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o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o The 'Bookshelf collection' offers a very wide variety of o
o stories. They have been submitted by people from all over the o
o world. Also from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no o
o particular order other than offering them to you in alpha- o
o betical directories. o
o Lest we forget!!! This story was produced as adult en- o
o tertainment and should not be read by minors. Kristen o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
Camping (M/F Inc Con Humor)
by losgud <lushgod@hotnomail.com>
=========================
The following work is pure fiction. All people, places & situations are
complete fabrications of my imagination. Any resemblance is wrong.
Content includes GRAPHIC SEX. If your laws state that you are too young
to be reading this, grow up and change those laws. Until then, duh, go
wild in your own head.
©1998 losgud. These words belong to me. Don't fuck with them. Write
your own. NO for-profit use, reposting, archiving [other than a.s.s.m &
Deja News] etc. Read, download, share with a friend. Consider
unauthorized inclusion in a personal web site as an infringement of
copyright.
=========================
NOTE: Last of the sister stories for awhile--get it while it's hot! As
usual--ALL ADULT/ALL THE TIME. And again, if you want the pants off by
the second paragraph, go read something else. Enjoy!
CAMPING
The clincher wasn't the thought that I hadn't been down to see my folks
in nearly two years, it was the realization that I'd last seen them on a
short leg of my last vacation. I hadn't had a vacation in almost two
years? Whoa, something was seriously wrong. _The career that ate my
brain_.
But for a brain-eating career, it wasn't a bad one. It wasn't a
malicious career, a malignant career. I spoon-fed it every bit of my
brain that it ate. I considered it a redemption of sorts.
There's the adage that children are like pancakes: the first one should
be thrown away. As the oldest child in my family, I was working hard at
being the exception. I'd taken my B.A. in English to New York, certain
that its emphasis on creative writing would easily propel me to Park
Avenue.
I'd sold a travel piece to the in-flight magazine of an airline that
went bankrupt before I could cash the check. A short story was accepted
by literary journal too insolvent to pay even in contributor's copies.
Then I happened to bump into this guy with a dream and some money, and
we co-founded "Architecture Now".
Not that I'd ever considered buildings as other than buildings; some
were ugly, some were not. But for an okay paycheck I learned to make
distinctions.
The magazine was true to form. None of the usual fawning shit. We had
no use for the staid and moneyed. Not the Southern Mavericks whose
visions of Southern Living were produced by too much consumption of
Southern Comfort. No interest in the jacuzzi-in-every-room mentality of
Hollywood Heels. In fact, we had a monthly feature that made fun of
that sort of shit.
Our biggest problems were trying to exist on such a slim advertising
base, and fighting off the interests of people wanting to buy us up just
to shut us down. And, of course, trying to hunt up an issue's worth of
worthy constructions each month.
"The Bank of the Best just put up a new branch down here and it's real
pretty so I thought I'd tell you just in case you might want to do a
story about it."
That was one of my major problems--gently shrugging off Mom's best
intentions.
"I'll definitely check it out when I'm down there."
Mom was on the phone to me, settling up plans for the grand reunion of
the immediate family. "Hannah's going to be flying down from Chicago
early Monday afternoon. Then, as I understand it, she and Leah are
going to go camping up in the state park for a few days. But they'll be
back by Hannah's birthday."
Gee, I thought, my birthday never engendered family reunions.
"So Leah's still living in town then?"
"Oh yea. She has a cute little apartment across town. Did I tell you
she got on out at the state park? Though who knows how long that'll
last--she's doing pretty well with all that freelance guiding and
rafting and stuff she does."
So Leah too was finally making her move towards solvency and stability,
and a sort of respectability. It was as if while Mom and Dad stood
around deciding whether or not to toss me in the trash, Leah lay there
on the griddle smoking away. College lasted less than two years for
her. She'd led snorkeling expeditions in the Caribbean, spent a few
years as a ranchhand in Montana, was a ski instructor in Colorado. But
I guess she'd burned out on the wide-beyond. It was terribly convenient
that there happened to be nearly a million acres of hiking, camping and
white-water rafting within easy reach of the old spawning ground.
The curious thing about Leah, though, was that as a girl she'd been such
a full-bore bows-in-the-hair princess. Pale, frail and demanding. But
at the cusp of puberty she discovered horses, and she'd been an
outdoorswoman ever since.
By the time they got around to Hannah, our parents had pretty much
figured out this parenting thing. Hannah, the charming, practical one.
Well-adjusted. Hyper-intelligent. The go-getter. When she was five,
she announced at dinner one evening that she was a scientist. She left
the table in tears because none of us understood her. "You _want_ to be
a scientist? How nice!" _NO!_ "You're going to grow up and _become_ a
scientist?" _NO!_
No, damnit! There was no longing involved. Quit using the future
tense. She _was_ a scientist. There was no surprise, then, that Hannah
got a doctorate in some esoteric branch of science; that she wound up at
a very well-paying position at some science institute in Chicago; and
that she spent her days doing the sort of sciencey stuff that scientists
like to do all day long.
I wasn't quite sure how Leah had managed to talk Hannah into going
camping with her. But I didn't see a need to question it. It wasn't
that I thought Hannah had an aversion to outdoorsy things, just that
they didn't have much application to her life. The girl lived in her
labcoat.
As well, I should have felt personally bruised at not being included.
Actually, I did, but the feeling was so brief it barely registered. I
got over it in about a minute's time, emerging from the hurt with a big
grin on my face.
I'd gladly leave the wildlife to my sisters. That would give me more
time to hang out with my parents. Plus I had a little wildlife of my
own to attend to. There was the matter of Linda, an old old girlfriend
of mine who, the last time I'd been in town, had been _very_ happy to
see me. She freelanced out of a converted garage, concentrating on her
work while her kids were at school and her husband was downtown. I'd
gone over and helped her have a couple of deliriously productive
mornings. _You can pound on my door anytime you're in town._ Sounded
like an open-ended invitation to me!
I should have turned around the minute I walked in the door, headed
right back out to the airport. Sat out there for however many hours--or
days!--until the next available flight back home. I should have done
that, and I would have done exactly that, but unfortunately I had to
stay inside at least long enough to use the phone--my taxi had collected
his larcenous fare and sped off before I'd had time to hoist my bag from
the side of the road.
There was a regular wake awaiting me in the livingroom. Mom, Dad, and
Leah, playing the parts of both the mourners and the deceased.
"Hi, I'm here," I announced into the gloom.
A muscle in Mom's cheek gave a little twitch of recognition.
"Hey, great to see you guys, too. By the way, I'm Dan, your son and
brother, in case you've forgotten."
Mom sighed, stirred, and stood up. She sort of ushered me into the
kitchen, the _de jure_ conference room in our household. "Hannah
couldn't make it," she whispered fiercely, "she came down with some sort
of violent stomach bug at the last minute."
