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Please Note: All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

First Published: 30 November2015

Camping Trip
by Isabella

Story Code: M/f, First time, Shared girlfriend

I'd been looking forward to my camping trip with Elle all term, we were half way through our two year long sixth-form college course, we were both seventeen years old and I'd finally beaten my parents into submission on the point of Elle and me being allowed to go camping alone during the summer holidays. My father just wasn't happy about two seventeen year old girls camping in the wilds alone so it took a lot of effort to win him around.

We had a plan to trek the south west coastal path, probably not the entire path as that would take thirty days of hard walking. There were field sites at roughly twenty mile intervals where we could camp for the night for just a few pounds each and there were facilities along the path like toilets, some washing facilities for ourselves as well as our clothes as we would be backpacking and carrying our clothes, food, sleeping bags and tent on our backs so there would be little space for the luxury of extra clothes.

I had sweet-talked my father into taking us to the start of the path at Minehead in Somerset. My mum and dad had even agreed to spring for a night in a hotel, he and mum would share a double room, Elle and I a twin. We'd all have breakfast in the morning and Elle and I would head out along the path while my mum and dad spent the morning on the beach, have lunch in Minehead, they would take in a show in the afternoon before heading back home to Northamptonshire. I understood my father's reasoning, he wanted to hang around in Minehead as long as possible because he thought that after a few hours walking in the sun with heavy packs on our backs, either I or Elle would throw in the towel before the first overnight stop. We also had an agreement that wherever we were when we'd had enough walking my dad would come out and pick us up as soon as possible.

I'd kind of expected the walk to be just me and Elle, alone in the wilderness of Exmore, heading for our first stopover close to the Rock Hall Hotel but I couldn't have been more wrong. From the first few yards Elle and I were in a throng of people, from the families with 'Dad' in flip-flops who were planning on walking a mile along the path to the first view point and then returning to their towels on the sand through serious walkers with climbing boots, army bergens holding thirty kilos of equipment and needing walking poles to help them keep their balance. Then there were walkers like Elle and me, we were wearing proper 'Fell walking' boots with under twenty kilos on our backs and on the other extreme there were runners, no waterproof clothing, shoes that looked like rubber had been sprayed onto their feet and pressed into shape, they were aiming to run two or three stages in less time than Elle and I would take to walk one stage.

It was very slow going that first day, people washed past us like the ebb and flow of the tide to our right as we walked along the side of the Bristol Channel, or was it the Atlantic proper at that point? We had aimed to make three miles an hour but that was obviously very optimistic because after ten hours we were still walking towards our first stopover. We'd read all of the advice given to walkers, if it turned dark or the weather changed while out on the trail, the safest thing to do was to pitch your tent wherever you were on any safe spot you could find.

We pressed on and fortunately stumbled into the rest area just at the point where it was starting to get dangerous to be out on the trail because of the twilight closing in. We were one tent amongst thirty in that first stopover, we were the last to arrive that night, it took just ten minutes to erect our tent and set out our sleeping bags and then we joined the group of walkers sitting around a small camp fire, they were drinking alcohol that they'd bought from the Hotel across the road. Elle and I had carried bread and sliced cheese with us to eat for dinner that first night. We'd had a good breakfast courtesy of my parents and we'd eaten energy bars during the day so we should have been okay but really, two cheese sandwiches each wasn't really enough after a day long walk.

We turned in at ten o'clock with the 'Party' still going on at full swing around the camp fire. According to our information pack, the Rock Hill Hotel offered hikers a breakfast for five pounds, full English with Tea and toast and no washing up to do after. If we had breakfast there we could also use the washing facilities which would beat the hell out of standing at the cold tap to try and get clean in the morning.

Our tent was surprisingly spacious; the sewn-in groundsheet was seven feet square and the individual sleeping bags were both just over two feet wide so it didn't feel at all claustrophobic and with our feet at the zip end of the tent we had plenty of room to stand our backpacks. It was a little low though; I think they call it a dome tent, ingenious design; just two very long glass fibre poles that ran up two guide tubes sewn into the outside of the tent, crossing diagonally from corner to corner diagonally on the outside of the tent. The company that made it called it a dome tent but we called it our 'IG', like an Igloo without a toilet!

