Pitching Tents

by Mari Thorne

  “Do you have lube?” I asked.

  “No, why would I bring lube on a camping trip?”

  “Well, if you want to fuck my hole, you can’t just go in dry,” I said.

  Heat and a hint of surprise flashed in his eyes at my words. “I know that,” his hand slipped from my face and pulled my pants down to free my cock. He didn’t even hesitate before wrapping his hand around my length. I closed my eyes, a small gasp escaping my mouth as he stroked me. “I’ve done butt stuff before.”

  “You have?”

  “I’ve dated a few girls that wanted to try anal. I’ve never taken it up the ass, but I’ve given it a few times. Enough to know what to do and what not to do.” He applied just the right amount of pressure to my cock, pumping me harder, faster.

  “Fuck,” I panted, pleasure zinging through me with every stroke of his capable hand. Where did he get that confidence from? “If you keep going like that, I will come stupid fast.” I bit my lip, hoping the pain would ward off orgasm, and he flicked the side of my mouth.

  “Stop it, that’s the point, we need lube,” he chuckled at my pained look. I almost lost it the second he said, “we.” We were doing this, and that made my chest fill with joy. Yeah right, I was deluding myself if I ever thought I would get over this man, not when he talked to me like that. “Don’t worry, I’ll be able to get you to come again later.”

  My laugh turned into a moan as he stroked me, both hands on me now, pants pulled down somewhere by my ankles. He rolled me over and ground his erection against my bare ass. His hand cupped my ass cheek, and he panted into my ear, chest pressed against my back, “You like that?” he breathed.

  “Fuck yes,” I thrust into his hand now, not bothering to worry about what he thought. He was obviously more into this than I could have ever imagined, the slickness of his precome slicking my crack from top to taint.

  “This morning, when you said my name, I nearly fucking lost it,” he muttered into my ear.

  “Alan,” I whispered, and he groaned and ground against me harder, the head of his cock threatening to breach my hole before we’d done any preparation. I almost contorted my body to shove him inside me, lube be damned.

  “Come for me,” he said, voice full of that confidence, deep with lust. My body liked that command. Liked it a lot. I groaned as I felt the white-hot surge of pleasure. I orgasmed and my body rocked against him. One hand pumped me dry as the other covered the top of my dick, fingers coated in slick semen.

  Before I could catch my breath, a finger grazed my entrance, and I gasped.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” I panted, and let out another needy sound when his finger slid in, slick with my own come. It was so dirty yet arousing at the same time. I took a deep breath and forced my body to relax around the intrusion.

  “You just had your fingers in here this morning, how are you so tight?” he growled. A second come-slicked finger joined the other as he pumped and stroked, scissoring his fingers to widen me for what was to come next.

  When he grazed my prostate, pleasure zinged through my overstimulated body. I moaned and arched into him, his dick bumping my ass. “Fuck, just get inside me already, I’m ready.”

  “So bossy. I’m supposed to be in charge here.” A wrapper tore behind me and I looked over my shoulder as he rolled on a condom. So he didn’t carry lube camping, but condoms were part of his kit? Well, that made sense. Never know what kind of warm, wet holes you’ll find out in the wilderness, apparently.

  “Not necessarily,” I rolled on top of him, jostling the tent a little. I’d forgotten the tent was strapped to the top of a vehicle for a minute there. Straddling him like this, his wrapped dick stood at attention like a gift just for me. Just being in this position, I was already hard again. With Alan, I was insatiable. “You told me once, you like it when the girl does the work. You always hate it when you have to pump and she just lays there and takes it.”

  “You remembered that?” He stared at me with wide eyes as I got onto my knees and positioned myself over his erection. The head pressed against my tight hole. This position let me gaze into those gorgeous blue eyes of his as I exhaled and relaxed, the head of his come-slicked cock sliding in.

  “I remember everything you’ve told me about your sex life, because I always pretended it was me in your bed instead, satisfying you like no one could ever do.”

  He moaned as he ground his dick against me and closed his eyes, but I pinched his nipple and they shot open.

