Camping With Carter
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Camping With Carter
Camping With Carter
Chapter 1.
I'm writing this down where nobody is going to see it. Maybe when I'm done with college, when it's time to step out into the real world, I'll decide
if I will destroy this or not. Someday, I'll have to decide what to do with this story that's written in the middle of my Diary. It's too incriminating.
Even if I changed the names my mom might be able to put the pieces together and know what I've done to the poor boy. Meeting up with Carter
on the camping trip was not planned. It just happened.
My mom and dad were getting together with Mr. and Mrs. Carlsberg for a camping trip. Just a small group of us going deep into the wilderness of piney woods country of Arkansas, not far from Texarkana. I was looking forward to the hiking. I'm still seventeen, had just finished up track season and my legs were itching to get in some good exercise. My folks are lazy campers. They'll drive into the park with the big recreational vehicle,
park it and mostly take long naps for a couple days.
I didn't know until the RV parked in front of the Carlsberg's house that another person was coming along. I wasn't expecting that. Mr. and Mrs. Carlsberg don't have kids.
I got out to help Mrs. Carlsberg put their gear into the small trailer that is hooked up to the back of the RV. I helped get her stuff tucked away real
good into the trailer so nothing will slide around. I spent years in the Girl Scouts, so I often take charge of things when it comes to camping. Mrs.
Carlsberg went back to the house to get another load of gear, and that's when I saw a tall and slender teenage boy come out of their house. First thing I noticed was the medium length curly hair that's light brown, nearly blond. He has a tight t-shirt on and tennis shorts. I noticed his legs are nicely tanned, and his thighs and calves look the part of a tennis player. He has a backpack and a bedroll, and nothing is put together right. It was obvious right away, this boy is no Eagle Scout. Turns out he's not even a Tenderfoot. He's never been camping in any way. I had to show him how
to use the tie down straps to secure his gear.
He introduced himself as Carter. Mr. Carlsberg only nephew and he's fifteen years old, "I'm almost sixteen" he said. Carter went back toward his house for the last load, and I watched him walk away. Carter is nearly six feet tall. He's got big hands. He has big shoes on his feet. The tennis shorts fit tight on an ass that looks even tighter, and I'm wondering why I'm ogling the long bare legs and tight butt of a fifteen year old. I'm nearly two years older and I only look at older guys. Or so I thought.
Chapter 1.
I'm writing this down where nobody is going to see it. Maybe when I'm done with college, when it's time to step out into the real world, I'll decide
if I will destroy this or not. Someday, I'll have to decide what to do with this story that's written in the middle of my Diary. It's too incriminating.
Even if I changed the names my mom might be able to put the pieces together and know what I've done to the poor boy. Meeting up with Carter
on the camping trip was not planned. It just happened.
My mom and dad were getting together with Mr. and Mrs. Carlsberg for a camping trip. Just a small group of us going deep into the wilderness of piney woods country of Arkansas, not far from Texarkana. I was looking forward to the hiking. I'm still seventeen, had just finished up track season and my legs were itching to get in some good exercise. My folks are lazy campers. They'll drive into the park with the big recreational vehicle,
park it and mostly take long naps for a couple days.
I didn't know until the RV parked in front of the Carlsberg's house that another person was coming along. I wasn't expecting that. Mr. and Mrs. Carlsberg don't have kids.
I got out to help Mrs. Carlsberg put their gear into the small trailer that is hooked up to the back of the RV. I helped get her stuff tucked away real
good into the trailer so nothing will slide around. I spent years in the Girl Scouts, so I often take charge of things when it comes to camping. Mrs.
Carlsberg went back to the house to get another load of gear, and that's when I saw a tall and slender teenage boy come out of their house. First thing I noticed was the medium length curly hair that's light brown, nearly blond. He has a tight t-shirt on and tennis shorts. I noticed his legs are nicely tanned, and his thighs and calves look the part of a tennis player. He has a backpack and a bedroll, and nothing is put together right. It was obvious right away, this boy is no Eagle Scout. Turns out he's not even a Tenderfoot. He's never been camping in any way. I had to show him how
to use the tie down straps to secure his gear.
He introduced himself as Carter. Mr. Carlsberg only nephew and he's fifteen years old, "I'm almost sixteen" he said. Carter went back toward his house for the last load, and I watched him walk away. Carter is nearly six feet tall. He's got big hands. He has big shoes on his feet. The tennis shorts fit tight on an ass that looks even tighter, and I'm wondering why I'm ogling the long bare legs and tight butt of a fifteen year old. I'm nearly two years older and I only look at older guys. Or so I thought.
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Camping With Carter
Chapter 2.
Turns out Carter is in the same school as me. I'm a senior and he is a sophomore. Somehow, we never ran into each other. I never set foot on the
Tennis court and Carter never set foot on the Track. But looking at his nice legs I wondered how fast he could run. I wondered if I could catch him.
Carter came back out of his house with the last of the gear. It wasn't long till everyone is on board the RV and the drive to the park has begun.
My dad drives and mom sits in the front passenger seat. Mrs. and Mrs. Carlsberg go to the back of the RV. They get on the big bed to sleep on the way to the park. That left me with Carter for the next three hours to keep ourselves entertained. Carter sits next to me on the sofa seat that has seatbelts for two people. Other than telling Carter that my name is Flora, named after the Roman goddess of flowers, and he said he's taking Latin and wants to go to a college out east, we haven't had time to really get acquainted. Now we have three hours of time to get acquainted, and
Carter puts headphones on, and I can hear Rush playing. Oh my goodness, is Carter one of those intellectual Rush nuts? I like Rush, but I keep that to myself for the moment. I don't want to seem like I'm too interested in him. That would not look right.
