I’m 51, retired military and currently a firefighter, and burning off three weeks of vacation time hauling my fifth-wheel south for a look at the sights. The campground was very quiet at this hour, as most people were still sleeping off their Friday night parties. My dog, a three year-old Dalmatian, was pulling me from tree to tree along the waterfront when we passed a young woman sitting along on a bench watching the sunrise.
“How beautiful,” she exclaimed, looking at the dog, of course. “Would he pose for a quick photo?”
Never one to turn down such a request, I said that would be no problem. I brought the little fella around into a seated position with the pier and sunrise over his shoulder, allowing her to frame the photo with her cell phone.
With that start, we settled in to a long and comfortable conversation with each other, chatting about our lives and the travels that had brought us here to this point together. Irene was a beautiful woman, with a curvy body and eyes to get lost in forever, somewhere in her late twenties, and here camping with a friend of hers from work leaving her boyfriend at home to take care of the cats and plants.
And myself, I’m happily married to a wonderful man of my own, about to celebrate our fifth anniversary, although traveling alone on this trip with the dog as I get twice the vacation time he does and couldn’t accumulate any more.
Conversation flowed easily as the sun rose further and children began coming out of the campground to play along the waterfront, many interested by the sight of a brown spotted Dalmatian and coming by to make friends with him. Eventually, Irene and I walked along the edge of the water together to allow the dog to explore as we traded stories and plans for the day.
She and her friend were planning to hit the nearby zoo and possibly the Cocoa Beach area today, while I would be touring Cape Canaveral and learning about the space program. We made loose plans to compare notes that evening, and traded numbers as we parted and made our way back to our campsites.
After a hot afternoon touring NASA, I returned to the campground to walk the dog and get our dinners ready, then showered and cleaned up, finishing just as Irene came by the RV to ask if I’d like to join the two of them for a picnic back by the waterfront.
Gathering the dog and a drink, I joined her on the walk to their picnic, finding her friend, Christa, munching away. Christa, just turned 21, was dressed in a short t-shirt and loose shorts, with a decent but surprisingly pale body on display. The three of us and the dog settled in to a cheesecake dessert, with the dog happily getting almost constant attention from one or both girls, and time quickly passed through fun conversation until the sun had set and the bugs started becoming annoying.
Irene suggested we all take the party back to their tent, but I insisted they come back to the RV where we would all be much more comfortable. That settled, they picked up their stuff and returned to their tent to clean up while I finished the walk with the dog and returned to the trailer.
A half hour later, the two showed up and came inside, expressing their surprise at just how roomy and well-equipped the RV was on the inside. We settled in to the living area, myself and Irene on the sofa while Christa sat on the floor to play with the dog, and began making a large dent in the bottle of duty-free rum I’d picked up crossing the border.
As the rum flowed and the night got longer, the conversation naturally turned to more risqué topics. Two straight women and a gay man together, we laughed and held nothing back, discussing the finer details of blow jobs and our boyfriend’s equipment. We all agreed that the cum of vegetarians tasted the worst, and that cock size didn’t matter so much as the skill of the owner. At one point, Christa pulled off her shirt and lowered her shorts to show off a magnificent tattoo that began on one shoulder, curving down over her breast and along her side until passing over her hip and down onto the upper part of her thigh. I admired the work and casually ran my fingertips over the artwork, getting a giggle in return as she discussed what it meant and her plans to continue the tattoo further down her leg.
With that, Irene bared her own breasts, showing off a considerably smaller tattoo of a butterfly on the outer edge next to her pierced nipples containing small, gold rings. We both studied her breasts closely, and I gladly offered that the piercings wonderfully highlighted the slightly upturned nipples. I unfortunately had neither tattoos nor piercings to show off for the girls. I sat there between two topless women and asked if this was meant to cure or fix me, then we laughed as the girls covered up, but the atmosphere was charged now as our discussion turned back to tales of former boyfriends.
I had spent a life with both men and women and had many stories of both to tell. In particular, I still occasionally saw a woman some twenty-five years after we first got together sexually. While in her city for a month-long training course and meeting her in a bar after she had been dumped by her high school sweetheart setting out for greener pastures at college, the perfect combination of her sexual frustration and the fact I’d be leaving the country in a few weeks resulted in a month of incredible sex. I’d taken her virginity and taught her everything I knew in those few weeks, enough that she’d found me again twenty years later and we fell right back into the old habits.
The girls seemed very interested in the fact that I’d taught my girlfriend about anal sex and sucking her toes, areas she had not been familiar with in a sexual way but that drove her wild during our romps. Irene and Christa both claimed that their boyfriends would never consider indulging in such behavior in the bedroom. Irene’s boyfriend was black and, while highly adept at pleasing her with his larger than average cock, would seldom go down on her orally let alone try more unusual stimuli involving her feet or ass. Christa simply hadn’t yet had the opportunity to try either as she had not had boyfriends sufficiently long enough to develop the level of trust needed.
