The Sacrifice 7

Chris and I were sitting around drinking wine one Friday evening, exhausted from the demands of work and social obligations, and experienced something of an epiphany. We realized that we had allowed others to dictate our agenda, resulting in a lack of quality time together to do the things we enjoyed. So, it didn't take much further conversation for us to decide we were going to re-prioritize our lives.

We are both avid cyclists, but had only been out twice in the last three months, so we put the activity high on our list. In addition, we had toyed with the idea of getting into camping, since we both like adventure, and quickly we landed on the idea of combining the two. We knew there was a nice campground on a lake about two hours from our house, right in the heart of the country cycling scene, and quickly a plan began to formulate. The more we discussed it, the more appealing the idea became, so we targeted a weekend in late April when we thought the weather would be close to ideal.

Never able to do things half-way, the nearby outdoor store had a field day selling us a full spectrum of gear. We had thought about getting others to go, but for simplicity, we elected to keep it to just us. Still, we ended up purchasing a six-man tent, an eight-inch foam block for a mattress, a cook stove, utensils and an assortment of lights, tarps, coolers and other gear. On top of all this, Chris decided to go with fitted sheets for the mattress instead of sleeping bags, which clearly left any concept of "roughing it" far behind. I laughed when I thought about my Boy Scout leader, who would likely cry if he knew.

On the planned weekend, we took the Friday off and as soon as we got home Thursday afternoon, we packed our SUV with the gear and mounted our bikes on the carrier. Even with the back seats folded down, we had to cram things in, leaving little remaining space when we had finished. By six, we were off, and even with the evening traffic, we were able to make good time, arriving a little before eight. Being inexperienced, we struggled with the tent, but finally, two hours later, it was up. We shoved in the foam mattress and made the bed, and exhausted from the long day, we stripped down, slid under the covers and fell quickly asleep, leaving the unloading of the remaining gear for the following morning.

I awoke in darkness and checking my cellphone saw it was 4:17 AM. Feeling excited from being alone with Chris in the outdoors, I pulled her against me and began nuzzling into her long, graceful neck. My wife is a very pretty twenty-six-year-old natural blond with a slender 5'8" build, perky B-cup breasts and long, lovely legs that end at a well-toned butt. Even though she's blond, she's not pale, and her smooth, flawless skin tans easily. She likes to keep her hair short, which accentuates her long neck, and her green eyes give her a different, almost exotic look. She always attracts male attention when we are out, and while at first it bothered me, over time I have learned to accept it, knowing that if I were in their shoes, I would do the same thing.

I'm a year older than Chris and three inches taller with an average build and dark hair. I think most people would say I'm reasonably good looking, but certainly no stud. The cycling and occasional workout has kept me in decent shape, although I could stand to lose five pounds. But, all in all, not too bad a package.

Chris and I met four years ago, right out of college, when we were working for the same company. We were ready to get married after only a few months, but by the time all the details of the wedding got arranged, almost a year had gone by. Since then, I've changed jobs, but Chris is still there working her way up the ladder. We both make good money for our age, and with no kids we have been able to purchase a house and two nice cars. We can afford to go out when we want to and have even been able to save a little money. The only thing missing is kids, which both our parents remind us about constantly. We're not averse to having a family, in fact Chris talks about wanting four kids, but so far it just hasn't seemed like the right time.

"Are you awake?" I asked, whispering into her ear.

"Ummm...hmmm," she replied, while stretching her lithe body.

I slid my hand under her t-shirt and cupped one of her firm breasts while kissing her neck. Chris typically loves when I pay attention to her neck and this time was no different. Soon, she was purring like a kitten, and when I slid my hand into her thong, I smiled inwardly when I discovered she was already getting moist. I thought the outdoor adventure might be affecting her too, and my mind raced with the possibilities for the weekend. Seconds later, I pushed the thong over her hips and down her long legs, then used my foot to get it completely off.

"Do you want something?" she asked coyly.

"Yes," I replied, as my desire made my heart start to pound.

I pushed my boxers off, then rolled between her legs and Chris took me in her hand and guided me to her opening. Then, with just a gentle push, I was inside.

