You know those ocean voyage movies? The old-time ones where the ship wanders into a massive storm, and the crew is all below deck hauling out buckets of water, and the captain is strapped to the wheel and is the only thing keeping the ship afloat as the sails whip around him? Yeah, it’s definitely not a realistic depiction of the operation of a ship at sea during a storm. But it was a good depiction of me in my tent the night of the big storm.
Thirty seconds earlier, I had been dry. I’d changed into my pajamas and had gone to the communal water trough in the center of the campsite to brush my teeth. I heard the wind pick up and smelled the rain about to break overhead. I rushed back into my tent.
The sky opened, the air around me sizzling with the electric buzz of a nearby lightning strike as night imitated day. A crash resounded to my left, possibly a tree falling. Or a potato gun in the pouring rain? You never knew in a camp like this.
I rushed to close the flaps of my tent as the rain pounded down, letting out a cry of dismay as I attempted to zip them shut and found the zippers broken.
“No!” I shouted to no one in particular. Campsite staff was supposed to have come by to fix my tent earlier that day. Was I surprised my zippers were broken? No. They hadn’t fixed it two days ago, either.
I shouted into the wind as I desperately held the flaps together in front of me, as the wind picked up, and the rain started falling horizontally. I stood like that captain on deck, trying to keep my tent dry and failing miserably. It only took a moment for me to realize how soaked I was soon to be despite my vice-like grip on the tent flaps in front of me. The fucking tent was leaking from above.
“Who the fuck set up this tent?!” I screamed into the wind as I let go of the flaps. They whipped back into the tent, the rain utterly drenching me as I scrambled to grab the emergency rain poncho and duct tape from the spare cot beside me. I frantically taped a poncho over my sleeping bag as water dripped down my face. My pajamas were plastered to my body as I attempted to tape the tent flaps closed. The flaps, my hands, and the duct tape were wet. This was a losing elazığ escort battle, and I knew it.
I sat down on my poncho-covered cot and let the rain soak me. Lightning lit the sky as I looked out over the empty campsite. What possessed me to return to the campsite with a severe storm warning? I could be dry down at the meeting hall right now with all the other counselors. But no. I’d come up the hill to ensure all the tent flaps were closed so the campers would have dry tents to sleep in. And they would. Everyone would be dry but me.
“Holy shit,” I heard faintly from the rain-soaked landscape in front of me. “Kelly told me you’d come up alone to close all the tent flaps. But why the fuck did you stay up here alone in the storm?” came the faint voice.
I looked up, my eyes wet, partially from the rain, partially from pity tears as I considered my soaking wet tent. I couldn’t tell who was out there yet; it was just a deep male voice coming to me from the void of the storm.
He moved into the tent, pulling the flaps closed behind him, temporarily blocking the rain.
“I look like a drowned rat,” I whimpered.
“Because for some stupid reason, you put your pajamas on and decided to hang out in the flood tent instead of heading back down the hill?” said the mystery man, who resolved into Doug as he continued to hold the tent flaps behind him. I watched as raindrops coming through my poorly waterproofed tent ran down his raincoat and crossed my arms across my breasts self-consciously. The wet cotton of my top conformed precisely to my body.
“I need to change my clothes,” I stated as I stood and forced my arms away from my front so I could open my suitcase. Doug’s eyes wandered across my tits and over my ass in the flickering lantern light.
“Should I close my eyes?” Doug asked as I pulled out jeans and a sweatshirt. “It’s not like I can turn around or let go of the tent flaps.”
“I don’t care. I’m so wet and miserable. Whatever,” I answered. I pulled my top off, and his eyes locked onto my breasts. I faced him defiantly. Instead of closing his eyes, he lifted an eyebrow at me. What the fuck was that supposed erzincan escort to mean? To mess with him, I pulled my wet shorts off, the dry clothing just inches away. My panties were soaked through. I could pull on the sweatshirt and not stand naked in front of this man. But no, some primal part of me that was undeniably turned on by the storm pulled off my panties and stood before him naked.
What am I doing? I thought as I picked up the sweatshirt but didn’t put it on. I held it out above the suitcase, frozen. He was ten years older than me, but that had never stopped us from being friends. We often ate meals together and sometimes had shifts working with the campers at the same time. I’d frequently admired his large hands and wondered what they would feel like on me. But the age gap had been enough that I’d never approached him as anything more than a friend.
But damnit, summer camp made me so horny. Being outside in the woods all week with all that fresh air and sunshine. Well, except for tonight. But a week of changing my clothing in a tent, showering outside, sleeping outside. Outside was what did it, I was convinced.
The first night of camp, I’d climbed into my cot in the nude, the back flaps of my tent open to the night breeze. Grateful to the darkness of the forest around me, I spread my legs wide and let the wind play across the sensitive skin beginning to moisten between my legs. I’d stretched my arms over my head, enjoying the freedom of bunking in a single tent for a change, not having a roommate. I’d brought my fingers to my tits, kneading lightly until the nipples hardened under my palms. Letting my fingers play across my breasts, teasing until I needed to feel the twist of thumb and forefinger against the hardening nubs. I played with my nipples and let the cool breeze play across my clit until I’d nearly cum, then moved my fingers down to that sensitive hood and ran them through the slick that had gathered there.
I thought of that orgasm as I dropped the sweatshirt back into the suitcase and closed it up, anticipating the gale that would hit in just a moment.
“You nut case, get dressed!” Doug bellowed erzurum escort at me above the storm outside.
“But the storm turns me on so much,” I answered, moving toward him.
Dough regarded me for a moment, then a moment more. Then he let go of the tent flaps, which blew violently into the tent around us.
“You truly are insane,” he said as I stepped into him and removed his raincoat. He threw off his shoes, toeing them under the extra cot where they might remain dry if he was lucky. I pulled his shirt over his head and leaned in to kiss him.
By now, we were both soaked, and the rain poured down his face as I cupped his cheeks and ran my tongue across his lips. He unzipped his jeans and pulled them and his boxers down his muscular thighs in one motion, never breaking the kiss. Then his hands were on me, their warmth traveling up my shivering back, down across my ass, and eventually pulling me tightly to him.
“You’re freezing,” he said as I ran my hands through his soaking hair. It occurred to me that we were standing naked in an open tent, bared to the world—or at least the foot and a half of visibility in front of us in the storm. He ran his hands up and down my arms and pulled me into his chest so tightly that I could feel his heart beating. I drank in the warmth of his body.
He turned me around so I was facing the storm, my ass now pressed against his hard cock, his hands massaging my tits. He thrust against my cheeks as he brought a hand down between my legs and slipped a finger inside me. His thumb rubbed across my clit as the rain washed across my face and the wind stung my nipples.
“Hold on tight,” he said. “This storm is about to really take off.”
He moved his hands to my hips, and I reached back and guided his cock into place at the entrance to my cunt. A single hard thrust and he was inside me. As he thrust in and out, in and out, I marveled at how evenly his large hands and the wind shared the responsibility of keeping me in place in front of him.
I leaned into the wind, my arms outstretched to embrace the storm as he embraced me from behind. Fuck me, I called to the wind. Fuck me, I demanded of the rain. Lightning crackled down in front of us, and I felt alive as he came in me.
I collapsed back onto his chest as he kissed my neck and pulled out of me.
“So we did that,” he stated.
“Yes,” I said.
“Can we get dressed now and go somewhere fucking dry?”
“Of course,” I answered.