It was my twenty-first birthday, and I was buzzing for the camping trip my mom, Susan, and older sister, Clara, had planned. Hiking and camping are my jam, so this was a real birthday treat. The only buzzkill was Clara’s boyfriend, Mark. He’s a bit of a know-it-all. I can handle him okay in small doses, but he grates on me after a while.
My name’s Ethan, and I’m six-foot-two and built like a beanpole. Mom always says I need some meat on my bones. I keep my dark brown hair in a buzz cut and, according to my family (mostly), I’m not bad-looking. My mom’s a petite, unassuming woman–I hate to say it, but it’s true. Clara, on the other hand, is a knockout. She’s around five-foot-seven, with the same dark hair as me, only styled way better. Her face is her best feature: big hazel eyes, a generous mouth, and a cute, slightly upturned nose. She keeps herself in great shape with healthy eating and working out.
The best way to describe Mark is “a comfortable couch.” He’s about my height with messy blond hair. His face is fine, I guess, but you mostly notice the extra padding he’s carrying. I once flippantly asked Clara why she fell for him. He grinned and told me it was because he’s a generous lover.
On the day of the trip, we were meeting up early at Clara’s place. I was running a bit late but still beat my mom there. Clara greeted me with, “Bad news, Mom’s not coming. She’s feeling under the weather.” My heart sank; I was so looking forward to this. She gave me a big smile and explained that the trip was still on. It wasn’t anything serious, but hiking was a no-go for her right now.
Clara did all the driving, a solid five hours with a pit stop for food. Mark can drive but prefers not to. I was just a passenger; still working on getting my license.
In fairness to Mark, Clara likes to be in charge, so her taking the reins wasn’t a surprise.
I was surprised when we arrived at the campsite. It was already dark, but even so, I could tell it was pretty grim. Clara had picked the spot. All she’d told me after booking it was that it was for “serious campers.” I think she meant it was basic. All I could see was a small concrete block that looked like it housed toilets and maybe some washing facilities. I’d bet money there was no hot water. We were the only ones there. It was mid-November, so anyone with half a brain was home by a warm fire instead of braving a freezing night.
Mark summed it up perfectly: “This is the pits.” Clara laughed it off. Time to pitch the tents and unload the car ASAP.
It was so cold that even Mark was helping to speed things up. Then disaster struck: we couldn’t find my tent and sleeping bag. I’d dropped them off at Clara’s earlier in the week. Clara insisted she’d loaded them, and that Mark must have taken them out when he reorganized the car to even out the weight distribution. He said he hadn’t, and they bickered. I put a stop to it; we just had to make the best of it. I’d try to sleep in the car with some coats on top.
We got their tent up in record time. When the two individual sleeping bags were laid out, there was barely any room left for me. “I’ll have to sleep in the car,” I repeated. Clara looked at the bags, and pointed out that one of them was a “large single”, designed for one person but with a bit more wiggle room.
“You and Mark can have that one, and I’ll take the other.” She found this hilarious. I thought she’d never stop laughing.
“Have you seen the size of Mark?” I thought he’d be insulted, but he just said there was no way he could share that with Clara. He wasn’t a skinny runt like me.
Calmly and logically, Clara explained that she’d have to share with me. It made sense, but it felt weird. “I have to look after my little brother.” She’s ten years older than me, and that’s what she’s done since I was born. Mark didn’t say a word; he just accepted it. I guess he’s used to Clara calling the shots. Getting undressed was a little awkward. We faced away from each other, then climbed into the sleeping bags. I was just in my boxers; Clara had on a bra and boy shorts. I avoided looking at Mark, so I don’t know what he was wearing.
I faced away from Clara, and I was asleep almost instantly. It felt like I hadn’t been asleep long before a finger was poking me awake. “Ethan, Mark’s asleep now.” I could hear him snoring loudly. I was confused; why was she telling me this? “I need to talk to you.” It was a shock when she did. “I need to be touched.” She then explained, to my even greater surprise, that she was three months pregnant. The hormones were making her insatiable.
