What I Discovered About My Best Friend at the Campsite

There were seven of us friends who were going to travel for Easter, but at the last minute one got left out after a stupid fight with two others in the group. The informal vote, what we jokingly called “the governorship,” didn’t give him the necessary backing and he stayed home stewing in anger. All in all, better six than bad company.

Three tents, two borrowed fishing rods, a crate of beer, potato chips, peanuts, and everything that could vaguely be called “healthy” to go with the barbecues we’d put together for ten days at the municipal campsite, far from women, bosses, and routine.

We pitched the tents near the showers, not for convenience but because of the nighttime emergencies we already knew from previous years. The place wasn’t the best, but it was half empty and had a big grill area with a masonry table. This time we’d all bought our own air mattresses; the damp ground of past seasons had taught us the lesson the hard way.

Mauricio owned the biggest tent and, as it could not be otherwise, I was put with him. There were plenty of reasons: we’d been partners in the same accounting office for five years and had known each other since primary school, back in the neighborhood where we grew up kicking around rags for balls. Mauri, everyone called him. I sometimes called him Mauri and sometimes “the old man,” though he was only three months older than me.

The first night we had grilled chorizo with crusty bread and a couple too many beers. Around eleven-thirty, Mauricio said he was wiped out from the trip and went off to the showers. The rest of us stayed up until one, telling old stories, cracking crude jokes, laughing like kids.

When I finally got up, I went to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, and walked to the tent among the pines. We’d left a bucket of water inside so we wouldn’t have to go out into the cold every time one of us needed to piss; it was autumn, and the south wind had teeth that night.

I got naked as I always do, anywhere. But instead of getting into my own mattress, I lifted Mauricio’s blanket and settled in close against his back. He was warm, smelling of white soap and of something clean that he’d clearly set out before getting into his sleeping bag.

I slid my cock between his ass cheeks and rested my right hand on his hip. I was sure he was awake, even if he did the trick of breathing evenly. I whispered in his ear, because anyone who’s ever slept in a tent knows the fabric walls amplify everything you say.

—Hey. You’ve got to be awake already, so listen to me —I murmured.

Silence.

—Don’t get mad, but I saw you with the little Russian in the empty office on the third floor three Fridays ago. I came up the stairs because the elevator was being serviced. The door wasn’t properly closed.

Silence.

—The little Russian had you against the desk at the back, and you were enjoying it like I’d never seen you enjoy anything before. Don’t worry, I’m not here to lecture you. It’s cold in here, and it’s always easier to warm up with two.

Another silence, but different. Thicker. He’s thinking, he’s deciding, I thought. Five minutes passed before my cock, hard against my stomach, felt the first movement. Mauricio still hadn’t said anything, but his hips were shifting just a little, in such soft ripples that anyone would have sworn he was asleep. His ass cheeks squeezed my cock as if they were hugging it.

I started kissing his neck slowly, while the hand on his hip slid around to the front. I was surprised: he was as hard as I was, and the tip was already dripping.

—Look at you, old man. You’ve got a delayed appetite —I whispered.

I took his cock in my hand, my fingers over the glans, letting the skin act like a cushion, and started a short motion, from the head down and back. Mauricio moved along with it in an almost imperceptible sway.

—Do you like it? —I asked, knowing the answer perfectly well.

Silence.

—If you don’t like it, I’ll stop and you can keep sleeping. But if you keep not answering me, I’ll stop and you’ll be left wanting.

—If you don’t let go of me I’ll fill your hand in two minutes —he finally said, barely above a whisper.

—Go on. You won’t finish anything, and you definitely won’t get me wet.

I hadn’t finished the sentence when he moved his hips without any pretense and I felt the first hot jet splatter against my palm. Then a second, a third, I don’t know how many more. My hand filled with thick, warm cum, and I slid the skin all the way down, stroking the whole shaft, reaching the balls. My whole hand ended up slick with his own seed. He held back so he wouldn’t moan, trying to breathe through his nose, knowing as well as I did that any noise would carry through the tents.

When he calmed down, I kept going with a slower up-and-down motion, without letting go of his package. My cock was wedged between his ass cheeks and blood was pounding in my temples.

—You’re rock hard —he said.

—Yeah. Your little ass did that to me.

—You want to stick it in me and shoot a load in my ass?

—I do, but let’s wait a bit. First suck me for a while.

—Fine. But don’t move, the light outside is making our shadows on the canvas.

He turned slowly, without lifting the blanket, and slid down until he was at my waist. He took my cock in his hand and put it in his mouth in one motion. It was a blowjob done with technique, not haste. Mauricio knew exactly what he was doing. Tongue, suction, one hand squeezing the balls at just the right rhythm.

—Ease up, I’m going to come —I warned him twice.

He ignored me both times. When I shot the first load down his throat, he didn’t move a millimeter. He swallowed it all, down to the last drop, and kept sucking until his tongue cleaned the head and his hand wiped away anything that might have remained inside. Then he came back up to lie parallel to me, and our hands kept playing with each other’s cocks as if nothing had happened.

—How many guys are fucking you? —I asked.

—Just the little Russian. And we fuck each other too, don’t think otherwise. He likes getting it in the ass too. When we do 69 he takes all my cum and goes wild. We started by accident.

—How did that happen?

