It started out as a great weekend. It was early November, deer season had just opened last week and Carl and Dave were really excited about the three days camping out in the woods, hunting whitetail. Lifelong friends, they'd taken these long weekends to go hunting since they were eighteen. Back then, "camping" really meant a tent and campfire, but now they had a cabin in the woods of Pierce County, with a fireplace, propane burner, table and chairs and several beds.
Now that they were married, had kids and wore neckties from nine-to-five on weekdays, these hunting trips were all too infrequent. They came to the woods in the summer with the wives and kids sharing the cabin for swimming, fishing and burning marshmallows on campfires outside, but the early winter hunting trips were a tradition for Dave and Carl alone.
It was a clear brisk evening when they got to the cabin. There was plenty of wood laid in and they unloaded the car, adding to the canned stews and vegetables that they kept stored in the cabin. They hoped to be eating venison soon. Carl called his wife, Linda, on his cell phone and let her know that they had arrived OK. She, of course would call Dave's wife, Cathy.
Dave started a fire. There's something about watching wood burn that lets you know you're really away from civilization. It was soon time to light the kerosene lamp, heat some cans of stew on the burner and talk about the good times spent here in the wild. Both men turned in early, planning to get a deer at daybreak.
They awoke to a beautiful scene in the morning. The entire landscape was white with newly fallen snow and large flakes were still coming down. The guys lit the burner, got down some instant coffee while getting dressed, took their rifles and headed into the woods. With the skill of a lifetime of hunting, they were soon dragging a whitetail deer back to the cabin. They dressed it and cut it up to cool in the shed and talked of getting another one before the weekend was up.
That night they had venison for supper, and talked of the good times they had together growing up and while in college. Both of their wives would have been livid to learn of the personal things Dave and Carl shared about them. Both would tell the other the most detailed account of their sex lives so that each man was as familiar with the other's wife as his own.
The next morning the cabin was unusually dark when the guys got up. Carl's cell phone was beeping at about the time that Dave noticed the windows were covered in snow. Linda said there was an early snowstorm, expected to drop three feet in the next day. About that time Dave opened the door and a four-foot drift fell over his legs. Not only was there going to be no hunting today, but Carl and Dave realized that they were stuck here for a while. Carl assured his wife that they would be fine, there was plenty of wood, a large deer in the shed and they would sit out the storm until someone could plow up to get them. He told her to call his boss, because they realized it might be a week or more before they could get out of the woods.
The men settled down to their routine, which was mostly cooking and keeping the fire going. They had cleared the snow away from the windows and door, and made paths to outside areas where they could relieve themselves. Both had planned on enduring the three days without bathing, but by the fourth day they were wondering how long they could endure being funky. Usually at the end of these weekend campouts, they took nice long baths as soon as they got home (at their wives insistence).
At first there were the mutual "Ewwws" when they removed their boots at night, but both men noticed that they had gotten used to their bodily odors and although they could still smell each other in these close quarters, it wasn't as sharp anymore.
Also, this one room cabin didn't offer any privacy for relieving sexual tensions, and there was now no way to get alone out in the woods, even if you could enjoy stroking it in freezing air. But, Dave and Carl had shared a room in college, so hearing your roommate's bed shaking in the dark with heavy breathing was nothing new to them.
After the fourth day of trying to masturbate secretly in the small cabin, Carl mischievously broke the silence of the dark. "Dave, I'm bored with Linda. Is it OK if I think of Cathy while I beat off?"
"Sure Carl," Dave replied, "Just send Linda over to my head."
Carl thought a while and said, "You know, Cathy gives better head than Linda."
"Yeah," said Dave, "but she doesn't rim my ass like Linda does."
A moment of silence later, Carl said, "You ever had someone lick your asshole for real?"
"No, Cathy won't do it," Dave said, "but I did it to her once when I was eating her pussy. Got really turned on, stuck my nose in her pussy and ran my tongue around her butt hole. Tasted a little salty is all. She really got off on it."
"I never did it with Linda," Carl said, "and she really doesn't like sucking my dick that much, so you know she wouldn't tongue my asshole."
"Well, you do know that you have to wash your dick and ass now and then." Dave laughed.
Both men remained silent in the dark, each consumed with their personal lusty visions, while rhythmically bringing themselves to orgasm, and trying to contain their breathing as much as possible while also being aware of the other's movements and heightened breathing.
The next morning, while having hot coffee from the burner and stoking the fire anew, the guys started talking about their activities in the dark last night.
Carl said, "You know I could hear you beating off last night in the dark."
Dave shot back " Are you sure it wasn't your echo?"
Carl said, "Remember in eighth grade, when we learned how to jack-off? We actually sat there in front of each other beating our meat and thought nothing of it"
