Campground Discoveries Pt. 05

(Takes up where fourth part leaves off.)

Alone in my tent that night I thought a long time about what had happened.

I had come to terms with what Danny and I had done together; in a strange way, it was almost an extension of our friendship.

But the encounter in the shower -- with a total stranger -- suggested I was deeper into this thing than I suspected. Did I have any boundaries at all?

I thought of something my dad once told me. He was not a big one for giving advice, but when I was 15 or 16 he had sat me down for a talk about contraception, which he said is basically a matter of responsibility. HIs final words were, "Don't let your dick do your thinking for you."

Well, here I was, letting my dick do all the thinking. Nobody was going to get pregnant as a result, of course, but the principle was the same. I wasn't controlling events; events were controlling me.

On the other hand, there was no denying how excited I was about discovering a new side to my sexual self.

Before this trip, I had looked only at females as potential partners, and that had seemed to offer all the possibilities a guy could want. Now the pool was bigger, so to speak, and I couldn't see why I shouldn't dive in.

My cock was hard again, so I treated myself to a long slow wank. I was thinking about the two girls I'd fucked as well as Danny and the shower guy, and it was a satisfying wank, indeed.

The next morning my dad woke me up early to go fishing, just the two of us.

With Danny gone I would be expected to spend more time with the family, which was fine because I would have been bored otherwise. But it was hard to focus on the fish, and I spent a lot of time thinking about other things. Luckily my dad was content to sit quietly, too, so there was nothing awkward about it.

After lunch that day -- it was now Thursday -- I decided to go for a hike. I threw some snacks and a water bottle in the pack, and was getting ready to leave when I noticed clouds gathering in the west. Just to be safe I threw a poncho in the pack, and then set out.

I found myself once again on the rocky outcrop Danny and I had already visited a couple of times that week. I got out the binoculars and scanned the valley, but didn't see anyone, so I let them rest in my lap.

By now the clouds had darkened considerably, but they were moving fast and I figured any rain, if it came, would be brief. Still, it's not a good idea to be in an exposed position in the mountains, so I decided to move down to a more sheltered spot under the trees.

I got out the poncho and started putting my other things in the pack. I had just finished when I heard footsteps behind me. I turned, and a man was coming up the trail.

"Hey," he said. "You probably don't want to be up here when the storm hits. Bad place to be if lightning strikes."

"I know," I said. "I was just packing up to leave."

I slung my pack over my shoulder and followed him back down the trail.

"Are you staying in one of the cabins here?" he asked over his shoulder.

"No, I'm camping with my family in the next valley," I said.

"Won't they worry about you out here by yourself in a storm?"

"No, we've been coming here for years, they know I'll be careful."

Rain started to fall -- big, heavy drops that made popping sounds on my poncho. This wasn't going to be a minor drizzle.

We reached a fork in the trail. The left fork went back to the campground, the right down into the valley with the cabins.

When the guy got to the fork he turned around. It was only then that I realized who it was: one of the guys Danny and I had been watching.

For a second I panicked, thinking he might have recognized me. But he gave no sign of it, and on a second's reflection I decided there was little chance Danny and I had been seen.

The guy was a little taller than me, but it was hard to get an idea of his build because he was wearing a poncho, too. He had had a hat jammed down on his head, but I could tell he had very blond hair, a somewhat darker blond beard and light blue eyes.

"I'm Rick," he said, holding out his hand.

"Gil."

We shook.

"How far back to your camp?" he asked.

"Couple of miles," I said.

"My cabin's half a mile from here," he said. "You can wait it out there if you like."

He saw my hesitation

"Don't worry," he said, turning down the trail. "I won't jump your bones."

I'm sure he meant it sound reassuring, but for me -- who had watched him having sex with another guy twice in the last two days -- it only raised doubts in my mind.

On the most basic level, it was dumb of me to go off with a total stranger without telling anyone where I was going. He might not be planning to jump my bones, but he might be an axe murderer.

On a deeper level, though, I felt something close to disappointment. Why won't you jump my bones? Am I not attractive enough for you?

And what did that mean? Was I subconsciously hoping for some kind of encounter?

I thought of the hot tub. What would I do if he suggested warming up in the tub? Would I get naked with him? What would I do if he came on to me? Would I come on to him?

At that moment I caught the toe of my boot on a rock and nearly did a face-plant on the trail.

"Easy there," Rick said.

I guess I'd better pay attention to what I'm doing, I thought.

By this time rain was coming down hard, and it didn't let up until we had nearly reached the cabin. My poncho had kept me mostly dry, but my boots were muddy and the lower part of my jeans were soaked.

Rick led me around to the front of the cabin, where a short stairway led to a broad screened-in porch. I took off my poncho, shook the water off and climbed the stairs.

Just inside the porch, Rick stopped to take off his boots, indicating I should do the same.

"We can put these in front of the heater to dry," he said.