By now it was pushing midnight and, at my age, was well past my bedtime. We’d all enjoyed ourselves immensely and the rum was working it’s magic, but it was time to call it a night. We exchanged contact information and promises to keep in touch, and I brought the dog along to walk the girls back to their tent site. We parted with hugs and kisses, and I wandered around for a bit for the dog to do his business.
Back at the RV, I cleaned up the dishes and was turning out the lights when I heard a knock at the door, only to find Irene there holding a towel and a bag of toiletries.
“I wanted to take a shower before sleeping,” she said, “but the rednecks in the surrounding tents are still partying and I don’t feel safe using the campground shower. It’s too easy for someone to just walk in. Could I possibly use yours? I’ll only be a few minutes.”
“How could I even think of turning down such a beautiful woman?” I said, bringing her in and upstairs to the bedroom area which contained the shower stall. “There’s lots of hot water; I’ll get things started for you and leave you to clean up.”
With the shower running, I closed the sliding door to the bedroom and returned to the living area to read while waiting. It wasn’t long before I heard her ask something from behind the door, but couldn’t quite make out what she was saying. Opening the door a few inches, I asked her to repeat her question.
“Would you help me, please?” she asked. “I normally have my boyfriend to scrub my back and just can’t reach it by myself.”
I’m an old man, perhaps, but not a slow man, so I smiled and stepped up to help. She turned away from the open shower door and revealed the highly erotic vision of soapy water cascading down from her shoulders to that tapered waist and over her beautiful backside before sliding down her legs towards the drain. She looked at me over her shoulder with a smile, and passed me the sponge and soap before turning away once again.
I applied soap to the sponge, and began swirling small circles over her neck and shoulders, following every curve and contour of her upper back and moving downward ever so slowly. I made sure to scrub her sides thoroughly as she held her hands on the shower wall, getting close enough to the sides of her breasts to push the sponge against them without actually touching her with my hands.
Coming around to the bottom of her back and preparing to finish up, I noticed she had shifted her weight ever so slightly, leaning forward to project her round little ass up just a bit. Adding more soap to the sponge, I continued downward in tight spirals, over the top of her buttocks and halfway down the gorgeous curves of her backside, making sure I’d covered it thoroughly from side to side. I circled over the area again and again, straying to the sides then back in along the groove in the center. Gay men are nothing if not ass men, and this woman’s backside was a miracle!
I then stepped back to inspect my work, watching the trails of soap flowing over her soft skin, before reaching in with the sponge.
“There you go, all clean and smelling nice!” Still facing away from me, she took the sponge and thanked me with a smile before starting in on her front side. I lingered a bit over the beauty of the woman in front of me, then slowly closed the door and returned to the living area, leaving the bedroom door open this time.
A short while later Irene emerged from the shower with her towel wrapped around her from her breasts to her thighs. From my vantage point in the living area, I watched her use a second towel to dry her hair as she inspected herself in the full length mirror on the closet door.
“Could you help me again, please?” I shook myself out of my brief daydream and jumped up to do whatever she asked. “Would you apply moisturizer to my back? I know I got a bit too much sun on the beach today.”
I took the bottle from her as she moved around to position herself away from the mirror, then opened her towel and held it loosely draped against her front side. Once again, this woman displayed her backside to me, nude from top to bottom, with her smooth skin and sensual curves. I filled my hand with gel, set the bottle down, and reached up to lift her long, wet hair up and over her shoulder. I began smoothing the lotion into her skin at the top of her neck, working my way over and around each shoulder. As I worked down each arm, taking my time and being far more thorough than necessary, she would stretch out the arm I was working on, using the other to hold the towel over her chest, then switching hands.
Moving over her shoulder blades, I again followed the contours of her body around to the sides and, with no sponge in my hands this time, nudged the sides of her breasts with my finger tips. Given my limited view from the back, they appeared to be nicely sized and shaped, and held themselves up on their own quite beautifully. I don’t pretend to have enough experience with women to know their bra sizes, but it was enough of a handful but not so large as to sag.
Using my finger tips and palms, I smoothed the lotion further downward towards that taper at the top of her ass, then down over the rounded globes of her backside. Not a word had been spoken between us, my breathing fast and shallow, until she spoke quietly, “Legs, too, please.”
Refilling my palm with lotion, I got down on my knees behind her and started on her left leg, pushing and pulling my hands around her thighs, over the backs of her knees, and wrapping around her calves as I moved to her ankles, before repeating on her right leg. Gay man or not, my cock was absolutely rigid by this time and making an almost obscene tent in my linen shorts.
Finally, and all too soon, I had completed my task, finishing up her right ankle before leaning back and bringing my gaze slowly upward along her glowing body, only to find her looking down at me with a serious look and hooded eyes.
“Would you like your feet done, too?” I asked, holding up the bottle of lotion. She paused for a moment, then nodded her head just once.
“Turn around, please, and lift your foot,” I directed, squirting lotion into my hand. Slowly, she turned around to face me, still holding the towel vertically from her chest to where it ended about mid-thigh. I could see her glistening skin on either side of the towel and it was turning me on something awful.