We went straight to sleep despite the noise outside our tent, over ten ours walking will do that to girls that take almost no exorcise from one month to the next. We ate breakfast at eight o'clock in the morning, used the hotel's bathroom to have a good wash, would have been nice to have had a shower but we knew our next stopover would be better, slightly more expensive but at least it had a shower block on site rather than just a toilet.

The morning went well, easer walking because we were going downhill to Lynmouth. Sadly, after a few easy hours walking downhill we had to walk up the other side of the Lyn Valley. By mid-afternoon we were alone on the trail, the others that had shared our campsite the night before were out of sight ahead of us. We'd been climbing for almost six hours and dark clouds were rolling in cutting the light level significantly. We were walking a high trail, three feet to our right was a drop of around two hundred feet down the cliffs to the sea below. The signs indicating the trail pointed to the left, half a mile away was the road, the road meant busses, we could hop on a bus for ten minutes and get off at our overnight stop. Ahead of us was a further three miles of hill climb, an hour's walk on the flat but more than two climbing uphill as we were.

We could see even darker, storm clouds rolling in from the sea and the wind was getting steadily stronger. Elle spotted something a few hundred yards ahead, there was a small plateau at the top of the hill. The path had widened out slightly and there was a wider margin between the path and the gorse bushes. Elle had spotted activity just off the path, two men were erecting an old ridge tent, and by old I mean ancient, canvas fly sheet, separate groundsheet with a thin cotton inner tent that hung under the ridge pole. Even their ropes and pegs were old too, hessian ropes and heavy wooden pegs.

I was opting for taking the path to the road, just a mile across the more but a flat mile, we could easily do that in half an hour or less but Elle wanted to speak to the two men first and I was glad she did because they had the same idea, they had started down the path to the road while it was still good light because they could see the storm gathering out at sea but they had turned back because they came across a deep ravine, the path had skirted around the ravine and they had almost stepped into it because of the failing light, they hadn't spotted the trodden path going off to the right.

One of the two men pointed out the information that had been provided to walkers free of charge in Minehead, "If in doubt, stop and camp as best you can and wait for better weather or rescue!"

He told us that they had already telephoned in to the walker's assistance team to warn them of the weather change and that they were pitching their tent three miles away from their planned stopping point. Elle and I held a conference a few feet away from the men; Elle suggested that we ring the number given in our information pack to report any problems. We'd both taken our mobile phones and had agreed that we'd leave them turned off for the majority of the time to preserve batteries, we'd just switch them on for a few minutes every four hours to collect voice messages or text messages and check in with our loved ones.

Elle used her phone to call in and she walked up and down as she chatted with the help desk and then hung up, "They said that there are two men ahead of us who are camping on the path, they said to walk carefully to try and find them and pitch close to them."

"Didn't you tell them that we were already with the two men?"

"I thought that would make me sound stupid, I told them that I was at the way marker and asked if we should head for the road. They said definitely not, keep to the main path and wait the storm out."

The men had pitched their tent so that the bell end of their tent was facing the storm, the rounded end should help deflect the worst of the wind. We didn't have a bell end but we did have a zip opening and, like the men we placed our tent so that the zipper was on the leeward side of our tent. Our tent was up, nylon material, glass fibre poles and hardened steel pins with thin nylon ropes made the erecting very easy and speedy. We were 'in home' before the rain came, we snuggled down into our sleeping bags while the men were still trying to hammer their thick wooden pegs into the stony ground.

The storm built throughout the evening, lightning and thunder started at ten o'clock and then the whole of our tent began to shake wildly. There was a great shout from our neighbours. The wind was hitting the cliff-top at about ninety miles an hour. Elle sat up quickly and pulled our zip down slightly to look out, she saw the two men in their underpants fighting to hold their old tent, it was like a kite flying in the wind on the guy ropes. They hadn't brought sleeping bags with them, they'd opted for sheets and blankets, they even had feather pillows. We knew they were real feathers because we could see them scattering to the wind as the gorse bushes twenty feet away were snatching at their covers and liberating the feathers to fly away home.