For about half an hour I sit quietly in the sofa seat next to him. Carter has his eyes closed. I look him over, and I see something I didn't notice before. His nipples poke out his tight t-shirt quite prominently and I want to see him with the shirt off. I look down at his muscled and tan thighs
and I want...I want to touch those thighs. I envy any physical therapist, or perhaps a coach, who ever had the pleasure of rubbing hands all over those legs, massaged his tired and sore muscles after a hard fought three set tennis match. I can hear the music change from 90s Rush to 70s Rush. The song "The Trees" is playing. I tap Carter on the shoulder, and he pulls off his headphones.
"I have heard some of the old Rush songs, but I don't understand them. That song there is about trees. What's that all about?"
Carter tells me it's an allegory about the struggle for civil rights. The oaks are greedy and privileged, and the maples deserve more resources,
better opportunities. Carter is confident in his way of explaining it to me. Right away I could imagine him becoming a teacher, but first I wanted
to teach him some things. Something like gambling.
"Let's go over to the table and play cards," I suggested, and Carter agreed. For a while we play gin rummy. That gets boring fast, so I suggest
another game. "Have you ever played poker?"
Carter says he knows how to play Five Card Draw.
"Let's make it more interesting." I told him. "We don't have poker chips, so how about this, whoever loses three hands in a row has to take something off."
Carter said that's crazy, said "What if somebody saw us playing strip poker?" I pointed out to him my mom is asleep in the passenger seat, that his uncle and aunt are asleep in the back and "Don't be a pansy ass wimp" I told him. He was silent for a while, considering this and I knew I had him. To refuse to play the game would be admitting to me that he is a "Pansy Ass Wimp". Carter pointed out I had more clothes on than he does, having
a bra on. I told him his shirt can count twice. He takes the shirt off halfway for one loss, then all the way for a second loss. Before starting the
game I get up and go to the RV's bathroom. I make an adjustment to what I'm wearing. This will make the first rounds of disrobing less of an
embarrassment for me. I made no suggestion to Carter to make a similar wardrobe adjustment.
I deal out the five cards, and I study Carter's face as he picks up his cards. The table on the RV is small, we are sitting close enough together and there is enough light that I can see his light brown eyes clearly. I'm looking for pupil dilation, looking for other responses such as a slight raise of
the eyebrows. Carter has a handsome face. High cheekbones and a dimpled chin. His teeth are perfectly straight, and I asked him if that was
due to wearing braces. I kept up asking questions for two reasons. I wanted to know more about him, and I wanted to distract him as much as
I could. If he's busy answering my questions, then he's not watching closely to what I'm doing with the cards when I'm dealing. I deal myself six cards instead of five as I continue to distract with questions.
"What are your favorite subjects"
"Other than Rush, what do you listen to"
"Do you have a girlfriend"
That last question had him off balance for a while. It took him a long time to reluctantly answer "NO"
Even with my dirty dealing and the distractions, Carter is the first one to win three straight hands. I take of my shoe. Now you might ask why not
take something off with every losing hand. I don't want the game to go too quickly. We have to kill a couple hours of time.
I go on a lucky streak and win nine times in a row. He has both shoes and a sock off. I ask Carter to show me his foot and he plops it up on the
table. It's an impressive foot. I put my foot next to his and his toes tower way above mine. Is he ticklish? I rub my big toe against the bottom
of his foot and he jerks his foot back. Luck balances out and after the first rounds of taking something off we are even. Both of us have shoes and socks off and we are getting to the nitty-gritty. Carter loses and he has to halfway take the shirt off. He pulls the back of his shirt up over his
head and it hangs loosely around the top of his shoulders and chest. Next three loses go to me and I have to take off my shirt. Where is my six
card advantage during the times I deal? Not fair.
Can't complain when you're cheating but still losing. I take off my shirt, but this is where my wardrobe adjustment shows itself. I'm not wearing
my bra. I'm wearing my bikini swimsuit top. Shows the same amount of skin, but a bikini top is designed to be worn without a shirt. If Carter
thinks it's strange I'm already wearing my swimsuit he doesn't say anything. Carter is the next loser, and he has to take his shirt off the rest of the
way. I thought his big feet were something to see, but there are plenty of teenage boys with big feet. Carter's chest was spectacular. He's a tennis
player, but he must work out a lot. His pectoral muscles are well defined. His nipples might be the biggest and widest I've ever seen on a boy. Now I have seen some big ass nipples on grown men, but those men had beer bellies and man boobs. Those men are not a turn on. I've never seen anything like it on a boy like Carter. If I blocked out everything on him, blocked out his head and stomach and narrowed the focus just to the chest, his nipples look bigger and stick up more than many 12 to 13 year old girls. And then it just gets better. I look lower and I can see Carter also displays a six pack of abs. Hot Damn. If Carter doesn't make it as a tennis pro, he can try getting into modeling.
Carter deals the next several rounds but I get lucky. He loses again. Two times in a row. "Time to lose those shorts" I tell him. Time to find out if Carter will play the game out or chicken out.
Chapter 2.
Turns out Carter is in the same school as me. I'm a senior and he is a sophomore. Somehow, we never ran into each other. I never set foot on the
Tennis court and Carter never set foot on the Track. But looking at his nice legs I wondered how fast he could run. I wondered if I could catch him.
