PART I
Last summer my wife, Patty, finally convinced me to try camping. I was reluctant at first but eventually warmed to the idea and, when I finally tried it for the first time, I enjoyed it immensely. Unfortunately, we were only able to get in two short weekends last year. We vowed that this year would be different, and so far it has been.
We sat down one winter evening and planned out six camping weekends all within about 250 miles from home. We made our reservations ... three of our weekend trips would be with our kids, and the other three just my wife and I.
Last weekend we camped ... without kids ... in a private, commercial campground that we had tried last summer. It was a beautiful place with most of the sites occupied by summer long residents in trailer homes, Class A campers and the like. There are just a handful of sites reserved for weekend tent campers like ourselves.
We arrived to absolutely gorgeous weather. It had rained lightly the night before but the summer has generally been dry, and Thursday evening setting up our tent was a breeze. The tent sites at this particular campground are in a heavily-wooded and fairly secluded area. Even though we were only about 100 feet from the two sites on either side, the thick trees made it seem like we were almost completely alone. The night was beautiful and we sat by the fire until about 10:00 and crawled into our sleeping bags.
Friday was our day to do pretty much nothing. We swam in the pool, went into town for some lunch and to do some shopping, and treated ourselves to steaks on the grill. We thought it might be fun, since we hardly ever do it, to have a few drinks. We got out the vodka & tonic for Patty and the Jack & Coke for me. After a couple of drinks, we were mellowing out by the fire pit and just enjoying being together.
Two sites down ... just the other side of a seasonal site with a trailer that was empty for the weekend ... was a group of guys who seemed to keep getting louder and louder as the evening wore on. This particular campground has a strict rule that guests had to be quiet after 10 p.m. Patty made a couple of comments as it got to ten o'clock, then ten after, but I persuaded her to be patient. Finally, when the party hadn't quieted down by ten thirty, she shouted "quiet down over there." There was no response and, to make things worse, they didn't seem to quiet down either. She shouted again, more loudly, but there was no response.
"They're making so much fucking noise they can't even hear me," she complained.
About fifteen minutes later, after another couple of unsuccessful attempts at shouting, Patty announced "I'm gonna have to go over there to get them to quiet down, I guess."
I thought that was a really bad idea and I told her so, but her response was to ask me sarcastically if I was "okay" with them breaking the rules and possibly keeping us awake all night. She was dead set on going to give them a piece of her mind. She warned me not to come with ... she said it might be too "confrontational" if we both went. Since she knows how to handle herself ... and is really good at reasoning with other people ... I decided, against my better judgment, to stop arguing and let her go.
"Stay here and wait for me ... I'll holler if I need you."
"OK," I said. However, shortly after she got up and disappeared into the darkness, I got up myself and started walking to the bathrooms, which were about a quarter mile down the main road that happened to go right past our noisy neighbors. I wanted to make sure Patty was going to be okay. I reasoned that, if I got caught, having to go to the bathroom was a plausible explanation for why I had left our campsite and why I had to walk past her. But I had no intention of being seen. By walking on the far side of the road, I kept in the shadows. Even if Patty could tell that someone was walking by, there was no way she'd recognize that it was me.
As I walked past, I saw her standing by the campfire, talking to three men. They had turned down the stereo. Nothing seemed amiss. I assumed that, in her own way, Patty had talked them into having some respect for the rest of the campers. I decided it was safe to walk to the bathroom ... I actually did have to go ... and come back. Ten minutes, tops.
It may have taken me a bit longer than expected. One the way back, I walked down the middle of the road. I assumed that Patty had returned to our campsite. Instead, as I approached the party site, I distinctly heard her laughing. I moved over into the darkness and peered across the road. I couldn't believe my eyes. She was sitting in a camp chair in front of the campfire and seemed to be laughing and joking with the guys. Moreover, she had a drink in her hand. I was quite surprised. I resisted the urge to approach the group and instead I returned to our campsite to have another Jack & Coke and wait for her.
After sitting alone by the fire for a few minutes, my curiosity got the better of me. There was a small clearing in the woods behind our campsite and I realized that I might have a better view from there. I silently crept over. I was still about 50 yards from the group, but I could at least tell that Patty was still there and was still talking with the three men. Although much quieter than before, their stereo or boom box or whatever was still on and it was impossible to hear what they were saying. I wished I could see better ... then, I remembered that I had brought my binoculars on the trip. I quickly got them out of the tent. I threw another log on the fire before I returned to the clearing and resumed spying on my wife.