_I bet she did_, I bit my tongue. "Well, glad to see that my presence
has done so much to pep up the party," I hissed back. "By the way--why
are we whispering?"
"_Daniel!_ Leah's incredibly upset. She had her heart so set on going
camping. It's all she's been talking about for the past month. Planned
down to the most minute detail."
"So why doesn't she just go ahead and go?"
Mom tilted her head and gave me a queer look. "Leah can go camping by
herself anytime she wants. It's basically in her job description. She
wanted to _share_ a part of her life with a member of her family."
"With Hannah, you mean. Right? Specifically with Hannah; let's keep
that straight." I could smell where this was going. "Hannah couldn't
make it, so let's forget about camping and have a good time right here."
"I'd go myself, but you know me--I can barely pack a picnic lunch."
"No."
Dad ambled into the kitchen on cue. "I haven't slept on the ground
since I was stationed in Germany. But I think I've gotten over that.
Too bad I threw out my back shoveling the drive last winter."
"_No._"
"You still have all your old Scouting equipment down in the basement."
Leah stood in the doorway.
I turned to glare at her. "Oh, no," I started into my lie before I
realized she'd said that as a statement, not a question. "I'm sure I
gave all that away ages ago."
"I checked earlier; everything you'd need, it's still down there."
"_No!_ I mean it. _I don't want to go camping!_ Sorry. I'm a big
boy, now. I get to decide. I'm a big city boy. The woods are a
wonderful place where I never care to wander. I sleep in beds. I eat
at tables. I get up in the mornings and take a shower. Period."
+ + +
I slept in a bed. I got up late in the morning and took a long hot
shower. I ate lunch at the kitchen table. Then I got in Leah's car,
refusing to be the one to bring anything up from the basement.
"Please? It'll be so much fun, you'll see."
"What's a couple of days? Don't you want to make your sister happy?"
"Out in the wilds, surviving by your wits--help toughen you up, _big
city boy_."
Voices out of a nightmare! And the only way to make them go away was to
do exactly what they wanted me to do.
One thing I knew for sure was that if I made it out of the wilderness
alive, Hannah was going to be getting one heated phone call. I was mad
at her . . . for being smarter than me. Big city girl--no doubt her
idea of roughing it was to spend an hour on a sunny Saturday afternoon
hanging out in Lincoln Park.
I saw it all. _Camping in the state park? Er, sure, Leah, that sounds
great!_ A quick call to a travel agent would have given her the
itinerary. _Flight so-and-so arriving at such-and-such a time? Great!
Let me firm things up and I'll call you back._ Why hadn't I thought of
a stomach bug that wouldn't have cost me a cancellation fee? Because I
was the inadvertent patsy.
After an hour's drive we turned off the highway onto a freshly paved if
narrow road that wound around forever through hills and vales before
reaching a parking lot. The place looked like an RV dealership, except
the millions of people running around screaming were mostly children,
not salespersons. The ground around was stomped to bare dirt. There
were trees, sure, but the only other thing that seemed to flourish were
picnic tables. Parked about ten feet from every table was an oil drum
garbage can, but with such an incredible distance between each, it was
hardly any wonder the pathways connecting them were strewn with litter.
As well, at a ratio of one to every three or four tables, the area was
dotted with crusty black grills sunk into concrete. I could well
imagine how the various tribes battled over the rights to them come
mealtime.
I did spy a copse of pines standing off on the edge. Once we'd parked
and stood there stretching on the asphalt, I pointed it out as I walked
around to her side of the car. "That looks like a good place to set
up."
Leah gave me a squirrelly look, then bent down to tie one of her shoes.
I noticed two things. She was actually wearing big stomping hiking
boots. And the laces she was retying hadn't really come undone at all.
Standing back up, Leah squinted at me, then gave a little pause. "Well,
what I was thinking . . . I know this really great site a little way on
up that trail over there . . . get away from all this."
I shrugged. "Sure." Lead the way. "Sounds great to me." After such a
drop, my spirits were nearly soaring. "We can drive there, can't we?" I
whined.
She shot me such a look I cracked, cackling until she returned a wan
little smile.
We loaded our backs with our gear, locked the car, and walked off in the
direction she indicated through a break in the surrounding forest. Once
we were in the full shadow of the canopy Leah slowed until we were side
by side. Then she gave a gentle jut of her elbow in my ribs.
"You had me going, you know. At first I thought you were serious about
the car thing."
I laughed a little. "God, Leah, I don't even own a car. I renew my
license as a formality. Basically, every day I walk all around my
little island. That's miles and miles, on concrete. What's a soft ten
minute walk in the woods to me?"
And I was dressed for the job! A comfortable pair of sneakers, jeans
and a t-shirt. What surprised me was how ill-clad Leah was: khaki
shorts and a long-sleeved thermal top. I did very much admire the
shirt--it was an off-white, nearly cream color, printed with tiny pale
blue flowers. "Aren't you going to burn up in that top? Or else
freeze?" I nodded at her bare legs.
She shrugged. "It's light cotton; it breathes. I can always push up
the sleeves. I'm in shorts. If it gets cool further in, it's your
torso that keeps you warm, not your lower limbs. But you, you're
dressed to die. You're going to swelter in those jeans, and then shiver
in that shirt. And I guarantee you your feet are going to make you wish
you were dead. Not to second-guess my big brother or anything."
"Thanks for the confidence," I rolled my eyes. "Say, by the way, where
did you get that top? It's beautiful; I want to own it."
Leah glanced down, then looked at me from under the cover of her hair.
She held her hands out flat, palms up. "I don't know. Some store?"
"Really? I mean, what I've seen, they've moved beyond white to the tiny
crayon box of bright colors. But that's all."
She plucked out a spot of the fabric for my perusal, the twin hillocks
of her small breasts seemingly transformed into an enormous central
mountain. "Tiny flowers," she snorted, "try the Women's Department."
"Oh. Okay." As if! Thermal _underwear_. I told myself I was not
going to blush. Insistently, I forbade it.
Leah burst out laughing. "That's right, wander through the forest of
panties and bras for an hour. When you hit the rack of crotchless
teddies, take a left. Once you see the wall of socks, _you're almost
there!_" She was nearly bent double. "God, you guys, I swear!"
Switching subjects as quickly as I could without it seeming obvious that
I was, I began babbling about how nice it was to be surrounded by
photosynthesis instead of assault and battery. Leah indulged me. In
this way, ten minutes became half an hour. It turned into a lovely
walk. We chattered on about Hannah, then our parents, touching base on
some old memories.
>From there we drifted into a long bizarre conversation about what each
of us was doing in our lives. It really was like two monologues pausing
for one another. We traded stories of white-water rafting for those
involving urban architecture. In a way, though, navigating a modern
tube raft through a series of low water cataracts wasn't all that much
different from trying to negotiate a modern building through a series of
lowbrow zoning constrictions. Hit the rocks wrong and you're sunk.
