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You never know how a situation will turn out. Way back in college, for my friend Ellen’s 21st birthday, we all drove up to Brevard, North Carolina, to go camping. I hadn’t been camping in a couple years.
I was actually pretty excited about it. I had this impression that camping with the girls would break me out of myself, which was something I was desperate for. I wanted to be in the woods, not worrying about what I was wearing or whether I’d showered, miles and miles away from school and slutty girls and boys and bars and all these concerns and preoccupations that were always making me a little nuts. Camping sounded like freedom to me. It sounded like living in a way that the girls did all the time—not exactly reckless, but not nearly as burdened with the neuroses I was beginning to realize I had created for myself. I thought there would be at least one girl wanting to fuck with no strings attached.
We drove in groups and met at the campsite that Ellen and a few of the other girls had already chosen. I knew that Kelly was bringing her 18 year-old friend Connor, and on the drive to Pisgah National Forest it occurred to me that I might be able to have sex with him if I wanted to. I just wasn’t sure if I wanted to or not. But I also kinda knew that once the drinking started, I’d probably want to. So, I guess I wasn’t leaving behind all of my preoccupations.
He was a super hot teen, dirty blond hair that was wavy and a little long, he was tall and slender but not too skinny and he had perfect teeth.
We parked by the side of the road and crossed this cold clear stream that flowed down from where the snow on top of the mountains melted. We set up tents and created a little dam in the stream to keep the beers cold. We built a fire.
Aside from Connor and I, the girls also brought along Adam, this laughably closeted sophomore who still lived in the same dorm we’d all lived in. I was never sure why Adam was part of this group. I couldn’t stand him in that way that dogs don’t like strangers or other dogs; the way gay guys get when they meet other gay guys in non-gay situation: they snarl. Most of all it bothered me that no one would call him out for being a ridiculous, unnecessary closet case. It made no sense. He lived in one of the gay-friendliest dorms on campus. He ran in an exceptionally sexually liberal circle of friends. Yet he insisted—lispingly, mincingly—that he was straight.
But the girls liked him, so I tried to be polite, to interact with him as little as possible.
* * * *
We all got exceptionally drunk. We got naked and splashed in the stream, shrieking and laughing in the cold water. There was barely a moment when we weren’t laughing.
I went to get another beer and found Adam and Connor talking in the dark near the place in the stream that we’d dammed up to keep our cans of beer cold. Talking. That’s all. And not about anything particularly suspicious. But I could already tell what was going on in Adam’s head. I didn’t think he had the guts to make an actual move on Connor, but I wasn’t going to wait to find out. Drunkenly, I decided to take charge of the situation and started flirting with Connor. Like, really obviously drunkenly flirting. Not because I felt like I needed to flirt with him in order to sleep with him; I pretty much knew that was going to happen. I was flirting with Connor just to show Adam who was boss.
The next time Connor—wearing my straw cowboy hat—went down to the stream for a beer, I followed him and we made out and he put his hand down the front of my shorts.
I’m not sure what time it was when people started crawling into tents to go to sleep. Kelly had crossed the stream with our friend Katty to sleep in her car, leaving Connor on his own. I told him he could sleep in my tent, and we crawled in together and got naked.
Despite wanting to get away from it all, into the woods and away from the stresses of everyday life, I actually had brought condoms along. No lube though but at least the condoms were lubricated. Connor, as it turned out, was a particularly loud bottom, moaning and gasping and saying, “Fuck me!” at the top of his lungs. I could actually hear the girls in the other tents giggling and mocking. When Connor and I came, they actually applauded. I shouted to them that I thought I deserved a cigarette now, and they met me by the fire to share one.
Connor crawled out of our tent, still naked and not caring, to sit with us by the fire. Adam joined us too. The girls and I finished our cigarettes and went back to our tents while Adam and Connor finished theirs. I lay there in the tent, listening to them talk, dozing a little. But after a while they got quiet, and I peeked through the mosquito netting on the tent flap to see Adam with his hand in Connor’s crotch, moving slowly back and forth.
“I yelled stop letting Adam jerk you off and get in here.”
