The campground we chose was one in the mountains of the next state over, remote enough that we could take a walk in the woods without seeing another person unless we chose to. A creek ran through the campground, babbling in a pleasing way that satisfied something deep in us that loved nature.
We set up the tent together, a team in sync with each other, laying out the stakes, standing it up, filling it with our bags of clothes, air mattresses, and the assortment of things we’d brought to make bedtime its own adventure.
The campground office had bundles of firewood and I bought extra, piling them neatly at the side of the camp site by the fire pit while you gathered sticks and brush for kindling. Each time one of us walked past the other it was with a moment’s hesitation to lean in for a kiss and a quick butt grab before continuing on our task.
Once that was done we grabbed each other’s hands and went to explore the rest of the campground, get the lay of the land and find the bathrooms, see who else was occupying tents and RVs and gauge for signs of civilization (and more importantly privacy). I had chosen the most remote of the campsites on the property so that we would be able to stay in relative privacy and do as we pleased, and being the early fall with a cool breeze in the air there weren’t many other campers.
The woods around us were awash in colors as the leaves changed in preparation for the winter, and the air was relatively clear of bugs, with the exception of the occasional orb weaver with artfully made webs (that I nonetheless kept at a far removed distance from me).
Because we arrived in the afternoon, there wasn’t a lot of time to explore on the first day, so we headed back to the campsite to start and tend the fire. We built the chimney of wood together and loaded it with kindling, and you did the honors of lighting it, fanning the flames as they spread and feeding more kindling into it as needed until the logs blazed merrily. Then, I put a rotisserie chicken on the grate over the fire and we let it sizzle away for awhile as we snuggled.
There’s nothing better than campfire cooked food, and we savored every bite, basking in the warm glow of the flames. There was plenty of space for roasted marshmallows and s’mores after dinner too, and we laughed and made sugar fireballs that turned into sweet lava-filled charcoal. As the fire dimmed, we kept each other warm as you curled up in my lap in the large camp chair, and we kissed and touched each other beneath the moonlight.
Beneath the privacy of the warm camp blanket we stripped off enough layers for easy access and you rode me slowly while I whispered into your ear how much I love you, how happy I was to be here with you sharing this moment under the stars, kissing and biting at your neck lightly between the whispered lines of the poetry of sex. I love rough fucking, but just as equally I love gentle, intimate, emotional lovemaking and this was that, taking our time and feeling each other as long as we could before you came, and I did too not long after you, filling you with warmth before we went to bed naked and surrounded by the sounds of the night.
The following day we had a light breakfast, then romped around and explored the woods, climbing rocks, laughing, rolling around in carpets of leaves, finding cool sticks, and playing noisily as if the whole forest belonged to us (and in that moment it practically did, with no one there to hear us). Exhausted and out of breath, I laid you down on a bed of soft leaves and buried my face between your legs, making you cum over and over as you looked up at the canopy of the forest and watched the light fall breeze pass through the branches. We lay together in the leaves for awhile, and may have dozed, because when we awoke it was late afternoon, and we made our way back to the camp site.
That night dinner over the fire was sauteed vegetables and baked potatoes, and after our meal we had a repeat of the night before, because there’s no reason not to repeat a good thing. Again I whispered sweet things into your ear and praised you as we made love, making you blush with reminders of all the things I love about you punctuated by kisses on your neck, cheeks, lips, forehead. I petted your back and your hair and felt your legs tighten at my sides, as if you could pull me deeper, be closer to me. And finally we collapsed in the tent again, exhausted and falling asleep in each other’s arms.
The third day was for inner tubing down the creek. The walk along the trail to the swimming hole was about three miles, and the creek’s banks were swollen from a season of heavy rain, perfect for our plans. We lounged in our tubes to the rushing sounds of the water and the occasional splashes of frogs and fleeing crayfish. And at a rocky outcropping you urged me up onto one of the rocks that breached the surface of the flowing water and pulled aside my swimsuit to lick and suck gently, teasing me and making me add my moans to the rushing sound of the water. If another tuber went by we slyly stowed away our indecency, waited for them to go around the corner and out of sight, and resumed the fun.
Finally I gasped and came, and you kept your lips wrapped around me tightly, sucking out every drop and claiming your prize. And we continued our relaxing voyage down the creek back to the campground in time to have quick showers to rinse off, then make dinner.
Tonight I made shakshuka in a skillet, the tomato puree bubbling away beneath a lid until it was ready for us to add three eggs to fry, and sighed happily as we ate the delicious meal. For dessert, we hollowed out navel oranges and filled them with chocolate cake batter, then wrapped them in aluminum foil and put them at the edge of the fire to bake in the heat, then enjoyed the orange-flavored chocolate lava cake right from the orange peels.
And then, more of the same as the first two nights!
The fourth day it was time for us to go home, and we packed up the tent and other supplies with reluctance, joking that we could go get our families and stay in the woods and become hillfolk, never going back to the civilized world. But at last, we climbed in the car for a long and satisfied drive home, listening to our favorite music and audiobooks and holding hands every chance we got, just like we always had.