I was surprised, and proud, that I'd retained some knowledge of nature
over the years. Instead of pointing and exclaiming, "Boy, look at that
big old tree over there," I was able to state more authoritatively,
"Damn, that white oak must be at least three-hundred years old! What a
wonder no one ever cut it down."
Leah was visibly impressed. "Three-fifty is the standard guess. It
survived because it was considered sacrosanct. A landmark. What we're
walking on was once part of a pioneer trail, a settlement route. That's
called the Signal Oak. The path takes such a sharp bend here because
it's the easiest way back down into the valley."
Which meant that we were climbing out of the valley. I started to lose
steam and my enthusiasm was definitely on the wane. The advantage of
Leah's boots over my sneakers began to crystallize, but really, I'd had
no intention or intimation of going on a rigorous hike. My feet were
getting sore. We'd been going for well over an hour. My steps dwindled
to about one for every two of Leah's, and soon she was a good thirty
feet ahead of me. The conversational lag wasn't going to be improved by
that.
Finally I just stopped. "Leah!" I shouted. "Leah!" I shouted again,
then a third time before she halted and turned. I approached her,
slowly, and without another word.
As I reached her, she asked, "Yes? What is it?"
I swiped the back of a hand across my eyes. "I thought you said this
great place was right up the trail."
"It is," she answered brightly.
I mulled a moment. "Right up the trail doesn't qualify as an hour-and-
a-half forced march in my book."
"Oh, come on. What are you, a wuss?"
"Well," I dwelled, "I agreed to sleep on the hard ground in a tent for a
few nights. Nothing was said about retracing, backwards, the footsteps
of westward expansion. So frankly, if we won't get where you want to be
going in five or ten minutes, let me know. Because if that's the case,
I'm turning around."
"Suit yourself," she shrugged. "It _will_ be a longer walk back to the
car."
What was I supposed to do? Spend several days living in a car
surrounded by savages?
Though she remained a good ten feet ahead of me, Leah did make the
effort to slow her pace and keep the gap no greater than that. But
ultimately that proved to be a profound distraction. For awhile I
daydreamed about getting back and calling Linda. And after having
called Linda . . . but every time I started getting to the good parts,
I'd trip on a fucking root or something. I really needed to keep my
mind on the trail; it kept getting rougher the further we went. But
Leah was right in the way of the far end of my necessary range of
vision. There was that thermal top I was going to have to find a way to
steal. But worse than that was the full evidence of how well the
outdoor life and all its exercise suited Leah. At least the
manifestation visible to me. I didn't want to be even thinking this.
But there it was, because there it was. There was no denying the truth.
Her ass looked splendid in those khaki shorts. The firm buns shifting
up and down with every stride. While it was strictly her business what
style of panties she felt comfortable wearing, there was no secret to
her choice. I was stumbling on stones every other step. Finally I had
to hustle to catch up to her to keep from killing myself.
"Second wind?" she quipped.
"Sort of."
"Good. We break through that stand of pines up ahead. About a hundred
yards in there's this beautiful glade; the ground drops on one side and
the view is tremendous. But we need to set up camp pretty quickly."
"What's the rush? It won't be dark for a few hours."
"Different kind of dark." Leah glanced around. "I have no clue where
this came from, but it's going to be pouring within the hour."
"No way," I looked up. "There's not a cloud in the sky."
"Oh, there will be. You'll see. See?" Leah held her hand in front of
me, level with the ground. Then she bent her fingers down. She traced
the declivity with the forefinger of her other hand. "The ground drops
down like I said?" The other hand curled, and swept back up over the
sloped fingers. "The front moves in like this. We're in for a treat.
This will be spectacular to watch. And don't worry," she shook her
head, "I don't think this is an electrical storm."
+ + +
Leah unrolled her tent, gave it a crisp shake like a bedsheet, and the
whole thing just sort of popped into place. She'd accomplished all that
while I was still searching among the folds of canvas for all the
railroad spikes. Then I went looking for a big rock to use in place of
the sledgehammer I'd neglected to bring. Had to hunt up some lengths of
properly hooked green branches to do in stead of a few missing stakes.
By then Leah had a huge piece of clear plastic tarp elaborately rigged
up over the fronts of both tents. She had enough spare nylon rope to
replace all the rotten cotton hanks I had. Finally Leah showed me how
all the pieces of aluminum tubing really did fit together.
I delicately finished up with this tent-raising business while Leah
squatted down to attend to a small campfire, watching me all the while,
the smirk never quite leaving her face.
"Finis!" I announced with a flourish.
Leah stood up. The motion must have released some pressure on her
diaphragm; her laughter rolled out in waves lapping clear to the tree
tops.
"Daniel! That looks like a cartoon!"
That was just the head-on view. Stepping to the side, it was the most
sway-backed piece of shit ever. Leah wasn't about to let that go by.
"If it was a horse, we'd have to shoot it!"
I didn't say a word, even though I was getting a bit grumbly. Be it
ever so humble, and all that.
"Please," she keened through the sheen of tears in her eyes, "when we're
ready to leave, can we just burn it to the ground?"
That was enough. "Fucking fine with me. I'll never dare use it again.
You can torch it right now if you'll give me the keys to the car."
"I'm sorry, Dan, it's just . . . it's just . . . it's just that it's the
saddest little tent I've ever seen." She turned away and buried her
face in her hands. As if that would disguise her hoots of derision.
Disgust drove me into the tent. I pushed my pack in ahead of me, and
then sat inside with all my stuff. It wasn't such a bad little tent, I
sniffed. At least the reek of mildew wasn't too strong. I gave another
sniff. It wasn't at all unbearable if one didn't spend more than a few
minutes inside. God, what was I going to do? Spend a couple days
pouting in my tent? Filling my lungs with spores?
"Hey!" I could see the fine long lines of Leah's bare legs standing in
front of the opening to my tent. "Knock knock. How about some dinner
before this storm brews?"
That brightened me up. "Sounds good--I'll be right out." I thought
fondly of a pan of bacon sizzling over an open fire. I hadn't eaten a
strip of bacon in years. It was one of the things I was saving for my
old age. Goddamn, breakfast on my 65th birthday--two pounds of bacon, a
quart of bourbon; skip the cake and substitute 65 cigarettes for the
candles.
Well I remembered the beauty of campfire bacon from my boyhood. How
diligence had no bearing--no matter what you did, how carefully you
tended to it, you always wound up a panful of shredded fatty meat that
was simultaneously charred and raw. My mouth was watering. Sure hoped
Leah had remembered the bacon. I seemed to recall that fish, maybe
chicken, was about the only thing that kept her from being a complete
herbivore these days, but hell, the smell of bacon frying away in the
odor zone of wood smoke . . . even a total vegan couldn't resist _that_!