  “Don’t you dare close your eyes. You won’t pretend I’m just some random person you’re fucking.” Where did this newfound confidence come from? I was never this bossy in bed. “Tomorrow, you might want to forget all about it, but tonight, you will look into the face of the man you’ve stuck your dick in. You will fuck your best friend and you don’t get to pretend it’s some woman you met at a bar. I deserve more than that.”

  He swallowed and nodded, keeping those gorgeous blue eyes open as I slid myself down his shaft, agonizingly slow, letting him fill me. He groaned but kept still, letting me go as slow as I needed. I stretched around him, painful at first, but the intrusion soon turned into a pleasurable, full sensation. When I finally had him in all the way to the hilt, I settled onto his hips and wriggled, letting myself enjoy the intensity of his entire dick inside me.

  “Sean,” he gasped, and when I looked down, his expression was one I’d never seen on his face before. His nostrils flared, his cheeks pink, and his pupils fully dilated, lips parted and wet. “What the fuck are you doing to me?”

  I shook my head, “I’m not sure,” but his eyes didn’t leave mine when I moved, sliding up and down his length. He thrust, gentle at first, then harder, matching my rhythm. I put my hands on the pillows over his shoulders and bent, putting my mouth on his. His mouth tasted of burnt marshmallow sweetness mingled with the bitterness of the beer. I breathed in his scent of woodsmoke and pine. His tongue slipped into my mouth, no doubt tasting the same. At the same time, he rocked his hips, thrusting harder now, the whole tent swaying gently each time he bottomed out inside me.

  I murmured his name into his mouth as he kept up his relentless assault on my ass. Never in all my wet dreams had it felt this good, his mouth on mine, his expert cock setting me on fire from the inside.

  I shifted and he tagged my prostate so hard I almost came again right there. I clenched around his dick and he said, “Sean, oh fuck, I can’t hold it much longer.”

  “Same,” I breathed, reaching down to give my aching, neglected dick some relief. He batted my hand out of the way and wrapped his own hand around me. Every time he thrust, it made me push into his hand. He pumped harder, already a pro at judging my reactions and hitting my prostate, making me gasp into his mouth again, our lips smashed against each other.

  He came with my name on his lips, shooting his load into the condom. I followed with a strangled cry, his tongue in my mouth, coming onto his chest for the second time that day, hot sticky liquid pelting the space between us. I slid off of him and we collapsed into a heap, drunk on pleasure and beer. I ran a hand through his come-soaked chest and, in my surprise, he took my hand and licked it off my fingers, sending another thrill to my spent dick. That little bastard should be worn out by now, but Alan seemed to have a magic spell over my libido.

  “Not as bad as I thought it would be,” he remarked, sighing and flopping back onto the pillows, one arm around me. We were both sticky with sweat and come, but neither of us moved. It was as if we both knew as soon as we disturbed this moment, it would shatter into a million pieces that would never go back together again.

  “I know there’s not really any chance of a, ‘next time,’” I sighed. “But if the circumstance ever arises, I’d like to… do it again.”

  He said nothing in response, only pulling me closer like he never wanted to let go. I curled into him and let him hold me. My wildest dreams had somehow come true, and that was enough. Even if we never did this again, I knew that I’
d been right to want to do it with Alan.

  I chuckled, “You’ve convinced me to enjoy camping.”

  He laughed in response, nuzzling my head with his cheek but keeping his thoughts to himself. After we sat there for a few, he let go, peeling the condom off and tying it and tossing it into the corner. “We should clean up.”

  “Too tired,” I covered my head with a pillow. “We’ve already made a mess anyway, let’s just deal with it in the morning. We can go skinny dipping in the river or something.”

  “Yeah, sounds good.” His words sounded detached, like he was deep in thought as he turned off the lantern and rolled onto his side, spooning me again. Warmth, contentment, and exhaustion took over almost immediately, and I slept better than I had in a long time.

  The next morning, I awoke to an empty tent. The heater was dead again; we’d survived the night curled against each other for warmth. The damp space reeked of sex and semen.

  I opened the tent flap and peered outside. Sean was loading the Jeep, camp packed up, minus the tent. A plate of scrambled eggs and undercooked bacon sat on the roof of the Jeep. When he saw me peering out, he didn’t meet my eyes. He handed me the plate and a pack of wet wipes and finished loading the stove and fishing poles.

