I come from a very outdoorsy family. When I was a kid we used to go on long camping trips during the summer, and it wasn't unusual for us to go on long weekend outings in fall or early winter. Once we learned how to find our way in the woods, my siblings and I were allowed to roam around the countryside pretty much as we pleased, and we often stayed away from our campsites for hours. As I got older -- by which I mean my mid-teens -- I preferred to roam by myself, often carrying a pair of binoculars to watch birds and other wildlife.
One summer after graduation, I invited my best friend, Danny, to join us on a weeklong trip to a favorite campground in the Colorado Rockies. He accepted, but said he would have to leave after a few days to go to a family wedding in Albuquerque. His parents and sisters would pick him up on their way from Denver.
Danny had been camping a few times before, though never with us, and I was looking forward to showing him some favorite places in the woods to watch for wildlife or just soak up the scenery.
One such place was a rocky outcrop on a ridge a couple of miles from the campground. In one direction it overlooked a broad forested bowl under high peaks, and in the other overlooked a narrow canyon where a gravel road led to three or four isolated cabins.
We hiked up there the second afternoon of our stay, taking some snacks and a couple bottles of water. Although it was a warm, sunny day, we also carried small packs with warm jackets and gloves in case the weather turned, which is far from rare in the mountains. As usual I also carried my binoculars.
We'd been sitting up there for about half an hour, talking occasionally but mostly enjoying the quiet and the view while we took turns with the binoculars. I had just gotten them back from Danny when I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye. When I turned the binocs that way, thinking it was some animal, I realized it was a couple of people walking through the trees not far from one of the cabins. They were maybe a third of a mile away.
I was about to put the binoculars down when the two people drew close together and kissed. When they separated again, I realized it was not a man and a woman, but two men.
"Whoa," I said.
"What?" Danny asked.
"There's two guys down there kissing," I said. "They were a second ago, anyway."
"Let me see," Danny said.
I gave him the binoculars and told him where to look.
"They're doing it again," he said. "The fuck?"
To me, two guys kissing isn't a big deal. I have an uncle who's gay -- my mom's brother -- and I had been brought up to accept homosexuality as different but basically normal. Danny, I knew from previous conversations on the topic, was more judgmental.
"What are they doing now?" I asked.
"They're walking again. Looks like they're headed to that cabin with the red roof."
He pointed but didn't let go of the binoculars. I could just make out two figures making their way through the forest.
No big deal, I thought. I lay back on the rock, closed my eyes and let the sun warm me. A minute or two passed.
"Whoa," he said, "they're really going at it now."
I sat up and he handed me back the binoculars, but for a second I couldn't spot them.
"Look closer to the cabin, in that clump of aspens," Danny said.
When I sighted the two men again, they had their arms around each other and were making out like two teenagers. Even from this distance I could sense their passion.
I felt a sudden stir of excitement.
This surprised me; after all, I'd seen my uncle kiss his partner several times. But that was when the family was around, and their public kisses were more affectionate than passionate. These two were behaving as if they were in private.
I knew it was wrong to spy, but I couldn't help myself. I suppose I was experiencing the thrill of voyeurism, though that word was unknown to me at the time.
The two guys reached the stairs to the cabin, climbed up to the deck and lay down on a sort of couch.
They made out furiously, and as I watched one guy started rubbing the other guy's crotch. Soon he started undoing the other guy's pants.
"Whoa," I said. "They're..."
"Let me see," Danny interrupted, snatching the binoculars out of my hand and lifting them quickly to his eyes.
"Oh, my God," he said. "One guy's got his hand in the other guy's pants."
My face got warm, like I was blushing, and my heart seemed to beat a little faster. Suddenly I was conscious that my dick was taking on weight.
"What are they doing now?"
"He's got the other guy's cock out!" Danny said excitedly. "It looks like he's going to jack him off."
I reached for the binoculars, but Danny pulled away from me.
I got a hand on them, and for a few seconds we played tug of war. By the time I got control and focused them again, both men had their cocks out.
"Wow," I said.
"What are they doing?" Danny asked. I could hear the excitement in his voice.
Just then the two men scrambled to their feet and went inside.
"They just went inside," I said, "but for a second I saw both their cocks."
I lowered the binoculars to my lap. As I did my hand bumped against the front of my jeans, and I felt what was now a definite hardon. I knew I shouldn't be turned on by what I'd seen, but I was.
I looked at Danny. He was still staring at the cabin.
"Dude," he said, swallowing hard. "That was....."
He didn't finish the sentence.
"Are you hard?" I asked.
"What? No!" he said, but from the way he was squirming around I could tell he was.
"I can't believe we saw that," he said.
"Me neither."
"It feels weird," he said.
After several minutes of silence we gathered our things and headed back to camp. Danny took the lead, keeping a rapid pace. He didn't seem interested in talking, which was fine by me. My thoughts were in a whirl.
To this point my sexual experience was solely with girls, and my fantasies always involved girls and women. I had never thought of a man's body in a sexual way. The fact that I'd gotten a boner watching two men go at it was troubling, and I tried not to think of the implications.
The boner was largely gone by the time we got back to camp, but my mind was still churning. I was almost grateful for the diversion offered by the bustle involved in prepping for dinner.
In camp we all had jobs to do, and mine was to help my dad get the fire going. Danny offered to help my mom with the food, but she told him to relax and enjoy being a guest.
He sat down in a camp chair, but before three minutes had passed he got up and set off toward the central building that housed the campground showers and bathrooms. At first I thought nothing of it, but when 15 minutes passed without his returning, I began to wonder what had happened to him.
No sooner had this thought passed through my mind than I saw him coming back, his face looking flushed. It occurred to me that he might have been jacking off.
Maybe I was projecting, but if I was right, that meant both of us had been turned on by what we'd seen. This realization made me uneasy, to say the least. Was I really gay or bi? Was Danny?
I thought we should talk about it, but I wasn't sure how to start the conversation. And he seemed to be avoiding me, so I didn't get the chance anyway.
Dinner is always a lively affair when we're in camp. My mom and dad are great talkers, and my mom has a way of gently teasing us kids -- me, my 15-year-old sister and 11-year-old brother -- that keeps everyone laughing.
Danny livened up a little, too, with a little prodding from my dad, and for a while things felt almost normal. But when dinner was over and we had gathered around the fire, the talk died down a little and my mind got working again.
Again, the same thoughts: Why was I turned on by what I had seen?
I looked at Danny. He was staring deeply into the fire, and I wondered if he was having the same thoughts.
We had hot chocolate and toasted some marshmallows, talked quietly for another hour or so, then it was time for bed. My dad said he would get us up early to go fishing.
Danny and I were sharing a small tent, which we had pitched on the opposite side of the campsite from our big family tent. Before turning in we walked over to the shower building to brush our teeth and take a last pee.
The men's side of the building has a row of sinks along one wall, a couple of urinals and stalls on the opposite wall and two long benches down the middle. The entrance to the shower area, which is just one room with four or five nozzles on the walls, is between the urinals and the stalls. There were no lockers, but there was a set of cubbyholes, one of them containing a towel and a small backpack.
We peed, then went to the sinks to wash up. It wasn't intentional, but we both picked sinks toward the middle of the row, opposite the shower room entrance.
As I started brushing my teeth, watching myself in the mirror, I heard the shower turn off. A few seconds later a guy walked out of the room -- naked, of course. He picked up the towel and started drying off.
He was tall and slim, with dark hair on top but smooth everywhere else, and he appeared to be about my dad's age.