Goddamn but I was hungry! Lunch was so far in the past, and all that
stumbling that passed for hiking had fired my appetite.
I crawled out of my tent. There was the campfire, merrily crackling
away. As well it should, given that nothing was obstructing the flames.
I stood up, glancing around; no utensils in sight. This did not look
good. Leah sat over on a log, by a large pile of firewood secured under
plastic, chewing on something. I walked over her way.
"So what are we cooking for dinner?" I casually asked as I squatted
down.
She gave me a very blank look. "Nothing," her reply came muffled by
mastication. "I just like a fire. Maybe boil up some water for a cup
of herbal tea in a bit if you'd like some."
"Then . . . " I ventured, "what's for dinner?"
Leah passed me a plastic bag of rocks. Wood chips. Small dried dark
things that looked like rodent turds. I took the bag and carefully set
it down. I didn't want to accidentally spill any of it on my shoes.
"Hmm, interesting collection. But back to my question . . . what's for
dinner?"
"Trail mix, you goof." To emphasize her point she reached over for a
handful and crammed it in her mouth.
I nearly gagged in sympathy. "I'm supposed to eat bits of shit you
picked up along the trail and call it the main meal of the day?"
"_Trail mix_, idiot. Like snack mix, except it's good for you."
"Good for _you_, maybe. But I was raised to eat real food." I couldn't
stand tree nuts, and the dried fruits were like chewing on sweetened
erasers. The bulk of the bag looked to be petrified oatmeal. Or
hardened cat puke. I began the miserable task of picking out the
peanuts and raisins.
"Have a power bar, too, if you'd like."
I tore open the neon foil wrapper. _Power bars_, so named because they
use _power saws_ to cut the bars from vast sheets of particle board.
Honey-formed sawdust.
I was not a happy camper; I guzzled about a quart of water to fool my
stomach into thinking it was full.
The natural next stage would have been to lapse into self-pity.
Fortunately Leah had been right about the storm. Not only was the front
moving in, but the view of its arrival was spectacular. It was a fine
distraction. The darkness of dusk creeping in from the eastern horizon
was mirrored by the storm's advance from the west. Leah was again
correct in her predictions; there was nothing flashy about it. No big
booming bolts. Just the wonder of watching the bruised line at the
horizon slowly build up into a hugely looming mass. And then, when it
was within a mile or so, we could see the wall of water advancing upon
us.
It took forever to reach us, which was probably a good thing.
Everything Leah had touched was likely lashed down so well a tornado
wouldn't have made much of a ripple. A brisk breeze, however, might've
sent me and mine twirling to Oz. As description, a wall of water wasn't
all that off. It came down like clouds falling. Within minutes the air
was thick with the sickly scent of chlorophyll. Leah and I grinned at
each other, our skin tones gone sort of green. The smoke from the fire
drifted beyond the protection of the tarp, where it seemed to disappear,
washed to the ground.
It was a grand fifteen minutes of fun. But then we were just sitting
out under a piece of plastic in the pouring rain. A rain that didn't
seem likely to relent in our lifetimes. In the dim gloom of an early
night, wrapped in the chill brought on by the damp. Even building up
the fire didn't do much good. It had that cheery cellophane glow of a
fireplace display model. While it looked cozy and warm, it radiated all
the heat of a 60-watt bulb.
Even if the fun had run out after fifteen minutes, the rainfall remained
hypnotic. We sat out there for nearly another hour, barely talking,
occasionally poking at the fire. Eventually Leah stood up and gave a
great stretch. "Nice as this is," she yawned, "I think I'm going to bet
on the morning being nicer."
"What is it? Nine? Barely ten?"
"Who knows? Who cares? It's night."
She had a point there. But I was afraid that my body would know and
_would_ care. I had a very strong nocturnal gene and rarely went to bed
before midnight. Tossing and turning in a bed was bad enough. Even so,
I didn't want to build up the fire and commit myself to another hour or
so of this.
Leah crawled into her tent and turned on a portable lamp. It was a
florescent one, which just about made up my mind for me. The quality of
the light. Sitting alone surrounded by trees, I felt like I was in a
bar at closing time. Last call, lights up, look how ugly everyone is.
Definitely time to call it a night.
She was quickly back out with a cup and toothbrush, did that, then
ducked back inside. This time she emerged fighting with some crinkly
rolled up yellow thing. I watched the proceedings without comment. It
turned into a large poncho, which she slipped over her head with a few
choice words. Finally, curiosity unfurled my tongue. "Leah, what the
hell are you doing?"
I knew the answer before I finished the question. "Leave something in
the car?" I grinned.
No response.
"Hey, I thought those modern tents came equipped with a potty pouch."
"Boys!" she glowered at me. "You'll probably just stand at the edge of
the tarp and whiz out into the rain. Just be sure to do it downriver
from my tent!"
As if it was my fault I had a handy-dandy spigot!
"Geez, Leah. Look at you. Koran-approved. I don't care if you just
squat down somewhere under the tarp. Downriver from my tent, of course.
I promise: I'll close my eyes, I'll stopper my ears . . . I'll plug my
nose . . . "
"Shut your mouth!" she snipped, stomping off in the rain.
Bit of a dichotomy there, I chortled. After all her outdoorsy years, I
would have thought Leah could've just taken a leak sitting on the log
beside me without my ever having noticed.
When she returned, she made a show of shaking out the poncho,
splattering me, before she draped it over a branch and snapped it
secure. She growled a goodnight and crawled off into her cave.
I decided to take advantage of the illumination from her tent, reaching
into mine to fetch my toothbrush. Then, indeed, I did take a long
hearty piss out into the rain.
As I shook off the final drops, my cock gave a lurch and started to
surge. _Hey, that feels great; do it again!_ Images of Linda were
flooding my brain. Cut it out! While a penis was undeniably useful for
taking a piss in the woods, I didn't think Leah--or any of the non-
penile half of the population--quite understood what a bother it could
be to have such equipment parked between your legs. Rowdy feller wakes
up every morning and thinks it's Christmas Day.
I was not going to crawl in my tent and milk the weed. Stop thinking of
Linda! stop thinking of Linda! stop thinking of Linda!
I whipped my head around at a rustling noise. It was just Leah in her
tent. It was just the silhouette of Leah against her tent. Shadow Leah
pulling down her shadow shorts.
_Hey, looky there! It's one of my presents being unwrapped right now!_
I don't think so! I snarled, shoving myself rudely back in my pants.
Can't I take you anywhere?!! Good god! Start thinking of Linda! start
thinking of Linda! start thinking of Linda!
Fortunately the light clicked off, leaving me in the dark to crawl into
my tent. To pretend that sleep was anywhere within hours around.
