Our World Is A Tent

Every single time, once the tent was set up and the gear stowed away, Meg would immediately strip down to nothing and wade into the water.

The great thing about the Cascades is that it's littered with little mountain lakes, many of them really shallow ponds of clear water from snow and glacial runoff that, because they're shallow, warm up enough by late July to be comfortable for a swim. Most can't be driven to. Meg and Matthew hiked seven miles to get to this little lake. There were dozens in the area to choose from, but this one had no other tents around it, so they took it.

Matt and Meg had made a habit of coming up to the lakes each year during an August weekend, normally the one before they each headed back to college. The twins had discovered the outdoors largely on their own. Neither of their parents so much as ever took a walk in the woods. But through friends and different camps they got sent to as kids, tromping around in nature became part of what they did. They liked the sounds and sights, the general peace found out in the wilderness away from the crowds. They took pictures, drew some sketches, scaled up hillsides for the view. They liked the food they cooked over the burner, the taste of the morning coffee, but really, during the August trip, they enjoyed the tent.

In August, the tent was their place. Their world within the world.

And they liked skinny dipping. Especially, Meg.

Matt watched her standing ankle-deep in the water, her cute little back dimples right above the bottom she insisted was too big but was really just right for her. She stood there gazing at the hills and trees across the lake, their limbs moving in a breeze.

"Meg," he said, "You're going to get burned. The light up here is more intense and reflecting off the water. You need some lotion. Come and get oiled up."

"After I swim," she said turning her head to him.

"No, you'll be wet." He already had the lotion with him. He held the bottle up. "Come on."

She turned around and walked over to him, then standing in front of him, she turned her back to him. Her head came up to his chin. "Hurry up," she said.

Matt squirted lotion in his hand and put the bottle down. He rubbed his palms together, and then took hold of her shoulders, smearing the lotion over them and then down her arms. Another squirt into his palm, then he held her left arm up until it was horizontal, and with both hands worked the lotion into it. Then her right arm. She kept her arms outstretched, has he ran his hands down her sides from underneath her arms to her hips. This time he squirted some lotion directly on her back and kneaded it in over her shoulder blades, down her spine to the small of her back. Another direct squirt and he massaged the lotion over her butt cheeks then, crouching down, he did each leg as he had done each arm. Standing, he filled his hands with lotion, then reached around her, rubbed it into her flat tummy and around her trim pussy, then up again to her breasts, which he cupped in his hands before finally rubbing it into her sternum and up to her neck, front and back. She turned to face him, lifted her chin. Kissed him softly.

"You should put a little more on your face," he said.

"I did already. Before we started hiking."

"Do a little more," he said. "Protect those freckles on your cheeks."

"You love my freckles," she said.

"True. I do."

He put some lotion in her hand. She did her nose and cheeks, and then spun around to the water, and ran on in. When she was knee-deep, she slid under the surface. She lay under it except for her head as she looked back to her brother on shore.

"Come on in," she said. Then added: "Oh, I probably should have waited to help you with your lotion. Sorry. I can come out."

"It's all good," Matt replied. He took of his tee-shirt, then his shoes and socks, and finally his shorts and boxers together. He put some lotion in his hands and haphazardly began rubbing it into his skin.

"Don't forget your penis," she called out a little louder than necessary. "Remember that time it got burned and the tip turned red because you don't have a foreskin? You looked like Rudolph." She reminded him of that one time every single camping trip.

He did as she asked. His penis was happily inflated, but not hard. Just glad for the freedom and the company.

"I'll get your back later," she said as he waded in and then laid down in the water next to her. "You should poke your penis up from under the water like a periscope." Another of her favorite jokes.

"He's fine where he is."

The stayed under the water and scooted out to the middle of the lake where the water was waist-deep and they could comfortably kneel down with only their heads above the surface. They each had blue-green eyes. They leaned forward and kissed. He reached a hand forward and ran a finger along the slit of her pussy. A smile surface on her lips. They gazed at one another as he gently caressed her.

All their life there had been something of a world shared between them. They arrived as the surprise child times two, and as such caused their parents seemingly eternal anxiety. What they thought (and had hoped) would be a girl to bring the family to a total of five, was instead a set of twins needing twice the attention. Or as their dad would say, twins are the work squared, not doubled. Same for the expense. Their sister was twelve years older and their brother ten years older. They seemed more like an aunt and uncle than siblings. She was sweet natured, but moved across the country early on. He wasn't. They both agreed, along with most other people, that their brother was a conceited prick. He was still in the area and had an important job and a lovely family -- which meant grandkids that their parents obsessed over.

