tagNovels and NovellasThe Great Outdoors Ch. 04

The Great Outdoors Ch. 04


This Chapter is a little light on the sex - you need to really have read the other chapters to get an idea of what's going on - enjoy!

Liz woke early the next morning. For a brief moment she suffered from short term memory loss, having no clue as to where she was or what she was doing there. But as she became accustomed to the orange surroundings she grinned and slowly sat up, the sheet slipping off of her as she did so.

Artie was still fast asleep beside her, breathing gently. He very rarely snored, which Liz knew was a real blessing. Her father still to this day could be heard on the other side of the house when he was at full volume, like a saw gnawing through a large log.

As she gazed at her gorgeous husband, watching his body rise slightly with every breath, the groggy memory of their quiet fight during the night came back to her. She felt ashamed and a little guilty, but resolved not to feel too bad about it. This was what marriage was all about, a little give and take. Artie just had to accept the fact that she was never going to be as wild an animal in bed as Inga obviously was.

Liz carefully moved off of the bed and, as quietly as she could, dressed herself in yesterday's clothes, unzipped the flap and stepped out into the bright early morning sunshine. The air was fresh and clean, she could feel it in her lungs. So much better than city air; already she was wondering why the hell she had ever moved to Sechs City in the first place. Still, she thought, as she zipped the flap back up and caught sight of her peaceful husband, it hadn't been all bad.

The birds in the trees around them had been singing for quite a while now. It was a glorious sound, and Liz closed her eyes, breathing in and out heavily, listening to the music in the air. Why couldn't all sound be as sweet as this?

Her eyes opened and she looked over her shoulder at the expensive tent next to her own shabby one. It had been difficult to ignore the obvious sounds of lovemaking during the night; Liz could sympathise with Artie on that level. She would have been lying too if she had said she hadn't felt a small dampness down below hearing those sounds.

She'd seen a few pornos in her time, mainly through Inga's persuasion. Whether or not the orgasms the (mostly) beautiful women had been having in those had been real or not wasn't the point. Liz still felt that, if her parents had been so good as to be so quiet that you would never have thought they ever made love, she should carry on with that tradition. For her, sex was an intimate, loving act between two people. If Inga wanted to live the way she did that was her choice and Liz could have no say in that; she respected that, the same was she hoped Inga respected the way she lived.

Maybe she should say something? Or would that make things a little uncomfortable? With her knowledge of Inga's intended break up with Paul maybe it would make things a little too uncomfortable. It was probably best to leave it.

It was another hour at least before anybody else stirred from the two tents. First Paul, looking as exhilarated as Liz felt about waking up in the forest, then Inga, who didn't look half as excited. Though she was still a little groggy, Liz had to hand it to her friend; she still somehow looked amazing first thing in the morning.

"Morning, Liz," said Paul happily.

"Coff-ee," croaked Inga. "Coffee please."

Liz laughed. "Okay," she said, "good morning to you two too. Let's give your girlfriend some coffee or she may not last the morning, let alone the day, Paul."

The last of the small collection of logs was placed in the small stone ring and the fire was started for a kettle of water. As it began to boil, Artie emerged from the orange tent, scratching the small hairs that had popped up across his chin. He wandered over to Liz and stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her loving on the neck.

"I'm sorry about last night," he whispered. "It was a little pathetic of me."

Liz smiled broadly and squeezed his arms. "We both were," she whispered back. "I'm sorry too."

"Hey, hey! Enough with the gross displays of public affection!" called Inga from over by the campfire.

"She can talk," murmured Artie quietly, causing Liz to giggle slightly.

After the much needed coffee and a quick breakfast of bacon sandwiches cooked over the fire, the four friends talked about their plans for the day. Inga wanted to chill out, claiming that her feet were still sore from their walk the previous day. Though Artie rolled his eyes at this, he admitted that he also felt like just a day of relaxing at the camp site would be perfect.

"Okay," said Paul, nodding. "Well, we can save the hiking up Peak One till tomorrow. Rest and relaxation it is. Although we are at some point going to have to get some more wood for the fire."

Artie stood up from his camping chair and brushed the bread crumps off his legs. "Well, why don't you and I go do that now and then it's out of the way?"

