Camping with ZED PT 1 - by sarah thorne

[sarah thorne]

This was originally only one whole story, but with the character limits, I had to split it up.

RG is "ZED" and sarah thorne is "ginger" - I was too lazy to change the names

copyright 2005 by Zed and ginger
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Zed and I went camping this past weekend. It came up a few weeks ago, really, as part of some vanilla bonding activities that we needed to do.

At first, we talked about asking another couple to go with us. But the ones we wanted to go had other plans, so we started making solo plans to go.

I am not a big outdoors person. Sure, I love the idea of camping and hiking and I do indeed love sitting around a campfire, roasting marshmallows and hot dogs and making s’mores. But in reality, hiking is not my thing. I can go hiking for awhile, but as far as making it an all day adventure, I just can’t.

He talked about us hiking. The place where we were going to go stay has deep family roots for him. It is a national park, but before the government kicked the families off who owned the land that they made into a national park, Zed’s family owned one of the largest chunks of it.

Not only that, he grew up, as a kid, on the fringe of this national park as well. So he had a lot to show me.

He told me to get a list together of what we needed. I was put out (kinda). All we needed was a tent and a cooler and maybe some chairs and sleeping bags, right? Food we could get once we arrived. Pretty basic, no list needed. Hot dogs, cokes, chocolate bars, marshmallows and graham crackers. Basic survival stuff. No need for a list.

The day before we were to leave, I was digging through my parents’ garage trying to find the tent, hoping all the pieces were there. My dad actually showed me how to set the thing up once I did find it. Part of that demonstration was also to ensure that all of the pieces were indeed there.

My father insisted that I take along this foam egg crate mattress thingy. To appease him, I did so. Later, I was glad for it as our tent was set up on gravel.

I packed up my minivan. Zed loves pictures, so I packed two boxes of old, old, old pictures for us to go through in case it rained and we were stuck in the tent. The forecast did call for some storms.

Friday I had instructions to go ahead and go to his sister Sue’s, house. I was reluctant to do that alone, although I have met her and spent time with her before. But never without him there. Our plan was to go ahead and stay the night at her house and then leave very early the next morning toward the national park, which was almost 2 hours away.

I arrived about two hours before he did and sat down with Sue out back on the patio. We ended up having quite a good discussion, some gossip as well (we are women, y’know!). Finally Zed showed up and Sue made him something to eat while I made him his drink.

Now, Zed really has a hard time with sitting there and letting me, or anyone, serve him anything. This is something that he has been trying hard to accept from me, accept that I do indeed enjoy serving him. Usually, he is the one insisting that I (or anyone) sit while he runs around and serves.

He ate and Sue and I had a couple of cocktails. Before long we all ended up at the computer, looking at funny clips, laughing our butts off `til we cried until finally we all retired to bed for the night.

I had a restless night. I couldn’t sleep; I got up a few times. I hated that by doing so I was jolting him awake each time. It stormed and I listened to the thunder and watched the room illuminate from the lightening in the wee hours of the morning, thinking there is no sense in going camping this weekend.

Just as the dawn began to break through, I drifted off to sleep. When I next awoke, Zed was no longer next to me and I heard the shower running. He came back in the room, saw that I was awake and went to the kitchen to make me some coffee. He brought it in and set it on the nightstand just as I was drifting back off to sleep.

“It’s time to wake up,” he said.

“Noooo…” I groaned, curling up under the warm blankets and closing my eyes. “I didn’t sleep well at all. I am soooo tired. I tossed and turned all night and then finally, about five or six this morning, I fell asleep. I hate that!”

He leaned over the bed and kissed me. “Drink your coffee and then go shower. Be careful, sugar. It’s hot.”

He sat back down at the computer while I ignored my coffee on the nightstand and closed my eyes again. They were so heavy. He let me lie there for a time, concentrating on whatever it was he was doing at the screen. Finally, I groggily forced myself to roll over and take my cup of coffee and start to sip on it. It did look like the sun was beginning to shine.

Eventually I sat up and chatted with him as I slowly drank my coffee and woke up. Grudgingly I got my stuff together to go shower and went into the bathroom.

