CAMPING WITH MY FATHER - Sex Stories

CAMPING WITH MY FATHER

I was always a daddy’s girl growing up. Whatever he was doing, I wanted to do it, too. Didn’t matter what it was.... working on the car, kicking soccer balls, mowing the grass.... I just loved to be involved in all of his interests and activities.

One thing my father loved to do was go camping. My mother wasn’t a big camper, so she would often beg off, and it would just be my father and me.... which was OK with me. I loved being outdoors, canoeing, hiking, swimming, pitching a tent, cooking over a camp fire.... just everything to do with camping.... and doing it with my father made it even better.

So, growing up, my father and I would load up the truck and go camping for several days, about six or seven times every year. We’d always bring a small, two-person tent, two sleeping bags, outdoor cooking utensils, our canoe, and a bunch of hiking gear.

My God, what a blast we had. I could barely wipe the smile from my face every time we went.

As I started getting into my teen years, I started growing boobs, and by the time I was a freshman in high school, I already had big, 34D boobs, which kind of had a mind of their own. They seemed to jiggle and bounce around a lot, and my nipples always seemed to be poking through whatever top I was wearing. And since I rarely wore a bra, the bouncing and nipple bumps were pretty obvious.

Once my boobs came in, I noticed two things on our camping trips: my father couldn’t stop looking at them.... especially when we were swimming ...

... together, or paddling in our canoe; and he would always find excuses to bump, rub, or squeeze them whenever we were near each other while camping or hiking.

My father always brought two sleeping bags on these camping trips, but on one trip we took during the summer after my freshman year in high school, my father let out an expletive as we were unloading the truck and setting up our base camp.

“Shit, Melissa, it looks like we forgot one of the sleeping bags.”

I looked over toward the truck where he was stacking our gear in a small pile, and said, “What? How could that happen?”

He shook his head and said, “I don’t know, but I think we’ll be OK sharing on this trip. It’s a pretty good sized sleeping bag.”

I shrugged my shoulders and said, “Sure... why not. We’ll be fine.”

After we set up our tent, we stowed our gear and laid out the one sleeping bag... then we started a camp fire, found some 3’ long saplings, and used them to cook hot dogs over the flames... followed by marshmallows and s’mores.

I was loving it.... this was my favorite way to spend time with my father.

When it was time to call it a day, I undressed down to my panties, and threw on a thin, cotton tank top. This was how I always dressed for sleeping, so I didn’t really give it much thought.

My father did the same thing.... he undressed down to his boxers, with nothing on top.

When I crawled into the sleeping bag, I turned over on my left side to give my father room to climb in behind ...