Angelica's Hike

[Horn-eman000]

Angelica pulled into the gravel lot at the entrance of Gold Mountain Hiking Trail, parking her motorcycle in the closest available spot to the trailhead. After the hellish week she had, she was ready to clear her mind in nature. After killing the engine, she stepped off the bike and took off her helmet, letting loose her golden blonde hair, which fell across the sleeves of her dark green dress. She slung her frayed canvas hiking bag over one shoulder, water bottle clinking against the granola bars inside, and after securing her helmet to the bike, she set off on the winding dirt path that disappeared into the shadowy woods.

The trail began to climb almost immediately, winding its way through stands of Douglas fir and western red cedar. Pine needles crunched beneath Angelica’s hiking shoes while the midday sun filtered through the canopy overhead, casting dappled light on the path before her. She breathed in deeply the scent of earth and vegetation.

As she climbed higher, the burn in her calves felt satisfying, purifying. Each step seemed to carry away another fragment of workplace stress. A chickadee called from somewhere to her left, answered by another farther up the trail. The sound made her smile.

Two hours into her hike, the trees began to thin. Angelica paused to take a long sip from her water bottle, wiping the condensation on her dress. She emerged onto the summit clearing, the view stealing her breath, as it always did no matter how many times she did this hike. Below her stretched a sea of green treetops, rippling in the afternoon breeze like waves. Far in the distance, sunlight glinted off the glass and steel of downtown, the skyscrapers looking like tiny toys from this vantage point.

Angelica found a flat boulder and sat, letting her bag slide to the ground beside her. Her dress clung to her skin, damp with sweat from the exertion. The breeze felt heavenly as it cooled her flushed face and neck.

Time seemed to stretch as she sat there. The shadows lengthened across the mountaintop. Angelica closed her eyes, letting the wind play with tendrils of her hair. When she opened them again, she glanced down at her dress, now wrinkled and spotted with dust from the trail. Then her gaze traveled to the trees behind her, their ancient trunks standing sentinel at the edge of the clearing.

A thought bubbled up from somewhere primal within her. What would it feel like to strip away all these human trappings—to feel the mountain air against her bare skin, to be as natural as the trees and rocks around her?

Her fingers found the hem of her dress, bunching the fabric. For one wild moment, she imagined herself free of constraints, embracing the mountain as her most authentic self. Her heart raced at the boldness of the idea.

But reason quickly reasserted itself. This wasn’t exactly a remote location. Gold Creek was a popular trail, even on weekdays. She passed a number of other hikers on her way up here. She released the fabric, smoothing it back over her knees. As liberating as the thought was, the risk of someone coming upon her was too great.

After finishing her granola bar and taking a few photos of the view, Angelica started heading back. She had just rounded a sharp bend in the trail when she nearly collided with a couple hiking upward—a bearded man in a red flannel shirt and a woman with a walking stick nearly as tall as she was.

“Beautiful day for it,” the woman said cheerfully as they passed each other.

“It sure is,” Angelica replied, a sudden laugh bubbling up in her throat as she imagined their faces had they encountered her in the state she’d contemplated at the summit. Her cheeks flushed hot at the thought.

As she continued her descent, the main trail curved sharply around a large outcropping of rock. Just past this bend, a weathered wooden sign caught her eye. She slowed, noticing a narrow path branching off to the left. “Whispering Pines Loop,” the sign read, its letters faded by years of mountain weather.

Angelica paused, realizing she’d never been down this trail before despite her many hikes on Gold Mountain. She glanced at her watch. The sun wouldn’t set for hours this time of year.

“Why not?” she murmured to herself, and without further deliberation, turned onto the unfamiliar path.

She veered onto the path, immediately noting how different it felt from the well-trodden main trail. This one was barely more than wide enough for a single person, with vegetation pressing in from both sides. The bushes grew so close that their leaves brushed against her bare legs at certain points as she walked, tickling her skin.

The trail dipped and wound through denser forest. The silence was different here—deeper, more complete. Only the occasional birdsong or rustle of leaves interrupted the stillness.

After fifteen minutes of hiking, the narrow path opened suddenly into a small clearing. Sunlight poured into this natural room in the forest, warming a carpet of moss and wild grasses. A fallen log lay across one side, nature’s perfect bench.

Angelica made her way to it and sat down, suddenly aware of how quiet it was here. She took a long drink from her water bottle and looked around, realizing something that sent a small thrill through her body: she hadn’t passed a single person since turning onto this trail.

The thought from the summit returned, stronger now, more insistent. Her heart began to race as she set down her water bottle and hiking bag on the log. She carefully removed her phone, wallet, and keys from her pockets, placing them beside her hiking gear.

One more careful scan of the clearing confirmed her solitude. The forest watched in silence as she pulled the green fabric upward. The material slid over her stomach, revealing the gentle curve of her waist, then higher, exposing her breasts to the dappled sunlight. Finally, the dress cleared her shoulders and head, her blonde hair tumbling free.