Carter came back out of his house with the last of the gear. It wasn't long till everyone is on board the RV and the drive to the park has begun.
My dad drives and mom sits in the front passenger seat. Mrs. and Mrs. Carlsberg go to the back of the RV. They get on the big bed to sleep on the way to the park. That left me with Carter for the next three hours to keep ourselves entertained. Carter sits next to me on the sofa seat that has seatbelts for two people. Other than telling Carter that my name is Flora, named after the Roman goddess of flowers, and he said he's taking Latin and wants to go to a college out east, we haven't had time to really get acquainted. Now we have three hours of time to get acquainted, and
Carter puts headphones on, and I can hear Rush playing. Oh my goodness, is Carter one of those intellectual Rush nuts? I like Rush, but I keep that to myself for the moment. I don't want to seem like I'm too interested in him. That would not look right.
For about half an hour I sit quietly in the sofa seat next to him. Carter has his eyes closed. I look him over, and I see something I didn't notice before. His nipples poke out his tight t-shirt quite prominently and I want to see him with the shirt off. I look down at his muscled and tan thighs
and I want...I want to touch those thighs. I envy any physical therapist, or perhaps a coach, who ever had the pleasure of rubbing hands all over those legs, massaged his tired and sore muscles after a hard fought three set tennis match. I can hear the music change from 90s Rush to 70s Rush. The song "The Trees" is playing. I tap Carter on the shoulder, and he pulls off his headphones.
"I have heard some of the old Rush songs, but I don't understand them. That song there is about trees. What's that all about?"
Carter tells me it's an allegory about the struggle for civil rights. The oaks are greedy and privileged, and the maples deserve more resources,
better opportunities. Carter is confident in his way of explaining it to me. Right away I could imagine him becoming a teacher, but first I wanted
to teach him some things. Something like gambling.
"Let's go over to the table and play cards," I suggested, and Carter agreed. For a while we play gin rummy. That gets boring fast, so I suggest
another game. "Have you ever played poker?"
Carter says he knows how to play Five Card Draw.
"Let's make it more interesting." I told him. "We don't have poker chips, so how about this, whoever loses three hands in a row has to take something off."
Carter said that's crazy, said "What if somebody saw us playing strip poker?" I pointed out to him my mom is asleep in the passenger seat, that his uncle and aunt are asleep in the back and "Don't be a pansy ass wimp" I told him. He was silent for a while, considering this and I knew I had him. To refuse to play the game would be admitting to me that he is a "Pansy Ass Wimp". Carter pointed out I had more clothes on than he does, having
a bra on. I told him his shirt can count twice. He takes the shirt off halfway for one loss, then all the way for a second loss. Before starting the
game I get up and go to the RV's bathroom. I make an adjustment to what I'm wearing. This will make the first rounds of disrobing less of an
embarrassment for me. I made no suggestion to Carter to make a similar wardrobe adjustment.
I deal out the five cards, and I study Carter's face as he picks up his cards. The table on the RV is small, we are sitting close enough together and there is enough light that I can see his light brown eyes clearly. I'm looking for pupil dilation, looking for other responses such as a slight raise of
the eyebrows. Carter has a handsome face. High cheekbones and a dimpled chin. His teeth are perfectly straight, and I asked him if that was
due to wearing braces. I kept up asking questions for two reasons. I wanted to know more about him, and I wanted to distract him as much as
I could. If he's busy answering my questions, then he's not watching closely to what I'm doing with the cards when I'm dealing. I deal myself six cards instead of five as I continue to distract with questions.
"What are your favorite subjects"
"Other than Rush, what do you listen to"
"Do you have a girlfriend"
That last question had him off balance for a while. It took him a long time to reluctantly answer "NO"
Even with my dirty dealing and the distractions, Carter is the first one to win three straight hands. I take of my shoe. Now you might ask why not
take something off with every losing hand. I don't want the game to go too quickly. We have to kill a couple hours of time.
I go on a lucky streak and win nine times in a row. He has both shoes and a sock off. I ask Carter to show me his foot and he plops it up on the
table. It's an impressive foot. I put my foot next to his and his toes tower way above mine. Is he ticklish? I rub my big toe against the bottom
of his foot and he jerks his foot back. Luck balances out and after the first rounds of taking something off we are even. Both of us have shoes and socks off and we are getting to the nitty-gritty. Carter loses and he has to halfway take the shirt off. He pulls the back of his shirt up over his
head and it hangs loosely around the top of his shoulders and chest. Next three loses go to me and I have to take off my shirt. Where is my six
card advantage during the times I deal? Not fair.
Can't complain when you're cheating but still losing. I take off my shirt, but this is where my wardrobe adjustment shows itself. I'm not wearing
my bra. I'm wearing my bikini swimsuit top. Shows the same amount of skin, but a bikini top is designed to be worn without a shirt. If Carter
thinks it's strange I'm already wearing my swimsuit he doesn't say anything. Carter is the next loser, and he has to take his shirt off the rest of the
way. I thought his big feet were something to see, but there are plenty of teenage boys with big feet. Carter's chest was spectacular. He's a tennis
player, but he must work out a lot. His pectoral muscles are well defined. His nipples might be the biggest and widest I've ever seen on a boy. Now I have seen some big ass nipples on grown men, but those men had beer bellies and man boobs. Those men are not a turn on. I've never seen anything like it on a boy like Carter. If I blocked out everything on him, blocked out his head and stomach and narrowed the focus just to the chest, his nipples look bigger and stick up more than many 12 to 13 year old girls. And then it just gets better. I look lower and I can see Carter also displays a six pack of abs. Hot Damn. If Carter doesn't make it as a tennis pro, he can try getting into modeling.