It was cold and it was wet, in the end their tent got the better of them, it made a break for freedom and sailed away over the moor. Their huge ex-army bergen packs were now out in the rain and both men worked hard to try and stop anything else getting wet. "Vicky, they're soaking out there and their tent is heading for London, we've got to let them share our tent!"

Elle was already calling the men to join us, they wanted to bring their packs into our tent but Elle told them that there was no room for the four of us and their huge packs so they quickly wrapped their bergens in their groundsheet and tied the whole package to one of the steel pegs holding our tent up.

I froze momentarily as Elle was pushing me away from her to form a gap between our sleeping bags for the men to clamber into. Because of weight and space constraints neither Elle nor I had packed nightwear, as it was the summer we'd both opted to sleep in just our bra and panties and suddenly there were two dripping wet men in our tent wearing nothing but soaking wet 'Tighty-whities'.

Elle had already ransacked our packs to find our towels which she handed to the two men to dry themselves off with. In the darkness I realised that the two men were actually removing the only clothing covering their 'Wriggly' bits and they tossed their underpants out of our tent and zipped it closed again. One of the men said, "What do we do now?" through chattering teeth.

Elle suggested that she and I could share one sleeping bag and the men could share the other. Elle and I would have just about fitted in one bag but it would have been a squeeze, the men had no chance of both fitting into the other sleeping bag.

There was a few moments of shivery silence and then one of the men said, "There would be more room if the two bags were zipped together."

It made perfect sense to me but I realised the problem the moment I slipped out of my sleeping bag in the confined space of the tent and brushed my body against one of the naked men. I'd never been intimate with a man before, just a few fumbled relationships with boys at school and they had never really progressed beyond kissing and holding hands. There may well have been lightning bolts outside the tent but as my hip brushed against a cold and clammy bottom a flash of electricity lit up my world inside the tent.

The men set about deconstructing our sleeping bags, they smoothed out one as the bottom of the soon to be double sleeping bag, they joined the bottoms of the bags together and zipped them partway up the sides. There was an awkward silence broken by one of the men suggesting that we girls slipped into the sleeping bag first. Elle was on the left hand side of the larger bag and I was on the right, before we had fully covered ourselves up the men slipped into the bag between us leaving their towels draped over our backpacks to dry.

So there we were, two seventeen year old girls dressed in just panties and bras and two older men totally naked. We were all lying on our backs and in that position we were touching from our ankles to our shoulders. In the position we were lying we couldn't get both zips fastened all the way up because at our shoulder we were too wide. I felt the bag suddenly relax and a few seconds after that I heard Elle sigh and then the sound of kissing.

Then the man next to me turned onto his right hand side so he was facing me, he slipped his right arm under my neck and then closed the gap between us, I felt his cock pressing against my thigh and then I felt his lips against my shoulder and he started kissing me. Elle sighed again, there was a rustling sound to my left and then an item of clothing seemed to be ejected from the sleeping bag towards the towels drying above our heads. It took an extra bright lightning flash for me to see what had sailed past my head, Elle's bra was hanging from her towel above my head and in the next flash of lightning her panties joined her bra on top of the wet towel.

Not a single word had been spoken, the only sounds inside the tent were the sounds of kissing and Elle sighing. The man kissing my shoulder let his left hands slide across my belly; it hovered around my bellybutton for a moment as if he was deciding on heading north or south. There was a gasp from Elle and then a 'huh...huh...huh...huh...huh...gasp!' I lifted my head and looked over towards Elle and the other man. He was on top of her and the 'huh...huh...huh...' matched the fall of the man on top of her.

"You feel warm; want to help me warm up a little darling? What's your name anyway? I'm Alan!"

I kept my head raised, looking over toward Elle and the man on top of her. The sound of air being knocked out of her lungs as the man humped into her was speeding up now, the lightning flashes were coming about once every two seconds, my view of Elle and the man looked like I was watching one of those old hand cranked, 'What the butler saw' machines. I saw Elle and him kissing, then I saw his mouth on Elle's neck and then his mouth on Elle's bare breast as he nibbled on her nipple.

