With our fishing trip wrapped up, dad and I packed our gear and started heading back to the campsite. The afternoon sun hung lower in the sky, casting golden light through the trees as we walked along the dirt path. The sounds of chirping birds and rustling leaves filled the air, mixing with the distant lapping of the lake against the shore.
I carried the tackle box while dad slung the fishing rods over his shoulder. My damp shorts clung to my legs, and the occasional breeze sent a small shiver through me. Dad, still only in his boxer briefs, didn't seem to notice the cool air at all. As we neared our tent, the familiar sight of our little campsite came into view, showing our tent, slightly wrinkled and the unlit barbeque stand surrounded by two foldable chairs and a table.
Dad dropped the fishing rods beside the tent and stretched. "That was a good catch earlier," he said, giving me a proud nod.
I grinned. "Yeah, but my arms are gonna be sore tomorrow."
He chuckled. "That's how you know you're doing it right."
I set the tackle box down and plopped onto one of the logs, feeling the warmth of the afternoon sun on my skin. "I'll get us a drink from the cooler," he said as he left for a while. He returned a little later and tossed me a bottle of water before chugging the one in his hand. For a moment, we just sat there, enjoying the peacefulness of the woods. The air smelled of pine and fresh lake water, and the gentle rustling of leaves filled the silence between us.
"You know," Dad said suddenly, "we could go for another swim before we start the fire. Drying off in the sun isn't too bad."
I shook my head with a laugh. "No way. I'm still drying from the last one."
Dad smirked. "Let's change clothes then, so we can start a fire, and eat. I know you're hungry." He was right. We lost track of time from swimming and fishing that we failed to notice it was the late afternoon now. The sun will probably set an hour from now.
I nodded, standing up and stretching my arms. My shorts were still damp and clung uncomfortably to my legs. Changing into dry clothes sounded like a good idea. Dad grabbed his duffel bag from inside the tent and tossed mine over to me. I caught it and unzipped it, pulling out a fresh pair of shorts.
"I'm changing in the tent," I said, stepping inside.
"Same here," Dad replied, ducking in after me. Heat rose to my cheeks as I imagine both us being naked in the tent. Is dad really serious?
Inside, the tent was warm from the sun. Dad has his back turned on me as he picked his clothes from his own bag. Just then, I remembered his shirt I released my load into, but with dad being topless, I hope he wouldn't look for it. I peeled off my wet shorts and slipped into the dry ones, sighing at the comfort. After settling my wet clothes, I sat down for a moment with no shirt on, listening to the faint rustling of leaves outside and the occasional bird chirp.
With dad changing behind me, my dick stood, and I couldn't resist the urge to take a peek. In just a single glance, I saw his hairy ass cheeks as he stood up. He had his underwear in his hand, which he began to put on. My heart beat loudly into my chest, and I immediately pulled my eyes away, worried that he would be weirded out if he caught me staring.
Eventually, dad finished changing too, tugging on a pair of sweatpants, also topless. He ruffled his still-damp hair and grinned. "Going topless, too? Alright, let's get that fire going."
We stepped out of the tent, and the sunlight hit us again, filtering through the tall pines. Dad crouched near the firepit, gathering the sticks and kindling we had collected earlier. I helped arrange the logs, stacking them carefully while Dad struck a match. The small flame flickered to life, crackling as it spread across the dry wood. The warmth of the fire contrasted with the lingering chill on my skin, making me inch closer.
Dad leaned back on his hands, watching the flames dance. "Perfect way to end the afternoon," he said. I nodded, feeling the comfort of the moment settle around us. The fire crackled, the trees swayed gently in the breeze, and for a little while, neither of us said anything. We didn't need to.
The fire crackled steadily as Dad adjusted the logs, ensuring the flames weren't too high. The golden afternoon sunlight filtered through the trees, casting warm hues over our campsite. Both of us sat near the fire, shirtless, letting the heat of the flames dry off the last remnants of lake water from our skin.
Dad stretched his arms, his muscles flexing as he leaned back on his hands. His broad chest and defined arms glowed slightly in the firelight, a stark contrast to my own lean frame. Where he was built and strong from years of physical work and outdoor activities, I was lanky, my ribs faintly visible when I moved.
"We'll need the meat." Dad glanced toward the car. "Think you can grab it from the cooler?"
"Yeah, I got it," I said, pushing myself up, kind of happy that he started seeing me useful instead of treating me like a princess although my legs still felt a little stiff from sitting too long.
Walking over to the car, I popped open the trunk and reached into the cooler. A rush of cold air hit my skin, making me shiver slightly. I grabbed the neatly wrapped steaks and skewers of marinated chicken, my fingers numbing slightly from the chill before I quickly shut the lid.
By the time I got back to the fire, Dad had already set up the metal grill over the open flames, balancing it on two sturdy rocks on either side of the firepit.
"Perfect timing," he said as I handed him the meat. His rough hands, calloused from years of working with tools and heavy lifting, made quick work of unwrapping the steaks.
He placed them onto the hot metal, and immediately, a satisfying sizzle filled the air. The rich, smoky scent of the meat cooking over the fire made my stomach growl.
I placed the skewers beside the steaks while Dad flipped the meat with practiced ease. The firelight flickered across his tanned skin, highlighting the lines of his strong arms as he worked. I sat back, unconsciously hugging my knees to my chest, the heat from the flames warming my skin.
"This is the best part of camping," dad said, flashing a grin as he watched the fire dance beneath the grill. "Nothing beats cooking over an open flame."
I nodded. "Yeah, it's way better than using a stove."
Dad chuckled. "Told you."
The fire popped as juices dripped onto the embers, sending little wisps of smoke into the air. The peaceful sounds of the forest surrounded us, with leaves rustling, distant birds calling, and the occasional crack of burning wood.
After checking the steaks, Dad nodded in satisfaction. "Almost ready. You want yours medium or well done?"
