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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 Delights (Husbands, nc)
By Johnny and Jill (as told to Meiraj@aol.com)
Introduction
My name is Jill. I am pleased to bring the story of our last summer’s
camping adventure for your pleasure. Johnny and I wrote our
experiences separately, for our own review and reminiscence at some
point in the future. We had bought a notebook computer some months
before and it went with us everywhere, even on this camping vacation..
We had agreed that we would each keep a diary or journal of our most
intimate feelings about each other, our love life, our sex life, as
each of us experienced it. We had agreed to be very honest and as
descriptive as possible. What had agreed we would share these
perceptions years later, perhaps in our golden years. The Notebook was
handy to put things on record while they were still fresh in our
memory, and also encrypt our writing to keep our files confidential.
We made solemn promises not make any effort to try to break into each
other’s files.
Now, six months after our camping adventure, I was trying to clean up
my hard disk that was getting too crowded and running out of room.
None of our private encrypted files should have opened up in this
process. But by some chance, Johnny’s journal of our last summer’s
camping came alive on the screen. I repeat, I did not break into his
file.
I thoroughly enjoyed reading Johnny’s version of things. My love for
Johnny jumped a few notches up. I thought the connoisseurs, and
purveyors of such private thoughts and deeds would enjoy our story.
Hence I am rushing this to you the reader. Note that I have spliced
and juxtaposed our different accounts for each day/night. But if you
wish you can first read all of Johnny’s version, then read all of my
version. I have of course changed all names so that Johnny as well as
all the other parties will remain anonymous. If you enjoy reading
this, all I ask is that you send me a note of appreciation for
revealing our private life.
---------------------------------------------------------
Johnny’s diary - Friday evening
Just as Bill and I came to our tents from taking shower at the shower
house, all the arc lamps at the camp site went off. It was 'lights
out' curfew time. Our wives had returned from the shower house even
before we had headed out for the shower. So when we returned from our
shower they had already retired into our respective pup-tents and
all was quiet. Only a few muffled voices floated across from nearby
tents who were all preparing to go to sleep. Our tents were side by
side, about five feet away from each other. It was a wooded area with
tall trees all around us. It was a moonless sky. The light from the
star-studded sky did not reach the ground under the trees.
Using a penlight torch that Bill had we made our way to our picnic
table and set down our bathroom stuff. Our tents were almost next to
the picnic table. I said good night to Bill, parted the flaps of my
tent and went in. I could hear my wife Jill breathing evenly,
obviously fallen asleep, and I did not want to wake her and disturb
that first sweet sleep. Still, she must have sensed some movement even
in that early sleep state, and not wanting to be disturbed, she
turned on her side to face the tent wall. I waited a full minute to
let her get back to full depth of sleep, then zipped down the entrance
flaps, fumbled for my air pillow, and set myself down to sleep. I
wanted to spoon and hold Jill, but at the same time did not want to
wake her. Putting my head on the pillow and lying on my back fully
stretched felt good: I had been apprehensive about this camping
trip, having never camped before. But Jill, Bill and his wife Bonny
all had camping experiences during their growing up years and they had
persuaded me to try it.
My mind was playing the tapes of our discussions on camping, my
tentative commitment to try it out, and the good feelings it had
generated since we checked in at about 4 O’clock that afternoon.
With Bill’s guidance we had pitched our tents at a secluded spot on
level soft grass. We had cooked hamburgers on the grill next to the
picnic table, gone for a walk through the camping sites and into the
park area. Jill and Bonny had gone into the swimming pool for a bit,
while Bill and I sat by the pool side and drank some beer. While
watching them swim, I couldn’t help admiring Bonny’s figure and
naturally curly hair. My wife Jill had a good figure too, but a tinsy
bit on the heavier side. Both were very attractive girls, and both had
become good friends after they had met. Bill and I were close friends
in college and had rekindled that friendship ten years later now.
As I waited to drift into sleep I felt glad I had come. The air was
fresh, the rustling of the leaves was calming , the people at the camp
site friendly and jovial. The hamburgers from the B-B-Q grill tasted
better, the beer had more zest. It had been refreshing change. We had
come in on Friday afternoon, and had planned to stay until Sunday
afternoon. We were only two hours away from the City. “Yes, I could
spend the weekend here”, I told myself as I lay there next to Jill.
And I was just about to roll on my side and cuddle her, when I
thought I heard sounds from Bill’s tent. I turned my head and
strained my ears to hear better.