In their tent, the girls burst into laughter, and Connor did as he was told.
I was actually pretty excited about it. I had this impression that camping with the girls would break me out of myself, which was something I was desperate for. I wanted to be in the woods, not worrying about what I was wearing or whether I’d showered, miles and miles away from school and slutty girls and boys and bars and all these concerns and preoccupations that were always making me a little nuts. Camping sounded like freedom to me. It sounded like living in a way that the girls did all the time—not exactly reckless, but not nearly as burdened with the neuroses I was beginning to realize I had created for myself. I thought there would be at least one girl wanting to fuck with no strings attached.
We drove in groups and met at the campsite that Ellen and a few of the other girls had already chosen. I knew that Kelly was bringing her 18 year-old friend Connor, and on the drive to Pisgah National Forest it occurred to me that I might be able to have sex with him if I wanted to. I just wasn’t sure if I wanted to or not. But I also kinda knew that once the drinking started, I’d probably want to. So, I guess I wasn’t leaving behind all of my preoccupations.
He was a super hot teen, dirty blond hair that was wavy and a little long, he was tall and slender but not too skinny and he had perfect teeth.
We parked by the side of the road and crossed this cold clear stream that flowed down from where the snow on top of the mountains melted. We set up tents and created a little dam in the stream to keep the beers cold. We built a fire.
Aside from Connor and I, the girls also brought along Adam, this laughably closeted sophomore who still lived in the same dorm we’d all lived in. I was never sure why Adam was part of this group. I couldn’t stand him in that way that dogs don’t like strangers or other dogs; the way gay guys get when they meet other gay guys in non-gay situation: they snarl. Most of all it bothered me that no one would call him out for being a ridiculous, unnecessary closet case. It made no sense. He lived in one of the gay-friendliest dorms on campus. He ran in an exceptionally sexually liberal circle of friends. Yet he insisted—lispingly, mincingly—that he was straight.
But the girls liked him, so I tried to be polite, to interact with him as little as possible.
* * * *
We all got exceptionally drunk. We got naked and splashed in the stream, shrieking and laughing in the cold water. There was barely a moment when we weren’t laughing.
I went to get another beer and found Adam and Connor talking in the dark near the place in the stream that we’d dammed up to keep our cans of beer cold. Talking. That’s all. And not about anything particularly suspicious. But I could already tell what was going on in Adam’s head. I didn’t think he had the guts to make an actual move on Connor, but I wasn’t going to wait to find out. Drunkenly, I decided to take charge of the situation and started flirting with Connor. Like, really obviously drunkenly flirting. Not because I felt like I needed to flirt with him in order to sleep with him; I pretty much knew that was going to happen. I was flirting with Connor just to show Adam who was boss.
The next time Connor—wearing my straw cowboy hat—went down to the stream for a beer, I followed him and we made out and he put his hand down the front of my shorts.
I’m not sure what time it was when people started crawling into tents to go to sleep. Kelly had crossed the stream with our friend Katty to sleep in her car, leaving Connor on his own. I told him he could sleep in my tent, and we crawled in together and got naked.
Despite wanting to get away from it all, into the woods and away from the stresses of everyday life, I actually had brought condoms along. No lube though but at least the condoms were lubricated. Connor, as it turned out, was a particularly loud bottom, moaning and gasping and saying, “Fuck me!” at the top of his lungs. I could actually hear the girls in the other tents giggling and mocking. When Connor and I came, they actually applauded. I shouted to them that I thought I deserved a cigarette now, and they met me by the fire to share one.
Connor crawled out of our tent, still naked and not caring, to sit with us by the fire. Adam joined us too. The girls and I finished our cigarettes and went back to our tents while Adam and Connor finished theirs. I lay there in the tent, listening to them talk, dozing a little. But after a while they got quiet, and I peeked through the mosquito netting on the tent flap to see Adam with his hand in Connor’s crotch, moving slowly back and forth.
“I yelled stop letting Adam jerk you off and get in here.”
In their tent, the girls burst into laughter, and Connor did as he was told.