I moved to the Township, like everyone who moves there, under duress. I didn't have a lot of options. My wife had thrown me out. The kids took her side. Everyone took her side. It was warranted, don't get me wrong. In hindsight, I recognize that I made choices that did not lend themselves to a traditional marriage. We simply no longer resonated with one another. Instead of being honest about this, I fell into infidelity that quickly went sideways. Before I knew it, my family had shunned me. I was thrown out of my house. The drama spilled out of my domestic life and I was terminated from my employment. In this economy, any hope for a new job was nonexistent. I quite literally had nothing but the clothes on my back. Well, that and the box.
The Township was a ramshackle tent city full of disaffected souls who had fallen on hard times. It had once been a planned community, with streets and lots for single family homes. The faltering economy had dashed any hopes of completing the project, and it was abandoned when the developers folded. Hard times also created a crisis of people who were priced out of normal life, and many areas soon had tent cities spring up in response. The Township appeared seemingly overnight, and quickly grew. Charities stepped in to provide some semblance of infrastructure. Local government, cash-starved itself, could only stand back and watch, despite protests from nearby communities.
When I finally arrived at the Township, after a ten mile hike from my hometown, I didn't even have a tent. I had a box. I found it in a dumpster behind a strip mall, and I have no idea what it originally housed. The box was long and rectangular - vaguely coffin-shaped. My lanky frame had difficulty fitting inside, but I was able to manage it if I stayed in a fetal position. I figured that it was better than nothing, but I truly had no idea what I was doing. I never was much of an outdoorsman.
The main entrance was adorned with a large sign, fashioned out of a recycled forklift pallet. It proclaimed "Welcome to the Township," decorated with hand-painted flowers. The camp must have taken up 50 acres or more in total. It was surprisingly organized for such a collection of misfits and wayward souls. There were orderly lanes of tents, boxes, shanties, lean-tos, old vehicles, you name it. I wandered around aimlessly, trying to find an unoccupied space to set up my box. People were milling about, and they seemed generally happy, to my surprise. The scent of campfires and cooking meat hung in the air. The ever-present din of generators permeated everything, providing power for lights and other utilities. I was expecting a morose scene, reminiscent of a third world slum, but people were surprisingly clean and seemed friendly. Still, I was cautious. I had heard the stories of this place. I made a point not to interact with anyone beyond a smile and a nod. I could reevaluate once I got a better sense of the area.
As dusk approached, I found Shady Lane, as the crooked street sign proclaimed, and it wound its way into a wooded area that seemed quieter than the rest of the camp. That was fine by me. I was out of my element and certainly didn't want any trouble. A discreet space secluded from the crowd was exactly what I needed. Not far down the lane, I found a suitable spot and unfolded my box. There was a small blue tent next door with a smoldering campfire in front. The area seemed peaceful, and I was exhausted - physically, mentally and emotionally. I had no plan. My humdrum conservative existence had been upended so fully, and it felt as if I were in a surreal dream. For now, all I could do was hope that it wouldn't turn into a nightmare. I lay down in the cardboard shelter and closed the flaps, attempting to get whatever rest I could.
If I had been given the option, I would have minded my own business. God knows I tried. I heard two voices coming from the tent next door. A male voice intoned low, unintelligible words and a female voice responded with softer sounds. The intensity slowly grew, and tinges of passion began to creep into the voices. Soon, what they were doing became unmistakable. Soon after that, it became too much to ignore.
I heard grunts, moans, slaps, slurps, yelps, and so many more sounds that left me bewildered at how they could be doing that in such a small space. Well, bewildered and aroused. How long had it been since I got any action? Two months? Three?
I felt arousal begin to build within me. The animal intensity behind those voices was alluring. My erection became too much to ignore, and I finally gave in to my ape brain. I touched myself within the confines of my coffin, imagining the scene within the little tent. The voices grew louder. I heard leaves rustling. The commotion seemed to be getting closer. I lay still, hoping that I was imagining things. I felt a thud against my box, and my fantasy evaporated instantly, replaced by momentary panic. I hastily lifted the flaps and sat up.
A streetlight at the end of the lane dimly illuminated the scene. The blue tent, which was clearly made for children and not for the rigors of the elements, violently tossed and turned. The tent had been about ten feet away when I had closed the flaps of my box. Now it was pushing up against my shelter, and my weight inside the box was the only thing keeping it from traveling even further.
"Yes. Yes! YES! Right there, don't you dare stop, Edgar!"
The female voice quavered inside the tent, which was now simply a nylon bag with two writhing figures within. I was suddenly bowled over as the undulating mass fell onto both me and my home, and I felt a pang of loss when I heard a crunch and the sound of cardboard ripping. They were still going at it, seemingly unaware that I was underneath them, separated only by a thin layer of nylon. I felt hot breath in my face, panting with a fierce intensity.
My arms were pinned in front of me. My hand felt something soft against it. I reflexively squeezed, and it dawned on me that it was a breast, an ample one at that, the nipple hard against my palm. The absurdity of it all kept any hint of arousal at bay, though I would revisit this scene many times afterward in my mind. I deduced that the woman was being pounded hard from behind, and as such was being repeatedly shoved into me upon the flattened remains of my only possession.
The man growled and I felt more pressure on top of me. "Oh fuck, baby, here it comes!"