Carter deals the next several rounds but I get lucky. He loses again. Two times in a row. "Time to lose those shorts" I tell him. Time to find out if Carter will play the game out or chicken out.
Last edited by TeenFan on Tue Dec 20, 2022 6:03 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Camping With Carter
I hope you continue this story! I am loving the description of Carter's chest.
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Re: Camping With Carter
I will be posting a new chapter soon, possibly even later today.
There will be a thorough description of everything concerning this boy's body.
There will be a thorough description of everything concerning this boy's body.
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Re: Camping With Carter
Camping With Carter
Chapter 3.
I'm really totally enjoying this moment. I have the winning hand and Carter is down to shorts and undies. There is a slight tremble to his fingertips.
Oh he looks nervous. "Have you ever played this game before?" I ask him. He says he has, but it was with several other boys on a fishing trip to
a lake. Intrigued, I press him for more details. I can tell that telling the story makes him uncomfortable. After all, boys usually don't tell strangers
their tales of playing strip poker. Carter said he played the game with several friends when he was twelve, says he was the one to lose, had to get naked in front of the others. "That must have been embarrassing for you. What else happened?" I asked him. He looked down at the table.
He said he didn't want to talk anymore about it. It seemed to me that something more, much more interesting must have taken place. I was determined to find out what that was. But for the moment, Carter can't delay taking something off. "Come on. Off with it. Don't wimp out now."
Carter unbuttons and unzips his tennis shorts. Just barely getting his butt off the seat, Carter slips the shorts down his legs. I can't see anything.
The table blocks my view. Carter will have to stand up, or I will have to peer under the table to see his underwear. "Stand up for a moment. Show
me. Are you wearing boxers or briefs?" Carter gets up on his knees on the seat across from me, and this puts his hips above the level of the table.
Carter has on boxers. The boxers are Hanes and they are smaller and tighter fitting than I expected. "Come on Carter, stand up and show me."
I make Carter stand up and turn all the way around like he's a male model displaying the product for a tv commercial. The boxers hug the contours of his butt. His boxers would have to be tighter than usual to fit inside the sleek and small tennis shorts. "Very nice, very stylish. Now you do realize you are down to one more losing round. Lose three more times in a row and I get to see it all." Carter's face turns pinkish on his cheeks.
He tells me to just deal the cards.
Dang it all, I'm the next one to lose three times in a row. No big deal, I slide off my shorts and show Carter my matching bikini bottoms. I smile
and stand up, turning my body all around so Carter can get a good look at me. When he wins I don't hesitate to show my skin. Got to play fair.
It's my turn to deal, and I deal myself a card from the bottom of the deck, along with dealing six cards from the top. Doubling down on the dirty dealing could get me caught. Is he watching my hands, or is he mesmerized by my breasts barely contained in the small bikini top, his focus disrupted at the prospect of seeing them if I lose this round. Carter isn't looking at my hands, the naughty boy. His eyes are focused on my chest, not a glance at my hands as I shuffle and deal the cards. This is too easy. After tossing my unneeded and extra cards and drawing, I end up with three Queens. We aren't playing the game using wild cards, so a high three of a kind is almost certain to win. I lay out my cards, and you should have seen his face. Carter's face, which was pinkish from the embarrassing admission of having to strip in front of his friends, turns pale as he realizes he has to get naked in front of a stranger, and a girl. Now is the moment of truth. Will he strip or will he find some excuse to run off? Carter places his cards down on the table. He had two pairs, Aces and Eights, the dead man's hand. If I wasn't cheating, I would not have beaten
a two pair hand.
Carter, to his credit, does not wimp out. He places his hands down at his sides. There is a noise behind me. Carter looks up, then he suddenly
pulls his hands up and places them on the table. I look back, toward the back of the trailer. Mrs. Carlsberg has come up from the back bedroom.
She is looking for something in the refrigerator next to the small stove. Damn the interruption.
I can't tell from Carter's face what he is thinking. He's probably glad for something to happen that prevents him from fully exposing himself, while
being concerned he's sitting at the RV's table wearing nothing but his boxers. What will his aunt say? Mrs. Carlsberg pulls out a can of soda from
the small fridge. She steps over and is about to pop the top when she stops. Her eyes get a little bugged out when she sees her nephew sitting at the table wearing just his boxers, sitting nearly naked across from me and I'm only wearing my bikini. The rest of our clothes are piled up on the seats next to us. "My goodness. It must be warmer in this RV than I thought," Mrs. Carlsberg says, and she sits down next to me. "What card game are you playing?'
I tell her we are playing Gin Rummy and Carter's aunt wants to join us in the game. Mrs. Carlsberg then tells us a long and overly detailed story of
her first cross country trip out to Washington State. I didn't pay much attention to it. It was such a boring road trip story. Looking at Carter was
more interesting. I memorized every contour of the muscles of his torso. His arms are completely smooth, and he has just barely a whisp of
armpit hair. When he modeled his boxers for me, I did notice his legs were smooth. Would he be lightly haired on his pubes?
Carter doesn't have anything to say. If he won't talk I can make him squirm. I reach out with my foot and I jam my toes into his crotch. Carter
turns pinkish again, as my toes wiggle around and press against the front of his boxers. At first my toes didn't feel much. Then quickly his dick
got firm and harder, and my toes could detect, just by feeling around, where the head of Carters cock is and what direction it's pointed. It's
pointing straight forward. It feels like he got a long one tucked into his boxers. It's totally starting to push outward. I see beads of sweat appear
on Carter's forehead, and it is starting to feel a little warm in here. I'm feeling warm and a little thirsty. If I get up, I have to ask Mrs. Carlsberg to get up first. That would not be polite, so I ask her nephew. "Carter, could you do me a favor? Will you please get me a soda from the fridge? Get
yourself one while you are at it."