There is something to be said for a nice, hot shower. It always wakes me up better than coffee, really. I had brought my clothes into the bathroom to get dressed in there, knowing how Zed is when he sees me in a towel. He loves it, which isn’t a bad thing. But, being in his sister’s house, I didn’t want to tempt fate. So I dried off best I could and put on my Hello Kitty panties and my bra, but I was still kinda damp. I am one who likes to air dry, so I didn’t feel totally dry. I peeked outside the bathroom door to make sure his sister was not about, and then darted to the next door in the bedroom we had stayed and shut the door behind me.

“I shoulda known better…” I said, throwing my stuff on the bed. “…than to come in here in a towel with wet hair, but I couldn’t get dressed in all that humidity and still not fully dry….”

He turned around in his seat and, when he saw me, pushed the chair back with his feet and patted his lap.

“Come here.” He instructed, grinning a wicked grin.

“No.” I took my shorts out of the bag.

“Don’t you put those on, Come here.” Again, he patted his lap. I shook my head and started to put my shorts on. He gave me a look. “Don’t you do it…” he started to get up and come towards me but I moved to the other side of the bed while putting one leg into my shorts and hopping away from him on the other. He grabbed me, yanked them off with my panties and bent me over the edge of the bed.

“No! No! You can’t! Not here!” I whispered fervently.

“Why not?” He leaned in close to my ear.

“Why not?? Because Sue will hear!”

He rubbed my bottom, and began laying barely - there smacks on it. “I owe this, do you understand?”

I giggled. “Yes.”

“Didn’t I tell you not to get dressed?” Still tapping lightly.

Again I giggled. “Yes.”

“What happens to little girls who disobey?”

“They get spanked.”

“That’s right. You’re owed one, keep that in mind.”

“Mmmmm-hmmm…” I said, sounding unconvinced of his threat. His fingers slipped in between my thighs. I tensed. “Stop! We can’t do this here!”

He ignored me and used his fingers to nimbly encircle that small little hooded pearl, dipping into my increasing wetness to provide more lubrication and then rhythmically keeping time with some frenzied tune known only to him – and maybe me too, although not consciously.

And in my ear he began to speak slowly, softly. Telling me about what happens to naughty girls who don’t listen, how they get spanked, how they get laid over the knee, their bottoms bared and spanked soundly for disobeying.

I have such a hard time reaching orgasm on my belly. It’s been achieved – many times in fact. But it is not nearly as easily done as it is when I am on my back which is the way, of course, I was conditioned growing up and masturbating as well as most sexual encounters that started out with orgasmic foreplay. So I was having difficulty actually reaching that summit, although I was teetering on the edge of it, ready to start tumbling any moment only – I couldn’t!

He sensed this. I reached back at one point, my full intention to guide his hands a bit but he pinned them both behind my back. Finally, he rolled me over onto my back and I knew exactly what he was going to do.

I love this, of course. I absolutely adore it and he is so incredibly good at it. But – gads – we were at his sister’s!!

“You can’t do this!” I whispered again, appalled at his audacity.

“Why not?” He grinned, pulling me over to the edge of the bed, kneeling down and hoisting my legs up over his shoulders.

“Cuz you’ll – you’ll have to wash your face!” I stated logically. “You don’t want everyone to smell you!”

Zed has a beard and mustache, which means, of course, that certain aromas after certain activities kinda stick around.

“So?” He said and soon had me containing moans, my quivering thighs wrapped around him in a tight embrace as he quickly brought me to that peak. He didn’t let up as my hands grasped the bedspread. His hands reached up and entwined with mine as I rocked once more from another orgasm, trying so hard to stay quiet, thankful that his sister was still asleep on the other side of the house and was probably oblivious to our little erotica in the spare bedroom.

As I lay there gasping for air, he actually came up for it and said, “How many?”

Unable to talk just yet, I held up two fingers and he chuckled, “That’s what I thought.” He grabbed the towel that I had used for my shower and wiped his mouth with it while I recovered. As he lay down next to me on the bed, I looked up at him, pouting, “Why’d you wipe off? I didn’t get a taste!”

At that time his mouth covered mine and well, I got my tasty kiss. J He then retreated to the bathroom, to do a more thorough washing of his facial hair, I am sure, just as I heard his sister milling around in the kitchen. Quickly I dressed as she walked into the bedroom to get to the computer. I worried that it may possibly be aromatically obvious what we had been doing, but if it was, she said nary a word.