Summer Camping Ch. 01

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A year of firsts for new high school graduates.
11.6k words
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Part 1 of the 2 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 01/08/2015
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Turbidus
Turbidus
1,082 Followers

The only tidbit of truth in this tale is I once went camping with a girlfriend and her sister. And no, this story does not have any sister-sister incest. It will be in two parts. The second part will follow in a few days.

LarryInSeattle took a first stab at editing. I changed a few sections after he returned it. Any remaining errors are mine alone.

As always comments are welcome, even negative ones if they are constructive.

Enjoy.

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A sure sign of impending old age is the irresistible need to give advice to people who haven't asked for it. I have no business offering advice on women, relationships or marriage. I'll try to stick to what I know.

One -- unless you are camping alone bring more than one flashlight.

Two -- fuck the forecast; put the rain fly up.

Three -- if your girlfriend's parents insist you bring her younger sister as a chaperone carefully consider your motives. Go, if all you wanted to do was camp. If you planned on more than camping, forget it and avoid the frustration.

Four -- don't punch anything stronger than the bones in your hand. Not punching anything is even better.

Let's start with the first piece of advice. When you wake, whether due to the heat, the incessant whir of the cicadas, or your aching balls, you'll want a flashlight to avoid catching your foot on a tree root and sprawling onto your hands and knees. If you only have one flashlight and that one is in the tent where your girlfriend lies as inaccessible as ever and you don't want to wake her or her kid sister, you will be forced, as I was, to stumble through the dark.

I had not been hurt in the fall. Our tents were pitched under a stand of short leaf pine trees. The ground was blanketed by years' worth of fallen needles. To imagine the tree had been placed there, decades earlier, for the sole purpose of tripping me was ludicrous. But that is how I felt at the time.

Only a few short leaf pines were left, most had been transformed into planks and plywood. Congress declared this chunk of southern Missouri and northern Arkansas a national forest during the Depression but it was already too late. The loggers had taken anything worth the trouble of cutting down. The majority of the trees in the forest were planted after it was designated a National Forest.

When we stopped to check in and pay for our campsite, I told the ranger we were looking for a nice quiet spot, one usually ignored by the car camping crowd. I took his advice even though it meant we were as far from the river as we could be and still be inside the park.

In July, in Missouri, if you went camping, it was to be near water big enough to swim, canoe, or float your inner-tubed ass in. A single road made a circuitous route through the park, giving off side branches as it went. The first part of the road ran along the river. The campsites along the river were always crowded, in fact you needed a reservation to get one. Each of the side roads ended in a service building that provided potable water, showers (with solar heated hot water no less) and flush toilets. Clustered around the service building were anywhere from three to five camping areas, each with four or five campsites. The campsites along the river had electric and water hookups. You could "camp" and watch the baseball game in an air-conditioned RV.

After the road curved away from the river the number of occupied campsites fell off dramatically. At the campground next to ours only a single site was occupied by an old Ford sporting rusted out wheel wells and a camper shell decorated with mildew. If not for the cooler atop the picnic table and the two lawn chairs I would have wondered if the truck had been abandoned and the Park Service simply hadn't had time to tow it away.

Our campground was the furthest from the river. The ranger had steered us to a beautiful spot. The ground had a gentle slope and if the ground was rocky the thick blanket of pine needles hide the fact. The showers were a couple hundred yards away and it's was half-mile hike to the river, but it was a great spot. We pitched our cheap Sears &Roebuck tents in an open area under the trees.

Another bit of advice, pine sap is a bitch to get out of your hair or off a tent and in hot weather, pine trees drip sap. Don't set your tent up right under a pine tree.

We had stopped to eat on the way down so we weren't hungry. We decided to toss our stuff in the tents and hike down to the river. Cindy raised her eyebrows as Claire moved to throw her sleeping bag in beside mine. Claire glared at her and threw her bag in the tent with Cindy's. I decided I hated Cindy.

I turned my back while Claire and Cindy changed into swimsuits. (Their parents were Carl and Carol. You might not be surprised if I told you the cat was Cora and the dog Cody.) As usual when I was nervous my brain started jumping around like a needle on a scratched LP.