+ + +
I woke up in the middle of the night. The rain had let up to some
extent; while no longer the monsoon, it was still coming down at a
steady musical clip. The sound of the rain had aggravated my need to
pee, and--I was instantly wide awake with mortification--my god! the
whole of my sleeping bag was sopping wet! My first thought was that I
would never be able to live this down. Gradually though, reason came
tapping on my shoulder. The human bladder wasn't capacious enough to do
this amount of damage.
I turned miserably on my side to the cold dark comfort of the corner,
but instantly rolled back to the middle of the tent possessed by the
vague horror of a vestigial memory. _Ahh, that was it_, I remembered
more fully. _Never touch the tent!_ It was an old scouting trick, one
the more resourceful of us boys would exploit to extract revenge.
Simple dew would do, but actual precipitation was even better. You'd go
to your enemies' tents late at night and quietly rub the flat of your
hand all across the fabric. It was amazing magic. The touch turned the
canvas to cheesecloth!
As well the memory welled up of a pack of tame boys turning into wild
dogs when it came time to pick out tents. The older the cloth, the more
it tended to seep all on its own.
_Fuck!_ I was fucked. Totally fucked.
I reached around. Everything I touched was wet. Rolling over, my
sleeping bag made squishy sounds. I found my pack, where I'd cleverly
wedged it in the corner. Soggy at the top. I gave up, settled back
down, and closed my eyes. Then started shivering so severely my
eyeballs rattled around like marbles.
So much for sleep. I was miserably wide awake. Think, think, I told
myself. My brain groaned, you expect me to think? What was there to
think, anyway? There wasn't but one thing to do. Crawl into Leah's
tent and scare the shit out of her--aiiee, it's the Bog Man!
I stumbled out of the tent and walked stiffly over to the firepit.
There was still a little glow under the ashes, so I rummaged in the wood
supply, gathered an armload, and dropped the whole bunch on the coals.
I took a stick and jabbed around until the flames flared up. Woo,
magic! After rolling the log a little closer, I sat down for a long
night of fun. There, that was better. Marginally.
Within five minutes I had to back the log away. I was beginning to feel
like a strip of campfire bacon. The legs of my pants weren't just hot,
they were boiling hot. My knees were steaming. While my whole backside
remained just this side of ice. It wasn't really nearly that cold, but
the damp had penetrated to my core; it was the Bone Chill Factor.
I had to figure out some other ways to help me warm up. If I'd had
anything substantial to eat since noon, I might have had the energy for
a rousing round of calisthenics. As it was, I could barely keep myself
seated upright. Visualize something, fool!
I thought dreamily about the steam radiators in my apartment. Mmm, hot
to the touch. The gurgling and whistles the call to the cat to come
bask at the feet of her personal god. I drifted with the image, but
soon found myself banging on the stone cold metal with a wrench, cussing
out the super, the landlord, and every employee of the city's Housing
Authority. Who the fuck scripted the law saying they could turn off the
boiler at eleven--I'll kill the bastards!
The sun, then, I thought. The luscious glow of the sun. Definitely not
this coming morning, perhaps not the following morning, but ahh, the
morning after that. My own _personal_ sun, rising before my face. The
cottony cloud cover stripped away. The white glare of that sun right in
my face. I imagined kneeling behind Linda, slowly, so-o-o slowly
pulling her pants down.
I was confused in my reverie by a very real rustling of fabric.
There came an explosion of coughing behind me, and I whirled around to
see a very sleepy looking Leah clambering out of her tent. The tent
glowed like a window in an office tower, lit from within by the
fluorescent lantern. Leah looked dressed by committee--the thermal top
I'd been admiring all day, a pair of specialty-shop panties, and bare
feet slipped inside her unlaced boots.
"Jesus, Daniel, what are you doing? If you wanted to asphyxiate me, why
didn't you just come hold a pillow over my face?"
"I'm hungry," I retorted. "I'm trying to turn myself into a country
ham."
"God, come on, bank that, willya?"
"_Bank that_, she says. Bank what? What bank?"
Leah tried to give a sigh of exasperation, but she exaggerated it too
deeply; she erupted with another fit of coughing. That didn't deter her
from her business. She kicked a log around one side of the fire, then
stomped down some of the burning stuff. Reaching up she pulled on a
dangling rope I hadn't even seen; suddenly one edge of the tarp lifted
and all the smoke went billowing out into the black of the drizzly
night.
She stood there, facing out into the dark, as though bearing witness to
her miracle. Standing there basking in the glow of the fire, Leah
looked a bit like a miracle herself. The skin of her long strong legs
were made of flickering gold. Her backside looked even better out of
pants. That was not something I needed to be seeing, especially not
while my brain was still freeze-framed on the hindsight of one Mrs.
Linda Luscious née Sweetbottom.
"What are you doing out here anyway?" she turned around.
Quickly I averted my eyes. "Staring at the fire." _Was staring at your
ass; now_ not _staring at your crotch._
"Well, duh."
"The primal reason, Leah, for sitting in front of a fire: to get warm.
I'm freezing."
"What are you talking about? It's not that cold. See, look at me,
standing here half naked and not a goose bump in sight."
See, look at her, standing there half naked . . . "Well, Leah, that's
the difference between you and me, day and night, dry and drenched." To
illustrate I wrung out a shirt cuff. The fire sizzled.
"Daniel! How did that happen?"
"I wet my bed, _wahhh_. Or my bed wet me. Or something wet me and my
bed and everything else. It's a sad, sad story. See that tent? It's a
clown--there may be a smile on its face, but inside it's weeping."
She gave a snort of disdain, "Well, I could have told you . . . "
"Yea, you could have told me," I snapped, "but you didn't, and what
would it have mattered, this fucking rain, like I would have even come
if I'd known the forecast, like I wanted to come in the first place,
fucking camping, like I'm going to go out and spend hundreds of dollars
to equip myself for the first and last camping trip of my adult life, I
mean, geez," I sneezed, shivered, and suddenly my teeth were chattering
too much to say any more.
"Oh my goodness," Leah squatted down, peering at me closely. "Your lips
are going blue. Listen Dan, you better come sleep in my tent, but, you
know, not in these clothes. They're too wet."
"Leah," I held my jaw steady, "I am wearing the driest clothes I have."
She cocked her head slightly, and I could nearly see in through her eyes
how her brain was clicking away. "Okay. Get in the tent while I rig up
a drying rack. You'll find a pair of blue gym trunks in my pack--should
be a towel as well--then throw your wet stuff out here."
I did as she bid, but it took a bit. Her pack seemed to be stuffed full
of panties. Racy pairs that made the ones she was wearing seem
downright dowdy. I mean, in the underwear department I had a pair of
spares in my pack, but she was equipped to change on the hour and half-
hour. That or outfit an entire army of wood nymphs. No wonder our food
supply was relegated to a sack of fabricated gravel.
