Camping in Kentucky

By Boris. B. Chen

Two diverse younger men meet at work, and eventually decide to go tent camping and fishing in north-eastern Kentucky. Friendship blossoms after they discover they both keep the same big secret. Together, they decide to improve the campsite located in a secluded mountain valley. This highly graphic and very erotic tale describes the growth of their relationship, and the challenges they face as masculine gay men working in a large factory in Ohio. They develop a unique partnership and discover there is little they overcome when they work together. This book is written for adult readers and contains detailed descriptions.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Boris. B. Chen
• Release date: Jan 26, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463341711

Boris. B. Chen

All my books are written using Word 2007 on a Samsung laptop. Editing, proofreading are done with a Kindle Paperwhite and Word 2007.I like to hear from readers, especially if my work touched you. Email me at bchen writeme com

Book preview

Camping

In

Kentucky

By Boris B. Chen

Camping in Kentucky

Copyright c 2019 Boris B. Chen

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent publisher.

The rights of the author have been applied hereon.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Please note:

This book is written for adult readers.

It contains graphic descriptions of same-sex intercourse and masturbation using adult language.

This book also contains descriptions of violence leading to death.

All the characters, locations, events, and acts described herein are fictional. Any similarity to real people, places, and events is purely coincidental.

My thanks to all the kind people who contributed ideas as this story was developed over a period of years on ‘nifty org’ and other similar sites. I would also like to thank all the readers that helped me massage this book into the condition it is in today. Special thanks to Lawrence in Mississippi and Chuck in Wisconsin, there are too many others to mention here.

Table of Contents:

List of story characters.

Chapter 1 Mixed signals.

Chapter 2 First time.

Chapter 3 Confused signals.

Chapter 4 Hemo-phobic.

Chapter 5 Lee moves first.

Chapter 6 About last night.

Chapter 7 New camping gear.

Chapter 8 Huge cloud of smoke.

Chapter 9 Thanksgiving Day.

Chapter 10 Black Friday.

Chapter 11 Pain.

Chapter 12 Cabin project.

Chapter 13 Romance explodes.

Chapter 14 Building an outhouse.

Chapter 15 The Kline brothers.

Chapter 16 Scientific measurements.

Chapter 17 Vacation ends.

Chapter 18 Everything got changed.

Chapter 19 Sunday morning.

Chapter 20 Retirement party.

Part-2: Introduction.

Chapter 21 La Bomba.

Chapter 22 Robbing ourselves.

Chapter 23 First full day.

Chapter 24 May 3rd.

Chapter 25 Early June, week 5.

Chapter 26 Eighth week.

Chapter 27 Harvest time.

Chapter 28 Holidays and the militia.

Chapter 29 Conclusion.

Chapter 1: Mixed signals.

I spent an hour on the phone with one of our suppliers yesterday. By the time I got off the phone I really needed to step away from my desk, drink some water and stretch my legs a bit.

There were several soda and snack machines near the freight warehouse so I walked there to see what the selection looked like.

All I wanted was some really cold water to drink. When I got to the vending area I saw a good friend of mine (Luke) in front of the snack machines. I swiped my badge and watched the machine move a mechanical deck to the highest level and dump my drink down to the chute and into my thirsty hands.

We talked about the weekend we just spent on his boat. A great time was had by all but we didn't catch many game fish. While we visited, a rather tall young man walked over so we got out of his way. My friend Luke asked, You know this guy? I shook my head no, Luke did the introductions. 'James meet Lee, Lee meet James,’ we shook hands, blah blah blah.

My friend said Lee was a life-long outdoorsman. Luke pulled out his cell and showed me pictures he took of Lee (shirtless) with the four largest fish he caught. Lee said he spent the weekend on Luke's boat three weeks ago, in the same place on the Ohio River.

Holy crap, look at the size of that carp! I said when he got to the second picture. Could you forward me that one? I asked them. Lee smiled while he dropped coins into the machine. Luke started to work buttons on his cell.