  “When you’re done eating, we can pack up the tent and head out.”

  “To the next campsite?” I asked, gnawing on the bacon like worry gnawed at my heart. That warm, solid, happy feeling in my chest morphed into fluttering anxiety.

  “No, we’re going home,” he still didn’t meet my eyes.

  “But I thought—”

  “Sorry, Sean,” he glanced up at me, eyes apologetic, frowning. “I think it’s best we go home today.”

  The eggs turned to dust in my mouth, and I choked them down, coughing. What had I done?

  4

  Alan

  I woke up the morning after Sean and I had sex—oh God, it pained me to even say that—with my best friend curled around my torso. He cuddled me like his life depended on it, and judging by how cold it was outside the blankets, it might have. He was sound asleep; it wasn’t even daylight out yet, but I had to piss and I couldn’t sleep any longer. Now that I wasn’t drunk and blissed out on the most amazing orgasm of my life, guilt, regret, and shame crept in at the edges.

  Guilt because I’d used my best friend like a sex doll the night before. I’d told him he was just a hot, wet hole to use. Who said shit like that? Why had I been such an asshole? I buried my face in my hands.

  Regret because Sean deserved so much more. He didn’t deserve to be used. Why had he allowed me to do that to him? What if things between us were never the same again? I had changed the dynamic of our friendship with my decision. There was no way we could go back to the way we were before. The damage was done.

  Shame because I knew I shouldn't feel this mortified that I’d fucked a man. But I still felt it. Maybe it's because I didn't consider myself gay. Before yesterday, I hadn't ever looked at Sean, or any man, with anything close to attraction.

  Sean and I were best friends, inseparable. We'd seen each other naked, shared a bed, skinny-dipped, we'd even shared girlfriends. Never once had I ever looked at him and gotten a boner. Now, just thinking about him while I stood there trying to take a piss made my dick perk up. No, I didn't deserve someone like Sean. I didn't even deserve his leftovers. I was a terrible friend, and I could never be what he needed me to be.

  I couldn’t be with him. Sean was a relationship kind of guy. He loved love and hearts and flowers and cheesy greeting cards and weddings and all of that. I wouldn’t even call the stuff I did with women anything close to relationships. Affairs? Sexcapades? When women and I were together, it was always physical. Heated, full of lust and sex, but they weren’t relationships. I got no complaints about my performance in bed, but the major criticism I always got from women was that I wasn’t, “emotionally available enough,” whatever that meant.

  Once, I told a girl I loved her just to see what would happen. She broke up with me the next day, telling me I hadn’t taken her feelings for me seriously. So I fucked my way through the dating apps, and yeah, I even slept with some of Sean’s girlfriends. He didn’t seem to mind, and now I knew why. But honestly, if they weren’t faithful enough to say no to me, did they even deserve to be with Sean?

  I scrambled some eggs and fried some bacon, heaping it onto a plate before I started packing up the campsite. I didn't eat any of it; I was too mad at myself. Getting too drunk was no excuse. I’d consented to what we’d done last night. I'd taken advantage of Sean's... what was it? Lust? A crush? I'd been trying to wrap my head around it all for the past twenty-four hours. Sean had been fantasizing about me while jerking off, touching himself, fingers buried in his own ass. I wanted to ask him if this happened a lot, if he fantasized about me often, but I was afraid of the answer. Yes or no, both responses were disturbing in their own ways. If he said yes, I’d be flattered. If he said no, I’d wonder why not? I'm hot, right?

  Thinking of him fantasizing about someone else made my chest feel strange, like someone was reaching in and squeezing my sternum. Was I jealous? That made no sense. I was never jealous. I'd even let previous girlfriends sleep around. Once I'd had a threesome but mostly just watched the other dude bang my girlfriend. See? I was generous. Not jealous. But fuck, with Sean, the idea of him with someone, anyone else made me feel really fucking weird.

  Blankets rustled inside the tent. Finally awake, Sean poked his head out and I handed him the plate of food and some wet wipes without meeting his eyes. I couldn't, I was afraid of what he'd see in mine.

  “When you’re done eating, we can pack up the tent and head out.” I had to take him back home. I'd used him, abused his trust, taken advantage of whatever attraction he had to me, and made a mess of our friendship.