What I was hearing were sounds of love. Yes, Bill and Bonny were
making love. And the sounds were moanings of Bonny well on her way
into orgasm. I recalled what Bill had said when we had gone shopping
for tents, that pup-tents are especially for lovers. With a smile on
my lips, I continued to strain to hear as much as I could. I focused
on my window flap that was slightly open, the moaning in the
beginning was and slow and long Oooooohn, Oooooohn, Oooooohn, then
rising to a quicker tempo - Oohn, Oohn, Oohn, Oohn, Oohn, Oohn, then a
very long Oooooooooooooooooooooohn, then a few seconds of silence,
then some medium Oooh, Oohhs. My pecker had been fully awakened by
the sounds.
The more I had strained to draw the sounds in from the small air
window on my right, where Bill’s tent was, the sounds sometimes
appeared to come through the tent window that was on my left side.
‘Bonny is just like Jill,’ I thought, ‘That is exactly how Jill
moans when she climaxes!’ I loved those moans of my wife. They were
my proof that she was pleased with me and my pecker. I wished Jill was
awake to hear those sounds, sounds that were just like her’s. We
would have started our own symphony before the other one had ended. I
had developed a semi-hard on.
With the semi-hard on, I started to go back to the light cuddle I
wanted to give my sleeping wife, it hit me why those sounds had come
from the left window. The other tent was not on my right where it
should have been, but on my left. This is the tent that would have
been on the right, if I were in the other tent. That means I am in
the wrong tent. That means Bill is in the wrong tent too. A sudden
chill went through my spine. My heart stated pounding. It was feeling
hot inside the tent. And for some reason my pecker went to extra
hardness when it was hardly the time for it to do so.
I aborted the light cuddle I was about to give, and lied on my back,
to think. Could it be that I am in Bill’s tent with his wife, and he
in my with my wife? Had I just heard my wife moaning to delight with
his tool? Had Bill entered the wrong tent, and mounted the wrong
woman? I asked myself what the probability is of two women having the
same moaning pattern? Obviously very low. So probabilistically
reasoning, it had to be Jill that gave out those moans. I was
disturbed that this thinking was giving a throbbing hardness to my
dick.
I was nonplused as to what was arousing me, the thought I may be
sleeping next to my friend’s wife, or the thought that my wife had
found pleasure from my friend’s tool. He must have a damn good tool
then! I didn’t like that idea. I concentrated on examining the
facts in my mental tapes of the evening. When Bill and I had left our
campsite to go to the showers, Bill was on my left, having just picked
up something from his wife who was already in their tent. That means
he and his tent were left of my tent. When we returned, he was still
on my left. Using him as my compass, and in the sudden darkness that
fell upon us, I had bid good night to him and entered the tent that
was on our right. Bill must have used me as his compass and assumed
that the other tent was his. Yes, that was it. We were in wrong tents.
The more I became convinced of the error, the more I doubted that
conclusion. I was in a state of arousal and confusion. Pictures of
Bonny in her swimsuit floated back into my mind, only she did not have
her swimsuit. I wondered if she was sleeping next to me. I wondered if
she had her panties on. I pulled back from those thoughts, not without
some reluctance. More facts came to my mind. I should have suspected
something not right when I stuck my head inside the tent. There was a
sweet, fruity, strawberry smell, a different fragrance. I had
casually thought that Jill had used a new bath soap - never suspecting
that it may be Bonny’s tent. In fact, I had enjoyed and felt
pleasure in that new, yes intoxicating fragrance. Yet I had resisted
ideas of riding on that intoxication. I thought again, “Oh, my God, I
am lying next to Bonny here, and my Jill has whooped it up with my
best friend. Did she not suspect it was the wrong man? Didn’t he
suspect it was the wrong woman?
My mind went back and replayed the sounds of sex I had heard. My
imagination attached graphics to it. Knowing Jill, the most probable
scenario was that Jill had pounced on him like a tigress, like she
sometimes does with me. Going at him at a frenzied pace, and lowering
herself over his rod with an urgency of something that needed to be
done yesterday. She played that tigress game with me whenever she felt
horny. She would pretend to be asleep, then I would suddenly hear a
growl, and next second she would be on top of me like a sex starved
mad woman, biting, scratching,, kissing and fucking. She may have done
the same to Bill, thinking that it was me. But then how could she not
realize it was not me? Bill is a couple of inches taller and perhaps
15 pounds heavier. Surely she must have felt the difference. Women
are more sensitive to those kinds of things - at least that is what
they say. Anyway, as I was imagining this scenario, my dick was
throbbing like mad. Yes, I had gotten turned on with the thought of my
wife with my best buddy. As I became aware of this I felt angry at
myself and wondered what the hell was the matter with me, whether I
was becoming a pervert or something?