Chapter 3.
I'm really totally enjoying this moment. I have the winning hand and Carter is down to shorts and undies. There is a slight tremble to his fingertips.
Oh he looks nervous. "Have you ever played this game before?" I ask him. He says he has, but it was with several other boys on a fishing trip to
a lake. Intrigued, I press him for more details. I can tell that telling the story makes him uncomfortable. After all, boys usually don't tell strangers
their tales of playing strip poker. Carter said he played the game with several friends when he was twelve, says he was the one to lose, had to get naked in front of the others. "That must have been embarrassing for you. What else happened?" I asked him. He looked down at the table.
He said he didn't want to talk anymore about it. It seemed to me that something more, much more interesting must have taken place. I was determined to find out what that was. But for the moment, Carter can't delay taking something off. "Come on. Off with it. Don't wimp out now."
Carter unbuttons and unzips his tennis shorts. Just barely getting his butt off the seat, Carter slips the shorts down his legs. I can't see anything.
The table blocks my view. Carter will have to stand up, or I will have to peer under the table to see his underwear. "Stand up for a moment. Show
me. Are you wearing boxers or briefs?" Carter gets up on his knees on the seat across from me, and this puts his hips above the level of the table.
Carter has on boxers. The boxers are Hanes and they are smaller and tighter fitting than I expected. "Come on Carter, stand up and show me."
I make Carter stand up and turn all the way around like he's a male model displaying the product for a tv commercial. The boxers hug the contours of his butt. His boxers would have to be tighter than usual to fit inside the sleek and small tennis shorts. "Very nice, very stylish. Now you do realize you are down to one more losing round. Lose three more times in a row and I get to see it all." Carter's face turns pinkish on his cheeks.
He tells me to just deal the cards.
Dang it all, I'm the next one to lose three times in a row. No big deal, I slide off my shorts and show Carter my matching bikini bottoms. I smile
and stand up, turning my body all around so Carter can get a good look at me. When he wins I don't hesitate to show my skin. Got to play fair.
It's my turn to deal, and I deal myself a card from the bottom of the deck, along with dealing six cards from the top. Doubling down on the dirty dealing could get me caught. Is he watching my hands, or is he mesmerized by my breasts barely contained in the small bikini top, his focus disrupted at the prospect of seeing them if I lose this round. Carter isn't looking at my hands, the naughty boy. His eyes are focused on my chest, not a glance at my hands as I shuffle and deal the cards. This is too easy. After tossing my unneeded and extra cards and drawing, I end up with three Queens. We aren't playing the game using wild cards, so a high three of a kind is almost certain to win. I lay out my cards, and you should have seen his face. Carter's face, which was pinkish from the embarrassing admission of having to strip in front of his friends, turns pale as he realizes he has to get naked in front of a stranger, and a girl. Now is the moment of truth. Will he strip or will he find some excuse to run off? Carter places his cards down on the table. He had two pairs, Aces and Eights, the dead man's hand. If I wasn't cheating, I would not have beaten
a two pair hand.
Carter, to his credit, does not wimp out. He places his hands down at his sides. There is a noise behind me. Carter looks up, then he suddenly
pulls his hands up and places them on the table. I look back, toward the back of the trailer. Mrs. Carlsberg has come up from the back bedroom.
She is looking for something in the refrigerator next to the small stove. Damn the interruption.
I can't tell from Carter's face what he is thinking. He's probably glad for something to happen that prevents him from fully exposing himself, while
being concerned he's sitting at the RV's table wearing nothing but his boxers. What will his aunt say? Mrs. Carlsberg pulls out a can of soda from
the small fridge. She steps over and is about to pop the top when she stops. Her eyes get a little bugged out when she sees her nephew sitting at the table wearing just his boxers, sitting nearly naked across from me and I'm only wearing my bikini. The rest of our clothes are piled up on the seats next to us. "My goodness. It must be warmer in this RV than I thought," Mrs. Carlsberg says, and she sits down next to me. "What card game are you playing?'
I tell her we are playing Gin Rummy and Carter's aunt wants to join us in the game. Mrs. Carlsberg then tells us a long and overly detailed story of
her first cross country trip out to Washington State. I didn't pay much attention to it. It was such a boring road trip story. Looking at Carter was
more interesting. I memorized every contour of the muscles of his torso. His arms are completely smooth, and he has just barely a whisp of
armpit hair. When he modeled his boxers for me, I did notice his legs were smooth. Would he be lightly haired on his pubes?
Carter doesn't have anything to say. If he won't talk I can make him squirm. I reach out with my foot and I jam my toes into his crotch. Carter
turns pinkish again, as my toes wiggle around and press against the front of his boxers. At first my toes didn't feel much. Then quickly his dick
got firm and harder, and my toes could detect, just by feeling around, where the head of Carters cock is and what direction it's pointed. It's
pointing straight forward. It feels like he got a long one tucked into his boxers. It's totally starting to push outward. I see beads of sweat appear
on Carter's forehead, and it is starting to feel a little warm in here. I'm feeling warm and a little thirsty. If I get up, I have to ask Mrs. Carlsberg to get up first. That would not be polite, so I ask her nephew. "Carter, could you do me a favor? Will you please get me a soda from the fridge? Get
yourself one while you are at it."