"Sounds like a plan," agreed Paul. "You girls be all right until we get back?"

Inga raised an eyebrow. "No, Paul, we're gonna hide in our tents from all the scary little creepy crawlies. We'll be fine, now go gather firewood like the cavemen you really are."

Paul laughed and grunted in response. "Come, Artie," he said gruffly. "We get wood. Make fire. Cook many things. Then bash pretty ladies on head and drag to cave."

Liz laughed out loud as Artie grunted in agreement. "Don't forget beer. Many bottles."




The girl woke slowly, coming to in an aftermath of strange, haunting dreams and dark memories she wished would just leave her alone. She had slept in her clothes, too tired to remove any clothing when she had eventually settled down for the night. For one brief second as she regained her sense of where she was, she thought she could feel Freddie's naked body between her legs; smell his hair; taste the back of his neck with her lips. But then she opened her eyes wider and found herself licking the rough material of her rucksack.

She sighed and sat up as best as she could in the small tent, not wanting to stretch too much for fear she would bring the whole thing down on top of her. She thought it was a miracle that it had stayed standing all through the night. It had taken longer to put up then she thought it would have; Freddie was the better person at these things. Still, now as she crawled out through the small entrance and into the warm air of the morning, she had to admire her handiwork and was impressed with herself.

The morning air was full of birdsong and a light breeze whistling through the trees; apart from that, there was silence. It was so peaceful, almost hypnotically so. The girl loved this time of the day when she was put here in the middle of nature. It was like she was the only human left alive on the planet.

But she wasn't. She knew that there was always a danger of someone coming along and discovering her here. Her chances were better in the forest, she knew that, but could she play with her luck anymore than she already had?

She wished Freddie was here with her; he would have known exactly what they had to do. He would have made her feel safer, calmer, more focussed. In his own special ways of course: sometimes by looking deep into her brown hazelnut eyes and speaking softly to her; or sometimes by making stupid jokes about their situation just to make her laugh; or sometimes...sometimes he would take her in his arms and make love to her, beautiful, gorgeous, thrilling love that would leave her breathless and make her feel loved.

Just remembering it made her skin buzz and her pussy tingle. She smiled sneakily to herself before reaching back into the tent and pulling out the dirty sleeping bag she had been using.

She lay down upon it and closed her eyes, listening to the forest around her, as she gently stroked her hands across her young body. She imagined they were Freddie's hands caressing her, exploring her. They travelled up and under her white top, finding her bare breasts; small, round, perfect 34Cs. The nipples stood up as she teased them, hard and tingling. She sighed as she stroked them, imagining Freddie's tongue all over them, devouring them.

She raised a free hand and placed her middle finger in his mouth, sucking at it and gently nibbling the skin before the hand moved away from one set of lips and towards another. She unbuttoned the single button on the top of her shorts and without undoing the zip pushed the hand under the material and under the pair of white panties towards the increasing dampness.

The girl moaned as her fingers entered her, thrilling to the feel of flesh, any flesh, inside of her. Her thumb found the top of her mound, felt the small nub of her clit, sending volts of pleasure coursing through her body. She gasped at each one, a large smile on her lips as she felt the continuing satisfaction. It all felt so good, so fucking good...


The two men set off down a path that Paul said would take them towards an area that had been designated for firewood. For a while they walked in silence, their minds on their mission rather than anything else.

Then Artie broke the silence. "So you and Inga still seem to be getting along okay. I hope you don't mind me saying this, but I'm actually a little surprised."

Paul grinned. "That I've lasted this long? I think I am a little, too. It's been great, it really has."

They continued to walk through the trees, the peaceful sounds of nature all around them. The path was easy; incredibly flat at times, which made it a lot more pleasant to walk along than the trail they had taken the other day.

"Actually," Paul went on, a little hesitantly, as if he was unsure of what Artie's reaction would be, "it's been a lot more than great. It's been the greatest. Ever."

Artie stopped in his tracks and looked at his best friend curiously. "What are you saying?"

"I'm in love with her," Paul shrugged. "Didn't think it would happen, but I'm absolutely crazy about this girl. And it's not just because the sex is great, if that's what you're thinking..."