Alan's hand was easing my bra cup up off of my breasts and pushing them up under my chin; he had stopped kissing my shoulder and was now kissing towards my bare breasts. Elle's head was now thrashing from side to side, she was panting faster than his movements now and then she gasped loud and arched her back off of the sleeping bag lifting all the weight of the man on top of her as she did, then as she panted through her orgasm she looked over towards me and smiled as the tent lit up again and she saw Alan moving in on me.

Alan didn't bother taking my panties off, as I was distracted watching my best friend having an orgasm he eased his body on top of mine and pulled my knickers to one side and injected my vagina with his pork-roll. It was my first time but I guess that what was happening, seeing the sex act for the first time, all the visual and sonic stimulation had 'Juiced' me up a little, enough actually so that as he entered me with little foreplay it still didn't hurt as much as I'd always been told it would. Well, the entry didn't hurt but as he pulled out and fell back on top of me that, that did hurt and quite a bit. Now it was Elle and her lover's turn to watch me and Allan. They lay there watching Alan fucking me in the flickering of lightning bolts.

I reached my climax and as my back arched, emulating the way Elle had done earlier I felt a sudden warmth flooding through my lower body, Alan gasped twice and then he bit down hard on my collarbone as I lifted him off the floor on my belly. I was now uncovered to my waist, well, lower actually, Alan's buttocks were clearly visible as his muscles all contracted; I could actually see it in his buttock muscles as they clenched up in time with the spurting of his seed into my body.

Everything was suddenly still, there was no movement in the tent apart from the movement inside my body as Alan's cock shrank down and slipped out of my body and then, the only movement was the slow trickle of man juice as it slowly seeped from my cunt. I was holding my breath, don't ask me why, the lightning had all but stopped now and we were in total darkness, total silence and then my pussy...well...my pussy actually farted and Elle just burst out laughing.

Her man reached out and picked up Elle's knickers from its resting place on top of her bra, he pulled the zip down further on her side of the bed and as he wiped his own seed from between her legs using her own panties there was another flash of lightning so I could see what he was doing. Alan rolled off of my body, he dug his fingers into my hips, clawing at my knickers and scratching my flesh as he pulled my drawers down roughly and as they slipped over my feet he rubbed them between my legs trying to mop up the gallon of semen flooding out of my cavity.

Alan's friend slapped him on his shoulder and pulled him gently away from me, there was a rustling sound and then lips pressed against mine, tongue wriggled against my lips easing into my mouth, I heard Alan say, "And what's your name darling?"

Alan was on Elle now and I heard, "E...l...l...e...huh...huh...huh...huh"

Alan was fucking Elle now and her lover was twisting his body around to line his hips up with mine. Allan had fucked me completely from start to finish and his lips never once touched mine, his friend was almost more interested in kissing than he was in fucking. He was in me within a few minutes and then I was copying Elle's 'huh...huh...huh...huh'. I hadn't been checking the time that Alan had taken to cum in me but he and his friend were fucking us far harder this second time than they did the first, far more effort, far more force, more speed, aggression and the act seemed to just go on and on and on. Seemed to me that they had been fucking us for an hour or more, Elle and I were popping like corks from champagne bottles, we seemed to be taking it in turns to climax, eight, nine or ten times each before Alan finally grunted and jerked his spunk into Elle. The man fucking me took a little longer but then he did start after Alan.

The four of us fell asleep in a line, Alan's friend on the right, then me, he was spooning me, then Alan, I was spooning him and then Elle, Alan was spooning her. By five o'clock in the morning the storm was totally over, the sun was shining bright and the temperature inside our tent rose into the mid-twenties centigrade. We had kicked off the top cover of our sleeping bag and I opened my eyes to see my first ever totally naked man. In the light I realised that my sleeping bag had been on the bottom and because two girls had lost their virginity on it and we'd both had sex twice my sleeping bag was ruined.

Elle and I had a small camping gas burner mounted on a two hundred and twenty gram propane gas cylinder but Alan and his friend Greg were trying to do the whole 'Camping the old fashioned way' thing. They wrapped our towels around their waists so that they could go out and free their bergens from the protection of their waterproof groundsheet. They found some dry clothes, their boots and then they lit a fire and set out in search of their camping equipment, or as much of their equipment as they could find out on the moors.