As well I had to paw through all the paraphernalia of the well-prepared
camper: first-aid supplies, nail-grooming kit, Swiss Army knife, birth
control pills . . . finally I found the shorts, then stripped, wrapping
myself in the towel before I started tossing my clothes out of the tent.
When I poked my head out to announce I was decent I immediately wished
that I hadn't. Without leaving the protection of the tarp, Leah had
somehow found nearly a tree's worth of branches and limbs, and all my
clothes hung around the lowering fire. The image was of myself, in all
my constituent parts. The sight was like viewing my remains from on
high, seen through my spiritual eyes as I floated up to meet my maker,
after the chainsaw murderer had dismembered me and eaten my head.
"_Done!_" I called, darting back inside.
I was content to be dry, but Leah insisted I slither down in the
sleeping bag with her. "You need body heat to warm you up. I will not
have your death by hypothermia on my hands."
She stretched across me and clicked off the light, then snuggled back up
against my front. I would have worried about the closeness, but I was
so bone tired I was but a minute or two from deep sleep.
Leah, however, started chattering away in the dark, lecturing me on
survival preparedness. She could build a shelter from twigs more
watertight than my tent. How she could ensure that both herself and her
provisions would be safe from marauding bears. With a sniff and a
finger held in the air she could tell the approaching weather. It was
all wearying and incredibly condescending.
"No disrespect intended Leah," I mumbled, "but would you please shut up?
That's all great for you, but it has no relevancy for me."
"Daniel, these are basic survival skills I'm trying to teach you."
"Leah, I'm a big-city boy; I have my own set of survival skills."
"Oh, yea, right."
"Hey! Fuck you, yea. An old lady with a wonderful rent-controlled
apartment over in the next block dies, I can tell you how to sneak in
and establish yourself as the legal tenant before the landlord knows
what's happening. A big old bear--with a gun--comes up to you on a
darkened sidestreet wanting to eat your wallet while not particularly
concerned whether you live to tell the tale--here's two quick moves to
get him face down with his own gun at the back of his head while he
shits his britches thinking he won't be alive to hear the squad car's
sirens. Feel the textures of the underground air and know whether the
next train into the station will be your Local, and whether you should
bother waiting for the Express."
There wasn't a word of response. Just when I thought I'd bored her to
sleep, she rolled over to face me. "Finished?"
"Yea. I'm sorry. I'm a little cranky right now."
"Aren't you having any fun?"
"Not much, Leah. I'm cold, wet, hungry and . . . " I paused.
"And what?"
I opted for honesty. "And, theoretically at least, a little horny. I'd
rather be warm, in a dry bed, with a full-stomach, thinking about a
lovely rendezvous in the morning with Linda."
"Linda? _Linda_ Linda? No way! Since when have you been boinking her?
Since when in the past fifteen years, I mean."
"Well-l-l," I drawled, "it's been nearly two years, but the last time I
was down."
"You _didn't!_ You cad! She's been happily married for ten years now.
They have two kids!"
"Twelve and three," I replied dryly. "With matrimonial health as high
as ever. To which I offer nothing but applause. And maybe a little bit
of spice."
"But, but," Leah stuttered, "how, and, and, why?"
"I bumped into her at the bookstore. Or rather, she bumped into me.
We've kept in light touch over the years. She invited me to come see
her home office. We rearranged the furniture. Several mornings in a
row. As consenting adults doing no one any real harm. And she let me
know to let her know next time I came to town."
I scratched my head, then pawed at my jaw, rubbing my cheek. I wasn't
quite sure how the conversation had turned to this. "I haven't called
her yet since I got back. Maybe she'd tell me to fuck off. In which
case I would."
In a swoop I caught up with Leah's end of the conversation. "Hey, how
did you know I'd gotten to boink her back then anyway?"
Leah snorted a grand laugh. "I may have been a sixteen-year-old virgin,
but it was pretty obvious even to me. One week Linda was the usual
holding-your-hand and staring-at-you-with-googly-eyes-from-full-arm's-
reach; then suddenly she was always wrapped around you practically
humping your leg!"
There was no way to confirm it, but I swear I was blushing madly.
"Besides," she added softly, "I sort of watched you guys one time."
"_What?!_ No way."
I listened to Leah's steady breathing.
"That time I nearly caught you two in the livingroom?" she started.
"Mom and Dad were overnight at Aunt Clara's? Hannah was off at a sleep-
over? I was supposed to be at a double-feature with Sally? But the
projector broke?"
The memory was there, in full sensory overload.
"I was home a good twenty minutes before I came in the door. All the
lights were on, the drapes were open, these feet were flying up in the
air. I mean, I couldn't see all the details or anything, but I knew
those had to be Linda's legs reaching for heaven. And geez, they were
pointed up like that for the full measure. I daresay she got more than
a toe-hold on heaven that night."
That was the truth. But the only thing unique about that night was
sitting there badly dressed in a livingroom that stank of sex trying to
make casual chat with my sister who'd come home early.
Linda had always been very responsive. Even before we'd decided to go
ahead and do the full deed. Though once that threshold had been
crossed! And it really had nothing to do with my particular talents.
Some women are said to come like trains. Linda was the entire Eastern
Seaboard.
I found myself drifting, beginning to ebb in and out of sleep.
"Well," I mumbled, "she always was one to enjoy herself immensely."
Leah muttered something I didn't catch as she rolled over, turning her
back to me again. I scooted my butt back a bit. Even as fatigue rolled
over me like a landslide, I was aware that my horniness had grown
somewhat beyond the hypothetical. Into slumber I subsided, certain that
the rest of me was sure to follow. Leah's deep, slow-paced breathing
sang me a lullaby.
+ + +
It was well into morning before I awoke. Or so it seemed from the
lightness permeating the tent. I listened for birdsong, but the only
music was the continuing patter of rain. Smart birds, still safe and
dry in their tents. It was undeniably morning, but the dawn as it had
broke was nothing to get wet and sing about.
There was the usual morning erection to consider, but that was fairly
well guarded by the fall of my arm. It was _that_ which led to the real
problem. My first worry of the new day was that somehow during the
night my left hand had managed to wedge itself between the press of my
sister's upper thighs. I very vaguely recalled the sensation of some
rather nice dreams.
Very delicately I started to extricate my hand. But then Leah stirred.
"Wha' you doin'?" she slurred.
"I'm sorry," I murmured, "my hand must have gotten cold."
In response, she moaned and yawned, thrusting her bottom back against me
as her whole body stiffened, then stretched in a full ripple of
awakening. Leah rolled over towards me, thankfully freeing my hand.
But then she grabbed my wrist and put my hand back in place. "That's
okay," she said with a sleepy gaze.