The sound of a pager alarm interrupted our conversation. We both checked, it was his and not mine this time. My friend excused himself and walked away as he tried to read the tiny display on his pocket pager. The young man and I talked about how the Asian carp had ruined game fish stocks on parts of the Ohio River. We also talked about how to fillet Asian carp, he said thousands of people in Southeast Asia cook and eat them every day but you gotta do it the right way.

I said I had always been told they were too full of bones. Lee said that you need to fillet them alive, remove the dark red meat, cut around the boney parts, and get the meat on ice right away. The process he described produced a few delicious cutlets from each fish, but most of the animal went in the trash.

While he explained the procedure I noticed he had a rather pronounced accent and asked if he was from Kentucky.

Claryville, born and raised, graduated high school down there and moved up here when jobs got tight down home. Lee paused to take a drink of his water then asked me if I tent camp too.

Yes, but it's been a while. I need to find someone to go with.

I got a place down home, I invite everyone that works here to come down with their gear, bag a deer, and drink some beer.

Huh! Is this your land?

It will be some day. My uncle owns it, he's got COPD real bad. He just barely makes it to the bathroom now.

You lived with him?

He raised me. My parents got killed when I was a baby, he was their only family. I've been with him ever since. Now I help take care of him.

Sorry to hear about your parents. It looks like you were raised well?

Meh. I'm okay. What kind of rifle you hunt with?

I have my father's 30-06 bolt action he purchased at a hardware store in the 1940s, it's accurate as hell, but it needs to be cleaned and sights checked real bad.

My place has a shootin' range and room fer 'bout six tents. Like I say'd, you're welcome to grab your stuff and come on down. Luke camped there too, just ask 'im.

What do you hunt with? I asked but he was busy gulping down some water. Lee had on worn jeans and a faded red t-shirt with a big Marlboro logo on the front. After he finished he said, I got a Vanguard .308 bolt action with a ten power scope.

How big is your uncle's property?

We got 700 acres, about a square mile, 'cept it's not exactly square. In the valley we got a big space for tents, there's a fifty meter shootin’ range, a nice creek for water, it's good for deer and small game fish, you could ride a four wheeler back there too. Like I said, grab yer gear and come on down! The valley's got 'bout everthin' y'need and the price is right.

I glanced at the clock, I'd been gone from my desk for fifteen minutes. Well, I love to camp and shoot, but I got a bunch of questions about your place. Let's talk some more about it, okay? Your name is Lee, right?

Yep, Lee Charters. I'll look fer ya again.

I usually take lunch at 11:30 on one of the picnic tables outside the factory.

Yep, me too, I'll see y'all out there.

I turned away from the vending area but before I left I told him again, Nice to meet you Lee, and walked back to my desk in the lab.

Later that day I ran into my fishing buddy again on the factory floor. He warned me that Lee's valley was primitive, ...he doesn't even have an outhouse down there. The closest phone and flush toilet was almost six miles. Sometimes when he invites people to camp at his place he forgets to mention that little detail. I'll tell you the rest outside work sometime. As Luke walked away he shouted to me that there's no cell service in that entire area.

----

The very next day I was alone at a picnic table outside the factory and was surprised to see that tall young man walk over, all full of smiles, with a gas station delicacy in hand. My brain recalled his name was Lee.

Set a spell. I gestured at the other side of the picnic table.

Hi James, how's work? Lee asked.

Busy, you? I answered as I finished my home made sandwich and started to eat my celery stalks.

We're busy, got six more fourteen-foot tars that leave on rail cars. Gotta get them loaded and tied down by tomorrow or we work Saturday. You know them rail cars? No two of 'em have the same mounts. Each tie-down is custom.

We spent some time eating then I asked him, So does this place of yours have a name?

Not really. But everyone I know calls it Lee's Valley 'cause I built most of it when I was a kid, but it's my uncle's land. It'll probably be mine when he passes.

How are you two related?

Uncle David and my father were brothers.

Well, I guess that all turned out okay?

Sort of, Uncle never liked kids. I spent most of the time with the neighbors.

He paused to take another bite then added, I think Uncle was allergic to diapers until after I was house broke. He chuckled at his comment.

So where is this place of yours?