"Was that cute? Every name starting with a "C"? A kid in a high chair with spaghetti in his hair was cute. Puppies are cute. Putting puppies into costumes is not cute. Those fucking stupid "Love Is" cartoons are not cute. They are stupid and trite."

I had turned my back to the girls as I shucked off my jeans and slipped on a pair of cut off 501 jeans I intended to use for swimming trunks. Flashes of distorted flesh in the chrome car bumper cut my internal musings short. I never reached a conclusion regarding the cuteness of the "C" names. The swirls in the chrome were nothing more than flashes of color, and for an instant maybe something darker, like pubic hair, but it was enough to make my dick start to get hard. I was beyond horny. If Nirvana was the extinguishing of all desire I was on the other side of the fucking galaxy from Nirvana.

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My first date with Claire was our senior prom. When we met during our junior year, dissecting a fetal pig, she had a boyfriend. They broke up over Thanksgiving the next year, our senior year, but I didn't tumble to the fact until the year was nearly over. Her boyfriend was a senior in college, a fact that afforded her a crumb of hallway notoriety. I treated the news of their breakup as a belated eighteenth birthday present and worked up the nerve to ask her to the prom. Claire was an older woman, she turned eighteen a month before I did, plus she had dated a college guy, no wonder I was nervous. If she had been just another senior chick I would have been cool as a cucumber, not that I had ever used my cool as a cucumber demeanor to ask anyone out. I was determined to go on one real date before finishing high school.

Senior prom was that date. I relaxed a little after I managed to get her corsage on without stabbing her with a pin. It was a wrist corsage and didn't have a pin but I was relieved anyway. I relaxed a little more when I got through dinner without inadvertently spitting food on her. Claire broke out the Double Mint before I had a chance to worry about post-dinner breath.

My anxiety was sedated but not comatose. It came roaring back when the first notes of "Colour My World" pulsed from the speakers. We had a DJ, live bands were for the kids in Ladue. It always bugged me that Chicago spelled "color" in the British fashion. It struck me as vaguely unpatriotic.

I wasn't sure she wanted to dance a slow dance yet. We stared at each other, then opened our arms. We both leaned in the same direction then both corrected. We looked more like we were trying to run interference than embrace.

She giggled. "I'll hold still. You come to me."

She didn't run away when I put my hand on the small of her back. She laughed at a joke that wasn't really funny. After that it was easy.

I admit I was a little nervous as the night drew to a close and I was faced with the dilemma of either trying to kiss her good night or skulk away like a total spaz. She seemed to enjoy kissing enough for me to imagine I wasn't totally fucking it up. I'd like to believe I was the one who moved on to Frenching but it was probably Claire. As an abstract concept, I had never understood enjoying someone else's tongue darting around inside your mouth. After that night I did.

I remember the faint taste of Double Mint lingered in her mouth. I haven't chewed Double Mint since we broke up.

We contented ourselves with some very intense kissing. I pretended to accidentally brush her boob reaching for her hair but that was as far as it went. I didn't care. I wasn't expecting more, in fact the thought of more scared the shit of me. We both had strict orders to be home by midnight, though I convinced my mom that if I got Claire home at midnight she couldn't expect me home until 12:30. Claire's parents implied that one second after midnight they would notify the FBI that their eldest daughter had been kidnapped by a teenage sex maniac and that I was likely to be armed and dangerous and it would be safest to simply shot me on sight.

I got her home by midnight. No one said anything about having her inside by midnight. We resumed kissing. When she pressed against the hardness hiding under my rented tux I nearly passed out. Her mouth swallowed my moan. As I lowered my hand to squeeze her ass for the first time the porch light came on. I don't think her parents saw us. It was just shitty timing.

When she stepped back she giggled. Pointing at the tent in the front of my pants she giggled. "I don't think you should come in. See you Monday." She kissed me once more, quickly. My head followed her as she pulled away, unwilling to concede. She giggled, whispered "I had fun, thanks" and went inside while I was still trying to remember how to speak.

The road home bisected a wildlife area. My dad and I went fishing there when I was a kid. I was already late but I didn't matter. For the first of what would prove to be many times that summer, I pulled off the road, parked by one of the lakes, stood beside my car and jerked off into the weeds. It seems impossible but my memory tells me I could still taste her Double Mint on my tongue.

