One.
Packing for a wilderness camping trip can be a pain. The balance between weight and utility is different for every trip. In this particular instance, eight of us were going into the mountains in early summer. I wanted to trim the weight I was carrying enough to take along my guitar. We were split into four pairs. Each pair would share the burden on certain items. For example. If I took my guitar, my partner might carry most of our food. I was draconian in cutting unneeded weight, I really wanted to take my guitar.
I’m James Thompson, Jim to my friends, and Jimmy to my girlfriend. I’m one of those average fellows who never stand out. Five foot ten, 165 pounds, dark hair, hazel eyes. Main interests: girls, guitar, girls, wilderness camping, and GIRLS. My current girlfriend, and partner for this trip, was Cathy Foss. Cathy was a petite Blond. Five foot one, 120 pounds, green eyes, and a very nice figure. I thought she was pretty.
I weighed my gear and gave Cathy a call. She was a couple of pounds over her preferred limit and I was a little under. After a little discussion we agreed on what things of hers I would carry.
The rest of the group was two other pairs of high school kids and one pair of collage students to act as advisers and chaperons. We were on the road in the early predawn darkness riding in Ben’s huge van. Ben Johnson was one of our advisers, tall and muscular, he was one of those guys that seemed to draw pretty girls out of the woodwork. His partner was a new girl that I didn’t recognize and he didn’t introduce. She was a tiny dark haired girl that looked like cheerleader. She wasn’t dressed for camping. She clung to Ben like a leach, and ignored the rest of us.
Our group were members of our high school Outdoor Adventure Club. Besides myself and Cathy, there was Donald, don to friends, Georgen, an athlete without the usual ‘jock’ arrogance. Gloria Romero, a buxom dark haired girl with a hint of Spanish ancestry. Piotr, Peter or Pete to friends, Sokolov looked like that cartoon character with the big dog, he had a keen interest in botany, focused on things that could be smoked. Robin Randal was a slender brunette who managed to look sexy no matter how she dressed. We spent the trip talking in the back of the van about school, new camping equipment, and popular music.
We reached the trail head, in the parking lot of a tourist lodge by about nine. We were busy getting our gear together and double checking everything when Ben called me away from the group.
“You’ve been on this trail before, right?” he asked
“Three or four times.” I replied, “It’s one of my favorite hikes.”
“Good.” he said, “I want you to lead the group, something has come up.”
He nodded toward the unfamiliar girl, who was waiting for Ben impatiently.
“But you’re supposed to . . .” I started to say.
“Just behave yourselves.” He cut me off, “I’ll be here when you come back down.”
He turned and joined the girl. They walked toward the lodge, arm in arm. This was a potential problem. By the club rules, we weren’t supposed to camp out without at least one adult along. Ben was supposed to be that adult for this outing. But I wasn’t about to miss out on this trip. I joined the other kids.
“Looks like we’re on our own, guys.” I said, nodding at the retreating figures of Ben and his girl, “Our trusty chaperon is off to get laid.”
Their voices rose in a babble of disappointed complaints until I cut them off.
“Look, I’ve been up this trail a few times.” I said, “I know the way and we’re not a bunch of camping noobs. If you don’t want to go up, stay here in that campground.”
The lodge maintained a small commercial campground for people who wanted to camp out with bathrooms showers and convenience stores close by. It was only a dollar or two per night.
Everybody had been looking forward to this trip as much as I. They agreed to accept my lead. We shouldered our gear and headed up the trail. It was a great day for a hike, clear sunny skies and a mild cool breeze to keep us comfortable.
Three hours and ten miles up the trail we stopped for lunch and a rest next to a tumbling stream This was approximately halfway to our planned camping area. About an hour later I got them back on their feet and we continued up the trail. The upper part of the trail was a little steeper and slower, but we were at our planned campsite next to a crystal clear alpine lake by four thirty. Unsurprisingly, we had the area to ourselves.
We dropped our gear and set to the chores necessary to set up our camp, gathering deadwood, setting up tents, repairing the fire pit, and other minor matters. Dinner was a fairly tasty freeze-dried stew. After cleaning up we lounged around the fire. I was noodling around with my guitar, to tired to play an actual song. Sometime after full dark we drifted away from the fire to our tents. Cathy and I were the last to go, when the fire had burned down to a few coals. I banked the fire, burying the coals in ashes, then we went to our tent. We had the only two man tent, everybody else had tiny one man backpacking tents. None of the them were in a relationship with each other. The pairing was a matter of convenience, mostly for keeping loads fairly even.