"Ohhhh..." we both declared in unison.

Even after years of making love, it always seemed fresh, and as soon as I got a rhythm going, Chris locked her legs around me. I knew it was going to be difficult to last long, although I wanted badly for Chris to climax. We made love for several minutes and it wasn't long before I had to purposefully try to hold myself back.

"You're a horny boy," she mouthed into my ear, then licked it.

It was the worst thing she could have done and I immediately protested, "Stop baby, you're going to make me cum too fast."

"I want you to cum," she replied, refusing to stop her exploration.

"No, not yet..." I began to plead, but when I felt her trace her fingernails over my balls, I lost it, "Oh shit...Chris!"

"It's okay. Let it out," she urged me.

"Uggghhhhh..." I groaned pitifully as my semen escaped.

As I released, my motions became labored, and soon I collapsed on top of her, gasping for air. The intensity of our coupling had been so extreme I had almost passed out, and now Chris' soft hands were stroking my hair like one would do to an infant. At that moment, I felt completely captured by her, but also guilty that I had left her unfulfilled.

"I'm sorry," I forced out, barely able to speak.

"Don't be. We have lots of time," she replied.

I rolled off her, and now it was she that snuggled against my back, with her arms holding me tightly against her body. We soon drifted into a contented sleep that only ended when the morning light started streaming into the tent.

We rose into the clean, crisp air, threw on our clothes from the previous day, and quickly finished unloading the SUV. Included in our camp space was a covered picnic table, but nothing else, so I used some rope and the tarp to make a cover over an area where we could put out camp chairs and a table. I also hung ropes in strategic spots so we could hang lights after dark. There was a small fire pit that someone had made using stones for the perimeter, so I fixed it up a bit then gathered wood and made a stack to light later.

"All done. You want to hit the trail?" I said when the set-up was complete.

"I want to take a quick shower first," she replied.

Across the park road, about fifty-yards away, was a simple cinder block structure that had bathrooms and showers with boys on one side and girls on the other. Chris grabbed her small bag of toiletries and a towel then walked over. Too late, I got the idea to join her in the shower, but by the time I got there she was already in her riding gear. So, I took a quick shower as well, put on my riding suit, and unloaded the bikes from the rack.

First, we explored the park roads. It was a fairly large preserve that bordered a lake with numerous small peninsulas that jutted into the water. The section we were in had a dozen campsites, and was furthest from the entrance, with us as the only campers. However, as we moved through areas bordering several other coves, we came across a scattering of people. After completing the park circuit, we biked down some country lanes, taking heed to be careful about vehicles on the narrow roads. Fortunately, traffic was light, and everyone practiced caution in passing us. Just after noon, we came upon a store at a crossroads where we rested then had a snack before turning back. We estimated that we had covered almost thirty-five miles by the time we got back, which wasn't bad given our lack of conditioning. Just as we arrived at the entrance, a group of twenty or so motorcycles roared away.

"That's a lot of motorcycles," I said to the ranger, as I showed him our permit.

"Likely to be more. There's a big rally in Drury," he said.

Drury was a very small town we passed on our way to the park which was about eight miles away. There was another park between ours and town, so we were hopeful that this one wouldn't get much traffic. We weren't eager to have the noise from the machines interrupting our peace and quiet, nor did we want to deal with drunken revelry. On the way back to our peninsula, we could see that there were now several campsites inhabited with bikers. However, when we got to our location, we were pleased to see that we were still alone.

"Too far back I guess," I said.

"Yeah, we were lucky in our selection," Chris declared.

In was now mid-afternoon and we mostly piddled around and relaxed. Later, Chris took a walk along the water and into the brush looking for interesting birds while I started preparing for the evening. It was while she was gone that our serenity was suddenly broken by the sound of a vehicle. Two campsites over, a large pickup pulling a trailer with a motorcycle pulled in. An older man got out and started setting up, pulling stuff from the back of his pickup and trailer. At least it's just one guy, I thought, but as he continued to work it seemed like he had a lot of gear just for one person.

