that it was light purple, made of silicone, and had a tiny vibrator built into it. I got it wet by swallowing it whole, indulging in a little porn-star fantasy, imagining that it was my cute hiker-boy whose cock I was sucking so thirstily.
I rubbed the shaft up and down my drooling cunt. My clit was in heaven! The buzz and the texture of the dildo felt amazing. I parted my lips with two fingers and slipped the cock up inside.
Somewhere a coyote howled. The air was thick with expectation. The sensation of having both my ass and pussy full was incredible. The buzzing of the little vibrator permeated the whole area down there. I fucked my slurping pussy hard with the dildo, pounding myself with a vengeance. It was pushing me right over the edge. I was gasping and snarling like a wild beast. My clit felt like an over-inflated balloon, ready to pop. The butt-plug threatened to slip out, and I reached behind and pressed it back up my ass with one hand while continuing to fuck my pussy with the dildo.
I came, growling and moaning just as the first rumbles of thunder started. The orgasm shook through my whole body, leaving me shattered and weak. I let the toys slip out, indulged in another little porn-star moment where I licked my own come off the dildo, and hurriedly cleaned up. It was starting to rain: fat, warm droplets, slow and lazy at first, but threatening to turn into a major downpour.
By the time I had stashed my pack, secured my food, peed, and climbed into the tent, it was really raining. The rain was spattering the sides of my tent and the wind gusted and buffeted the fabric walls. I was nice and dry and comfortable though. I nestled deeply into my sleeping bag, wearing nothing but a pair of panties and settled down to listen to the storm.
Thunder boomed and lightning flashed nearby. It was a little bit scary, but mostly in a fun way. I lay in the darkness and played lazily with my tender clit, just stroking and circling, occasionally detouring down to my pussy for lubrication or down to my asshole for a cheap thrill. I was nowhere near orgasm, just enjoying petting myself and listening to the storm.
I heard a noise nearby, something that wasn’t part of the storm. I froze, straining my ears. Thunder crashed and the rain whipped my tent, threatening to collapse the fragile walls. Something was moving around outside. Something big.
I cowered inside my sleeping bag, paralytically still, hoping it would just go away. Whatever it was. It was snorting and snuffling around my campsite. I felt sick to my stomach, reeling in fear-induced nausea.
Another flash of lightning, and I saw the silhouette of something impossibly big through the thin tent wall. Right on top of the flash, a crash of thunder and the smell of ozone. I realized I was weeping. With one swipe of its paw, the bear ripped my tent aside, exposing me to the heart of the storm. My sleeping bag was instantly soaked.
It was a grizzly. I lay there in my wet sleeping bag, not knowing what to do, hoping it wouldn’t kill me. It snorted and snuffled. I felt its hot breath on my face. It smelled terrible.
It nuzzled at my bag, as if I was a log with something interesting underneath. I kept perfectly still. Then it grunted, and with one sharp claw split open my sleeping bag like a pea pod. I cowered beneath him, whimpering pathetically. I felt wetness on my thighs and realized that I had pissed myself.
It was sniffing at me, almost like a grotesquely oversized dog. Its fur reeked and its breath was terrible. The bulk and power of this animal were simply awe-inspiring. It was like a force of nature. It stuck its wet nose between my thighs (which tickled incongruously) and I saw the red flesh dangling between its rear legs and suddenly I realized what the bear wanted. I saw it open its mouth, exposing sharp teeth the size of my fingers or bigger, and with a delicacy that might have been endearing if it hadn’t been so fucking scary, the bear ripped my panties off.
He nosed my cunt, and snorted (maybe in satisfaction), and repositioned himself, rearing up onto his hind legs. He probably stood seven or eight feet tall and his bulk sheltered me from the worst of the rain. In a flash of lighting, I momentarily had a clear view of the thing hanging down between his haunches. It was red, erect, tapered at the end, and impossibly big. It looked kind of like the dildos they sell at scary gay sex shops: it was more like a garden sculpture than a cock. I felt sorry for the she-bears but then figured they were probably designed to accommodate things like that.