"Mmm," she continued, fixing her heavily lidded eyes on mine, "I was
certainly having some wonderful dreams."
My hand wasn't really back in place; it was significantly higher. My
forefinger was touching fabric. The fabric was undeniably damp. I
tried to pull away, very lightly, but Leah clamped her thighs all the
tighter.
All I could do was watch as her eyelids fluttered wider and wider awake,
the beauty of butterflies freshly sprung, waving their wings for flight.
"Trapped in a tent on a rainy day. What are we going to do for fun?
How are we going to entertain ourselves, hmm?"
The insinuation was obvious, but I wasn't going to touch _that_.
"I too like to enjoy myself immensely."
"_Leah!_" I declared. Not that I'd anything further to say.
"Are you starting to have some fun now?" she whispered.
I was _not_ going to say a word.
"Warm and dry," she smiled. The flat of her hand patted my stomach,
then stayed to rub it in soft circles. "As for your hunger, I do have a
special treat hidden away--ripe peaches and sticky buns." I was a well-
known sucker for fresh fruit and sweetrolls. "And as for the rest," her
hand drifted lower, "you don't have to wait 'til after breakfast; you
don't even have to get out of bed."
"Leah," I cautioned.
She just looked at me. Her hand made a single pass over the front of
the shorts, then slipped under the waistband without pause. Leah always
was one to grab the bull by the horn. The elephant by the trunk. The
matter by the root.
"Leah, what are you doing?"
She giggled, her eyes glittering at me. "Just doing what consenting
adults do best. Doing no one any real harm."
My consent was hardly implied; she had the hard evidence well in hand,
stoking it up and stroking it down. But then Leah removed her hand,
slipping it back out to join the other for a firm grip on the waistband.
She started tugging the shorts down.
"No-o-o," I groaned.
"Yes," she answered primly. "I'm sure your clothes are dry; I'd like
these back now."
Without any assistance from me, she shucked them down my thighs. Then
there was a knee nudging my erection as she brought a foot up to shove
the shorts the rest of the way off. Almost immediately she had both
legs bent up while her arms disappeared down her sides. There was no
doubt what Leah was doing next.
"Funny thing is," she noted as she struggled below, "somehow _my_
underwear has gotten wet."
The gym trunks stayed at the bottom of the sleeping bag, but she brought
the panties slowly up between us. She let them linger in front of my
nose, though she hardly had to; the scent of her arousal had come
funneling out of the sleeping bag when she'd first gotten the panties
off her hips.
She grabbed me by the wrist, thumb at my pulse while her fingers lightly
stroked the back of my hand, moving me back between her legs. This time
her legs were wide. Once she determined that I wasn't going to
withdraw, her hand left mine and returned to its hold on my cock.
With barely any movement on my part, I could feel exactly how excited
she was. Leah shifted her pelvis, making minor thrusts against the
touch of my fingers. Her inner lips were exposed to their fullest,
puffy and proud. The whole of her sex was drenched. I accidentally
brushed against the stiffness of her clit; she gave a gasp, shuddered,
her eyelids quavering.
Her hand left my cock and grasped my ass, pulling me towards her, over
her as she rolled on her back, spreading her legs as wide as the
sleeping bag would allow.
"Come on, Danny, please? It's just you and me. You and me and rain and
trees."
Just minutes before I'd been full of reservations and resolutions, but
they'd melted away, hard sugar crystals gone to sweet water in the
steamy interior of the sleeping bag. As Leah positioned my cock at the
entrance to her cunt, the only thing I wanted to do was exactly what she
wanted me to do.
"Oh-h, Daniel," she moaned as I breached her threshold. She shuddered
then gave a great groan as I slid all the way inside her. I held very
still, biting my lip as the aftershocks rippled up and down my cock.
Once her breathing had steadied I spoke. "Leah, are you okay?"
"Good god, _yes_," she replied, eyes closed, tossing her head from side
to side, "never better."
I bent down and caught her lips in a kiss, a kiss that lingered,
starting soft then quickly growing hard. I broke it off to lean over to
unzip the side of the sleeping bag as far down as I could get it to go.
Then I reached for the hem of her shirt, lifting it slowly up her torso.
Leah accommodated me, her arms going in a languorous stretch above her
head.
"Want to see my tits, hmm?" she smiled.
"Mostly," I replied honestly, "I don't want a scrap of cloth between
us."
Mostly that was the truth, though I was very pleased to meet her
breasts. They were flattened against her chest, what would be called
pert in a shirt. I gathered them up against gravity, enjoying their
quivery flesh, brushing the stiffness of the nipples.
"God Leah, you are _so_ pretty."
Leah sort of shrugged at my attentions. "There's not much there, is
there?"
"There's all that's there that needs to be there. Does this feel nice,
with my hands?"
"Oh yea, you bet. But let's save foreplay for another day." She
reached up and pulled me back down on top of her. "I'm ready for more
of the main event."
And that she was.
I started back in with long slow thrusts and her legs went up like tent
poles, begging to touch fabric. Her fingertips traveled up and down the
length of my back, echoing the forces moving within her. I shifted and
pivoted, trying to touch her in all the right places. Leah always had
been one to cry wolf when she was a girl. Grown up, she cried out like
a wolf. A natural-born screamer. The hills were alive with the sound
of her music.
At length her respiration returned to a normal rate, the flush left her
chest, and her eyes opened to a hooded gaze. When Leah slowly lowered
her legs, I knew I was soon to be a goner. Her ankles locked around my
waist and she began bucking up against my still form. _Leah_ was
fucking _me_. I was going to blow whether I moved or not. So I started
slamming back against her, meeting her rhythm. Slowing to grind
ourselves against each other. Eyes locked, telling the whole story of
the moment. Pleasure was all, the pleasure of pleasure, and the
pleasure of pleasuring. Pleasure overwhelmed me first, but as my cock
swelled in the penultimate moment, I keenly felt her cunt clamping down,
the turmoil thundering through her as it roiled from me.
We were a sweaty mess of limbs, collapsed and voluptuous, damn giggly
with satisfaction. We kissed and kissed, stroking our fingers over each
others skin, kissing again, smiling, touching, slowing until I slipped
unknowingly into slumber.
+ + +
I was interrupted, inevitably, disturbed by all the bumping commotion.
Leah crawled back in the tent, crouching over me in all her glory.
"Time to rustle up some breakfast," she said, scooting across me to get
to the backpack.
The final proof was right in front of my face--Leah's ass looked best of
all completely bare. With her cunt still pouty and flushed, tendrils
matted and damp, the surrounding skin glistening. I stirred in the
sleeping bag without consciously moving a muscle. Then I stretched and
started getting out.
"I'll have a pair of sticky buns with my peach," I announced.
"Worked up an appetite, did you?" Leah grinned at me over her shoulder.