Cathy and I had planned our gear carefully. The larger tent without it’s carry sack weighed a little less than two of the tents the other’s used. Our sleeping bags were a pair of summer weight flat bags that could be zipped together and weighed no more, individually, than the mummy bags that most people used. Zipped together they made a large comfortable bed big enough for Cathy and I to cuddle. For the benefit of anyone watching, we took turns changing into sweats, normal sleepwear for campers. But once in the tent and in the double bag, the sweats came off and we had a chance to enjoy ourselves as long as we were quiet. Tonight we were tired from the hike. We made out for a while and drifted off to sleep.
In the morning I put my sweats back on and crawled out to get the fire going and get water heating for instant coffee or cocoa. I had a habit of waking early when camping and felt it only reasonable that I take on this chore. Cathy crawled out to join me dressed in hiking shorts and tee shirt with her sweatshirt against the morning chill. The others soon joined us. Breakfast was powdered eggs with something that, after soaking, made a fair substitute for crumbled bacon.
Normally, our adult would suggest activities, but he wasn’t here. Even when I camp alone, I like to stir around. Even in places I’d been before, there was always something new to find.
There were edible pants in the area that could be used to stretch our supplies. In pairs, we held a wilderness scavenger hunt, searching the area until noon to see who could bring in the most stuff and most varied finds. Don and Gloria won that contest, returning with edible mushrooms, burdock pods, wild onions and some other stuff. Pete and Robin came back with a small pile of tiny wrinkled mushrooms and a collection of leaves that he claimed were natural medicines. Cathy and I had spent most of that time making out on a bed of pine needles but did bring in pine cones that would yield pine nuts when carefully heated over the fire
After lunch we went swimming for a short time. The lake was fed by snow melt and was icy cold. Without our chaperons, we were off the leash and in a bit of a manic mood. Several times the idea of having an orgy came up and was shot down. Pete crushed and boiled some of his leaves into a greenish tea that he drank while eating one of his mushrooms. He reported that the combination had a mild effect, making colors appear brighter and everything to be a little more in focus.
Since the mixture hadn’t made him sick or poisoned him, we all tried it. I was last in line ending up with a mushroom larger than the rest and the dregs of the tea full of pulped leafy bits. After a few minutes I noticed the brighter colors That Pete had mentioned. Rocks and leaves and sticks became amazingly detailed. The last thing I remembered was a largish pill resting on my open palm.
The next thing I knew was laying on my sleeping bag and hearing quiet voices. Cathy was sitting beside me, looking worried. We crawled out of the tent and I was immediately the center of attention.
“Hey dude.” said Pete, “How do you feel?”
“Fine, except my mouth tastes like a swamp.” I said, wondering why everyone else looked worried too.
“You, like, went to sleep.” said Pete, “We couldn’t wake you up.”
“We were wondering how big of a fire we needed to get the rangers attention so we could get you airlifted out,” explained Cathy, “You had us really worried.
I dipped some coffee out of the kettle by the fire and rinsed my mouth. The brighter colors were gone. I looked around, realizing that the sun was about to set.
“How long was I out?” I asked.
“At least six hours.” said Don, “That’s from when we found you passed out.”
“I feel fine, now.” I said.
I saw about a serving worth of stew in a pot by the fire. They had saved it for me. I ate it out of the pot rather than dirty a bowl. As the sky shaded into a deep purple, Cathy brought me my guitar. I played for them, mostly folk songs, and they sang along when they knew the words. I was thinking I needed to tune the instrument when I realized I was playing little embellishments that I had thought of but never actually played before.
“Dude.” said Pete, “ you got better.”
Gloria wondered aloud if I knew Classical Gas. I’d heard the piece, but never studied or played it. My fingers move on their own and before I knew what was happening, I heard the memorable opening notes coming from my guitar. I stopped and took a moment to tune the guitar then tried again. The music poured from my guitar into the still night air.
They all started making requests. Some I had to decline, but any piece I’d heard I could play. It was late and getting a little chilly and I was tired, even though I had slept a good potion of the day. Cathy led me to our tent. Making no effort to disguise the evidence of us sleeping together. She pealed me out of my clothes and got me into the bag, then stripped and slid in with me. I put my arms around her and held her, enjoying her warmth against me.