Lee reached over for my paper lunch bag, pulled a pen from his shirt collar and wrote his uncle's street address on the outside. He told me to type it into Google Maps. Then he added that there isn't much to see except miles and miles of trees with a road snaking down the middle.

I changed the subject a little, So what else you into aside from outdoor stuff? You do online combat games and virtual reality, stuff like that? I asked without eye contact to see if he would say personal things.

Not a damn thing. I don't even got internet at home, just on my cell. I'd rather be outside doing stuff, that's why I hate livin' up here, but there ain't no jobs down home. What I need is to be rich some day and start my own business.

I feel the same way! I said with the last bite of my sandwich in my mouth.

What kind of business would you open if you could? I asked him.

Probably a small cafe. Both of the neighbor ladies that raised me up were cooks, I learned a lot from them before I could even reach the spigot on the sink.

I chuckled at the visual image of him at age six on a stool by the kitchen counter learning to dice veggies like a professional, with a knife half as long as his arm.

A few minutes later our breaks were over and we both left for our respective departments.

----

I ran into my friend Luke at a gas station after work, he had leaned back against his truck while his tank slowly filled. I stepped closer after I got my pump started.

You may eventually notice that young Mister Charters never talks about girls. I thought you should know that before you decide to pitch a tent down there. Just then his pump clicked off, he hung up the nozzle, and then he stopped and yelled back at me, You get that picture I sent you? I shouted back, Yes, thanks! See ya, and then he drove off. After my side of the pump stopped I put the nozzle back and drove home too.

I wondered to myself if I ever discussed girls at work. From my experience when guys get together and talk about guy stuff the subject of girls usually doesn't come up unless somebody in the group was recently engaged, newly married, or had a new baby at home.

When I got home I forwarded the picture Luke sent me to my home email account so I could look at it on the big computer screen.

----

For the next couple weeks Lee appeared at the picnic tables for lunch every day at the same time as me. I acted surprised each time he joined me.

Lee reminded me daily that I was welcome to tent camp at his place. Today he added a new bit of information that was important to me. He said his uncle spent six months of every year in Florida. I kept having a mental image of us doing stuff then his uncle walked up in bib overalls and bare feet aiming a shotgun at my face the moment his nephew took me in his mouth.

He told me about fun stuff he did with friends at his camp site. His stories gave me the chance to listen closely. I also noticed that the topics of sex and girls were never mentioned. On Wednesday he handed me a slip of paper with his name and cell number so we could text.

I asked about the roads, if I could drive my Volvo down there. Not a good idea, cars should never go back there. Your catalytic converter would set the weeds on fire. You need extra ground clearance to drive back there. Look at my truck, it's a safe height most of the time but not always.

Over time I started to feel more comfortable around Lee. And over time I also talked to other guys at work that had camped in Lee's valley. They all said the same stuff: Lee was a great guy, reliable, honest, very easy going, and his campsite was primitive, but if you didn’t mind that they by all means go there and have fun. One person suggested I should take a pistol along, just in case.

The gay signals I thought Lee sent me could easily have been misinterpreted in my (sex starved) brain, from something innocent into something sexual.

As a closeted gay man in the middle of the Bible Belt I was well aware there were obvious risks camping in the hills far from 911 service especially if I innocently triggered Lee into a rage.

----

The next time I spoke to Lee was right after work when we had an unplanned chat in the employee parking lot, the subject came up again about his uncle. Lee said his uncle had to be on his oxygen concentrator all the time for his COPD. He explained that his uncle was mostly confined to a recliner inside the house now and had a home health nurse visit him twice a day.

While we talked by his truck, Lee took out a road map of Kentucky and pointed to a small hand drawn box and said their land was about one square mile in size. Lee explained it was a three hour drive from Dayton. He said it was that last mile of the trip where you needed wide tires and lots of ground clearance, especially after a heavy rain.

He said there was a muffler shop in town where they could mount a plate under the catalytic converter to help prevent grass fires, but my car sat too low even for that.

