Chapter 1: The Arrival - Sex Stories

Chapter 1: The Arrival

... to just be. This was the point, an escape, an exploration, of maybe leaving some things being and seeing where it left me – us. More of that later.

I found the key under the mat and opened the front door, purposefully leaving my shoes and socks on the porch. Another small step out of the 'normal', whatever that was. The smell of wood – fresh as well as burnt – hit me first, as well as the light. It was so bright, so clear. The interior was predominantly a single open space, a decently appointed kitchen on one side with a table and six chairs, a living room consisting of two long sofas and a coffee table, with the stove in the middle, with logs stacked on either side. No TV. There were French windows all along one wall, with nothing in the view other than the trees and sky. I unlocked them and slid them open, letting the outside in. The wood outside and and the room inside felt like they were seamlessly joined together, it was incredible, no division at all.

There was a stair ladder against the front wall that led up to the 'bedroom', effectively a wide sleeping platform. It was almost the full width of the cabin, with a large double bed in the middle, the eavesdropping down on all four sides, and a skylight in each one. The views from the bed would consist of nothing but the low beams, the stars, and the sky. I opened the skylights slightly before descending, finding the bathroom behind a sliding door - a large shower, a double sink with a mirror, and the toilet. I'd ...

... read that there was also an outdoor shower – without any screens, but there was nobody for miles. It was perfect. I had my share of the supplies for the week in the car, and I knew I had a few hours before T arrived, so I carried them in. My clothes, towels, toiletries, a box of books, and what I planned to cook (plus coffee, tea, milk, beers, bread, cold cuts, and cheese. The plan was to cook little but eat simply and well. I stashed everything away in the kitchen, bathroom, or downstairs wardrobe.

The drive had been long and hot, so I thought I’d clean up and give the outdoor shower a go. I stripped upstairs before descending and stepping through the French doors onto the grass and gravel outside. The earth was damp but warm under my feet, the dried leaves crackly. With the breeze across my skin and the warmth of the sunshine on my body as I stepped outside, it felt strange and transgressive but brave somehow, and natural. It was as though I was streaking but not, even though nobody would see. You can take the boy out of society but you can't take the society out of the boy, I guess. I found and turned on the shower – it was almost instantly warm from the tank on the roof, so stepped into it, looking around as the water cascaded down my body. I was naked, outside, with nothing but the woods and wildlife around. I was almost tearful with the freedom of it.

I took some of the eco soap left by the owner and rubbed myself down, washing my hair and body, thoroughly but ...