Standing in just her mint-green cotton panties and hiking shoes, Angelica closed her eyes and tilted her face toward the sun. The breeze played across her skin, raising goosebumps along her arms and hardening her nipples. She felt more alive than she had in months.

Her eyes opened and dropped to her underwear. A boundary still uncrossed.

“Screw it,” she whispered, the sound barely disturbing the forest’s quiet.

She bent down, untied her hiking shoes, and pulled them off along with her socks. The moss felt springy and cool beneath her bare feet. With one fluid motion, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and slid them down her legs, stepping out of them and adding them to the small pile of her belongings.


Completely naked now, Angelica stood tall in the clearing, her body drinking in the sensation of absolute freedom. The round curves of her ass and the thin landing strip of hair above her pussy were touched by sunlight for the first time. She stretched her arms overhead, feeling muscles shift beneath skin unbound by fabric.

A warmth began to build between her thighs, surprising her with its intensity. The forbidden nature of what she was doing—being completely exposed in the open forest—sent pulses of arousal through her body. She felt herself growing wet and her breathing deepened.

Angelica moved toward the log, drawn by some primal urge she couldn’t explain. The soft grass yielded beneath her bare feet, cool and inviting against her skin. She lowered herself down, the lush carpet of green cushioning her naked body as she stretched out in front of the fallen tree. The sun caressed her exposed flesh, warming her in places that had never felt its touch before.

A sigh escaped her lips as she closed her eyes, surrendering to the sensations washing over her. Her hand moved as if possessed by its own will, trailing across the softness of her belly, fingertips tracing lazy circles on her skin. Lower and lower her fingers ventured, past her navel, through the thin strip of blonde hair, until they hovered at the threshold of her pussy. Heat radiated from between her thighs, her body aching for her own touch.

Just as her fingers were about to dip into her wetness, a distant sound broke through her haze of arousal. A mechanical humming, faint but growing steadily louder. The noise shattered her tranquility like glass.

Angelica’s green eyes flew open. A dirt bike. Coming this way.

She bolted upright, heart hammering against her ribs. Her hands fumbled for her panties, snatching them from the pile of belongings. The engine’s growl intensified with each passing second, leaves rustling with its approach. No time. No time.


The roar grew deafening. Panic surged through her veins as she abandoned her attempt to dress. Clutching her underwear in her fist, she lunged toward a dense thicket at the clearing’s edge, thorny branches scratching her naked skin as she burrowed into the foliage.


The dirt bike burst into the clearing, its engine screaming. Through gaps in the leaves, Angelica watched a helmeted rider in dark clothing tear across the open space. The bike’s passage created a vortex of wind that swirled through the clearing, lifting her dress from where it lay. The light green fabric fluttered upward like a startled bird, catching air currents that carried it away from the log, beyond her reach, into the shadowy forest beyond.

“No!” The word died in her throat, unspoken.

The bike continued on its path, the rider oblivious to both her presence and the theft his machine had just committed. Gradually, the aggressive growl of the engine diminished until the forest reclaimed its silence.

Angelica remained frozen in her hiding place, the enormity of her situation sinking in. Her dress was gone. Actually gone. She peered through the bushes at her remaining possessions—shoes, bag, phone—all still there, but utterly inadequate. What good was a phone when she couldn’t exactly call for a delivery of clothes to the middle of the forest?

She looked down at the panties still clutched in her hand. At least she had those. Taking a deep breath, she began to extract herself from the bushes, wincing as twigs scraped against her naked flesh. She had almost freed herself when she realized her underwear was caught on a thorny branch.

“Come on,” she muttered, pulling gently at first, then with increasing desperation. The mint-green cotton stretched, caught fast in the brambles’ grip. She yanked harder, feeling sweat bead on her forehead.

A soft ripping sound reached her ears. Then another. The fabric strained and finally gave way, tearing into three jagged pieces that came away in her hand. She stared down at the shredded remains of her underwear, now nothing more than useless scraps.

The reality of her predicament crashed down upon her. She stood completely naked in the wilderness, miles from the trailhead, with no clothes to wear. Her dress was lost among acres of forest, and her underwear destroyed.

Angelica slumped against the log. The exhilaration of her earlier freedom had transformed into cold dread. Even if she managed to make it back to her motorcycle undetected, how would she ride it home without clothes?

She sat there for a long moment, the cool air prickling her exposed skin. What choice did she have? The realization settled in her stomach like a stone.

“Well, this is just perfect,” she muttered, pushing herself up from the log.

She reached for her hiking shoes, slipping her feet into them and tying the laces with trembling fingers. Somehow, wearing shoes made her feel even more naked, as if the contrast emphasized her state of undress. She considered kicking them off again, but she didn’t want her feet to get filthy, nor did she want to cut them on a sharp rock or stick. The shoes were staying on.