Lee told me you hiked-in on a footpath, up a hill and down the other side into the valley. The campsite was on the other side of the hill from where you parked. Using his hands he described how the campsite was terraced like a rice farm in the hills of Viet Nam. Lee said there was a spot big enough for six big tents with a large stone fire pit, three benches, and ten footstools. He repeated the part about a shooting range, and a creek for water.

Lee showed me pictures of the place on his cell. I saw the shooting position, the target stands, some of the trails, the fire pit, the fishing pond, some terrace walls, and a group of five tents with a bunch of guys in cammo gear with their rifles on display. He had lots more pictures in his cell, the place looked very rustic and alluring to my brain.

Lee told me the valley was usually dry and had almost no mosquitoes or ticks. He said there were deer, fox, and coyote all over that area. He described the five acre pond with small blue gill and perch.

Finally, he fully explained the toilet situation. Lee told me his uncle had a six foot long piece of eighteen inch sewer pipe. They dug a pit and dumped some large rocks down the hole then stood the sewer pipe on the rocks and filled around it with more rocks and dirt.

He said he got a toilet seat and fixed it so it didn’t slide around. They also made a round plywood cover with a handle to keep bugs out. Lee said he planted bushes around it for some privacy but the rule was if someone was on the pipe everyone else turned away. He added that the gentleman's rule and the pipe have worked fine for over ten years. Lee also said that with the bushes he planted, even if you stood by the fire pit and stared at someone on the pipe you couldn't really see much, even in winter when the leaves were gone.

He described the way the pipe worked was like a mini outhouse, without the house. Lee also added that when it was hot outside the pipe smelled like an outhouse too.

As he talked I saw excitement in his eyes that told me this story wasn't a lie. My entire gut feeling about that place had switched from 'caution,' to 'proceed.'

Sounds great, I'd like to check it out, sounds like we're into the same stuff. I spoke softly so people nearby couldn't hear. We agreed on a weekend four weeks from today, on Friday November 6th. We’d clock-out a few hours early and meet at Lee’s place then take his 4x4 truck down there. He said weather in early November down there was usually nice during the day, but I should always bring a poncho and some warm clothes.

----

As the days went by I pulled my gear out of boxes in the basement and set it all up on the floor. I had a three man dome tent, sleeping bags, air mats, and lots of food prep stuff. The best I could recall my last camping trip was about eight years ago. I threw away about ten things that looked bad and ordered new stuff.

Rifle maintenance was next. My Winchester 30-06 was very accurate and repeatable. More than once I put bullets through the same hole without a scope.

----

Over the weeks we still had lunch together but not as often after I agreed to go camping with him for two nights.

I had to fight with my brain about adding Lee to my sexual daydreams when I jerked off. I had no clue what he looked like under his clothes. Based on how he appeared at work it was nearly impossible to tell because he showed almost no flesh. The tiny slice of chest I could see at the top of his t-shirt collar looked pale and hairless. The photo Luke sent me of Lee on the boat was too poor to see much other than some chest hairs and larger than normal tits. The only reason I wanted a copy of that photo was because he had no shirt on, not because of the huge fish.

My gaydar scans beneath his clothes told me his body did not look good, but I'm often wrong. The clothes he wore were too baggy to get a good feel for his shape or size. His hands were huge and usually dirty (which was normal when you work in a tire factory). So far, Lee was a big question mark and his signals confused my brain.

Lee seemed to be sending me gay signals at work, or maybe I was reading way too much into innocent statements. Last week at lunch he told me about a fish he caught in the pond recently. He held up his hands to show me the fish was about eight or nine inches long, then winked at me. He also had some carrots with his lunch and seemed to be working them a lot between his lips or sliding them slowly in his mouth before nibbling off a tiny piece.

And I know we shouldn't judge men by the size of his hands. There are lots of big guys with big thick hands that were not well endowed.

----

On the day before our 2-night trip I met Lee for lunch at the picnic tables behind the factory. Lee said the Claryville forecast was for sunshine, high around 77, lows about 51. He handed me directions to his mobile home, we agreed on a time then shook hands and parted for different departments in the tire factory.

Now that I know him a little better let me describe Lee to you.