"Heater?" I asked. "In a cabin?"

"My ex insisted on it," he said. "She refused to stay here in cold weather unless she could always be sure of getting warmed up."

Ex? I thought. Another guy who plays for both teams.

I handed him my boots and we went through the door.

The cabin, which had looked unpretentious, even plain, on the outside, was gorgeous on the inside, with warm wood paneling everywhere, a huge fireplace on the wall to my right and light flooding in from ceiling-high windows on the far wall.

Just to the right of the door was a dining area with a big table and chairs made of oak, and beyond that a stairway that I guessed led to a loft. Between the dining area and the windows was a large open area with comfortable-looking couches and chairs arranged in front of the fireplace. On the inner wall was a large bookcase and a small table with an expensive-looking chess set. The ceiling was low over the dining area, but beyond that the space was open all the way to the pitched roof.

On the left was a good-sized kitchen with a dinette and a door leading to what I guessed was a small bedroom.

Rick put our boots on a mat in front of a heating vent in the kitchen and then went to the fireplace, where he got busy starting a fire.

"The cell signal isn't great here, but you might be able to get a message to your parents if you want to let them know where you are," he said.

That's reassuring, I thought. No axe murderer would make a suggestion like that.

I pulled out my phone and texted my dad, telling him that I'd been 'rescued' and would wait out the storm indoors.

To my relief he texted back a few minutes later, thanking me for letting him know and asking to keep him posted. If he was curious why I'd taken shelter with a stranger, he didn't say so.

When the fire had caught, Rick stood up. I was still standing just inside the door.

"C'mon in," he said, smiling. "Make yourself comfortable."

Glancing down, he added, "Maybe we should dry those jeans, too. I've got a pair of sweats you can change into. I should change myself, come to think of it."

Before I could answer he scrambled up the stairs to the loft. A minute later he came back down, wearing one pair of sweats and carrying another in his hand. His wet jeans were draped over his arm.

"Here," he said, tossing me the sweats as he walked into the kitchen.

It felt like he was turning his back to me deliberately so I could change without embarrassment, which I thought was courteous of him. I quickly shucked off my jeans and pulled on the sweats.

By that time he had come back with one of those collapsible wooden drying racks. He set it up in front of the vent, over the boots, and spread our jeans on it to dry.

Then he looked at me with a friendly smile.

"How about something hot? Coffee? Hot chocolate? Or are you old enough to have something stronger?"

For a second I wondered if he had more than one reason for asking if I was of legal age.

"I'm old enough," I said.

"Bourbon OK?"

"Sure."

When he went back to the kitchen, I went over to the windows to have a look outside. The rain was still falling and it didn't look like it would be stopping soon. The hot tub was covered, but as I watched a wisp of steam escaped from one corner.

My dick stirred at the thought of what I'd seen going on there two days ago.

"Here," Rick said behind me.

I turned and took the drink -- a modest one. He wasn't trying to get me drunk.

We settled ourselves in chairs near the fire and began to talk.

Half an hour later, I'd decided that Rick was a really good guy.

He was a software engineer for a big company I'd heard of. He'd been married for close to 10 years to his high school sweetheart and they'd had three kids. But he and his wife eventually realized they weren't really compatible -- in what way, he didn't say -- and he'd been separated about a year.

You could tell he really adored his kids. He and "the ex," as he called her, had joint custody, and he talked about how often he brought them up here for long weekends. He even got up to fetch a picture of them from the mantel to show me.

He took an interest in me, too, asking about my family, what subjects I'd liked in school, what I expected to study at college in the fall.

An hour passed. He looked out the window and said, "I don't think this is going to let up soon. How about I give you a ride back to camp?"

"You don't have to do that," I said. "I don't mind walking in the rain."

"Don't be ridiculous," he said. "I have to go into town anyway, so I'll just drop you on the way."

We stood up. He took my glass and his into the kitchen and came back with both pairs of jeans, now mostly dry.

Without thinking I pulled down the sweats and reached for my jeans. If he had looked, which I think he might have, he would have seen I had a bulge in my underwear.

Rick dropped his own sweats and kicked them aside. I stole a glance and it looked like he had a bulge, too.

It might have been my imagination, but I felt just the slightest hint of sexual tension in the room.

He pulled his jeans on, then turned and went to the kitchen to grab his wallet and keys.

Neither of us said much on the ride to the campground. But as we turned onto the gravel road leading to the campground from the highway, Rick cleared his throat.

"Would you like to come back tomorrow?" he asked. "The weather is supposed to be better. We can have a soak in the hot tub."

I paused before answering. I had a pretty good idea of what this implied -- more than Rick could have suspected I knew.

"That sounds great," I said. "What time?"

"Let's say 2," he said, pulling up and stopping near the campground entrance.

I thanked him for the rescue, the ride and the invitation and shook his hand.

After he had driven away, I thought, "What have I gotten myself into now?"