Because of the flickering light of their campfire, it was hard to tell exactly what was going on, other than that Patty seemed to have moved closer to one of the guys, who seemed to have his arm draped over the back of her chair. She was turned toward him and they seemed to be in a deep conversation. It looked like she might have had her hand on his leg, but I couldn't be sure. I glanced at the two other men, who seemed to be engaged in their own conversation and oblivious to what was going on.
My heart started to pound ... I wondered what was going on ... and I wondered what was going to happen next. I didn't have to wait long to find out. Within a couple of minutes, I saw her lean toward the guy and it looked like she was kissing him. The other two guys had disappeared.
I looked again. They were definitely starting to make out. As they were necking, she half stood up and knelt with one knee between his legs, resting on the seat of his chair. She had her hands on his shoulders and his hands were just below her ass touching the backs of her bare legs. I watched this go on, motionless, for about ten minutes. I was shaking ... the night suddenly seemed chilly. But I had that familiar sweet-sick feeling in my stomach and my cock was twitching in my jeans.
My hand started cramping from the weight of the binoculars ... I lowered and stretched my arms for just a moment, but when I lifted the binoculars to continue watching, my wife and this guy were nowhere to be seen. It was then that I heard rustling in the woods and realized that she must be walking back to our campsite. Even though I had thoroughly enjoyed the "show," I was relieved that she was returning ... watching her had made me just a little bit horny. But then I heard her giggle and heard a man's voice. It dawned on me that she was having one of the guys ... possibly the one she had been making out with ... walk her back.
I envisioned an awkward moment encountering them by our campfire, which was still giving off a significant amount of light. Awkward because I didn't want Patty to know I'd been spying on her and I was afraid I couldn't act casually enough that she wouldn't suspect something. Then, it dawned on me that if the guy who was walking Patty home was, in fact, the one she had been making out with, there might be a chance I could get another show ... maybe a sexy good night kiss ... as long as I stayed out of the way. I moved back into the shadows, almost tripping over one of the guy lines to our tent. I realized that the best view of our campfire ... and maybe the best place to hide ... was inside. I moved quickly, unzipping the door before they got too close. I slipped inside the tent door and noiselessly closed the zipper most of the way.
We have a two-room tent. We keep our clothes, cooler and gear in what we call the "living room," which has large screens on all three sides as well as the main entrance. The "bedroom" held our full-sized inflatable mattress, our sleeping bags and our clothes. There was a wall between the two rooms, made of the same material as the tent, with a small screen near the floor that could be opened for ventilation.
I had the perfect spot. Kneeling on the floor in the complete darkness, looking out the screen window opposite the end of our bed, I was quite sure neither of them would be able to see me, but I had a clear view of the campfire. And, sure enough, within a few moments Patty and a young muscular guy ... probably in his mid- to late 20s ... with longish black hair came out of the woods and sat down on the chairs. He was wearing khaki cargo shorts and a football jersey with the number "69" on it. "How juvenile," I thought. They were giggling and laughing but quietly enough that I could only make out a few words now and then.
There was a short repeat of the performance I had witnessed a few minutes earlier. Then I saw Patty sit on this guy's lap. He lit a cigarette and started smoking, then offered it to her. They passed it back and forth a couple of times. It took a minute to occur to me that they were sharing a joint.
They started making out again, but this time she straddled him and his hands immediately slid up under her top and began fondling her breasts. They continued necking passionately. I could hear her moaning softly.
After a few minutes of passionate kissing, they sort of half-slithered, half-tumbled out of the chair and onto the ground without interrupting their little game of tonsil-hockey. My heart was really pounding now.
He ended up on top of her and she had one leg wrapped around him. I could see his hips moving. I wished I could see better ... I couldn't tell whether he was actually fucking her or just dry-humping. I got my answer a minute later when they rolled over and she got on top. His jeans seemed to still be zipped up. Actually, I was sure they were because I could clearly see my wife's hand rubbing his crotch on the outside of his shorts.
I, myself, was hard as a rock. My hand slipped into my shorts.