Lee was 100% hillbilly Millennial, he told me he's 24 years old. He looked to be over six-foot tall, curly dark brown hair and blackish eyes. My guess was he weighed about 190 pounds (86kg). He had patchy thin facial hair and looked like he never exercised once in his life. He may only need to shave once or twice a week. His teeth were in great shape or they're dentures.

Lee's body was oddly shaped based on how he looked in work clothes. His body above the waist was rounded everywhere. He had love handles on his sides and his chest muscles were shaped exactly the same.

Lee said he worked in the shipping section of the plant which meant he probably earned about forty five thousand a year. But he could easily make over sixty thousand if he volunteered for all the overtime he could get. He told me he chain-mounted tires on flat rail cars and trucks, there's a lot of responsibility in that job.

If they improperly mounted our fourteen foot tall tires to a rail car it could break loose and easily kill people. If they busted lose and rolled into a mobile home park, they'd roll right through several houses before they stopped. Tires that heavy could easily crush anyone or anything in their path.

After I Googled his address in Kentucky on the satellite maps I saw the entire area was mostly trees. And I checked the directions he gave me to his place and saw a large mobile home park on the west side of Dayton right near I-75 where it crossed over US-35.

At home that night I packed all my gear in a duffle bag and put it in my car. I left the cooler out on the garage floor to remind me to stop for ice and some sandwiches at the gas station on the way to his place. My mind kept thinking about things that could happen this weekend.

Chapter 2: First time.

Friday finally arrived, I was excited and stressed about our plans and all the unknowns. I didn’t see Lee but I saw his truck in his usual spot in the lot. We were both supposed to leave the factory around lunch time. Work was routine today, I reviewed test results on a sample of recycled powdered rubber we evaluated as a supplement to carbon black.

I left at 11:45am with my duffle bag already in the car. All I needed to do was shower, change clothes, and stop for ice, sandwiches, and six water bottles.

At 12:28pm I slowly drove into the trailer park to a spot beside his truck. Lee stepped outside with a wave and a big smile. He had on his usual, jeans, boots, and a faded black t-shirt. From a distance he said, Don't need to lock yer car here, I saw why. There were four Ohio State Police cars parked at nearby trailers.

His gear was also packed in an army surplus duffle bag that he put in the back seat of the truck, I put mine behind my seat too. When I opened the front door I noticed the top of his dashboard was at my eye-level, he's serious about the ground clearance thing.

We literally climbed-up inside the truck, he twisted the key and the engine rumbled to life. We both cranked down our windows, it looked like we were ready to go. I still had some low level anxiety about every aspect of this trip.

Within minutes we were on I-75, it was smooth sailing the rest of the way.

The further south we went the better I saw the Kentucky hills in the hazy distance. It was a beautiful day, the sun felt warm on my right arm as we motored down the highway. About two hours later we crossed the Ohio River and entered Kentucky.

If we had taken my car instead I would have had the AC turned on, windows closed, and the radio on NPR. Inside Lee's truck the roar from the knobby tires was loud, we couldn't talk without shouting. If someone asked me to describe our ride to Cincinnati with one word I would say, 'LOUD!'

----

I glanced at the speedometer a couple times and saw it said 80mph which was pretty damn fast on wide knobby tires! We exited the highway onto Route-27, which went south through the towns of Cold Spring, Alexandria, then Claryville. Lee said we made great time because we got to Route-27 before the ‘y’all-hurry-home’ traffic.

We drove across Claryville which was smaller than I pictured. He waved to some old guy in town, then we turned by his high school onto a small paved road where the signs said, ‘Pleasant Ridge Road,’ and the one below it said, 'Visalia 12.'

This narrow paved road snaked around between the hills, up and down, sort of like a 45mph roller coaster track. I saw homes back in the trees, some looked very nice. My ears popped as we went higher into the hills. Lee waved to an older couple near the road. I heard her yell, Hi Lee, as we rumbled by. I was surprised by how many people lived out here, so far from town.

After about twenty more minutes going uphill Lee pointed to a very small house, the shady yard overgrown with weeds, he said that was where he grew up. Soon, we turned left on a dirt road that was just two tire tracks. The trees were cut way back but I heard the tallest weeds drag across the bottom of his truck.