With some effort I disengaged myself from the scenario in my mind, and
told myself that it was just a nightmare, that I was really sleeping
in my own tent with my wife Jill. I could hear her breathing evenly,
comfortably asleep. I wanted to feel the assurance of familiarity. I
had pulled away from her slightly and put a few a few inches between
her and me when I had thought she might be Bill’s wife Bonny. Now
wanting assurance and confirmation that she was in deed my wife Jill,
I moved myself closer to her, to smell her, to feel her. As if sensing
my thoughts, she turned around in her sleep, and nudged closer to me,
resting her face next to my chest. Slightly awake, she thrust one of
her thighs between my thighs, she lifted her head slightly and made
nudging movements to put her head on my right arm. I made appropriate
accommodative movements , and drew her into my arms. The two of us
were in a snug fit, she was asleep and I was awake. She was all naked.
And I must have kicked off my pajamas when the tent had begun to feel
hot.
The fruity smell of soap, I could smell from her face. It was
wonderful to feel her breath on my chest. I could feel her thigh
wedged in a tight clasp between my thighs. But she felt a little more
petite, as if she had shed some pounds while swimming that evening. I
felt a tinkling sensation deep down in my pubic area and in my stick.
I felt very protective and very affectionate towards her. My lips had
come to rest on the tip of her nose, and I couldn’t help a slow
maneuver to sliding down a bit to plant a gentle kiss on her lips -
gentle enough not to wake her. Her lips felt voluptuous even in her
sleep. She had of course drifted back into deep sleep, comfortable and
secure in my arms. She felt so familiar and so comfortable that I
could not doubt that she was not my wife. Part of me chided myself for
entertaining the idea that she was anybody else other than my wife
Jill.
Still, as a husband I wanted to be sure, especially when it was pitch
dark. Yes, it was total, absolute darkness like when you go into a
walk-in closet at night and close the door behind you. I remembered
that Jill had a mole in her back, but couldn’t remember exactly
where. My left hand was on her back and I started a slow and light
search for the mole. I couldn’t find any, no matter how many times I
slid my hand around and felt her back. Then I thought may be it was on
her buttock. I explored there too, as much of it as was possible in
our snug fit positions. Nothing! I remembered she had asked me a
couple of months ago if I knew where all she had moles and birthmarks
on her body, and I had not been able to list them to her satisfaction.
And she had said that men were such dummies when it came to
remembering such things.
May be my feeling her out on her back and her derriere awakened her a
bit, or may be she felt a bit tickled. She slid her thigh out and
changed position to sleep on her back. I made appropriate
accommodating movements but didn’t like losing her thigh which had
wedged against my stiff penis. So I moved my left knee up and brought
it to rest on her left thigh. It felt nice and comfortable again. Now
my left hand was entirely free. As if it had its own mind, it moved to
make its own investigations, to feel out her breasts and nipples. That
would tell me for sure if she was or was not my wife Jill. The breasts
felt a bit firmer and were a comfortable handful, not the everyday
experience of more than a handful. The nipples were firm, round,
sharply outlined at the rims like a yet to be used eraser at the end
of a pencil. Jill’s nipples usually felt more like grapes, and my
evidence was indicating that she may not be my wife Jill. Still, I had
to be more sure.
The moving hand moved on down to cross the panty barrier, except that
there was no barrier. Anyway, as soon as I crossed the barrier zone,
and I should say even a bit before that, I felt an abundance of soft
silky hairs. I remembered them to be curly and not so soft. I should
have stopped right there. I had enough evidence of who she was or was
not. But my hand ventured on down on to her mound and between her
legs. I could feel a slight moistness there. My heart was racing as I
ran my fingers lightly over the labia lips. They felt soft, succulent
and willing to part if my finger wanted to go for a tour inside the
cave. I used my middle finger just enough to make the definitive test
of taste. Yes, she was definitely not my wife Jill. That meant she was
definitely Bill’s wife Bonny. But I had liked all the factual
evidence I had gathered. I had liked it too much and dick was in
complete and full agreement with me.
My conscience popped up. I trembled that perhaps my investigative
procedures had not been thoroughly gentlemanly. After all she was my
best friend’s wife. I had an obligation to defend and protect her
honor. Instead I had touch-toured her body, I had grasped her
breasts and touched her labia lips, even if only superficially. I felt
slightly guilty. The fact that her husband had fucked my wife, fucked
her hard and solid to the point of eliciting her moans, did not seem
reason enough for me to have subjected Bonny to that kind of body
search. But, if I hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t have known I
shouldn’t have done it. I was ashamed of myself for not being a
thorough gentleman that everybody thinks I am. I promised myself that
I would be gallant and defend her honor if it ever needed defending.