I could see the man was wearing jeans along with a jean jacket. He was heavy and balding, but sported a full, graying beard. He took stuff off the trailer and truck with ease, which provided a sense of his strength, and before long he had set up five tents that covered two campsites, a BBQ pit, and various other pieces of equipment. One of the campsites, like ours, had a covered picnic table which he seemed to make the central focus, and after he was done he carefully rolled his motorcycle off the trailer and parked it next to the pickup.

"I guess we have company," Chris said, startling me as she walked up from behind.

"Seems so," I replied, not trying to hide my annoyance.

Being the only ones on the small peninsula, it seemed odd to ignore each other. But, that's exactly what we did until just past five when the roar of motorcycles could be heard coming down the road. A few minutes later, a group pulled up at the campsites, and Chris and I openly stared as four men and three women dismounted. They greeted the man who had set up the space, then almost immediately went to the ice chests and pulled out beers.

"Oh well," Chris said dejectedly.

"Do you want to see if we can move?" I asked.

"No, the other parts of the park looked worse than this when we rode through," she replied.

Chris is a white wine drinker and we had brought several bottles, so I poured her a glass, then sat next to her and stared at the lake, enjoying the cool breeze, while drinking a beer. From the corner of my eye, I saw the older man that had done the set-up, walking towards us.

"Hey there. I'm about to grill and it's going to be a lot. Wanted to see if you folks want to join us," he asked in a gruff, gravelly voice.

He spoke in an uneducated way, although he seemed friendly enough, and the jean jacket I had seen earlier had a large patch on the back that said "STRIKERS" with a logo of a motorcycle going through flames. Underneath, we could see that he was wearing a plain white t-shirt that was stretched by his belly. His full beard didn't hide the lines in his face, and although I guessed he was in his fifties, he had clearly experienced some hard miles.

"Well I don't know. It's a kind offer, but we kind of came out here to be alone," I said.

"You sure? I make some mean meat," he chuckled in a disarming way.

"We'll come by for a bit," Chris said over my shoulder before I could respond.

"Good. Name's Darrell by the way," he said.

"David and Chris," I replied, shaking his paw like hand while he nodded at my wife.

"Just wander over when you like," he said, then ambled back the way he came.

"Might as well keep up good relations. We can just stay for a little while. Besides, he does look like he knows how to cook," she offered when he was out of hearing range.

I just shrugged, but was surprised as Chris is normally quite reserved. Her acceptance of the invitation from these strangers was certainly out of character. A little while later, as the sun was getting low, Chris announced that she was going to clean up, gathered her things and headed towards the facilities. Several minutes later, just as I had opened another beer, I noticed one of the newly arrived men heading towards the bathroom, too. He stayed for some time, and I had almost finished my beer when I saw him finally depart. Needing to clean up as well, I took the opportunity of the empty bathroom to head that way.

When I got back, Chris was wearing a sweatshirt and hiking shorts, and had poured another glass of wine. I changed into jeans and a long-sleeved shirt for the cool night air, grabbed a beer, and just as sundown hit, we walked over to the group carrying folding camp chairs. There was loud, hard rock music playing, and when we got close, Darrell came out to meet us and welcome us into the group.

He made the introductions in his rough voice, explaining the details of the relationships at the gathering. First, there was Carla and Kyle. Carla was a long-haired skinny blonde with lots of hard miles. She had the signs of wear on her face that was typical of heavy smokers making her appear older than what I guessed was her true age. She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt that showed she had medium sized breasts. Kyle appeared a little younger than Darrell, but was also barrel chested. He was about six-foot-tall, and from beneath a red do-rag, dark hair flecked with gray emerged. He was wearing jeans and an open-sleeved black top which allowed us to see bits of what appeared to be extensive tattooing.

Next were Lola and Mad Dog. Both appeared to be in their early to mid-thirties. Lola was a short, overweight brunette, with a set of large breasts contained inside her shirt. For some reason, as we were being introduced, she stared at Chris with a strange look, which instantly made me think that she wasn't a very friendly person. Mad Dog, on the other hand, was boisterous in a good way, and although short, like Lola, his weight matched his frame better. He had a beard and a moustache, and was wearing a jean jacket like Darrell's over a black shirt.