Maybe another half-mile more and we slowly turned left again onto a curved tire-rut trail but it only went a couple hundred feet and ended at a group of tall pine trees. I looked at my phone, the time was 3:05pm. The signal meter had no bars, so I shut it off and put it on the floor so it wouldn't bake in the sun. He asked me to roll up the window but I didn't need to lock the door.

He shut off the truck but left the key in the ignition. We both climbed out and removed our duffle bags. The first thing I noticed was how quiet it was here. I heard an occasional bird call in the distance but that was about all. Maybe I was a bit deaf from that rather loud two hour ride down I-75.

We pulled our duffle bags on our backs and met in front of his truck. My ice chest had wheels and a long handle, it's designed to be pulled along like a suitcase. I should know fairly soon if it's tough enough for deep woods camping. The bad news was if the wheels broke it would be painful to hand carry it back to the truck.

Lee said, Come-on now, campsite's on the other side of this here hill, it ain't far. I smiled and followed him up a crooked narrow footpath. I kept one eye on the ground to avoid rocks that poked up from the hard packed footpath.

While we were still on the uphill side the handle from my cooler suddenly twisted in my hand. Crap! I complained loudly. Lee stopped to see what happened. My cooler got rolled by a rock on the trail but luckily the lid was latched shut so I rolled it back on its wheels and looked at Lee. Crisis averted sir, I proclaimed. Lee smiled and turned to resume our trek.

My lower back was sore by the time we reached the top. The foliage was so thick you couldn’t see very far in some places. There were lots of huge oaks, pines, maples, and cottonwood trees. The ground had a thick layer of undergrowth too.

I never got buzzed by insects during our hike. Over to my right I glimpsed some enormous granite slabs that formed part of the valley wall, but not to my left. Even this late in the year most of the growth here still held onto their leaves, even if they were brown and dry.

We finally walked out into an open grassy area, the trail beneath us had disappeared. It took a few seconds before I recognized where we were from the pictures I saw on his cell.

----

When we arrived I was thirsty and needed to rest. My lower back throbbed and I wanted to see if the wheels under my cooler existed any more. Lee pointed to a spot where the ground was sandy with some tall weeds. It looked like a small beach beneath a canopy of tall trees.

Pitch your tent on the sand, put your stuff on that bench. He pointed to a chunk of wood I could only describe as a bench. I've seen these in photos before, they're usually made with a chain saw from a thick section of tree trunk. Lee had three of these bench-shaped things here. And in this part of the country they're almost always made from Cottonwood trees, usually ones that were over 150 years old. They were more accurately called a 'chain saw sculpture,' than furniture.

He also had a collection of tree trunk slices, maybe ten of them. They were cut from a tree trunk maybe a foot in diameter and eighteen inches long. You could prop your feet on one or use it to sit on. They could be stacked and used like a wobbly ladder too.

I saw a fire pit formed by large rocks that looked like an ancient ceremonial spot. The place resembled a terraced rice farm in some hilly country like Viet Nam or Korea. I counted four ground levels separated by two or three foot high walls of carefully stacked rocks.

We were on the side of a hill near the north end of a bowl shaped valley. I saw blue sky through the trees but it looked much sunnier further to the south.

In the center of the highest terrace was the tent site. There was a three foot step-down to the second level. This second terrace was crescent-shaped, about forty feet across and went out about fifteen feet. On the lowest terrace I saw nothing but grass and some small weeds. Below that was the valley floor which was also covered with dead grass and a covering of brown, red, and yellow tree leaves.

Lee had steps made of flat rock going from terrace to terrace or you could just jump down. The bench things sat around the fire pit on the second level. Two benches were on one side, one sat alone on the other side. I pitched my tent near the steps which put me fifteen feet from the nearest bench, the one that sat by itself on the east side of the fire pit.

The fire pit matched the terrace walls, the sides were about one foot tall. It was a ring of large rocks with a three foot open circle in the middle. I think the rocks were cemented in place like parts of the terrace walls. The fire pit was in pretty sad shape.