Mom gave me half-hearted hell. It was after 1:00 in the morning when I unlocked the kitchen door. It seemed to me I reeked of wet dick and cum but all she cared about was making sure I knew I had scared her to death. She had just been getting ready to start calling the area hospitals looking for me etc etc.

I went to bed but couldn't sleep. The feel of her arms, the taste of that damn gum on her tongue, how warm her leg left when she pressed against me, all of it keep racing through my mind. I jerked off again, cleaning off with the tee shirt I had dropped on the floor beside the bed. I roll over onto my stomach, certain I'd sleep.

Nope. My cock only got half soft before my pillow morphed into her breast pressing against my chest. My cock stiffened back up and I humped my mattress. I had never done that before. It was a night for first. I came in my underwear, another first, and finally fell asleep

I had asked for the weekend off from work. The sun, not my alarm woke me. My hand dipped into my underwear for its usual morning inspection of my dick. It was morning. I had to piss. Of course I had a boner. I was confused for a moment. My pubes were matted and sort of crusty. I remember humping my bed and cumming in shorts. My mouth began to twitch into a grimace of disgust. But my fingers kept exploring.

Disgusted turned to horniness so quickly it was only a vague memory by the time I had jerk my legs free of my shorts. I pulled my legs up and let my knees fall open as I began to pound my cock, not trying to be quiet, knowing mom would be out getting her hair fixed. I beat off so hard my balls ached. When I came it was thin and watery and sprayed everywhere. My hips bucked so hard the bed was hitting the wall.

I lay there panting, squeezing my dick, for several minutes. When I rolled out of bed I could feel my jizz run down my chest and belly. I opened the door. I knew mom was gone. She had to be. All the noise I had been making would have her pounding down the hall long before this. Still, caution reared its head. Getting caught walking naked to the bathroom with spunk running off my chest would be embarrassing.

"Mom," I bellowed. No response. To be safe I yelled a second time. Hearing no response I sauntered down the hall, naked, half hard cock swaying between my legs. Feeling bold, I pushed my luck and continued into the kitchen. I opened the fridge and took a long pull of milk, right out of the carton, replaced it and sauntered back to the bathroom.

I took my time in the shower. The water felt so good. When I was finished with the actual business of the shower. I squirted a palm full of conditioner in my hand and jerked off again. The orgasm was just as intense but there was almost no cum. I was drained. As I toweled off I realized my dick was sore. I shook my head in disbelief. I had jerked myself raw.

I pulled on a pair of sweats and a tee shirt (not the one on the floor by the bed). I managed to finish a huge bowl of Lucky Charms with what was left of the milk before collapsing on the couch and falling back asleep. I woke to sound of the kitchen door slamming and mom calling out for me to help bring in the groceries. I told her to leave them, I had to pee first. I did have to pee but I mostly needed time for my boner to go down.

I unloaded the groceries, half listening as mom filled me in on the latest goings on she had gleaned from the beauty salon. It was the usual litany of who would be having to get married soon, who was pulled over for DWI, who was getting divorced. The names changed on occasion but it was always the same story. After the obligatory observation regarding the absurd price of groceries she made herself a sandwich and settled in to watch bowling.

Cordless phones were years in the future. I stretched the kitchen phone as far from the door to the living room as it would go and called Claire. She not one of her parents. I was so focus on running the parent gauntlet that for a moment I was at a complete lost as how to say "hi".

She chuckled, a low throaty sound, "Hi Sam. I hoped it was you. For a second I thought it was just another heavy breather. It's early in the day for a heavy breather but who am I to say what hours a pervert should keep."

"Uh, huh? I mean sure. I mean, I didn't get a chance to say good night last night."

She chuckled again and I felt myself grin. "You didn't? What do you call what you did on the porch?"

"That doesn't count does it?"

"What does that mean?" Her tone shifted. "Do you want to take it back or something?

"Huh? No. No, not at all. I didn't mean it like that. I was trying to make a joke, you know about not actually saying the words 'good night Claire', that's all."

She didn't chuckle but her voice was softer. "Good because I thought it was a great 'good night Claire' you big dork."

My grin returned. "Really?"

"Really."

