We turn into the campground at 'Pine Lake'.
"This will be the 14th year; our family has had a 2-week vacation here"
It's a rather small lake, maybe a mile across, and 3 miles long. It's not drastically commercialized, it's got the necessary comforts, but still rustic and often see wildlife. We prebook the same campsite spot every year; it is a short walk to the beach, close to the building with bathrooms and showers. The chopped firewood is under a cover behind this building.
My husband Tom and I drove the 2 1/2 hours from the city, we parked our 20-foot trailer, alongside the roadway blocking the view from other campers strolling past.
Our son Graham just turned 20 and arrives tomorrow from college. Since he was 10, he sets up a small tent in his own space, a small alcove cut out of the woods at the back of our site. There's no campsite to the east side behind our trailer; privacy is provided by a dense growth of bush, so we're hidden on that side from onlookers. The west side is open to the next site, designed to be a double site for large families. Near the front of that side is where our wood burning post mounted cooking grill is located. Generally, campers park their unit beside this to separate the two lots, creating good privacy for both sites. There's a large metal implement wheel in the center for a firepit, it also has a grate on one side for cooking, if desired.
Tom and Graham spend the majority of their days fishing. The second year coming here, I made it emphatically clear, I too, was on holidays; and would not be their maid. Cooking and dishwashing would be shared, disposable items would be used, and everyone was responsible for their own drinks, I would do laundry once a week and have absolutely no part in anything connected to the fish.
The small freezer in the camper is 'MINE' as I fill several plastic juice bottles with 3 oz Vodka, (ok, sometimes a bit more), a splash of amoretto and almost filled with orange juice, (About 4 ounces). I keep 4 of these in the freezer, and 6 or so in the fridge at night. In the day, I have a flexible zip up cooler, designed for a six pack of beer; I put 3 frozen and 3 cold bottles in it, when I go to the beach, or beside me when I'm reading while lounging around camp. Thus, is how I survive camping, lounging, screwdrivers and reading.
We have the trailer levelled, a decent stockpile of firewood, so we are having our favorite; wieners cooked on sticks over the open fire. Hotdogs with condiments, a true camper's meal; oh of course, alcoholic beverages.
About 7pm a new, shiny black truck backs an older camper parallel to the roadway, with the same idea as us, for some privacy from passerby's looking in. He then parked his truck where most park their trailer, between the two campsites, affording a little privacy, between us.
They appeared to be in their 40's, she's slim maybe 5'4" black hair in a ponytail. He's pudgy, 5'10ish, balding.
Tom has his fishing gear strewn across the table, reassuring everything is ready.
Tomorrow Tom will be going fishing before sunrise; so, I retrieve the several used romance books I bought specifically for this trip, from the camper before it gets dark. I want to choose which one I'll begin reading first on the beach with my specialty coolers. Which, by the way I also brought from the camper and am currently holding in my hand; I pass Tom a can of beer; "Last beer I fetch for ya; yeeha, I'm officially on holidays." I tap our drinks together and sit across from him at the picnic table. I choose a book, Tom packs his tackle.
We have a couple drinks, chatting; sitting on folding chairs around the firepit, we have a decent fire crackling, an occasional 'POP' and orange sparks go floating upward. The new neighbors are playing 70's classic rock music, not overly loud, but we can clearly hear it, Tom and I find ourselves often singing along.
When Billy Joel's "Just the Way You Are," starts; Tom asks me to dance, it was our wedding song. After a few moments, I place my face into the nape of his neck, I was struggling not to cry happy tears, it's been years since we danced. I entertained the possibility we might have sex tonight. I recalled those first days, leaving the church in Tom's Volkswagen camper, the desolate area we camped that week; no one around for miles. We rarely left the camper; copulating, consummating our marriage. We made love more than we slept. What happened to us, it's been years since we lusted for each other, months since we've had sex. We're hardly intimate anymore; we seldom hold hands, and kisses are either on the cheek or a quick peck on the lips.
The next song begins, I instantly recognize, "Angel of the Morning" by Merrilee Rush; one of my absolute favorites of all time and we continued dancing, tightly holding each other. I initiated some provocative activity, I caressed Tom's chest, pushing my pelvis against his thigh, rubbed his lower back, hoping he'd reciprocate.
At the end of the song Tom separates. "4 o'clock is gonna come fast." He gives me the usual quick peck on my lips. "G'nite." And, he's gone, I sit back down in the folding chair by the fire, pick up my screwdriver, a big gulp and think.
