Summer Camping Ch. 02

When I was finished fumbling with my pants I worked up the courage to look at Claire. She was going to be pissed and I deserved it. Her lip was trembling. I hurried to her and pulled her to my chest. She had her arms curled up against her chest. I rocked her and murmured into her hair.

"Hey, don't do that. I'm sorry. You make me nuts, that's all. Don't cry. Don't be upset. I'm an idiot."

We swayed there, holding each other.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to keep up with you, that I can't give you what you want. You're so...intense sometimes."

I held her at arm's length. "That's bat shit crazy girl. I don't take back anything I said. It was all true. I get too wound up at times; I know that. Just tell me to back off, give you space. I promise, I'll listen."

She sighed and nodded. "Okay."

"Good." I said with what I hoped was a determine nod of my head. My face broke into a grin. "But I still want to eat your pussy someday."

She just stared at me, then punched me in the chest but there was no power behind it. It was just for show.

We talked about going camping that afternoon. Mom said okay, which nearly caused me to have a heart attack. Claire's parents added the Cindy-must-chaperone proviso and we were set.

That's how I found myself standing in the dark, brushing pine needles off my hands and knees, cursing the dark, cursing Cindy, almost cursing Claire for not ignoring her sister and sleeping in my tent but mostly cursing myself for not bringing another goddamn flashlight.

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The day had been great. Even Cindy hadn't gotten on my nerves, not too much anyway. I got Claire to listen to a cassette of a new band I was getting into, the Pretenders. She had been non-committal but our tastes in music were similar. I figured the band would grow on her.

After that I ceded control of the tape deck to the girls. The rest of the drive was spent in mostly in the 70s, musically speaking, with a bit of Beatles thrown in but mostly touchy-feely rock, Bread, Carpenters (which I refused to admit I liked), non-Gabriel Genesis. You know.

The tents went up without so much as a single bent pin. I got a little of my perv on watching the distorted images of the naked girls in the chrome trim of my car as they changed into bathing suits. Even the half-mile hike to the river wasn't bad. It was hot as hell; under the canopy the air was thick as a sauna, but the path was clear of brush and the ground was smooth and level.

As with the campgrounds at this end of the park, the coarse sandy beach at the river's edge was mostly deserted. There was an older couple, way older than Claire's folks, probably social security old. The old dude looked naked from a distance. The truth was far worse. His huge flabby belly completely hid a seriously over-stretched red Speedo, visible only from behind. His boobs were bigger than Claire's. The girls nearly strangled on suppressed laughter. We shuffled past him and the missus. Thank God she wore a one piece. A bikini would have put me off my feed for a week.

Cindy wore a one piece as well. She was barely a year younger than Claire; she'd turned eighteen a few days ago. They were two years apart in high school. Claire's birthday was early enough to get her in, as one of the younger first graders, while Cindy's was just late enough to force her to wait a year to start school. To an objective viewer Cindy was cute enough but I only had eyes for her sister.

Claire's bikini was, no surprise, on the modest side but it was still eye catching. It wasn't a string bikini but it was definitely tinier than the one that had left the tan lines I'd seen last summer. I had been so fixated on her boobs back then I had missed how hot her ass was.

I remember thinking, "Note to self -- walk behind her on the hike back dumbass."

We splashed around, the girls unable to refrain from squealing every time they wandered into an underwater plant. The river was low, which probably explained the lack of a crowd. Only a single canoe floated past, the other times I had been here it looked like the river ride at Six Flags.

I waited to see if the girls noticed the woman was topless. As they got closer it was evident the guy was naked as well, not that you could see anything other than the side of his leg.

Cindy noticed them first and gushed. "They're naked."

"Yup, they are," I offered.

Cindy turned to me. "Why are they naked?"

"How should I know? Swim after them." I shrugged. "Some people enjoy being naked out in the open. It's no big deal."

"It's gross." Cindy's nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Really? I do it all the time." I didn't but it sounded like a good idea.

"You do not!"

I looked at her quizzically, shrugged and reached for the buttons of the cut offs I was wearing.

Cindy swiped a tidal wave of river water into my face, squealing, "No way, don't you dare."

I couldn't allow a splash like that to go unchallenged.