He was directly over me. I was nearly overwhelmed by his scent, a musky, earthy, wet wild animal scent. My thighs parted instinctively, my pussy still traitorously oozing copious amounts of slippery joy juice. I wondered whether I would be smothered, crushed, or torn apart first.
The bear lowered himself down on top of me. He was shockingly gentle; he must have weighed at least a thousand pounds, but he kept his bulk from crushing me to death. I was lost in his coarse wet fur. I could barely breathe. His body was hot, like a heavy blanket that I couldn’t get out from under. I felt his huge cock probing between my legs and tried to relax.
He penetrated me and I screamed into his fur, muffled so I couldn’t even hear myself. I was being torn apart, ripped in two. I’m no size queen, but I do like a nice fat cock, and I’ve played with some big toys and even been fisted by a girlfriend once (she had small hands!), but this was way beyond. It felt like my cunt was being destroyed, centimeter by centimeter. It felt like I was being turned inside-out starting with the most sensitive bits of my body. I couldn’t even move under his bulk.
His cock was inside me. I could feel it. I could feel every inch of it. I could feel his heart beating. I figured I must be lying in a pool of blood. I figured my internal organs must be leaking out my pussy. He lifted his weight off me, raising himself up onto all fours and I got to see myself, impaled on the bear’s raging cock.
He began thrusting, and with every thrust, a fresh jolt of agony. I kept hoping I’d become numb to his assault, but every time he slid his cock further up inside me I seemed to reach a new pinnacle of pain. My vagina was torn, my uterus bruised. I was weeping, sobbing, begging senselessly for him to stop. It was like begging a thunderstorm to stop. And my treacherous clit, still swollen and excited from the playing before, was getting off on it. The bear’s cock had totally distended my pussy, and I could feel every movement, every little texture in my clit. I realized through the fog of my pain and terror, that I was about to come.
The bear was fucking me fast, panting his hot breath into my face. The pain had become a solid wall, with no peaks or valleys. I was moaning and crying nonsensically. An orgasm, and another, washed over my body, temporarily transporting me. The bear froze suddenly, growled out loud, a bone-chilling, otherworldly sound, and came. I felt his cock explode inside of me. My cunt was instantly overflowing with bear-come, and he kept pumping more and more into me.
With one huge paw, the size of my face, and claws that could have disemboweled me easier than I could open a Clif bar, he stroked my hair once in an oddly human gesture. His reduced, but still quite substantial cock slid out of my ruined pussy. He grunted once and shambled off into the darkness.
I discovered that the bleeding had been fairly minimal, my internal organs hadn’t (apparently) been damaged, and nothing seemed to be pierced or broken. I was limp as an unstrung marionette, but I could crawl around.
I don’t know how I made it through the night. Fortunately, the storm blew by pretty quickly. My tent was simply gone, and my sleeping bag was worse than useless. I wrapped myself up in the driest clothes I could find in my bag and cowered in the lee of a small tree until it was light enough to see.
There was supposed to be a forest service road a few miles to the south, and I made for it, figuring that was the quickest way out. I was battered and bruised and mildly hypothermic and probably in shock, but I could walk. My cunt ached with every step, but it would heal. The things are amazingly resilient. Somehow, I made it to the road, and a ranger happened along in a truck and gave me a ride to the parking lot.
He wanted to take me to the hospital, but I refused and there was nothing the forest service could do to force me to go. I looked like I had just lost a prizefight. I had fleas. The ranger who gave me a ride back to my car wanted to know what had happened, but all I told him was ‘an accident in the woods.’ He let it go at that. It felt good to be alive. Three weeks later, I had finally washed away the fleas and the smell of bear. The cuts and bruises were healing, but I still hadn’t gotten my period. A trip to the drugstore, and a quick pee on a strip of paper confirmed it. I was pregnant.
(authors note: this story does not pretend to any kind of accuracy in the matter of grizzly bear’s anatomy or mating habits. When in the back country, dispose of all food scraps and human waste properly, clean sex toys carefully, and keep food in a bear-proof container. Leave no trace.)