What had been done, had been done. It was a rational investigation.
The situation had called for it. Luckily she was not conscious of what
had been done, and by whom. And that was good.
My thoughts turned to Bill. Exactly how much responsibility was his
for the whoopee he and Jill had? Did he actively and deliberately
initiate some foreplay with Jill? Did he have excess testosterone
aroma that aroused Jill?....Why did he not realize it was not his wife
that he was fucking. If not at the start, he should have realized
soon after? Why did he not stop right then before things boiled over?
Has he had an eye for Jill? Was he looking for an opportunity to
skewer her? As these thoughts floated across my mind, I found myself
getting a hard on again. The more I tried to visualize what may have
happened in the other tent, the more my pecker was getting stiffer.
I had to pull away from Bonny as I did not want to wake her up by
my throbbing pecker. I couldn’t help feeling that my mind was sick,
wicked, devilish to be giving me a hard on picturing Bill in Jill
and Jill around Bill. I am basically a nice and decent guy. I hadn’t
gotten that kind of throbbing hardness when I was cuddling Bonny when
I thought she was my wife Jill. I am not the type that would eagerly
want to enter a pussy that did not belong to him. With all these
thoughts, some very confusing and the questions that kept popping up,
with no hope of finding answers, and with a wild wicked sort of bodily
chemistry I had never before experienced, I still felt good about
myself, knowing who I am and What I am; and what I stood for,
regardless of what it stood for at the moment. I think I fell asleep
at that point.
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Jill’s diary for Friday night:
Dear Diary, last night is a night I will never forget. It was the
first night of our weekend camping trip. My husband Johnny had had
misgivings about camping - sleeping in a tent? in a wooded area
amidst all kinds of crawling worms? He has never gone camping in his
life. But Bonny and her husband Bill helped me talk Johnnyny into
trying it at least once. So, after we had pitched our tents and taken
in the camp atmosphere, Johnnyny had loosened up a bit with some
positive enthusiasm. I was glad he was beginning to enjoy it. Hence I
decided to reward him privately in our little tent, at night.
So, when he came into the tent I was pretending to be asleep. No
sooner had he lied down, then I pulled my ‘tigress’ act that he
loves. I growled and jumped on him and started biting and scratching
and kissing him. Johnnyny likes this but pretends to ward off the
tigress with all kinds of mock escape movements. But he really gets
excited and can’t help his cock getting fat and throbbing. Like a
tigress I always manage to slam my pussy aggressively around his
throbbing cock. I have my ways of making it real easy for me, like
packing my pussy with lots of K-Y as if I am packing a front wheel.
After all it is my front wheel.
So, anyway, last night, dear Diary, was an unforgettable night. A
minute or so after I started riding him, I felt I had perhaps
lubricated myself a bit too much, and at the same time I noticed I was
rising a bit higher and sliding down longer than normal. So I pulled
out and wiped myself a bit with his PJ. I wiped his penis. While
wiping, I played a bit with the rod. I couldn’t help feeling the
camp had also done his cock some good. It felt like it had elongated
and slimmed a bit. The short stubby one had relaxed and become slim
and tall. Wow. He felt good.
I gave him my tits to kiss and suck and again slipped him inside my
magic tube. Going up and down was a comfortable fit, not the usual
extra tight fit. So, I cruised slowly, then speeded up, then slowed
down, then speeded up again. His hands were exploring whatever of my
territory. He enjoyed it. His hands couldn’t seem to have enough of
my boobs and butts, while his lips responded to mine.
I grinded and grinded. Kissed him all over his face, whispering my
love chant ‘Oh Johnnyny, Oh Johnnyny.’ When I came, boy did I cum.
It was sheer fireworks, and he also came at the same time. I could
feel his hot lava shooting inside me. I must have moaned and moaned.
He put his finger on my lips to shoosh me. I guess he didn’t want our
friends in the next tent to hear me. Finally with exhausted
satisfaction I rolled down and curled into his arms. I liked his new
aftershave. I hadn’t smelled that on him before. His body felt more
muscular, more comforting.
Jhonny was very silent all through, responding to my whisperings only
with kisses and nudgings of his head on my face. I guess he didn’t
want Bill and Bonny to hear anything. We must have cuddled like that
for a while before I took his penis in my hand again. I like to
squeeze it, squish it, and knead it when it is small. I felt something
different about the now shrunken little guy.
I must have dozed off for a while. Then I was awake, still in a
cuddle, my body in a close clasp to his. And he was straight on his
back. I couldn’t help taking his matter into my hand again and play
with it. It didn’t take long for it to rise up again like an awakened
snake; again long and slim. And I was delighted. Johnnyny is usually
a one-zee. ‘Gee, camping agrees with him,’ I thought. He had let it
out all the way; yes, all the way which is not usual for him.
