My name is Sue, and my husband always tells me how much he loves me as I bring him his mug of coffee in the morning. When he's home on his days off, he spends much of his time fiddling around here and there and often would come up behind me and wrap his arms around my waist and pull me back against him, holding me snugly. I really love that. He's a good man, and I do my best to show him how much I love and appreciate him. He's sixty-two now, I'm in my late fifties, and I love my life with him.
Late last summer, my husband got the big idea that we should go to our local mountains and do some camping. I, on the other hand, was very hesitant to even consider it because neither of us had ever gone camping before.
Well, Nick (that's my husband) got some wild hair up his butt about it and was determined that we should go and experience the great outdoors. For a while, I was upset, but I had always endeavored to make him happy, so this time was no exception, and we went camping. And by the time we were packed up and ready to head home, I could hardly wait for our next camping trip. Let me share my story, and you'll understand why.
My husband had become one of those devout Christian men after we had been married for a spell. I did my best to support him as a good wife should, but I wasn't nearly as dedicated. I say devout... Well, sort of. Let me explain. My husband has always been a slender-built guy at about five foot ten and around a hundred and seventy or seventy-five pounds. He can handle himself for the most part, and physically, he looks well-built and strong. He's no fem, and he definitely walks with a very masculine stride.
My husband is just a city boy at heart and not the "Hunter killer" type he resembles. Despite his lack of killer instinct, I do love him dearly nonetheless. He's no slouch. All that being what it is, he's found a great deal of comfort and support in the church. There, he's very much accepted as he is and, indeed, seems to be thriving in that setting amongst the other men.
Nick and I have been married for well over thirty years. We've been happy, and I've been very comfortable with our marriage. He's a good man and has provided for our family quite well, I must admit, and things have been great. But just as with every marriage, there have been bumps along the way, some have been rather large. Together, we have overcome the vast majority of problems and pressed on with our lives. Save one thing: his intimacy issues. Nick is a premature ejaculator and a rather meat and potatoes type of lover. To his credit, his balls are huge, and his penis is just this side of seven inches, yet rather thick, but for some reason, he's very self-conscious about himself when around other men. As if he didn't measure up, I really don't get why. Although I suspect his anxiety stems from his inability to last more than a few minutes before cuming. Embracing this was never a major concern for me.
Though I've never really had any complaints myself, he's always managed to fuck me sufficiently. I've tried to reassure him that his performance has always been more than adequate. But yet... When it comes to sex, he and I have had to learn to satisfy each other in many other ways besides full penetration.
When a man has a problem with cuming too fast, there's a tendency to put off penetrative sex till after the woman has been brought to orgasm, hopefully several times. It's been this way for many years with us. Needless to say, I have an arsenal of dildos to satisfy my needs for thicker, longer, and prolonged pleasuring.
Nevertheless, there have been times when I have longed for the sustained pleasuring of a man that could fuck me proper. I've tried to hide those desires, but I would soon learn that I had failed miserably in that regard.
For a couple of months leading up to our trip, Nick had been seeing a therapist for his sexual anxiety. For the most part, this was his idea, though I was requested to attend an office visit once or twice. As a measure of his condition, my husband began to explore his sexual hang-ups to confront any latent fears of adventurous explorations. In lay terms, my husband began watching tons of porn, which went against his rigid religious practices.
I didn't mind it at all, for once, I didn't feel so guilty for having an overactive sexual imagination, but one could argue I was now guilty of encouraging him a little.
As a part of his therapy, he and I discussed some very sexual ideas, and we confronted some of our biggest sexual roadblocks. Through this, I learned a lot about his inner fears related to me.
I never knew how profoundly afraid he was that I would leave him for another man over his sexual performance and his perceived lack thereof. Though I had indeed fantasized about getting fucked by other men, I never really considered leaving him for one. We spent many hours in bed talking things through. Again, I would learn a lot about his sexual proclivities and interests.
As my husband worked through his issues, we explored new sexual ideas and acts. Interestingly enough, my willingness to do things in bed began to encourage him to explore things he was afraid to attempt for various reasons, some religious, some that he just felt I would think ill of him for suggesting. As a result, we were enjoying his exploration together.
I don't know why I didn't connect the two things, but it would turn out that going camping was simply a part of a grander fantasy that he decided to make real. I was being set up by him to cheat, as it were, unbeknownst to me. And I took the bait, believing I was simply taking advantage of the situation he put me into. My church-going husband was turning to the dark side, and I didn't even know it.
But I would come to revel in his newfound deviance in due time.
So, over several weeks, my husband put together our camping expedition. He looked into the full, "Out in the wilderness" option and decided it to be too involved a project just to gear up for it. So, as an easier alternative, he began searching for suitable campgrounds to accommodate our novice adventure level.
Following the general advice of a rather erudite coworker, Nick googled two campgrounds recommended by him. I was a bit surprised that he didn't seek advice from his church brothers at first, as some of them were avid campers. However, it wasn't until after the fact that I understood why he hadn't.
Before too long, the date was set, and I was requested to request a long weekend for the end of September. At this point, I still wasn't fully sold on the trip, but I knew this would go a long way to helping him in his therapeutic endeavors. And I was all for that. Besides, I had already thought about what fun we could have getting horny and playful out in the woods.
The weeks came and went, and soon it was the night before. Nick pushed me to hit the sheets early, so I spent most of that night reading in bed before falling asleep. But once I finally shut my eyes, I was seemingly awakened instantly by the way-too-early alarm. As I cleared my head and struggled to rise, I noticed that Nick was already up and running.
He had gathered the supplies and gear and was in the process of loading the truck.
I made sure to remind him not to forget any of my things, as I knew he was very excited and had already grumbled about stuff he couldn't find. But as the sun broke over the mountains in the distance, we were loaded for bear and, pulling out of the driveway, headed out for our very first camping trip. He was very excited, and I guess I was as well, to a certain point.
As we ventured across the long miles to our destination, we stopped now and again at rest areas and eateries. As we climbed higher into the mountains, I was taken aback by the beauty of the forests that surrounded us; they were quite beautiful. By late afternoon, we were pulling up to the main gates. As we passed through, I happened to notice that I didn't notice any kids in the other vehicles ahead or behind us.
I shrugged it off and didn't give it a second thought. As we casually drove the winding road through the grounds, I watched as we passed RV sites that seemed to be mostly full, I wondered where it was that we were going. Nick bought a really nice tent, so I already knew he didn't have an RV waiting for us. We seemed to be heading deeper into the woods, and I was a bit concerned, albeit excited. But soon enough, through the trees, I started to see tents and campsites.
Pulling into a more rustic-looking campsite, I saw that there were many tents scattered among the trees. None so close as to say we would have neighbors, but I didn't get the feeling of being so alone. I felt a little relieved at that. Still, our lot was at the far end of the site and, as yet, was pretty out of the way.
As we drove in, I did notice some buildings set back in the trees; I assumed they were bathrooms and possibly showers. Later, while exploring a bit, I would discover my assumptions to be correct. But my little adventure exploring the grounds around our tent would also reveal some very naughty aspects of camping.
Our site was a few dozen yards from the lake's edge; it was a large lake, and we were situated on the far side of it from the main gate. Most of the paths were lit pretty well for the most part, but all the best lighting was around the central fire pits at the center of the site, the lights around the bathrooms were adequate, while the shower building sat just a bit further back into the trees and the path lighting was a bit less adequate. Nonetheless, I was encouraged by things thus far.