  “To the next campsite?” he asked.

  Damn, did his voice have to be so hopeful? Why was he like that after what I'd done to him? Wasn't he mad at me? I almost said yes. I wanted to, but no, I couldn't risk it. Another night in that tent and I might repeat my mistake all over again. "No, we’re going home."

  “But I thought—”

  “Sorry, Sean,” I finally met his eyes, and they were so hurt. I frowned and tried to say with my eyes what I couldn't say out loud, I'm sorry for ruining everything. “I think it’s best we go home today.”

  Sean coughed and I turned back around, making sure I tied everything down. He finished his eggs and climbed down, washing his plate in the river before coming back to the Jeep. I'd already emptied everything out of the tent and flipped it back over. Saying as little as possible to each other, he helped me strap it all back together and loaded the heater and his bag into the Jeep.

  I wanted to say something, but what? "Sorry for fucking you last night like you mean nothing to me?" That didn't really seem like the right thing to say. What did someone do in this situation? I tried to think about it like he was a female friend that I'd fucked. Would it be any different? Maybe. The problem was, Sean wasn't just any friend. He was my best friend, someone I’d do anything for, and I didn't know how to handle this awkwardness between us.

  We got in the Jeep and I drove us out. The trail wasn't really that long. Fifty miles of unpaved road from start to finish, but that was fifty miles of slow going. It was doable in a day or two, but I’d planned the trip for three days so we could take our time. The idea was to enjoy the sights and make a weekend out of it. I’d wanted to show Sean all the beauty of off-roading, the places you could go in a vehicle like mine. The trail meandered up and back down a few mountains, through a few high elevation passes, and gave some amazing views on narrow trails with several thousand-foot drop-offs. And this was an easy trail; I hadn’t wanted to do anything extreme for Sean's first trip. Though this was likely his last, judging by how it had gone.

  There were fifteen miles left until we hit pavement again, but the terrain was rough, which meant two hours of awkward silence until we were off the trail.
There was nothing stopping me from getting back on that pavement and driving us back home. I stopped anyway, hands gripping the wheel, and sighed.

  "You're freaking out, aren't you?" Sean asked. I glanced over at him. His eyes were distant, gazing off over the hood, staring at that asphalt road.

  "Are you?"

  He let out a cynical chuckle, "What do you think? Last night was..."

  “A mistake.” I supplied after he trailed off. He jerked his head in my direction, hurt in his expression. “I’m sorry, I shouldn't have taken advantage of you like that. You're my best friend, no, more than that, you're a more like brother to me, and I treated you like—like a—”

  "Shut up," he growled, and I snapped my gaze back to him. "Don't say that."

  "What do you want me to say?" My face burned red. If we weren't several hundred miles from civilization, I might have gotten out of the Jeep and walked home. I didn't want to have this conversation. It was too painful.

  He wiped at his eyes. Oh God, now I'd made a grown man cry. I was the fucking worst friend ever. He shook his head. "Let's just go home."

  I didn't need him to tell me twice. I pulled onto the highway, tires spinning in the dirt, kicking up rocks and dust. We didn't speak again for the entire four-hour drive back to Denver.

  When I parked in my driveway, he hesitated, hand on the door handle, like he still had something to say. Mentally, I pleaded with him to say something, anything. The drive had been tense and awkward, my chest aching. I would have thrown up if I’d eaten any breakfast. What the fuck was wrong with me?

  He opened his mouth, closed it, grimaced, then said, "I'm not sure what happened between last night and this morning, but I'm sorry."

  Sorry? No, that was my line. He was supposed to be mad at me for taking advantage of him. That’s why this was all so awkward. “You didn’t—”

  “No.” His expression set into resolve and he said, “I've been taking advantage of our friendship for a long while now, too long, and it's not right. I haven't been truthful to you, maybe not even truthful to myself. Alan, I'm gay, and like I mentioned last night, I've had a thing for you since middle school. I'd call it a crush, but that sounds so fucking juvenile, and honestly, for me, it's way more than that. Fuck, this is hard.” He ran a hand through that soft brown hair of his and gave me an apologetic look.