"It wasn't actually," said Artie a little hurriedly, remembering with a little embarrassment what he had heard and pleasured himself to the previous night.

Paul studied his friend closely. "Are you okay with this?" he asked. "I know you've never exactly been fond of Inga..."

Artie sighed. "Paul, I'm happy for you. Really, I am. But it's just that Inga Jennings isn't the kind of girl I expect to see in ten years time settled down with a house in the suburbs, a husband and two kids. I just don't want you to get your hopes up, okay?"

Paul nodded. "I appreciate it, dude. But I think I can handle it. I mean, I've done it before, right?"

"Yeah, and you were a total mess because of it."

"But it taught me some things. I think that, worst case scenario, Inga doesn't feel the same way, I won't go down the same road as I did last time. I'll make sure I don't."

Artie nodded. "Well, I'm there for you, man. But I think it's really great."

There was an embarrassed silence between the two of them.

"See, this is why dudes don't talk about this kind of stuff," said Paul finally.

But Artie stuck his hand up in the air, his eyebrows raised, puzzled. "Shush," he said. "Listen."

Paul frowned and concentrated on the air around them. There was nothing strange or unfamiliar that he could hear.

"I can't hear anything..." he began to say, but Artie hushed him again and pointed somewhere off to the left of where they were standing. Paul sighed and listened again. Now he heard it; it was a little faint, but it was definitely not something he'd heard before in the forest. It sounded almost like someone in pain. It was either that or...

Artie set off in the direction of the sound, a somewhat reluctant Paul following him. The noise got louder as they went further on, and it became more obvious that the cries they were hearing were not of pain but of intense pleasure.

Suddenly Artie stopped and gestured for Paul to do the same. They were standing behind a thick row of tree stumps, but there, in the middle of a small circle, right in front of them and completely unbeknownst to them, was a gorgeous young girl, with long black hair. She was sitting up slightly, one hand in her beautiful hair, the other buried underneath her somewhat dirty looking denim shorts.

Paul and Artie's eyes widened as they watched the girl playing with herself, bringing herself to the brink of some blissful utopia. She was crying with pleasure now, so incredibly loudly; at some points she would spit out the words, "Yes! Oh...oh fuck, yes!" and, once or twice, "Oh, Freddie! Yes! Freddie!"

Artie felt his cock bulging; he felt an incredible urge to release it into the air and jerk himself off furiously to this beautiful sight, but he swallowed and put his hands firmly in the back pockets of his jeans. Paul and he were close friends, but they weren't that close that Paul needed to see his member. Besides, he'd had enough of that for one holiday.

Paul was having similar problems controlling himself. This had to be one of the most beautiful girls he has ever seen. She couldn't have been older than early twenties, with such peachy skin, and that hair of us was so dark, the darkest shade he'd ever seen. It hung low, lying around her on the purpled sleeping bag as the cries became higher and higher, less audible. Her face screwed up tight, so obviously on the brink, before one final almighty gasp and she collapsed back onto the ground, exhausted.

Both guys looked at each other.

"That," whispered Paul slowly, "is the hottest thing I've ever seen."

Artie nodded in agreement, but was starting to feel incredibly guilty. This was so wrong for him – what would happen if Liz found out? Worse still, what would happen if this girl found out they had been spying on her like a couple of peeping toms?

"Come on," he whispered back to his friend, who was stretching his neck to see if he could get an even better view of the comatose beauty. "Let's get out of here."

Paul rolled his eyes. "Fine, let's go."

They turned and took a few steps forwards.


Paul froze, eyes wide with shock. Artie's jaw dropped. They both looked down to see Paul's foot standing between two halves of a previously whole dry branch. Paul looked at Artie, panic in his whitening face. Should they make a run for it?


Too late.

The two men, sheepish and horrified at their discovery, turned to see the brunette girl standing behind them, arms folded, eyebrow raised.

"Hi," she said, shortly.

Artie's mouth moved like a goldfish. What the hell were they going to do now?

"We didn't see anything," Paul blurted out.

Artie screwed his eyes tight shut. "Smooth," he muttered through gritted teeth at his unhappy looking friend.

"What didn't you see?" asked the girl. It was almost nonchalant, casual. There was no anger in her voice, no fear, no hurt. It took both men by surprise. Again they were at a loss for words.