But Meg and Matt had each other. Outside the family, they led respectable, but not remarkable, lives. Neither amazing at school nor horrible. Neither especially athletic nor lethargic. They both liked to draw, but nothing they did would ever hang in a gallery. Nothing they ever drew hung on a wall in their parents' house. They went to separate colleges, did well enough, had acceptable friends, and along the way had had and lost acceptable love interests. Meg had a boyfriend whom she insisted was definitely not The One, but who flattered her and kept her happy at school. Matt was single, largely by choice as the previous girlfriend had had a possessive streak. Nothing alarming, just annoying.

In the midst of all this convention and ordinariness, they had each other. They weren't the type of twins who finished each other's thoughts, but they laughed at each other's jokes. Always. even if just internally. Away from it all, they could venture into the woods -- something made better by their parents and, especially, their brother saying they just didn't get it. Why all the fuss to be out with the bugs in the sticks? That sort of alienation fostered an isolation that brought them together. Enveloped them. Made them comfortable in their skin. Made them touchable. Made the world something they viewed from within their bond.

Meg leaned into her brother's shoulder. His finger skirted along the edges. Nothing aggressive. Just caring. Exhilarating.

All at once they became aware of someone else. Simultaneously, they looked to the far side of the lake and saw, about twenty-five feet away, a white-haired older couple, fully clothed, standing to the side of the trail that passed by the lake. The man held a camera. He lifted his hand to say hello. "We were passing by," he said. "I couldn't resist the picture. I apologize."

"We just got here," the woman said. "We were just walking by and you were in the water. I knew he shouldn't, but he's a shutterbug."

Meg lifted her hand to return the wave. Matt withdrew his from her body. "It's okay," she said.

"You're both so young and beautiful... The pictures insisted they be taken."

"How many did you take?" Meg asked.

"Just two," he said. "One with you leaning on his shoulder, and one with you two just gazing at each other."

He started to apologize again, but Meg said, "Oh I want to see," and stood up and began wading through the water to them, her naked back to Matt. Seeing no other option, Matt stood up and followed her.

Meg bounded over to the man, glistening water dripping off her body, his eyes opening wide and then darting around to avoid being seen looking at her naked body. "Let me see," she said standing next to him. Matt got out of the water, nodded at the wife, who seemed shocked but happily resigned to the situation.

The man fumbled with the camera button, clicked through some prosaic pictures of flowers and rocks, and then displayed the picture of Meg leaning against Matt, and then the one of them looking into each other's eyes.

"I love it," said Meg. "What about you?"

"I like it, too," said Matt.

"He's not a visual as I am," Meg explained to the old man. Matt smiled and shook his head. "If I give you my email, will you send those to me?"

"Sure, I will," said the old man. He fumbled with his phone, his wife helped him find the Notes app, and then Meg recited an old email address she used in high school and that contained the name of now gone family dog.

The couples exchanged thankyous and goodbyes. "Let's walk back to the tent," said Meg. As they walked along the water's edge, Meg heard the wife say something to the husband that sounded like a finger waving.

At the tent, they stood motionless side-by-side facing it. Matt took her hand into his, turned his face to hers, and she nodded. With that, he leaned forward, unzipped the door to the tent, and naked and still a bit wet, they each went in, Matt zipping the door shut behind them.

Matt laid her down on a couple sleeping pads and sleeping bags he'd spread out earlier. She grabbed a cushion and put it underneath her head. He slid her body so her head touched the other side of the tent, then he put his hands under her ass, lifted up, and dropped his face into her pussy. She sucked in a deep breath and his tongue went to work exploring every part of her. He loved doing this for her. Loved feeling her back arch and her torso twist and turn with every movement of his lips and tongue. She writhed in his hands, her feet kicking into the air above him. He never rushed it. He held her and slowly touched his tongue to every part of her pussy moving it in no pattern and with no purpose other than to quicken her breath and raise the pitch of her moans. He kissed it. Rubbed his lips over it. He sought out and found the button of her clit and ground his tongue into it making her gasp and moan, her hands running through his hair, he bore down on it again, she let out a groan, writhed continuously as he bore down on her, touched every part of her, set her heart pounding and her skin warm, as he lost himself in her. He did this until suddenly the least violent person on earth grabbed a two fistfuls of his hair and pulled hard. It hurt, but he was expecting it. It meant she was close. One more time grinding his tongue, and...