That was for damn sure! I shuffled on my knees deep into the V of her
calves, holding myself straight out for guidance. She nearly shot
through the side of the tent when my cockhead first touched her folds.
But her body quickly corrected itself, thrusting back to sink my shaft
well inside.
Leah shuddered with the penetration, squealing my name. "But Danny, I
just got the fire restarted."
"Really?" I answered. "You sure you got it going good? I just thought
I'd come over here and help you out. But if you don't need my
assistance . . . " I started backing away.
Leah reached back and grabbed me as best she could. "Don't you dare!"
she lunged back hard.
With that, push came to shove. We set off fucking at a fast and furious
pace. The tent was filled with the sound of slapping skin, grunts and
groans.
"God, Danny, haven't you gotten any in the past twenty months?"
"Try twenty minutes. But so good I'd gladly go twenty years without
while waiting for more."
Before long Leah was off again running with the wolves, howling at the
moon. But with the moon on the other side of the planet, she had to
call all the louder. I was doing a lot of growling myself, going feral,
pawing at her tits and practically gnawing at the nape of her neck.
Good thing I had the stamina of a second round; otherwise I wouldn't
have lasted but about two minutes. I straightened up, moving my arms in
a loop around her shaking waist. Lucky women, I thought, marveling as
Leah again filled the tent with her piercing screams of pleasure.
Basically it was only my grip on her hips that kept her from collapsing
completely on the floor.
Eventually I backed up and disengaged to give her room to move, room to
breathe. We'd been inching forward in our frenzy, our progress halted
only by Leah's head against the side of the tent. Her face was actually
pressing the fabric outward. An interesting sight from the outside, no
doubt, but hardly comfortable for her.
I squatted, sitting back on my heels, my cock twitching confusedly in
the open air. I watched as Leah slowly turned and swung around. Droopy
eyelids, her facial skin damp and contoured with odd creases--she looked
like someone who'd fallen asleep on a vinyl couch. I gave a little
laugh at the thought; Leah sprang. The pounce knocked me on my back.
The wolf was gone; Leah slunk over my prone form like a panther assured
of a meal.
She dropped her pelvis enough so that on her slow approach the slippery
lips of her cunt slid all the way up the underside of my cock. Brushing
just past the tip she paused, holding it trapped against the source of
her sex. Like a trapped prey aware of the imminent end and hoping for
an easy death, I kept my chin up, my jugular exposed, waiting for her to
lunge and rip out my throat.
Leah laughed lightly, fingers tracing the vulnerable flesh, so soft save
the shifting bump of my gulping Adam's apple. Deciding to spare me, she
sat up and sank down. The whole of my cock slipped easily back inside
her. She stayed like that, smiling down at me from her throne. To look
at her, seated so still, you wouldn't have known that she was exercising
a complex network of muscles.
Then she leaned down and moved forward again, though not quite losing me
from the grip of her cunt. Reaching over to the side, she stretched and
went rummaging through her backpack. The contortion was wonderful for
me. _Such a lovely breast; so nice to have you in my mouth!_ Leah
finished her business but lingered to indulge me, moving after a minute,
but only to let me have a turn at her other breast.
When she sat back up, my disappointment shifted quickly to surprise.
Leah wriggled on top of me, grinning down, hefting a huge peach in one
hand. She brought it up and took too big of a bite; as she chewed, a
trickle of juice dribbled from the corner of her mouth. She wiped it up
with the edge of her finger; then she sucked her finger clean.
"Leah, are you _consciously_ vying for the title of _Most Sensuous Woman
in the World_? Or is this totally effortless?"
She rocked back and forth on my cock, gleaming, then took another bite.
Then she leaned her mouth down to mine. I thought I was supposed to
lick her lips. I started to do that, but then her lips opened, sealing
wide around my mouth, her tongue pushing past me with an offering. She
nipped the morsel neatly in half and shared it with me.
When she sat back up, Leah was looking _very_ pleased with herself. She
let her free hand drift down, her index finger tracing spirals on my
chest. She gazed at me through slitted eyes. "You've got me so
mesmerized I'd chew your food for you." With that she took another
bite, her jaws set in motion before she bent back down to me. This kiss
was full of tongue and sweet juicy pulp. She kept the kiss going, her
hand stroking my throat, urging me to swallow.
It was an odd moment, but an intensely erotic one. I swallowed, my eyes
widening as I felt my cock swell even more. Leah's eyes went wide as
well. She sat back up, her face flushing from the pleasure of the
greater fullness.
She took another bite, for herself, giggling as she did it. The
reverberations of her mirth reached her deepest core, gripping my cock
in a rippling sheath.
I gasped, then tried to catch my breath.
"Almost?" she asked innocently.
"Almost. Not quite. Damn close."
"Make me laugh some more! Tell me some jokes."
She began nearly imperceptible movements with her pelvis, raising up and
down, swaying side to side. I put my hands on her hips to steady her.
"You know what, Leah? I've changed my mind: I really _love_ camping."
She gave a snort. "How would you know? You've hardly been outside the
tent."
"Didn't need to. Splendid views, natural beauty, wildlife--I got to
enjoy it all in here."
She beamed down at me, blushing. "Do you practice these lines?"
"Every time I go camping."
"Oh-h-h, so that's how you made Eagle Scout so quickly."
I reached around and swatted her ass, then started to pinch it but she
wiggled her hips and shook me off. She didn't stop her movements,
though, and my eyes went rolling around in my head from the sensations.
At last she slowed then stopped, watching me as I panted my way back to
some sense of normalcy.
It was a big day beckoning us ahead.
"So, Leah . . . what do you have planned for today?"
"Well, first I'm going to finish off this peach. And then," she
grinned, "I'm going to finish _you_ off."
That sounded like a deliciously dangerous combination.
"Then," she continued, "right after breakfast, we'll break camp."
"What?" I shot her a confused look. "I thought we weren't leaving
until tomorrow afternoon."
Leah shrugged her shoulders. "Changed my mind. An hour to pack up. I
know a shortcut, so just another hour to the car. And then an hour to
my place. We should get there just in time for lunch!"
There was no mistaking what her smile was all about. "Plenty of hot
water and a great big comfortable bed," she added. "And twenty-four
hours to ravish you to my heart's content. Sounds like a plan to me!"
I stared at her. My eyes went big and round.
"Sorry if that won't leave you any time to call Linda. Or reason. But
if you do, offer up my apologies." She reached under to fondle my balls
with her sticky fingers. "I'm afraid there won't be a drop left for her
in these guys when I'm done with you."
At that, Leah finished the last bite of peach and tossed the pit over
her shoulder out the opened flaps, giving a throaty little laugh. Then,
with slow deliberation, she licked her fingers clean.
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Like? Yes? No? Comments welcome. losgud@hotmail.com
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