I dumped my gear on the bench while Lee ventured off to check out the area for alien shoe prints. He said he'd be back soon. I saw him take off running to the south.

The area for tents was maybe twenty feet on each side but behind it was a somewhat open field heavily shaded by some pretty substantial trees. About a hundred feet to the north west I saw a nearly vertical granite wall, which was probably where all the sand came from, it looked like there might be another terrace at the bottom of that wall but I was too low to see the ground up there.

This place looked very rustic and natural. The facility appeared well designed but also suffered from a lack of upkeep.

While Lee was gone I used a shovel that hung on a tree and weeded the tent area for us. Before he came back my tent and all my gear was set-up. My cooler (with two working wheels still beneath it) was inside my tent and I put two cold water bottles out, one for each of us. Lee returned to the valley from a different direction walking at a decent pace.

Within the first hour both tents were assembled. He asked me if I'd like to help get firewood, I said I'd love to help.

Near his tent was a tree that doubled as a tool shed, it had lots of long nails in it. On those nails hung about every hand tool you would ever need here. I saw shovels, axe, limb saw, rake, hatchet, a baseball bat, and two knives. He had one hand tool that's used like a weed eater but I don't know what they're called.

I grabbed the axe and the limb saw. He reached in his duffle bag and pulled out a rather large black pistol. I've chopped and split wood before but never saw anyone bring a pistol along. At first his handgun made me somewhat uneasy. Lee lifted his shirt which exposed his slightly hairy stomach and a big round belly button hole, then stuffed the pistol in his pants. If he accidentally squeezed the trigger when he stuffed it down his shorts it would blast his weenie right off. I looked away so he didn't see me smile.

We took off towards the south. As we walked together he sort of explained the valley perimeter like a geology expert. We arrived at two downed trees but before I could swing the axe Lee fired at it to shatter the wood where he wanted it cut. I pressed fingers in my ears. With each shot a cloud of wood splinters flew into the air. I thought this was sort of odd but smart at the same time and it made the axe work much easier.

No short logs for us, we cut several six foot sections of tree trunk and dragged them over to the lowest terrace, just below the fire pit. I gathered dry twigs and leaves from the ground while he positioned two logs in the fire pit. He said we had enough wood now for the entire weekend and maybe more.

All my life I've had a strong love of campfires, they're my favorite part of camping. The only things that improved a campfire were a bottle of wine someone to share it with. I could actually add a few more things to that list but I'd rather not get those thoughts going while I'm with a stranger, deep in the hills of Kentucky.

Lee said he made one special trip down here every winter to drop three trees and remove their branches. He knew exactly where to go to find just the right wood.

The mystery about what Lee brought to eat was finally solved when he unpacked a dehydrated meal. We used my gear to boil water for him. He poured in the steamy water then waited for ten minutes for it to evolve back into something edible. I grabbed a deli sandwich from my cooler to eat.

After our early supper we hiked over the hill to the east where he said there was a spring-fed stream, we both carried our water filters and collapsible water jugs. Fifty minutes later we were back at the campsite with four liters of water each, but I still had four large bottles in my cooler and plenty of ice too.

By 7:00pm our conversation had slowed a bit. The stars were bright and the air was full of the sounds of nature. Around 9pm our fire was down to a pile of embers, Lee just stood up and mumbled 'good night' to me. I replied that I was headed to bed too. It surprised me how little we spoke after we arrived. My gut told me Lee had watched me closely for some sort of sign but I could be wrong and knew I wasn't going to take the lead on anything down here.

I got into my goose down bag and wiggled onto my side and wished I had my big fat body pillow to put my arms around. I listened to the sounds of the nighttime forest with birds, bats, crickets, and a frog that croaked nearby. Being outside in a tent made me glad there's no such thing as Big Foot, but I slept with one ear open just in case. I thought about a quick wank but realized Lee would surely hear it. I fell asleep to the forest sounds.

Chapter 3: Confused signals.

Saturday Morning.

I woke up after the sunlight broke through the trees and turned the side of my tent into a bright yellow panel.