I waded toward her. She offered ineffectual squealing and slaps of water as a defense. I was able to get one hand around her arm and one on her hip. I squatted and with more luck than strength hoisted her above my head. I didn't want to hurt her in the shallow water so I spun and heaved her toward the deeper channel in the middle of the river. I assumed her squealing was the usual don't-you-dare-throw-me-in-the-water squeals that were part and parcel of the game.

As I released her I realized Claire was screaming, "Cindy can't swim."

"Well just fuck me," I thought to myself as I dove after her.

I wasn't strong enough to throw her far. I'm not sure the water would have even been over her head if she had thought to stand up. I grabbed her as soon as her head shot above water. She was already panicking. She whacked me on the side of the nose hard enough to send tiny black and white stars corkscrewing through my vision.

She threw her arms around my neck, pulling me off balance and we both went under. The river made a broad sweeping turn, which is why the beach was built here. The current was pretty mellow along this stretch. The only problem I had was Cindy's flailing.

A couple of side strokes and we were in waist deep water. Cindy was still clinging to my neck. I carefully splashed a few feet further into the shallows. Even the slow current had carried us to the other end of the beach. I could see Claire angling toward us. Mr. Speedo stood one hand over his eyes, his posture was clearly meant to suggest that he was capable and ready to intervene at a moment's notice should the need arise.

Cindy to let go of my neck. She was shivering and I let her rest on my chest. Holding her was nothing like holding Claire. I was simply offering her comfort and trying to make up for being a total dick.

"I'm sorry Cindy. I didn't know you couldn't swim."

By the time Claire splashed back into the river, Cindy was sniveling her tears to a halt. As Claire touched her on the arm, Cindy punched me in the chest but there wasn't any power behind it. I think it was for show.

"Asshole," she snarled at me.

"Yup, I agree." I answered. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you couldn't swim."

"I can swim," she snapped. "Not very well but I can swim."

Claire snorted. "You can dog paddle."

Cindy glared at her sister. "Are you taking his side?"

Claire turned and glared at me. She punched me in the chest but there wasn't any power behind hers, either. "Asshole," she snarled at me, then ruined the charade by laughing.

Cindy did her best to glare at us both, settled for a final, "assholes" with a strong emphasis on the final 's' turning it into a 'z' sound, making it perfectly clear she was using the plural.

Claire gave her sister a one-arm hug and they turned to walk ashore. One of them tripped and down they went amide a flourish of high-pitched squawks. They bounced up spluttering and giggling. Jesus.

I took Cindy by the elbow and walked her to shore, Claire followed. They both were still snorting.

Mr. Speedo was waiting. I noted, with renewed horror, that he was toothless. Well that explained the lisp.

"You kids need to settle down before someone gets hurt." He sniffed at the air. "You kids been drinking? I can have you kicked out of here for drinking. You know that don't you?" He paused, hands on hips. I struggled not to laugh. "Where are your parents?"

We ignored him as he continued to sputter, whether for his sake or his wife's, I haven't a clue.

It was too muggy under the trees for idle repartee. The rest of the short walk was spent in silence. I lagged behind, trying to look at only Claire's ass and mostly succeeding. I recalled a piece of advice my father had given me, to wit: "It doesn't matter where you get your appetite as long as you come home for dinner." I wondered if he were still around if he'd have any other words of wisdom.

The tents were sweltering. I was afraid the nylon would melt. We tied the flaps back, hoping that would help and rummaged around, digging out towels, soap, toothbrushes and toothpaste. I forgot my toothpaste. Claire offered to share theirs as we began to trudge towards the showers.

I thank her and wondered if, that being the case, shouldn't we just all shower and get cleaned up together. That struck me as being the more efficient option. Claire praised my commitment to efficiency and pledged to consider my plan on the way to the showers. I expressed some niggling doubts in regard to the sincerity of her pledge. Cindy just stared at us, rolled her eyes and walked faster.

I took advantage of her brief absence to put my arms around Claire. I started to hug her but we both agreed wet swimming suits were a serious drag when it came to hugs. We did manage a few kisses. A few were all it took to start to get me hard.

I pointed at my crotch. "Great. Nice going Claire. Now what am I going to do? I can't go walking around like this." I griped at her with exaggerated exasperation.

"You'll manage." She took my hand and we followed Cindy.