Elle and I boiled water on their fire, saving our gas seemed like a good idea, we even started to toast some bread against the heat from their fire, bread toasting on one side of the fire, water boiling on top and two pairs of underpants drying on the other side of the fire draped over a tent of twigs.

Alan and Greg managed to find their tents flysheet but not their blankets, they did find their inner tent for all the good it did them, the inner tent was torn from corner to corner and was totally ruined. They rejoined us and we shared our tea with powdered milk and our toast with them. As we were eating our breakfast there was the sound of a motorcycle approaching us from the direction of Lynmouth, it was an Exmoor ranger on a quad bike, he stopped off at our tent, Alan and Greg's tent had been hung over their ridge pole to dry out as much as possible before they could pack it away and set off on the trek again.

At least at a quick glance it all looked very respectable still for the ranger. I offered him tea that he refused he had forty miles of path to check out as quickly as possible. He had ten names on his clipboard; Alan, Greg, Elle and I were all on his list. He had to find another six walkers that hadn't reached their target destination, we four were the only ones who had managed to report in by telephone but then, we were on the high path so we had a good coverage area from our mobile phones. As well as people, the ranger was looking for any areas of the path that might have been washed away in the storm.

Alan used his phone to ring one of his friends, he arranged for someone to meet them at the stopover that was twenty-two miles away. Alan asked his friend to bring them a replacement tent, it wasn't quite as old as the one they'd just lost but it still counted as a veteran tent and so would do for their charity challenge. "Oh, and can you pick me out your best new sleeping bag, the most expensive you have...no, no I'm not breaking the rules of the sponsorship deal, the storm that ruined our equipment came under the 'Force majeure' clause of our agreement, we had to bunk down for the night and between us we managed to ruin someone's expensive sleeping bag."

Alan hung up the phone, "Erm, it wasn't that expensive, my sleeping bag was just a cheap one and it will probably wash out."

"That's okay, our sponsors can well afford it but you'll have to meet us at camping ground number three, oh, and remember to sign in at site two if you want your certificate at the end of your hike."

Elle and I packed away our equipment in quick time, we both smelled like skunks and I felt dirty and sore between my legs but we both seemed to have a spring in our step as we set off, leaving Alan and Greg sitting by their fire trying to dry as many things out as possible.

We reached camp site number two, signed in and used their toilet and then set out on the trail, almost twenty miles to walk and a good ninety minutes later than we would have liked to have set off. Alan and Greg passed us at one o'clock; they were wearing hobnail boots and woollen clothing, all apart from their underpants which were the only items of clothing that weren't available in the nineteen twenties. We both got kisses from both Alan and Greg and shared water with them before they strode out and left us to struggle in their wake.

We passed a place where the ranger had diverted the path inland a few yards because the cliff's edge had been washed away in the storm. We didn't reach camp site number three until nine-thirty, we reported in, paid our two pounds each and set up our tent, there was an area of about an acre that was totally empty but Elle insisted in pitching our tent right next to Alan and Greg's fire.

After our dinner of cheese sandwiches Elle slipped off with Greg in their tent, Alan pulled me into our tent and, well, it was a very nice fuck but it wasn't nearly as erotic as the night before when we all had sex together, each watching the others fucking. Alan left me and went to his tent and Greg slipped in to me and so we did both swap again. Greg was a more aggressive lover than Alan, but neither one was any better than the other, they were both just different. Alan and Greg had to be in their own tent and sleeping by midnight and Elle had a fit of the giggles.

"Did Greg make you suck his dick?"

"No, that sounds disgusting!"

"God no Vicky, tomorrow, you suck Greg's cock, it's brilliant, you'll love it!"

"Tomorrow, what makes you think we'll meet them again tomorrow?"

"I've checked their schedule; they're due into all the same sites were checked into on the same nights. Yesterday I was all for taking the path down to the road and catching the bus back to Minehead but after meeting Alan and Greg, I'm up for the full thirty days!"

4,835 Words.

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