Last edited by TeenFan on Mon Dec 19, 2022 12:48 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Camping With Carter
Camping With Carter
Chapter 4.
Carter was in a tight spot. He's in a bit of a pickle, a most difficult situation. I've got his dick nice and hard, poking out the front of his boxers.
When I push my big toe against the tip it pushes back. Carter is doing a good job of pretending nothing is happening. He tries to keep his cool
because his aunt is sitting right across from him at the small RV table.
"Will you please get me a soda from the fridge? Get one for yourself while you're at it." I asked Carter.
I studied Carter's eyes while we played the strip poker game. I saw the pupils of his eyes expand when he has a good hand. I watched his lips press harder against each other when the cards are crappy. Sometimes he furrows his brow slightly when he knows he can't win the hand. The skin squeezes together between the eyes, not much, but I can see it. Carter hasn't learned how to present a "Poker Face", and he can barely contain his look of surprise upon hearing my request to get up and fetch two cans of soda from the fridge. His face gets pale. He looks me in the eyes, maybe to see if I'm joking or not. He sees that I'm not joking. He looks down at his crotch, his eyes confirming what the feelings in his groin must have already told him. I haven't looked, but my toes told me, Carter has a major tenting problem happening with his boxers.
Carter looks up and over at his aunt. Mrs. Carlsberg is looking down at the cards on the table, still going on about her fantastic trip to Washington
State years ago. "I don't think this is a good time to get up. Umm, I don't like to walk around when the vehicle is moving" Carter says.
His aunt looks up at him. "Nonsense. Now be a good boy and get the sodas like she asked you to. And grab the can of peanuts from the cabinet
above the fridge." Apparently Carter's aunt is a "No nonsense" kind of person. "Well, get on with it" she said.
Carter slides out of his seat and he stands up. I nearly burst out laughing. It looks like Carter has a big Milkbone, one of those bone shaped doggy
treats stuck down in his boxers. They make several sizes of those Milkbones, for different size dogs. The Milkbone poking out Carter's boxers must
be the one made for a German Shepherd or a Mastiff. That bone pushing out the boxers is prodigious. The head is so close to the fly slit. Any
closer and it would pop on through. Mrs. Carlsberg drops some of the cards in her hand when she sees her nephew's predicament. Fortunately,
instead of getting upset she laughs. Since his aunt is laughing, I join in the laughter. Carter's face instantly switches back from pale to pink. I
swear that boy can change his face complexion as fast as an octopus changes its camouflage.
Carter steps over to the refrigerator to grab the cans of soda. Walking past the table, I get a good side view of his body. With the front of his
boxers being pushed so far out like they were, the material fits the contours of his butt skintight. Such an amazing curve his butt has, so shapely
and I get another glimpse of his firm thigh muscles. Sex on legs as the English say. So surprising for a boy not yet sixteen. I turn my head around
as if on a swivel, and I watch him the whole time. Carter adjusts himself as he heads toward the fridge. He grabs two root beers from the fridge, then he has to reach up to the cabinet above. He balances the two sodas in one hand, opens the cabinet up and finds a can of Planters peanuts. With both hands holding things, he can't make any more adjustments as he comes back to the table. Just as he comes up to the table his previous
attempt at penile placement fails him. His dick slides toward the fly slit. His penis pokes out of the slit, not much, just enough for the head to make an appearance. If a penis could talk Carter's would be saying "Peekaboo". Before it could slide out more, Carter covers his crotch with the
can of peanuts. He sits down quickly, placing the cans of soda then the peanuts on the table.
I have my hand over my face. I'm doing my best not to laugh out again. Mrs. Carlsberg says, "Carter, maybe you should consider putting your
shorts back on. Heaven knows why you would take them off in the first place. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you two were playing strip
poker." Carter says he will do that right away. He grabs his shorts. He gets up, holding his tennis shorts in front of him. He turns around, facing
toward the front of the RV, and he slips the shorts on. He shows amazing balance while doing that. It's not easy to stand on one foot, even for a
moment, while in a moving vehicle.
The game of Gin Rummy resumes. Boring and a waste of time. I make the best of it by feasting my eyes on Carter's chest. He could have slipped
his shirt back on. I stayed as I was, wearing my bikini. Maybe Carter didn't cover up more because I continued showing my bikini topped breasts
to him. After a while, Carter got up to step over to the fridge again. His aunt wanted another soda. After Carter stepped away from the table,
Mrs. Carlsberg spoke in a whispered tone, "Maybe you shouldn't show yourself off like that. That's a lot of skin exposed. Carter must not be used
to seeing girls like you. He doesn't have an older sister." I told her I was going to be wearing this bikini top for much of the camping trip, that I'm
going to get as much sun as I can and get a good tan. And Carter might as well get used to it.
Chapter 4.
Carter was in a tight spot. He's in a bit of a pickle, a most difficult situation. I've got his dick nice and hard, poking out the front of his boxers.
When I push my big toe against the tip it pushes back. Carter is doing a good job of pretending nothing is happening. He tries to keep his cool
because his aunt is sitting right across from him at the small RV table.
"Will you please get me a soda from the fridge? Get one for yourself while you're at it." I asked Carter.
