The Great Outdoors Ch. 03

Now Liz looked pissed off. "That's bullshit, Artie. They're our freinds - our best friends. You're just sulking 'cos you can't get your own way once again. Just show me a little respect; you know how I feel about this kind of thing."

Artie got up and looked at her, shaking his head. "But why, Liz? Why do you feel so uncomfortable when it's me? When you know I'll never ever hurt you no matter how far we take things?"

Liz snapped her book shut. "You just don't understand," she replied quietly.

"You're right, I don't. I don't have a fucking clue." He unzipped the flap to the tent.

"Now where are you going?" she asked him, exasparated.

"To cool off."

"Great idea! Fuck off!"

*****

They were both naked now, their bodies entwined. It felt so glorious, thought Paul, to be inside the woman he loved. They moved quickly, the heat from their bodies matching the heat all around them. Inga whimpered as he thrust himself inside of her, his hardness hitting everywhere that felt so right. This was exactly what she had been missing earlier in the morning, when her fingers had being a poor substitute. This was pure satisfaction.

She kissed him passionately again, their tongues exploring, bumping each other, before she quickly pulled herself way from him and turned onto her front, raised up onto her knees. Quickly he was inside her again, up right on his own legs. The sound of his flesh slapping onto hers, the feel of her wetness drowning his member, so warm, so sticky.

She started to moan louder now, lost in the moment, forgetting that they were so close to their two friends. Paul didn't stop her; in the rather cruel, selfish way that men think when all they're feeling is desire and lust, he counted it as a tiny revenge against Artie's comments earlier. He knew his friend wouldn't be experiencing anything like this right now.

An overwhelming desire to unveil everything to her came at the worst possible time, but he had enough sense not to let it ruin this. Instead he said through gritted teeth as he pumped, "I love this, baby. Oh god, don't you just love this?"

Inga moaned in response. "Oh, fuck yes. Yes! Oh baby, I love...yes, yes, yes!"

*****

Standing out in the warm night air in his boxers, Artie fumed. How could he have been so fucking selfish? How could she be so stubborn? He was torn between the two. What they needed to do was talk about this, openly and honestly. But he couldn't help but feel it would be useless. She was set in her ways. There would be no changing her mind on this subject.

For the first time in a long time, Artie felt useless. He felt as if everything was spiralling out of control. He had the very uncomfortable feeling that he was in danger of losing the most amazing thing that had ever happened to him. He had to calm down and look at this rationally.

There was a noise from the green tent next to their orange one. No prizes for guessing what that was. From the sound of it, Paul was giving her a good seeing to. Artie couldn't help but grin: attaboy.

Absent-mindedly he began to move closer to the tent, listening to the sounds of the lovers' pleasure. Though he had never really like Inga's company much, as a down-to-earth guy he obviously could see how attractive she was. The stories he had heard from various sources about her performances in the sack had of course made him semi-curious.

Now he was a little shocked to find himself feeling aroused by what was happening in that tent. Somehow he got it into his head that what he was about to do would be a good idea.

He carefully tiptoed around the tent in a wide circle, so as not to be seen by the pair as a silhouette on their tent wall. He grabbed one of the collapsible camping chairs that was still sitting upright by the fireplace, peeled off his boxers and sat naked on the rough material of the seat. It felt good on his ass; kind of rough but in an oddly good way, like soft sandpaper.

He slowly started to run his hands all the way down the shaft of his stiffening cock, his eyes semi-closed, listening to the sounds of Inga's pleasure as they began to increase.

In his mind he wondered if Liz could hear all this? There was no way she couldn't. He fantasised now about what she could be doing. Has she been aroused by the sight of him naked, by his tender kissing? Her hands could now be exploring her body, under that tight white material, around her gorgeous breasts, her nipples like bullets. Her mouth could be as dry as his was right now as she tentatively reached under the girls boxers to find the wetness.

He began to work his hands faster, imagining Liz doing the same, as Inga started to moan and moan. He saw Liz's fingers enter her body, heard her gasp as she felt the sudden jolt of pleasure, saw them start slowly then quickly gather pace, in and out, in and out, her own imagination playing on the idea of him inside her.

Artie felt a familiar movement, gasped a little and slowed the pace down as he finished, half-attempting to make sure none of the hot white liquid ended up on the seat cover. Thankfully, Inga also sounded as if she was in the middle of a loud, finishing orgasm. As her cries died away into breathless pants, Artie relaxed into the seat, his eyes fully closed, his cock dripping onto the ground.

He must have dozed off for a few minutes, because when he opened his eyes again all was still and quiet. Getting up slowly, he pulled his boxers up from round his ankles and made his way back into the green tent as quietly as he could.

Liz was fast asleep. He watched her, her chest moving up and down in slow, quiet breaths. Was there a chance that his fantasies had been accurate? As he lay down next to her he couldn't help but feel her hand. It was bone dry.

*****

Inga was also fast asleep, thoroughly contented. Paul held her in his arms, happiness flooding him to the brim. He knew now this was exactly what he wanted for the rest of his life. This weekend he would tell her everything; he would tell her he loved her.