Her body shook, wave after wave ricocheted through her. Hot to the touch she cried out a string of fucks and ohs and fucks. He lifted his head, wiped his mouth on his arm, rolled her over, and lifted her ass up. On his knees he guided himself into her burning pussy, its walls gripping him, hot and wet. He drove himself all the way into her, put his arm around her torso and leaned back lifting her body with his until she was on her knees as well, his cock buried in her, he started thrusting, holding her tightly against himself, her body rising up and down, one of his hands working a nipple, the other on her clit grinding like his tongue had done. She bounced on his cock, squeezed it with her pussy, turned her head to his him. They kissed and fucked, his arms surrounding her.

She felt him grow inside her, swelling, getting harder. With a grunt, she pulled away from him, broke free, and twisted to face him as she lay on her back. She insisted on this. Every time. He moved above her, her hand guided him in. She sighed a long sigh as he slid into her, his full length filling her. His hips moved on their own. He sucked in a breath, her legs wrapped around him. She felt the first blast coat her within, his cock pulsating. And again. She winced. She cried random syllables while he said her name, over and over, until he'd emptied himself deep within her.

They stayed like that, no words, only their eyes saying anything. His thumb stroked her cheek. She turned her face to kiss his hand. After a minute, his cock went limp and dropped out of her. He laid down on his back and instantly she adhered to his side, warm and damp all over. He held her in one arm, listened to her breathe.

He opened his eyes to a tent full of daylight and the shadows of trees on its fabric and, after a second, remembered it wasn't morning. Only twenty or so minutes had passed. She still clung to him, her eyes open, meeting his. He wondered if she ever slept in those moments. Her irises were crystals of green and blue. She moved to kiss him softly, and then positioned her body over his. She kissed his chest, his abdomen, and brought her mouth to his newly erect cock. Propping it up with one hand, she popped it into her mouth, the sensation feeling to him like a kiss as her lips and tongue engulfed it. She sucked on it, keeping one hand wrapped around the base. He massaged her head, his fingers softly in her curls. She moved slowly up and down from the head to where her hand held it, the tip soft against her tongue, the shaft hard. She never varied her rhythm. Her head rose and fell gently. This is how he liked it. She felt his body relax. She felt him let everything go and for this brief moment not have a worry or anxiety, lost in their own created world. When she heard his breath quicken and felt his hips begin to move, she released him, climbed on top of him, and guided his cock back into her, her whole body now rising and falling in the rhythm her head had until his hands seized her hips firmly and she felt him cum, again filling her, not in a torrent as before, but still completely, entirely.

They lay on their backs looking at the shadows of trees on the roof and walls of the tent moving in a breeze, the limbs seeming independent, like fish in a school, communicating something to them from outside their little world. They watched it wordlessly until, as he always did, Matt broke the spell and sat up. "Let's go wash off," he said. She nodded. He lifted a large towel from a backpack, then leaned forward and unzipped the tent door, the lake showing through the opening.

They staggered into the water, the sun finding its way through the branches of the trees as they moved in their unknown conversation of gestures. Matt and Meg splashed water on themselves, laid down in the clear lake, then satisfied, they walked back to the water's edge. Matt wrapped the giant towel around them, kissed the top of Meg's head, and slowly they lowered themselves to the ground until they were sitting, still wrapped in the towel, his arms around her as they looked across the water at the trees trying to tell them something.

-----

Ten days later, now at her apartment off-campus, and in a rare moment in which none of her roommates were around, Meg opened her laptop and checked that old email account she'd given the old man.

There was a new message with the subject like "Lovely to meet you two." It went on to say, "Here are the photos you requested. Plus two. I hope they're agreeable to you. Be sure, none but us have seen them."

There were four photos attached. Two were the ones of Matt and Meg in the water up to their necks that she'd seen before. The third was a pic he'd snapped as she and Matt walked back to the tent. Their nude backsides walking along the water. Meg looked at her body and still thought her butt to be a little big, especially compared to Matt's skinny ass. But she let that go and laughed at the pic.

The fourth one, though, surprised her. The couple must have doubled back on the trail and passed by the lake without either she or Matt noticing. It was the two of them wrapped in the towel, their hair wet, both of them looking in the same direction, serious, like they were trying to read something. The sunlight filtered through the trees shown on them, made their features distinct under a soft light. The tent stood in the background blurred.

Her eyes teared over. She wiped them and kept studying the photo, until, hearing someone at the front door, she closed her laptop and dried her eyes.

She kept that picture. Matt never asked if that old man had sent the pics, and she never told him. But she kept that photo safe, and in later years, when enough of life had gone by to make her realize that worrying about it was pointless, she had it printed and framed.