DeAnne and Tommy were the last couple. They were much younger than the rest of the group, even younger than us, and Darrell explained that Tommy was his nephew. DeAnne was a very attractive, willowy brown-haired girl. She had huge brown eyes that were quite beautiful and a very soft, seductive smile. Tommy was just about her equal in looks. Thin, but well-proportioned like DeAnne, he stood over six-foot-tall and had long sandy blonde hair. DeAnne was wearing tight jeans that fit her well and a smock like blouse. Tommy had jeans on too and a loose fitting long sleeved dark shirt.

The remaining person to be introduced was Vince. He was a thirtyish, six foot plus guy, in good shape, with an attitude that left no doubt that he considered himself something special. He also sported a do-rag with short, dark hair beneath, and wore jeans with a tight, black t-shirt. The art on the visible part of his arms indicated he might also be extensively tattooed. He openly stared at Chris, like he was trying to intimidate her, and I was just about to say something when Darrell directed everyone to grab a seat.

They had started a fire so we formed a circle around it with our chairs, and I wasn't surprised when Vince grabbed the spot next to Chris. Next to me, I had Mad Dog, who was talking non-stop, although I quickly realized no one really paid much attention to him.

Tommy and DeAnne mostly talked between themselves. They seemed like young lovers that were still oblivious to the rest of the world. The conversation was wide ranging, while Darrell finished cooking and the sun set, and we learned that they were in fact part of a club called the STRIKERS, mostly from the industrial side of the city where we lived. The majority of the members were camping closer to the rally, and Darrell explained that getting older made him less interested in the hard partying and drama, so they had chosen this spot. They also hinted at some turmoil in the club that was causing problems and had limited their numbers for the rally. Their plans were to head out in the morning and be gone most of the day, first for a ride and then to hit the rally. We also learned that Vince was living with a woman, but she had caught the flu, so he had come on alone.

We talked about everyone's job. Carla worked as a warehouse clerk while Lola was a secretary. We skipped over DeAnne's job, which instantly made me suspicious and more interested. Darrell was a welder in a fabrication shop where Mad Dog worked as a machinist. Kyle was a tattoo artist and had done most of the work that the club members displayed. He showed us some of the work he had done on Vince and I noticed him flexing his muscled arms for Chris as Kyle described the art. Vince did industrial sales work, and I envisioned him hitting on every woman he came into contact with during his rounds. Chris and I described what we did, and about the time we finished, Darrell announced it was time to eat.

Like he promised, he was a damn good cook. Not only was the meat perfect, but the sides he had prepared in advance were delicious. We ate until we were full, then Chris volunteered to clean up, which Darrell accepted while directing DeAnne to help.

"Yeah, let the young bitches do the work," I heard Lola mumble under her breath.

It wasn't long until they finished and returned to the group. Chris told me that DeAnne wanted to share some of her wine, and since the bottle we brought was almost gone, I went back to our campsite and grabbed another. After pouring for the two girls, I realized that we had now been with them for over an hour with no sign from my wife that she wanted to leave. To the contrary, she was now in a conversation with DeAnne, Tommy and Vince that seemed to have her entertained.

By now, the liquor had everyone feeling no pain, so when Darrell brought out a Mason jar of homemade moonshine it actually seemed like a good idea. Darrell unscrewed the top and handed it first to Chris who stared at it briefly with some trepidation before taking a sip. I expected a fierce reaction, as I thought it would burn mightily, so I was surprised when she smiled and handed it to me.

"Its watermelon flavored and really good," she explained with a smile.

I took a sip, still not sure what to expect, but had to acknowledge that Chris had been right. The jar went around twice before it was gone, and almost immediately, Kyle lit up a fat joint. Now, Chris and I are not prudes, and have tried pot before, but not in a long time. I declined as did Chris and some of the others, so the pot stayed mostly with Kyle, Carla, Mad Dog and Lola.

Now, with the moonshine and pot, the language turned noticeably saltier. I suspected they had been on good behavior up to this point as we were newcomers, but now "f" bombs were flying back and forth and sexual innuendo was becoming common. I glanced at Chris, but she seemed to be ignoring it, either because of the alcohol or because it wasn't worth the scene.