I studied Carter's eyes while we played the strip poker game. I saw the pupils of his eyes expand when he has a good hand. I watched his lips press harder against each other when the cards are crappy. Sometimes he furrows his brow slightly when he knows he can't win the hand. The skin squeezes together between the eyes, not much, but I can see it. Carter hasn't learned how to present a "Poker Face", and he can barely contain his look of surprise upon hearing my request to get up and fetch two cans of soda from the fridge. His face gets pale. He looks me in the eyes, maybe to see if I'm joking or not. He sees that I'm not joking. He looks down at his crotch, his eyes confirming what the feelings in his groin must have already told him. I haven't looked, but my toes told me, Carter has a major tenting problem happening with his boxers.
Carter looks up and over at his aunt. Mrs. Carlsberg is looking down at the cards on the table, still going on about her fantastic trip to Washington
State years ago. "I don't think this is a good time to get up. Umm, I don't like to walk around when the vehicle is moving" Carter says.
His aunt looks up at him. "Nonsense. Now be a good boy and get the sodas like she asked you to. And grab the can of peanuts from the cabinet
above the fridge." Apparently Carter's aunt is a "No nonsense" kind of person. "Well, get on with it" she said.
Carter slides out of his seat and he stands up. I nearly burst out laughing. It looks like Carter has a big Milkbone, one of those bone shaped doggy
treats stuck down in his boxers. They make several sizes of those Milkbones, for different size dogs. The Milkbone poking out Carter's boxers must
be the one made for a German Shepherd or a Mastiff. That bone pushing out the boxers is prodigious. The head is so close to the fly slit. Any
closer and it would pop on through. Mrs. Carlsberg drops some of the cards in her hand when she sees her nephew's predicament. Fortunately,
instead of getting upset she laughs. Since his aunt is laughing, I join in the laughter. Carter's face instantly switches back from pale to pink. I
swear that boy can change his face complexion as fast as an octopus changes its camouflage.
Carter steps over to the refrigerator to grab the cans of soda. Walking past the table, I get a good side view of his body. With the front of his
boxers being pushed so far out like they were, the material fits the contours of his butt skintight. Such an amazing curve his butt has, so shapely
and I get another glimpse of his firm thigh muscles. Sex on legs as the English say. So surprising for a boy not yet sixteen. I turn my head around
as if on a swivel, and I watch him the whole time. Carter adjusts himself as he heads toward the fridge. He grabs two root beers from the fridge, then he has to reach up to the cabinet above. He balances the two sodas in one hand, opens the cabinet up and finds a can of Planters peanuts. With both hands holding things, he can't make any more adjustments as he comes back to the table. Just as he comes up to the table his previous
attempt at penile placement fails him. His dick slides toward the fly slit. His penis pokes out of the slit, not much, just enough for the head to make an appearance. If a penis could talk Carter's would be saying "Peekaboo". Before it could slide out more, Carter covers his crotch with the
can of peanuts. He sits down quickly, placing the cans of soda then the peanuts on the table.
I have my hand over my face. I'm doing my best not to laugh out again. Mrs. Carlsberg says, "Carter, maybe you should consider putting your
shorts back on. Heaven knows why you would take them off in the first place. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you two were playing strip
poker." Carter says he will do that right away. He grabs his shorts. He gets up, holding his tennis shorts in front of him. He turns around, facing
toward the front of the RV, and he slips the shorts on. He shows amazing balance while doing that. It's not easy to stand on one foot, even for a
moment, while in a moving vehicle.
The game of Gin Rummy resumes. Boring and a waste of time. I make the best of it by feasting my eyes on Carter's chest. He could have slipped
his shirt back on. I stayed as I was, wearing my bikini. Maybe Carter didn't cover up more because I continued showing my bikini topped breasts
to him. After a while, Carter got up to step over to the fridge again. His aunt wanted another soda. After Carter stepped away from the table,
Mrs. Carlsberg spoke in a whispered tone, "Maybe you shouldn't show yourself off like that. That's a lot of skin exposed. Carter must not be used
to seeing girls like you. He doesn't have an older sister." I told her I was going to be wearing this bikini top for much of the camping trip, that I'm
going to get as much sun as I can and get a good tan. And Carter might as well get used to it.
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Re: Camping With Carter
Can't wait for the next chapter! Seems like she's got some leverage over him now.
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Re: Camping With Carter
Camping With Carter
Chapter 5.
Nothing else of interest happened during the remaining drive to the park. I slip my shorts and shirt back on the moment the RV entered the park
grounds. The camping area for the Recreational Vehicles is near the park entrance. It's not on the river, but within a short walking distance.
People who camp in RV's obviously have no interest in long walks. Such camping is for wimps. I like roughing it. I put on a backpack with all my
clothes and food for a day, the popup tent attached to the top of the pack, the bedroll attached at the bottom. You have to be careful with the
popup tent, it's much wider than the pack. Must be aware of this when hiking down narrow trails in the woods. More than once I've nearly been
knocked off my feet when the end of the rolled-up tent hit a tree branch that refused to bend.
As my mom and dad get the RV set up for the three days stay, water hooked up so they can use the toilet and shower, electricity set up so they can
use the stove and watch tv if the signal is good enough, or the DVD player. Mom and dad, and Mrs. and Mrs. Carlsberg will sleep in the RV. Carter
and I can pick out a spot to pitch each of our tents. This is where I throw a monkey in with the wrench and disrupt the whole thing. I'm not
camping here, not for all three days.
"I want to hike over to the other side of the park," I tell my parents. "There's nothing to see over here, just a bunch of RVs and nobody my age at
this section of the river. And this part of the river sucks."
