Hi there readers, thanks for checking out the second part of this story!
This one won't be as many parts as my previous effort, it's a fun lark that I hope people get a laugh out of. Comments and constructive criticism are always welcome (even if I don't respond to it or act on it, I still read it).
Enjoy!
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As night slowly fell on the campsite, we all were getting tired, and more importantly, drunk. Between the six of us, we were already knocking our way through the front half of the second two-four we'd brought. Baxter was happily bouncing back and forth between Ange and Stef's laps, occasionally gracing Sal and David with a big cuddle at the price of some food, and the conversation was flowing. The wind had picked up and the scent of fall rain was creeping into the air when Mike and Ange called it a night.
Sal and David decided to have one more beer and chatted longer. David, always a nice guy, often a slightly inappropriate guy, started asking me questions. "So are you going to stay in that house of yours, Wyatt?"
I laughed as Sal slapped him on the arm. "Yeah, it's okay, Sal, it's okay. Yeah, I'll probably stay there. I have family nearby, friends. It's paid off, I like it a lot, that's a big thing."
Chastened, David looked apologetic, "sorry, was that too much? I don't know what the lines are about being a widower. I'm sorry."
I waved him off. "It's okay. If I don't want to talk about something, I'll say. People are gonna be curious. It's normal."
Stefanie piped up from across the fire, a little tipsy, scratching Baxter's jowls, "you'll be okay," she smiled a little lopsidedly, "handsome guy like you. Allll the ladies will want some."
David looked at me with an exaggerated 'oh my god', and Sal piped up, "are you talking to Wyatt or Baxter?" There was an edge to it, a defensiveness on my behalf.
Baxter wuffed contentedly, and Stef smiled at him, "def'nitely the dog." We laughed, the tension broken, and David dragged Sal away to their tent.
The air was getting colder, and I was beginning to feel the odd raindrop on my face as sounds started to waft to us from up the hill where Mike and Ange's tent was. They were unmistakably the sound of a woman having an increasingly good time, muffled, but obvious. Stef smiled.
"Wooo, get it girl," she cheered in a whisper, looked over at me, and laughed, "I should prob'ly go to bed. It's just gonna be awkward hearing that an' sitting here all single."
I smiled and summoned Baxter with a quick 'tsh-tsh' noise through my teeth. "Yeah, I'm with you there." Looking at her little tent across the clearing, I pointed. "Do you need anything? It's gonna get cold. I have a spare blanket if you want?"
Somewhere nearby, the deep sounds of orgasmic gasping fluttered across then space between us, and I could hear Salman's chuckle as he and David got settled.
Stef waved her hand as she stood, grabbing a bag from her tent, "no no, I'm good an' you're off-limits."
I shook my head as she headed off to the washroom structure between the sites, and doused the fire. Lights filtered through the trees to me and I walked Baxter between them for us both to find a spot to pee. I brushed my teeth with some bottled water and tucked in as the rain started to patter down. From the upper part of the campsite, I could hear Ange and Mike's good time climax, only to start over soon after, joined by Sal and David's own sounds of enjoyment. Neither couple seemed to be all that concerned about keeping quiet.
"Just you an' me again, little guy," I told Baxter. He sat in his little bed watching me, wearing the ridiculous little sweater that Kayley had always made me put him in on cold nights. He curled up in his bed and lay down in it.
The tent was fairly sizeable. We'd splurged on a four-person a few years ago, which actually means two adults comfortably, so we'd have room for Baxter and our things. It wasn't particularly big, really, but it felt like a cavern with just he and I in there. I'd laid out the double-thick foam camping pad we had, then our big couples sleeping bag on top. I'd have to buy a new one if I was going to do much solo camping. It'd all been clean and packed away with Kayley's neat folds last year when I found it in the Rubbermaid, stacked on the wooden shelves in our small basement. Even the extra blankets, bought for a winter trip never taken, were piled nearby in case the night got too cold. I closed my eyes, trying to sleep, but couldn't quite find my way to it.
The wind was picking up outside along with the rain, and I flicked on the lantern to read for a bit. I knew I'd never be able to sleep with the sounds of Ange's moans and the wet slapping of Mike into her drifting down the hill. Worse, Sal was groaning out there in his tent, doubling the sounds of sexual enjoyment. I thought of my encounter with Cam and felt immediately guilty as my cock stirred, and I closed my eyes, trying to think of Kayley, only to have Stef, wet red curls bursting around her as those big, bouncy tits fighting against her bathing suit earlier fill my imagination.
I pressed my face into my copy of Revival. Even the King couldn't distract me from my own mind betraying pent-up horniness while my friends all fucked loudly nearby. I prayed for the wind and rain to pick up as I tried to focus on the book. Eventually, I was able to get into the story and let it fade away for a bit.
As if I'd offended fate, the rain started coming down hard, the fly on my tent shaking above me. Baxter whined, looking up in the faint light of the lantern. I reached out, scratching his little chin. "S'okay buddy, we're okay. I got us a good spot." Tree branches overhead were thick evergreen, nothing that could fall on us in the night and damage the tent, a bit of a rise behind us to help limit the wind. I thought of Stef and her little single, grimacing as her breasts bounced in my mind's eye once again.
"FUCK!"
The wind howled, and I sat up, that'd been Stef, and she'd been close. "Fuck fuck fuck fucking shit oh goddamit," her voice trailed toward her tent. Holding a hand out so that Baxter knew to stay in his bed, I went to the flap of my tent and unzipped, looking out.
The rain was coming down hard now, and I could barely see the bright orange tent that Stef had set up. What I could see was a blur of orange moving crazily in the storm. Lightning flashed in the distance, and I saw her trying to grab the lines that held the tent down, her small backpack slung across her shoulders, her pyjama bottoms soaked. I could barely hear her shouting over the rain and wind.
Running out barefoot, the campsite now wet and muddy through the grass, I could see that her tent was caught in the wind, the space she'd set up on too open, and halfway underwater as the rain poured down the hill behind her. Stef was trying to grab the lines that were waving free in the air. As I reached her, the tent tore free and slipped from her hands into the lake.