With excitement and gladness my heart felt blossomed. ‘Gee, Johnnyny
has become a different man, may be a woody spirit has invaded his
body,’ I thought. I fantasied him as a woodycock and wanted to enjoy
him to the fullest. I love the second round, but Johnny and I hadn’t
had second round for a long time. He likes to ration it, stop when we
still want to go on. He has this idea that that some unreleased lava
is good for a positive tension in marriage. I can’t buy that. I think
he has heard a lot of bull shit while he was growing up.
Anyway I went back to my thought of him as being possessed by a wild
woody spirit. The stick in my hand was in full spirit and throbbing.
I thought ‘why not a second round?’ We wer not home but in a tent
without a care in the world. I didn’t want to regret in the morning
for not having utilized the two-zee opportunity the night had offered.
‘Yes, I will have him strike the iron when it is hot; have him
pound the nail that has stood up; have him plant the poppycock.
I snuggled up to him closer, nibbled his ear, ran my tongue around it,
reached into the crevices of his ear with the tip of my tongue,
whispered in his ear, “Oh Johnny, Oh Johnny, do me again, fuck me,
fuuck me hard, fuuuckk me good, I want it, Oh please Johnny.” My
fondling his ear must have given him quite a stimulation. He made
delightful moves, quite unlike any I had experienced before. The
camping had induced something deliciously alien in him. He moved his
hand ever so lightly and slooowly over my naked body. He turned me
fully on my back. I felt a light tinkling, intoxicating, his fingers
zigzagging all over my skin. Not the usual grabbing and sqeezing the
boobs as if they wouldn’t be there tomorrow, not the usual digit
that wants to go down into the cave to calculate.
No, it was different. The fingers were dancing over my belly, my
sides, my thighs, my butt, barely touching. I was being teased and
played with. This new play was driving me crazy. I was simmering with
passion unlike ever before. All I could think was, I want it, I want
it, I want it!!! I was trying to pull him over me. No, he was not
ready. He started brushing my lips with his, ever so slightly, licking
my ear but barely - tiny teasing licks.
The back of my mind was wondering why Johnny had never excited me like
this. I was also feeling guilty for such analytical thoughts when I
should be enjoying the moment fully. I could hear my heart beat
pounding with anticipatory excitement. I felt I was sizzling in sixth
heaven, and I wanted to go to the seventh heaven right away. I must
have grabbed his head and pulled his ear next to my mouth and pleaded
in whispers - yes a small part of me, a very small part of me was
conscious that we were in a little tent next to another little tent
where out friends could be eavesdropping.
I couldn’t help pleading whisps, “Johnny, fuck me, fuck me now,
fuck, fuck, fuck; just Fuck, please, FucK, fUCk, FUCK NNOW.” But at
the same time I wanted him to keep me in sweet sensual agony. As if he
read my thoughts, he started planting kisses an inch apart, on my,
breasts, nipples, ears, cheeks, lips, nose, forehead, throat, chin,
cheeks and lips. He lovingly licked and sucked the soft underside of a
breast while massaging the other with his palm. I was in a daze of
relaxing pleasure in anticipation of an even higher level soon. He
finally mounted me and lowered his thighs between mine, slowly
spreading me apart with his thighs. I could feel his steel rod pressed
flat against my mound, pointing towards my belly button. He rested it
there and sought my mouth with his, taking my lower lip, taking my
upper lip, taking both lips, moving down and sucking my nipples. His
iron horse moved into the opening of the tunnel and I was on my way to
seventh heaven.
VOILA, I FELT CONNECTED TO THE WIND, TO THE FIRE, TO THE WATER, TO THE
SKY, TO THE EARTH!!! I began to feel a most delicious rocking, up and
down, up and down. Slow at first, then at medium pace, and finally at
full speed, then sudden slowing to just the right speed! I bubbled, I
quivered, I jumped, I thumped and I thudded. Sounds escaped from me.
He put his finger on my lips. But I couldn’t help it. When I feel
that good, I have to say it out loud. How can you NOT say aaahh ,
wooohh aaammm, ooooh, hnoohn at a Fourth of July fireworks. And this
was like the 200th anniversary fireworks.
Finally I felt contented, satiated, satisfied, fulfilled, filled to
the brim, and blissfully exhausted. I felt a new deeper attachment to
Johnny, even gratitude. All I remember is that I was in a comfortable
cuddle when sleepdom embraced me.
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Coming soon Delights Johnny’s Diary for Saturday.
By Meiraj@aol.com