—His wife cut him off after some fight, I don’t remember why, and he’d been without anything for a month. Talking, I convinced him I’d suck him off without asking for anything in return. But as you can see: I think he likes it more than I do now. We swore not to tell anyone, not to hook up with anybody, men or women. With diseases, you know? You have to be careful.

We kept talking softly for a few minutes. The hands never stopped. The slow jerking and my full balls got me hard again. Him too; he’d never gone soft completely.

—You’ve got a beautiful cock —he told me while he stroked it hard.

—Yours isn’t bad.

—You going to fill my ass with cum?

—You want that? Really?

—Yes —he hissed—. I want you to bury it all the way to the balls and leave the cum deep inside, at the back.

He turned around and gave me his back. I slipped my cock between his ass cheeks again to play a little longer. My left hand went under his head to his chest, and my right went back to my cock. We were pressed together like spoons. I was jerking off between his cheeks and I could feel his asshole pulsing against my shaft.

He was thinner than me, so I had him trapped in my arms. I kneaded his nipples, stroked his cock. He was completely surrendered, waiting for the moment. So was I, but there was one little detail left.

—Don’t keep going, I’m about to come —he told me between gasps.

I pulled my hand away and remembered I had to close the tent flap from the inside. If any of the guys came at dawn to wake us for mate and found us in any position at all, we’d die of embarrassment. I got up fast, closed the zipper, and secured the clasp against the floor.

I went back to my place behind him. He gave my head three sucks to wet it and turned his back to me again. His cock was still hard; I could tell by how he pressed it against the mattress.

I spat on my hand, put saliva on his hole, worked it a little. I brought the tip closer. Pushed. Pushed again. It wouldn’t go in.

The tent was a little two-person igloo type, tiny, so my bag was within reach. In the outside pockets I had my shaving stuff, including a tube of dry-skin cream I used on my elbows. I stretched my hand out, took it, put a good amount on my cock and a little more on his ass, with two fingers that went in without trouble.

I went back into position. Mauricio grabbed my cock and fitted it himself. He pushed back, I pushed forward, and the head slipped in smoothly with a long hiss that escaped between his teeth. We stayed still for a few seconds so his body could get used to it. Then I grabbed his hips and pushed again. Half my cock went in in one thrust.

A couple of short, slow motions, and I had it all inside. The pleasure was a bomb about to explode.

—You’ve got a delicious cock —he told me, while his ass moved in and out on its own, without my help.

—And you’ve got an ass made to be fucked all night —I answered, taking him by the waist to set the rhythm. Slow, but without stopping.

I had to stop twice because I was about to come. Mauricio took advantage of my pauses to talk in my ear, breathless, in whispers that made me even worse.

—From the first day I sucked you off, I wanted you to take my virginity. I didn’t dare ask, I thought you’d get mad, even though we were doing 69.

—Sixty-nine is one thing, this is another —I told him between thrusts—. And if I hadn’t seen you with the little Russian, this wouldn’t be happening. Don’t get it twisted.

—Whatever you want. Still, I know you suck me off to please me, not because you like it the way I do. I like feeling it throb, the softness of the head, the veins swelling, the balls going hard and sticking to the shaft. Seeing fresh cum come out. It drives me crazy.

The description made my head boil. I asked him to stay still for a second. I tried distracting myself by counting the ribs showing on his back. Then I went back to the fucking and pumping.

—Ride me —he begged in a desperate whisper—. Ride me.

—We can’t. Any light will cast our shadows on the canvas. We stay like this.

He bent a little farther so his ass would be more exposed and started jerking off like crazy. The squeezes he was giving me with his hole were killing me. I tried to do it myself, but the position wouldn’t allow it; I let go of his cock and let him keep going.

—I can’t take it anymore —he said, almost out of breath—. You’re driving me crazy. I’m going to come again. Give me the cum, give me the cum.

—Here it comes —I whispered in his ear, no longer able to hold back.

I pushed until my balls hit his entrance and I let everything go. We came at the same time, him like a stallion and me the same. The ass squeezes were murderous. I’m sure he wrung at least one ball dry. Maybe both.

My cock slowly shrank inside him and slipped out dripping. We stayed stuck together, saying nothing, not washing ourselves. Only at breakfast the next day would I find out that he had given himself an enema before getting into his sleeping bag, anticipating the whole thing. He was always more prepared than I was.

I didn’t move to my own mattress. Dawn found us exactly as we’d left ourselves, except for the blanket that had slid up to his waist.

At about six-twenty-five, I felt a warm mouth suck my cock and a hand stroke my balls just the way I like. I opened my eyes. There was Mauricio, his hard cock at my face level, waiting for a sympathetic mouth.

I thought about pretending to sleep a little longer, but one of the guys was probably going to come wake us to light the fire or ask for mate. I got to work sucking him eagerly so we could finish fast. It was a short but brutal 69, with a load worthy of a novel. Mauricio swallowed every drop and cleaned me down to the hairs. If I’d let him keep going, we’d still have been in the tent.

We washed a little in the bucket, grabbed our towels, and walked to the showers. That morning we resisted the temptation of a third round with some effort. The following days, not so much.

Our dark circles reached our knees. “We didn’t sleep well last night,” we told the others when they asked. And it was true. We weren’t lying. We just didn’t say why.