“Whatsit…whatsit, baby,” she slurred incoherently against his shoulder, as they neared the tent. She never called him baby. In her drunken stupor she must be thinking that he was his father. Then she grasped his hand in hers holding it firmly against her breast. “I know…I know what you need.”
Paul only knew that he needed to get her inside the tent and away from him. They finally reached the front of the tent and Paul, somehow, managed to get her safely inside. She sprawled out on her sleeping bag and was snoring in seconds.
“Shit,” Paul said aloud as he walked back over to the fire. “That was some crazy shit.”
He thought he heard thunder off in the distance. He knew it was going to rain, but thought they still had a pretty safe spot. He took one last walk around the campsite, making sure everything was secure and safe, and then he went into his own tent.
It was a nice summer evening, so he stripped down to his shorts and put his phone into his bag and turned off his flashlight. He lay there thinking about Judy Summers from biology class. She wasn’t really his type, or to put it more realistically he probably wasn’t her type.
She was blonde, with enormous boobs and the cutest smile he had ever seen. He reached his hand into his shorts and started to stroke himself to full hardness. Oh, how he had dreamed of Judy and what he would do to her if he had the nerve to ask her out. He imagined them making out in the front seat of the family Volvo, and then crawling to the backseat, where he unbuttoned her blouse, revealing her amazing, round, young, firm tits.
As he thought about molesting Judy’s firm, young tits, they suddenly morphed into his mother’s bigger, heavier ones. “Shit,” he said quietly, but he never stopped stroking his cock. Those were the only tits he had ever touched and he had to admit that they were wonderfully heavy and full. He tried to imagine what that hard, amazing nipple looked like. It had felt impossibly long and thick against the palm of his hand.
Just then a rain drop splattered on his forehead. “What the…?” Another rain drop hit his forehead and then another one, and another and another. He rolled out of the way, grabbed his flashlight and pointed it at the roof of his tent. There was a big Grand Canyon sized rip, running halfway down the seam that he hadn’t noticed earlier.
“Damn it,” he cursed. Some camping master he turned out to be. Before he had a chance to figure out his next step, the deluge started.
Sheets of rain came down and his tent rapidly filled with water. His sleeping bag was soaked within seconds. Paul, quickly grabbed his bag and his towel, ran out of his tent and sprinted over to his mother’s. He fumbled with the zipper and flap but managed to make it inside. It was nice and warm and dry in here. His shorts were soaked and he peeled them off, threw them outside, and toweled himself dry.
His mother was still passed out on her back where he had left her, snoring loudly. He turned on his flashlight and looked around for her bag of clothes. He needed something to wear but, she must have stashed it back in the Volvo. All he had were t-shirts in his bag.
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