My dad, who knows I will be a cranky, sullen, pouty, nothing but negative thoughts girl for days if I don't get my way, quickly agrees I should go off
on my hiking trip. My mom says, "Not so fast." Mom is uneasy with me going off on my own. Yes, I am nearly a full-grown girl of seventeen. Yes
I have plenty of hiking and camping experience from my many years with the girl scouts. Yes, this is a state park, and this isn't in an area where
wildlife is normally an issue. But mom is worried what if something happens? "You can't go alone dear. Something might happen."
"I'll take Carter with me. He's a big boy," I told her.
Carter is a big boy, nearly six feet tall and very athletic. But Carter would be of little help when it comes to "Safe" camping. I could see he looked
a wee bit nervous looking at the expanse of trees that surrounds the RV camping area. I'd probably have to hold his hand the whole way. I'd have
to show him where to pitch the tent, which way to have the opening facing, "Don't leave food in the tent" I'd have to tell him.
"If Carter's aunt and uncle agree, he can go with you on your hike. But if he can't go, then you can't go," and my mother announced her decision.
Carter looks around at all the adults, looks a little lost and concerned. His fate is being decided for him. Either he gets sent hiking with me or
he doesn't. He has no say in the matter. Anyway, how can the only big teenage boy in the group turn down being the "Protector" of the teenage
girl of the group? For him to stay behind, as the teenage girl goes off into the forest alone, would violate all the rules of chivalry.
"Of course Carter can go with Flora," Mr. Carlsberg says. "I agree. She should not go hiking to the other side of the park by herself."
"But we are having lunch first," Mrs. Carlsberg adds. "Carter, help get the grill going for the hamburgers and hot dogs. There will still be plenty
of daylight for your hiking trip across the park. I'll make some sandwiches that you and Flora can take with you, so you won't have to cook for
dinner. There are some freezer packs you can put into your pack to keep the sandwiches cold during the hike."
I was impressed with Mrs. Carlsberg. She can think things through. Next, my first "Lesson" for Carter, showing him how to get an outdoor
grill going, then the men can show off their manly superiority by overly cooking a hot dog while they undercook the burgers.
Right after lunch Carter and I will be on our way, and the real fun shall commence.
Chapter 5.
Nothing else of interest happened during the remaining drive to the park. I slip my shorts and shirt back on the moment the RV entered the park
grounds. The camping area for the Recreational Vehicles is near the park entrance. It's not on the river, but within a short walking distance.
People who camp in RV's obviously have no interest in long walks. Such camping is for wimps. I like roughing it. I put on a backpack with all my
clothes and food for a day, the popup tent attached to the top of the pack, the bedroll attached at the bottom. You have to be careful with the
popup tent, it's much wider than the pack. Must be aware of this when hiking down narrow trails in the woods. More than once I've nearly been
knocked off my feet when the end of the rolled-up tent hit a tree branch that refused to bend.
As my mom and dad get the RV set up for the three days stay, water hooked up so they can use the toilet and shower, electricity set up so they can
use the stove and watch tv if the signal is good enough, or the DVD player. Mom and dad, and Mrs. and Mrs. Carlsberg will sleep in the RV. Carter
and I can pick out a spot to pitch each of our tents. This is where I throw a monkey in with the wrench and disrupt the whole thing. I'm not
camping here, not for all three days.
"I want to hike over to the other side of the park," I tell my parents. "There's nothing to see over here, just a bunch of RVs and nobody my age at
this section of the river. And this part of the river sucks."
My dad, who knows I will be a cranky, sullen, pouty, nothing but negative thoughts girl for days if I don't get my way, quickly agrees I should go off
on my hiking trip. My mom says, "Not so fast." Mom is uneasy with me going off on my own. Yes, I am nearly a full-grown girl of seventeen. Yes
I have plenty of hiking and camping experience from my many years with the girl scouts. Yes, this is a state park, and this isn't in an area where
wildlife is normally an issue. But mom is worried what if something happens? "You can't go alone dear. Something might happen."
"I'll take Carter with me. He's a big boy," I told her.
Carter is a big boy, nearly six feet tall and very athletic. But Carter would be of little help when it comes to "Safe" camping. I could see he looked
a wee bit nervous looking at the expanse of trees that surrounds the RV camping area. I'd probably have to hold his hand the whole way. I'd have
to show him where to pitch the tent, which way to have the opening facing, "Don't leave food in the tent" I'd have to tell him.
"If Carter's aunt and uncle agree, he can go with you on your hike. But if he can't go, then you can't go," and my mother announced her decision.
Carter looks around at all the adults, looks a little lost and concerned. His fate is being decided for him. Either he gets sent hiking with me or
he doesn't. He has no say in the matter. Anyway, how can the only big teenage boy in the group turn down being the "Protector" of the teenage
girl of the group? For him to stay behind, as the teenage girl goes off into the forest alone, would violate all the rules of chivalry.
"Of course Carter can go with Flora," Mr. Carlsberg says. "I agree. She should not go hiking to the other side of the park by herself."
"But we are having lunch first," Mrs. Carlsberg adds. "Carter, help get the grill going for the hamburgers and hot dogs. There will still be plenty
of daylight for your hiking trip across the park. I'll make some sandwiches that you and Flora can take with you, so you won't have to cook for
dinner. There are some freezer packs you can put into your pack to keep the sandwiches cold during the hike."
I was impressed with Mrs. Carlsberg. She can think things through. Next, my first "Lesson" for Carter, showing him how to get an outdoor
grill going, then the men can show off their manly superiority by overly cooking a hot dog while they undercook the burgers.
Right after lunch Carter and I will be on our way, and the real fun shall commence.
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