Angelica gathered her remaining possessions, stuffing her phone, wallet, and keys into the hiking bag. She then slipped it over her shoulders, adjusting the straps so it hung across her front instead of her back. The canvas bag pressed against her breasts, covering them at least partially, though her pussy and bare ass remained completely exposed. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. A small shield of dignity in the face of potential humiliation.

She started walking, every step feeling like an eternity. The forest that had been so liberating just moments ago now seemed filled with hidden eyes. Every snap of a twig, every rustle of leaves made her freeze, her heart leaping into her throat. A squirrel darted across the path ahead, and she nearly screamed.

“Get a grip, Angelica,” she chastised herself, her voice barely audible.

When Angelica reached the end of the loop, she paused at the junction, listening intently. No voices. No footsteps. No dirt bike motors. Just birds calling from the trees above. Taking another deep breath, she stepped onto the main trail, the wider path making her feel even more exposed.

She hadn’t walked more than fifty feet when she spotted it. Her dress, hanging from a branch on a tall pine.

“Oh thank God,” she gasped, her eyes fixed on the fabric fluttering gently in the breeze. It was draped over a branch about fifty feet up, just out of reach.

Angelica moved towards the tree. She adjusted her bag, moving it to her back to free her arms, and approached the trunk. The rough bark scraped against her bare skin as she began to climb, her feet finding purchase on the lower branches.

She was almost there. The dress was just inches from her fingertips. She stretched her arm, reaching for the elusive fabric, when her foot slipped on the bark. Her right hand caught the branch, but her left arm dangled, sending her bag strap sliding down her shoulder.

Angelica’s heart raced as she struggled to maintain her grip. She reached with her left hand, trying to grab the branch securely, but as she shifted her weight, her right hand lost purchase. She grabbed the branch with her left hand just in time, but the motion sent her bag strap on her right shoulder slipping off. The canvas bag tumbled down

“Shit!” she hissed through clenched teeth, watching as her bag tumbled down and hit the ground with an audible thud.

Now she hung suspended, one hand gripping the branch, her naked body stretched awkwardly between the tree trunk and her goal. The dress fluttered mockingly just beyond her reach.

With a grunt of determination, Angelica gripped the branch firmly with her right hand and hauled herself up, swinging her leg over the rough bark. She perched precariously on the thick limb, her bare thighs gripping the wood for stability. From this new position, she could see her bag more clearly now—a splash of faded canvas against the forest floor. She’d just grab it once she had her dress and climbed back down.

Angelica carefully shifted her weight, inching along the branch towards her dress. The bark scratched against her inner thighs, but she barely noticed the discomfort. Her focus narrowed to that elusive piece of fabric dancing in the breeze.

“Almost there,” she whispered, stretching her arm to its limit. Her fingertips grazed the hem of the dress, feeling the soft cotton against her skin. Just a little further...

A sudden gust of wind rushed through the trees, lifting the dress from its perch like a leaf caught in a storm. Angelica watched in horror as the green fabric sailed away, spinning and twisting as it disappeared among the dense canopy of pines.

“No, no, no!” she hissed, her voice barely audible as she clutched the branch with white-knuckled fingers. The dress was gone—again—vanished into the green expanse of forest.

Frustration welled up inside her chest, a scream building in her throat. She opened her mouth to release it but snapped it shut again as voices drifted up from below.

Angelica froze, her heart hammering against her ribs. She peered cautiously through the leaves toward the ground.

Two men had rounded the bend in the trail. College-aged, maybe, with hiking boots and daypacks. They were deep in conversation, gesturing animatedly as they walked. She pressed herself flat against the tree trunk, her breath catching in her lungs. The rough bark scraped against her breasts as she tried to make herself as small as possible.

Please don’t look up, she prayed silently. Please, please don’t look up.

“Dude, look, someone left their bag,” said the taller one, approaching her hiking bag.

Angelica’s stomach dropped. Her bag—with her phone, her wallet, her keys. Everything she needed to get home. She wanted to call out, to claim it as hers, but the words died in her throat. How could she possibly explain why she was naked in a tree, watching them from above?

“Check if there’s ID,” suggested the shorter man.

The first man rummaged through her bag, pulling out her wallet. He flipped it open, examining the driver’s license inside.

“Angelica Bettincourt,” he read aloud. “Should we leave it here? She might come back looking for it.”

“Nah, let’s take it to the parking lot,” the second man decided. “If she comes back looking, she’ll find it there easily.”

They nodded in agreement, zipping up her bag and slinging it over the taller man’s shoulder.

Angelica watched helplessly as they continued down the trail, her precious belongings disappearing with them. At least they seemed honest—or so she hoped. But now she had nothing but her hiking shoes.

[Skylar21]

Nature just isn't fair, toying with her like that. Just when you think you've got it...

She's going to have an interesting trip home.

[ghosthouse]

Good start