****

My parents were naturally curious about where I'd been, but I could truthfully answer all their questions without having to explain why I was up on that rock in the first place.

"Dinner's going to be a little late, so you can go clean up if you like," my mom said.

I didn't much feel like I needed a shower -- we were camping, after all, and getting a little skanky is part of the experience -- but I decided to go anyway.

When I got to the shower building I was glad to see that no one was around. I undressed and put my things in a cubbyhole, and was just about to turn on a faucet when some impulse made me go back and get my razor and shaving cream out of the kit.

My beard is pretty sparse, to tell the truth, and normally I would have gone the whole camping week without shaving. But I had decided on the spot to do some manscaping, and I was glad I had some things with me.

I hadn't done this before, and doing it in a public shower with no mirror and no place to rest a lifted leg turned out to be a bad idea. I had particular trouble with my sack, not surprisingly, and I nicked myself two or three times.

I had expected a little discomfort. What I hadn't expected was getting aroused; handling my cock and balls while shaving was an erotic experience, and by the time I was done I had a serious hardon.

I was tempted to masturbate and was just about to start when I heard the outer door open and shut.

Damn, I thought, turning to the wall to hide my erection.

Half a minute later someone walked into the shower room. I stole a glance over my shoulder and recognized the guy from the night before.

"Hi," he said.

I should have expected this, and subconsciously maybe I did.

I took a deep breath and turned around.

"Well," he said, looking at my rock-hard dick and newly shaven pubes. "You look great."

He stepped closer to me and rubbed a hand over my newly shaven privates, then grasped my dick.

"It feels great, doesn't it, all smooth like that?"

I nodded.

He took my hand and placed it on his cock, which was getting hard fast.

"I had hoped I'd see you again," he said.

We stroked each other. When he was fully hard he leaned toward me and whispered into my ear, "My turn."

At first I wasn't sure what he meant, but when he put his free hand on my shoulder and gently pressed downward, I got the idea.

I did not resist. I bent my legs and kneeled on the floor, my mouth just inches from his cock.

It looked even thicker from this angle. The shaft looked to be two inches across, easy. The head was shaped like a helmet and a little broader even at the edges than the shaft. I wondered if I'd be able to fit it in my mouth.

He saw my hesitation.

"Go ahead," he said. "Other guys have managed."

I opened my mouth and touched the head with my tongue.

"That's nice," he coaxed. "Now open wide."

I did, and he slowly slid his cock between my lips.

Giving Danny one blow job hadn't made me an expert, of course, but I had learned the importance of relaxing my throat and using a lot of spit. The water streaming onto his cock from the shower helped, too.

When the shaft was about halfway in he stopped and pulled back, letting me breathe, then came forward again. Repeating this process several times, taking in a little more each time, I eventually got comfortable with all but the last inch or so of his six inches.

It was a strange feeling, having my mouth filled entirely with his cock. Danny's cock, which wasn't nearly this thick, had left me room to work, so to speak. But now I couldn't do much but let this guy do his thing.

He wasn't treating me roughly -- I don't think I would have put up with that -- but he moved steadily, and there was no doubt who was calling the shots.

He's treating my mouth like a pussy, I thought. It's actually kind of hot.

I felt my own cock stiffen a little further, if that was possible. It felt like I could pound nails with it.

It wasn't long before I felt his cock swelling in my mouth.

"Here it comes," he said.

A split second later, he rose onto his toes, his cock swelled and a wad of cum shot down my throat. I tried to back off to swallow but he had wound his hands into my hair and had my head firmly in his grasp. He shot several more times, and my mouth filled with sticky cum that soon overflowed and spilled out of my lips and dribbled down my chin.

I was on the point of gagging when he finally withdrew his cock. Before I could swallow his load he pulled me to my feet, brought his face close to mine and thrust his tongue into my mouth.

He's tasting his own cum, I thought, just like Danny did. This is definitely hot.

Finally he let me go. I swallowed what remained of his cum and stood there panting.

He stepped back, rinsed himself off, gave me a wink and strode out of the room.

My cock was still standing at full attention. I desperately wanted to jack off, but I had already been away from the campsite too long and I needed to get back.

I turned off the water and went to dry off. By this time the guy was nearly dressed.

"I hope I wasn't too rough on you," he said, in a kindly tone, " but I didn't want to take up too much time. You never know when someone might come in."

"It's okay," I said.

Noticing the ring on his finger, I added, "You're married, right? Kids?"

"Yes," he said quietly. "But I started playing with guys in college, and never really stopped. It's a hard thing to give up, once you try it."

I was beginning to get that idea.

"Let me ask you something," he said. "Have you played with that good-looking friend I saw you with the other night?"

I blushed.

"You have, I see," he said, smiling. "Well, don't let it worry you; you're not the first guy your age to experiment with a buddy. Take it from a guy who knows."

I would have liked to hear more on that topic, but he was already out the door.