Little piles of dead brown leaves clustered in the corners of the bathroom. I was afraid the showers wouldn't work. I called over the wall to remind the girls to let the water run for a while to clear the line as I twisted the knob on the one closest to me. The wall went nearly to the ceiling. Rusting wire screens closed the gaps between the rafters.

I contemplated the screens as the shower spit and coughed. The space between the top of the wall and roof was maybe six inches. Did they really imagine sex-crazed men would slither through the gaps without the screens? When they could simply walk outside and go in the women's door? Beats me.

The showers were fed from a tank on the roof. The sole source of heat was the sun. Given the lack of campers, the water was almost too hot. I showered quickly, slipping my feet out of my flip-flops one at a time. I was paranoid about smelly feet. I washed my hair with the bar soap. I had gotten a buzz cut before the trip. Claire had never seen me without long hair. She kept rubbing her hand over my head, fascinated by the stubbly feel of it.

I rinsed the river water out of the cut offs I was using for trunks and wrung them out. I had neglected to bring a pair of shorts with me. That might have been on purpose. I don't really remember now. I wrapped the towel around my waist, taking extra care to tuck the ends in. I wanted to appear edgy and dangerous, not buffoonish.

I picked up my cut offs and went outside to wait for the girls. I sat on one of the logs that surrounded the service building, careful to make sure the towel covered everything that need to be covered. I closed my eyes and tipped my face to the sun, marveling that something 92 million miles away could feel so hot.

I could hear Claire and Cindy giggling and talking, but not what they were talking about. I was an only child. I wasn't sure how siblings behaved. If I had a brother would I be joking around with him, naked in a shower?

When I heard the showers die I tossed my trunks over my shoulder and started filling the five-gallon water container from the potable water tap. It was just beginning to overflow when the girls emerged, giggling and pulling at their hair with towel draped fingers.

Claire had on lime green terry cloth shorts. If there are any pictures of her in them I am sure she destroyed them before her kids could mock her. They looked hot on her but they were quintessential late 70s fashion and time has not been kind to late 70s fashion.

She had on a faded blue tee, with sleeves that barely dipped over her shoulders. If I had been looking at her outfit, I would have questioned her color palette but I wasn't looking at her outfit. I was looking at the outline of her nipples. She had never been braless around me before.

I looked away quickly, reminding myself I was only wearing a towel. If I was worried about sporting wood in my trunks, sporting wood wrapped in a towel was a whole new level of worry. I knew from bitter experience worrying about getting hard, usually made me hard. In the past, my dick had been a vile betrayer in that regard.

I focused on burping the plastic water jug and securing the top. I straightened up, re-tucked my towel before turning and picked up the water jug. It was heavy and the handle was thin hard plastic. It was already gouging into my palm. Hauling water back to the tents was going to be a pain in the ass. I set it down and was wrapping the cut-off jeans around the handle when Cindy snatched my towel away.

My hands dropped to cover myself as I stood and turned.

"Woo hoo, Sam's joining the nudists." Cindy chanted, dancing just out of my reach.

"Ha, ha," I snapped. "Give it", I said.

"Give it? The towel? I thought you said you did this 'all the time'. Or were you giving us a line of baloney" Cindy asked in a mocking voice.

I raised both hands, no longer trying to cover myself. "No, not all the time. Just when I can Cindy."

I could tell she hadn't expected me to do that. She stared, mouth slightly open.

I turned and headed toward our campsite. I could hear Claire start to giggle and a splutter or two from Cindy.

The only thing I could make out clearly was, "You asked for it."

Well, that might not be true but she got it.

By the time I sat the water jug atop the table at our campsite, I totally fucking hated the thing. I had to switch hands every few feet and even with the jeans wrapped around the handle my hands ached. Each palm bore a vivid red slash.

I was pulling on a pair of baggy gym short when I heard the girls' voices. The shorts were survivors from my freshman gym class. Gym shorts back then were all cotton, baggy and not very long in the leg. Without an accompanying jock-strap there was a real danger of cock and ball dangle.

Cindy was very quiet. Claire tossed me my towel with a quick, "Here you go."

"Thanks." My car was open and the windows down. I reached through the driver's window and grabbed the keys out of the ashtray. I opened the trunk and retrieved the coil of cotton rope and bag of clothespins I had tossed in there before we left. I rummaged through the box of cooking supplies sitting atop the picnic table and located a knife.

"Hey Cindy," she looked up, startled. She was chewing her lower lip. "Give me a hand will you?"