I ran a hand down her side. She jumped and giggled. After a few more caresses, she moaned softly and pulled me closer. Somehow, I was hitting all her spots just right. She let go of me and burrowed down into the bag, taking me in her mouth. Her tongue swirled around the tip for a while then worked her way down the shaft. I could feel her gag slightly before she pulled her head back. I reached down to gently guide her as she sucked me and was pleased when I felt her take me deeper into her mouth. She sucked me with into her throat, bumping my balls with her chin. I could feel the muscles in throat squeezing and milking me. It didn’t take her long to get me off. With the first jet of cum she sucked me into her throat and hold me there while unloaded down her throat. She pulled back slowly, licking my prick and swallowing along the way.
“Was that good?” she whispered, “I’ve never managed deep throat before.”
“It was fucking great.” I whispered back.
I pushed her away just enough to get my hands on her breasts, squeezing gently and fingering her nipples. She moaned quietly, deep in her throat. My hands roamed over her body, tracing lightly the edges of her ears and the line of her jaw. With each touch she would gasp or moan or groan. Her hips thrust against my groin, demanding. I moved between her legs and pushed into her in one slow continuous motion. Her back arched as she hissed through clenched teeth. A few more strokes brought her to climax, muffling her voice with the small pillow that she used when camping. When her orgasm subsided and she could breathe, I began to pump into into her eager slit. Her hips rose to meet each stroke. She locked her mouth on mine, muffling her cries as she grunted, groaned and squealed softly through orgasm after orgasm. I reached my own climax, finally, flooding her with cum as she went limp under me. She spent some time recovering
“Wow.” she whispered, “That was amazing, I thought I was going to pass out.”
“You are most welcome.” I said quietly, “ I gotta pee.”
I covered her, pulled on my sweats and crawled out to use our designated boy’s latrine then went to see if there was still hot water for coffee. The coals still glowed through the ashes and the kettle still held hot water. I added wood to the fire and settled against a log, thinking. From the darkness I could hear the others,apparently taking advantage of our missing chaperon and and the privacy of the outdoors to make love with a partner of convenience. I wasn’t surprised, the quiet and fresh air always made me a little horny, even when alone. Some thing, in some way, had changed, I had never been able to arouse Cathy so easily before, she had never cum for me like that either. I thought back, and was surprised by my own performance. I’m not ashamed to admit that I don’t have the staying power of a porn star, but tonight I was able to continue far beyond my usual limits. Then there was the thing with the guitar. It had to something about the plants and mushrooms Pete had gathered, but everyone had eaten and drunk his brew. I was the only one who passed out. I remembered something about a pill, but there was no context in that memory, no way to tell if the memory was from this morning or last year.
Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew Cathy had dressed and was coming to join me. She sat next to me leaning on my shoulder.
“It wont alert the rangers, but I think we started our own fire of sorts.” she said, quietly.
I grinned at her and nodded, sipped coffee.
“What were you doing to me?” Cathy asked, “Every time you touched me, I got more turned on.”
“I really don’t know.” I said quietly, “It just seemed like the thing to do at the time. Just like if I touch you here,” I touched two spots on her throat, lightly, “you’ll cum again.”
She gasped and jumped, then settled into place breathing rapidly.
“Stop that!” she hissed, placing her hand on her throat.
“That’s the last of it for now.” I said absently, “It was a very right there, just then, kind of thing.”
“Huh?” she said, “Can you explain that?”
“What?” I said turning my attention to her, “Oh, the touch thing. A few minutes sooner or a few minutes later, I would have had to touch you someplace else. After about an hour it wouldn’t have worked at all.”
I stood up, topped up my cup and took the kettle down to the lake to refill. I replaced the kettle on the stones close to the fire and added another piece of wood. Our friends came drifting in to the fire from the darkness. They all looked a little embarrassed. I remembered that they we just friends, partners of convenience.
“We heard you guys,” Don began and trailed off.
“It was like we were in heat.” continued Robin.
“A few more minutes.” said Pete, testing the kettle with a fingertip.
We sat in silence, each in our own thoughts. After a while the water was hot and they fixed their coffee. Cathy had cocoa, she was the only one who didn’t drink coffee in the evening. Half an hour went by, cups were emptied and set aside.
“I think we shouldn’t tell anyone about this trip.” said Gloria.
“The school would probably disband the club if we did.” said Donald.
“So Ben, the horn dog, gets a pass on leaving us on our own.” Said Pete.
“We still have two days before our ride home.” said Robin.
“I predict that this will be a trip to remember.” said Cathy.
There was a murmur of quiet agreement. We rinsed our cups, banked the fire and wandered back to our tents.