{'Ya, 4 a.m. is coming fast, you cumming fast would even be a treat for me.'}
It was at that moment I realized how much I've been missing sex; and that we've never had sex in the trailer. I twist the cap off another drink. 'Happy vacation Amanda,' I hold my drink to toast the stars and sing along to Creedance. "Bad Moon Arising." The music stops, I hear them giggling next door. I wonder if they're intimate; I finish my screwdriver and head to the bathroom before going to bed.
It's after 8 when I roll out of bed. I put on my blue 2-piece bathing suit, have a coffee sitting at the picnic table. I have my second cup in the hammock, listening to the gentle sounds of nature, I feel very relaxed, peaceful.
I pack my little cooler, put a towel into my beach bag with my book and sunscreen, throw a light blanket over my shoulder, put on my large straw-hat, sunglasses and stroll to the beach. It's near noon, the sun is bright, it's hot; barely anyone is on the beach. I spread the blanket; watching a few kids splashing in the lake, I lotion every body part I can reach, a dad and two boys are building sandcastles off to the right. I stretch out, sunbathing, realizing looking up toward the bright sun for reading doesn't work. I roll over on my stomach, resting on my elbows, I begin reading. It's a well written book I can visually see the characters and feel I'm part of the story.
I'm really into the story and identify myself as the sophisticated, leading lady. She is currently being seduced by a handsome gentleman who she met at work. After an expensive dinner, he drives her home, walks her to her door; she invites him in for drinks. It was quickly evident they were both interested in more than drinks. Their passion erupted, clothes were strewn, bodies entwined. I put down the book laid my head on my arms and closed my eyes. I was daydreaming, I was the recipient of his passion.
I feel a tap my shoulder, I turn and peer up, shading my eyes with my hand; it's our campsite neighbor, in a burgundy string bikini.
"You look like you're burning, did you fall asleep?"
I hadn't fallen asleep, the book had me absorbed; the descriptive lovemaking scene had ignited my imagination, and I was quite aroused.
"Thanks, guess that's enough sun for today."
I watch her meander up the beach; I gather my things and head up to camp; on route, I stop for a pee at the laundry building. It's a brick structure; men's showers on one side and women's on the other. Laundry room with 2 washers and 2 dryers in the middle.
I'm sitting in one of 2 cubicles, listening to someone, barely audible, singing one of the songs I was listening to last night, she's got a decent voice.
I wipe my bottom, it's not just the pee, my juices are flowing from the erotic encounter I was reading. The singing stops and the shower shuts off; a second swipe to make sure I'm dry and I pull up my bottoms, as I open the stall door, It's her, the woman from the beach, our new neighbor. She's nude, thin, tiny boobs and hardly any ass at all; she's fairly well tanned except for the contrasting white flesh where her string bikini covered; she's dripping wet, toweling her hair.
I'm stunned; she has no pubic hair, smooth and shiny as a baby's bottom. My initial thought is, she must be a cancer patient; however, her head has thick black hair, she's rubbing it profusely, so it can't be a wig. I notice, barely visible, thin, tiny inner lips, slightly redder than her skin tone, peeking from her puffy mounds on either side. My lower lips are dark brown, thick, wavy, and much larger, twice the size of hers, I have at least 1/2 inch visible beyond my mounds.
Grasping each end, she pulls the towel lower, drags it over her bum, like she's dancing the 'Twist; then up her back and over a shoulder. She notices me standing there motionless; I guess I was staring... no guessing... ok I was definitely staring; it could easily be construed as ogling. Her mesmerizing vulva was enticing, I seemed to be in a hypnotic trance; I was so embarrassed. She smiles, unfazed, continues drying, maintaining eye contact, towels her boobs, slowly, under, around, over, then repeating on the other; returning to delicately dab her tiny nipples. I'm confident she was teasing me. She bends her knees, a 1/2 squat and with her right-hand wipes between her legs, not a simple swipe, but several furious strokes. For some reason I was bewitched, frozen, her big, brown eyes, peering at me, I'm gawking at this naked woman drying herself. I've never stood before a naked woman, ok in high school, as teens, after gym we showered; but I wasn't standing around watching anyone.
We're adults, in our 40's, for some reason I couldn't move, my curiosity piqued, something sexual stirred inside me; I'm unsure what to do; red faced embarrassed, I tip my head down and utter, "Oh, excuse me," and I rush out.
Walking back to our campsite I'm wondering why her nether region is bald. As soon as I enter the camper, I drop my stuff on the seat, and open Tom's laptop to do an online search... 'reason for a bald vulva'.
Everything I find, refers it be a sexual preference. I can't wrap my head around that... a sexual preference... why?
{'God put it there to absorb the mashing of pelvic bones during sexual intercourse, what logical reasoning could there be to remove it? Pounding pelvises would hurt.'}