“Congratulations, but what about Mark?” When she’d told him a few weeks ago, he’d lost interest. He didn’t think it was right to be intimate with a pregnant woman. I felt my cock stiffen. I turned over to face her, and she noticed it too.
“That feels good; it feels big. I think you do want to touch me.” I didn’t say anything. I just reached down to adjust myself to make things comfortable. Soon I was at full attention, a decent seven inches. I felt her hand reach down and feel me, trying to gauge the size. “Bigger than Mark’s.” That really surprised me. I’d always thought he was well-endowed. That made her erupt in near hysterical laughter. I glanced at Mark, worried it would wake him. He was out cold, snoring like a chainsaw. Clara explained that it would take a plane crashing into the tent to rouse him.
Clara shimmied closer, the nylon of the sleeping bag rustling softly in the cramped tent. “Let’s be quiet,” she whispered, her breath warm against my ear. “Really quiet.” My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence. The air crackled with a forbidden energy.
She reached for my hand, guiding it beneath her thin sleeping bag. I hesitated for a fraction of a second before letting my fingers graze the soft cotton of her boy shorts. She shifted slightly, giving me better access. I could feel the heat radiating from her skin, even through the fabric.
Slowly, tentatively, I slipped my hand beneath the elastic waistband, my fingertips brushing against the smooth curve of her hip. She moaned softly, a sound swallowed by the darkness. Emboldened, I moved my hand further, tracing the line of her hipbone, down towards the delta of her femininity. I found the soft tangle of curls, already damp with arousal.
She parted her legs slightly, a silent invitation. My fingers found their way between her folds, gently probing. She was slick, incredibly wet. A low groan escaped her lips, and she pressed her hips against my hand, urging me deeper.
“Ethan…” she whispered, her voice thick with desire. “Please.”
Carefully, mindful of the limited space and the sleeping figure beside us, I unzipped my sleeping bag and then hers, freeing her from the confines of the nylon. She wriggled closer, her back pressed against my chest. I could feel the soft swell of her pregnant belly against my stomach, a potent reminder of the situation.
“Turn over,” I whispered, my voice hoarse.
She obeyed, carefully rolling onto her side, facing away from me. I spooned against her, my body molded against hers. Now her buttocks nestled against my groin. My erection throbbed, aching for release.
Reaching down, I guided my shaft to the entrance of her wetness. It pressed against her swollen lips, eager to be inside. She arched her back slightly, giving me better access. With a slow, deliberate thrust, I pushed inside her.
She gasped, a sharp intake of breath that quickly faded into a low moan. “Oh, god, that feels so good,” she breathed.
I began to move, slowly at first, savoring the feeling of being inside her, of being connected to her in such an intimate way. The combination of the forbidden nature of the act and the primal pleasure was overwhelming.
As I continued to thrust, the rhythm grew faster, deeper. She gripped my arm tightly, her nails digging into my skin. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and she began to moan louder, her voice laced with a desperate pleasure.
“Can’t believe we are doing this,” I said as I kept pumping my cock in and out her wet gash.
“Fuck me with that big dick bro, ummm feels so good,” she moaned as I continued to fuck her pussy.
My own breath grew ragged, my body moving involuntarily, driven by pure instinct. My muscles clenched, and I felt a surge of heat building within me. I was close, so close.
With a final, desperate thrust, I emptied myself inside her, my body shuddering with the force of my orgasm. She cried out, a long, drawn-out moan that echoed in the small tent.
We lay there for a long moment, our bodies pressed together, our breathing gradually returning to normal. The only sound was Mark’s steady snoring, oblivious to the drama that had just unfolded beside him.
After a while, Clara stirred. “That was…” she began, then paused, searching for the right word. “Amazing,” she whispered finally. She snuggled back against me, her hand finding mine and squeezing it gently. “Thank you, Ethan.”
We lay spooned together for the rest of the night, the shared secret a tangible presence between us. The air in the tent was thick with the scent of sex and something else, something more complex – guilt, excitement, and a strange, undeniable connection. I knew that this night would forever change the dynamic between us, leaving an indelible mark on our relationship.