I didn't wait for a reply but turned toward a thicket of smaller trees. I was surveying the options when she stopped beside me.

"What do you think?" I asked nodding with my head. "I want to put up a line so we can let our towels and suits dry. I don't want them right under the trees though. Look at all the sap on the bushes."

She pointed. "What about over there, those two. They aren't under the taller trees and they'll get more sun."

I nodded. "I was thinking about them but they aren't very far apart." I looked back toward the larger trees. "But if we run the line to one of those," I pointed with my chin. "The line will run right under these drippy bastards."

She nodded then looked back toward the tents. "Pull your car down. All the stuff except the tarp is out of it. Park it past the trees so it doesn't get sap all over it. Tie one end to the roof rack and the other to the tree."

"Perfect. The keys are in the ashtray, pull it down here will you?"

She gave me a quizzical look. "You sure?"

"You can drive can't you?" She nodded. "I mean better than you can swim?" I grinned at her scowl.

"Fine, don't blame me if I scratch it."

"Darlin' it's a Pacer. A scratch ain't gonna hurt it none." My Texas accent is awful.

By the time she pulled the car down, I had one end of the line tied around the branch of the furthest tree. My hands were sticky with sap.

"I don't want to touch the rope with all this sticky shit on my hands. Can you tie off the other end?" I asked Cindy as she got out of the car. Her legs caught on the vinyl seat and produce a very farty sounding squeak. She blushed.

"Really my dear, what would your mother say?"

Cindy squinted at me. "You know all your accents sound the same don't you?"

"Fuck off," I said and stuck my tongue out at her. "Claire, your sister is being mean," I hollered as I walked toward the tent.

"Uh-huh," Claire called back. She was sitting at the table. She never looked up from her book.

"Can you run some water over my hands and hand me the soap? I got tree sap all over them and I don't want to get it on anything."

"No problem." When she rose she leaned forward and I caught a glimpse of the top of her breast.

Claire handed me the soap and opened the spout as I held my hands under the jug.

"Careful, don't waste it. Dragging that thing back and forth is going to be a huge pain."

She nodded, as I scrubbed at my palms and fingers. I had to use my fingernails to scratch the stuff off and then clean it from under my nails. I was still at it when Cindy came back. She sat down opposite Claire and immediately let out a "woo hoo". She did that a lot. I was afraid it was going to get irritating.

"Claire, does mom know you swiped her dirty book?" Cindy teased. That got my attention.

"It is not a dirty book."

"Oh yes it is. You think you're the only one to sneak a peek at Once Is Not Enough big sister?"

Claire tossed it aside. "I wished I would have snuck a longer peak. It sucks, even the dirty parts are boring."

"Hey, how about a rinse over here?"

Claire leaned down the table, stretching out to reach the spigot without getting up. As the water started, I rinsed my hands off quickly and she twisted the spigot closed.

I dried my hands on the seat of my pants. If that stretched the front of the shorts over my crotch, it simply couldn't be helped. Both girls were staring but I was only interested in Claire's reaction.

She picked up the book, ruffled its pages between her fingers and tossed it down again. "I didn't bring anything else to read. Shoot."

I stepped over the damp ground at the end of the table. Instead of sitting on the bench I sat on top of the table and put my feet on the bench. My back was to Cindy but I turned so I could see her. My legs ended up facing Claire. Unfortunately, my cock tended to park on the left and it was the right leg of my shorts facing her. I imagined she could see my balls and the base of my cock but not much else. I set part of my mind working on ways to move to the Claire's other side without being obvious.

"What did you bring to read?"

Cindy's face flamed. She mumbled something.

Claire was grinning. "She brought Flowers in the Attic."

"Shut up." Cindy stomped away and flung up the screen flap of the tent and flopped onto one of the sleeping bags.

Claire's grin faded. "Are you mad at her? About the towel?"

I tossed my head. "No. I think I got her back on that one."

Claire snorted, "That you did."

I twisted around and pulled the box with the cooking odds and ends toward me. I had to lay my right leg atop the table in order to reach it. A cool breeze wafted up the leg of my shorts. I was giving Claire a much better view. Whether or not she was interested in the view was another matter. For my part, I really was searching for one of the enamel tin cups my family had used on camping trips for as long as I could remember. Flashing Claire was a bonus.