Finally the girl laughed and held out her hand. "God, where are my manners, huh? I'm Rachel. You are...?"

For a brief moment both men were stunned into silence, before Artie snapped back to reality and, taking her hand, replied, "Er, Artie. Artie Seymour. This is Paul Taylor, my best buddy."

"Pleasure to meet you," said Paul, grinning like a madman.

"Likewise," said Rachel, returning the smile. "Are you two alone or...?"

"Oh, no, no, no," said Artie hurriedly. "No, our other halves are back at our camp. Juts the four of us. Little holiday. It's actually my wife and I...it's our first anniversary, that's why we're out here." He didn't know why he'd blurted out that particular pieces of info; possibly mainly for himself to try and cool down.

"Aw, that's sweet. Congratulations!"

"Er, thanks."

"Yeah, his wife and my girlfriend are back at camp," repeated Paul, making sure not to put too much emphasis on the word girlfriend unless it would sound too obvious. "We were just out collecting some firewood."

"Really? I know a great place that's not that far from here. Think it's in that direction," Rachel said, pointing back towards the way the guys had come from. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's right. I know this forest pretty well."

"Me too," said Paul. "I'm actually training to be a ranger here."

"No kidding, that's so cool."

How old is she, thought Artie? She looks quite young, not in her teens though; she talks like a young person. God, I feel so old now!

"You want me to show you where it is?" she asked helpfully. "It's just me so I'm not leaving anyone behind or anything."

Something jarred in Artie slightly. "Would that be so wrong?" he asked her.

"No, not at all," she said, still smiling good-naturedly. "But you never know what's in the forest, do you?"


Inga was sitting in one of the camping chairs, catching the morning rays; shades on her face, wearing her tight denim shorts from yesterday and a plain white bra over her small breasts. Liz was sitting next to her, her paperback novel in her hands, but her mind was concentrating on other things.

"Artie and I had a bit of an argument last night," she admitted finally.

"I thought you might," replied her best friend. "He was in a bit of a mood all day, wasn't he?"

"I don't know why. He seems okay today. It's weird."

Inga shrugged. "Men. They think we're complicated? I reckon men are actually so simple to understand we actually take it for granted half the time and make them more complicated than they actually are!"

Liz nodded, deep in thought. She began to toy with her key necklace; she hadn't taken it off since her and Artie's anniversary meal. That had been two nights ago. It had all seemed so much better two nights ago.

"I think I know why he was so moody," she said slowly. "I think it's got something to do with...sex."

Inga raised the shades off of her eyes and stared at her friend in amazement. "I've known you three years, Liz Seymour, and I believe this is the first time a conversation between us about sex has been started by someone other than myself."

Liz smiled slightly. "Well, out of the two of us, you're certainly the most experienced?"

"Are you calling me a slut?"

"No, but...do you think you're like a...what's the word...nymphomaniac?"

Inga sat up. "A sex addict? You think I'm a sex addict?"

"Well, yeah. No! I don't know..."

"Isn't every woman one of those?" asked Inga, taking off her shades fully now. "How could we not be? When else do you ever feel more pleasure than you've ever felt in your life before?"

"When you're in love," replied Liz quietly.

Inga grunted a little. "Sorry, hun, but until I've tasted it for myself, I can't possibly comment."

Liz was starting to get a little annoyed now. Maybe it was the heat that was making everyone she cared about so irritable? "Look, all I'm saying is...all right, take last night for example."

"Last night?" asked Inga innocently.

"Come on, Inga; they could have heard you two going at it up on Peak One last night."


"So...? Inga!" Liz lowered her voice a little. "You told me on Friday you were going to break up with Paul, and then you go and have the loudest, most passionate sex I've ever heard with him."

"Did it turn you on?"

Liz's eyes widened. "What?"

"Did we turn you on?" asked Inga seriously, looking at her friend square in the face now. "When you heard us fucking our brains out – when you heard me moaning. Did it turn you on? 'Cos I gotta tell you, Liz, honey; knowing that you and husband dearest could hear everything that was going on just made it even hotter for me. It can't not have affected you in any other way than that, could it?"

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