Mom came in, sacrificing her bowling on the altar of her curiosity. She pretended to wash her plate. Well, she actually did wash her plate, not pretend to wash it, but she pretended washing her plate was why she came into the kitchen. That task completed, she pretended she wanted to know if I wanted her to make me something for lunch. Then wanted to know if I was talking to Claire, and how the prom was, did I dance, did I remember to save my boutonnière to press, was the food good, kids weren't drinking or doing dope were they. I finally got her to agree it would be easier if I told her after I was off the phone.

When I got back to Claire she was chuckling again. "Your mom must have talked to my mom already. I got the same barrage of questions, almost in the same order."

"Yeah, maybe." I was more nervous than when I called to ask her to go to prom with me. Then I was pretty sure then she would say "no", now I had my hopes up. "Hey, the reason I was calling was to see if you wanted to go see a movie or something tonight? I asked for the weekend off, so I won't be flipping burgers tonight. Or tomorrow either, we could go tomorrow if tonight isn't good for you."

"Tonight's good. What do you want to see?"

That one stopped me in my tracks. I hadn't thought that far out. Idiot.

"Uh, we don't get the paper so I don't know what time anything is playing. Do you have today's paper?"

"Sure, let me look."

Mom hollered from the front room. "You know that's a long distance call don't you?"

"Hey Claire, can I call you back in fifteen?"

"No."

My heart sank.

"I'll call you. Fair's fair."

"Cool. Talk to you in a bit."

After I hung up I counted to ten. I was still pissed so I made myself a fried bologna sandwich and ate it while I waited for Claire's call.

"Why don't you sit down and watch TV with me?" Mom's voice had shed its hectoring tone and assumed the vaguely disappointed tone of one who has been unfairly slighted. God, she was good at that. She was a great mom but holy smokes she could be a pain.

"Claire's calling back with the movie times," I half mumbled, half shouted around a half chewed wad of Wonder bread and bologna.

"You going out again tonight? You need to be saving as much as you can for school."

"I am. I already have a work study job lined up. It's fine." I paused, "and I can pay for the long-distance calls. Just add up the charges when the bill comes."

"Oh honey, don't be silly. I don't mind about the calls."

Since even mom could not see through walls I allowed myself to roll my eyes at that one.

"Don't sweat it mom. I know it adds up. I'll take care of it."

The phone rang before she could answer. It never occurred to me to let it ring a couple times, to demonstrate I wasn't standing there waiting for it to ring. I grabbed it up before the first ring finished.

"Hello."

"Holy cats I don't think the phone even rang."

"Oh, uh I was just walking into the kitchen to get some lunch."

"Oh, uh okay." She chuckled and I wondered if she was laughing at me. "Have you seen 'The China Syndrome' yet? I haven't. It's at the Lexington."

The Lexington was the dollar movie theater. I had seen my first R-rated movie there, hoping to see some boobs. It was a B grade, barely, sci fi thriller called "The Incredible Melting Man". It did have boobs but only one scene. The boobs were disappointing but when the melting man did in fact melt and got hosed down the drain that was kind of boss.

"No, I haven't seen it. Is that what you want to see?"

"I thought about 'Alien' but I wasn't sure I wanted to see a scary movie on a first date."

"It's supposed to be good." I offered. "Where's that one at?"

"Chesterfield. 7:00 or 9:15"

"If we go to the 7:00 I should pick you up a little after 6:00. That cool?"

"Yup, see you around 6:00."

"You want to get something to eat first?"

"Sam, you spent a fortune on dinner last night. The movie will be fine."

As if to make me feel better I heard her mom's voice. "Claire, do you know what they charge for long-distance?"

It was my turn to chuckle. "See you later. Bye."

Her "bye" was a bit sharp but I knew it wasn't aimed at me.

At the risk of giving advice I promised not to give, a scary movie is a good first date. She wore cut off jean shorts and a top with halter straps and spent most of the movie clutching my arm. That is still one of my all-time favorite movies.

Two weeks after that -- poof - we were high school grads. I worked my ass off at a fast food joint to save money for school. Because mom had no income other than my dad's civil service pension, I qualified for financial aid, this being her sole contribution to the funding of my education. However, the financial aid didn't put spending money in my pocket. As a dependent of a deceased veteran, the VA would be bestowing a grand total of $48 a month upon me, until I turned twenty-one that is. That might keep me in Cokes.

Turbidus
Turbidus
1,082 Followers