I quietly unzipped the tent flap and poked my head out to see how things looked.

The valley was foggy and wet but very peaceful. I saw some spider webs covered by tiny translucent pearls of dew evenly spaced on silvery threads. Shafts of sunlight pierced the air like yellow steel beams, thick enough that it might hurt it if you tried to walk through one.

At that moment I wasn’t hungry but I was thirsty and my brain still felt sleepy. Back in my tent I closed my sleeping bag and straightened up things inside the tent. I took off my jeans and gave myself a wash cloth bath with baby wipes, then I got dressed in clean clothes. The clothes I packed were deliberately similar to what Lee wore at work. I learned that trick from the movie Beetlejuice when he said, We even shop at the same store!

Slowly, I emerged to the new day. After I got to my feet I twisted my upper body to stretch my back. Even though my shoes were inside all night I still checked for bugs first. In my supplies I located the tiny MSR folding gas stove and 1500ml titanium water pot. In minutes I had the stove on the bench and the pot on the stove full of water for coffee and whatever Lee needed.

I took a short stroll around the valley, when I passed Lee’s tent I thought I heard a faint snore.

----

Let me describe the layout of this valley for you. When I describe places I always use the face of an analog clock as a map foundation.

There were three well established trails that went out from the edges of the valley. We hiked-in from his truck on the west trail that started about 10:00 o'clock.

The next largest path went south. It started about 6:00 o'clock and ran alongside the rifle range targets. I had no idea where that trail ended. That's the one we hiked about four hundred feet south for our firewood. I never saw the end of that trail.

The third path started on the middle terrace behind the wooden bench and headed east to the creek (where it T'd and paralleled the creek to the north and south). The paths at 10:00 and 2:00 went over the valley walls and were in need of some attention by a couple guys with shovels and pickaxes.

If you drew a line on a round clock face from the 2:00 down to the center of the clock then over to 10:00 that would pretty much enclose the entire camp site. The rest of the valley was mostly grass, weeds, and dead leaves.

The firing position for the rifle range sat about eleven o'clock, maybe fifteen feet from Lee’s tent. The big tree with the hand tools sat about halfway between Lee's tent and the firing position. And I’ve not seen the sewer pipe toilet yet. Maybe what he said about it being hidden behind bushes was true because I’ve walked all the way around this part of the valley and not seen it anywhere.

About half the trees here were pines of some variety, even low to the ground you couldn’t see very far because the foliage was so dense. There were segments of west valley wall that were sheets of nearly vertical granite. I should've brought my cell to take some pictures down here, it’s quite beautiful.

I could still hear my tiny camp stove from across the valley. By the time I got back I saw steam above the pot. I poured water in the French press and made two cups of dark roast. It was still cold and damp outside but the hot coffee warmed me nicely. Moments later I heard movement in Lee’s tent, and the unmistakable sound of a tent flap zipper.

Lee emerged with horribly funny Mohawk-like pillow-head. I laughed, Lee flipped me off and flashed a snarky grin my way. I chuckled again softly and put my hand over my mouth to hide my smile.

When he returned from his first piss I nodded towards the coffee press. Lee walked to his tent and joined me with an old dented mug. We shared my coffee, I gathered things to heat more water.

Would you heat me a pot of water since you got yer stuff goin? He asked.

Sure, bring it on over. I said and reached into my pocket to fish out my lighter. Lee came back with his jug of filtered water from the stream. He poured while I adjusted the flame. It looked like way too much water for breakfast. I sat and watched as he searched inside his duffle bag.

In no time he returned with a pack of oatmeal and a rubbery-flexy bowl. With one finger he pointed at the side of the bowl and told me to add water to that spot when it's hot enough. We sat in silence and looked around the valley and up at the clear sky above us.

I told him it was beautiful here, he said that's why he's unhappy in Dayton, but he tolerated it for a regular paycheck.

Carefully, I poured the hot water inside until he said, Okay, that's good. He set the bowl down between us so it could soak up the water and evolve back into oatmeal. Lee sat beside me and eventually ate his food with a spoon while I sipped my coffee and enjoyed the peaceful atmosphere of the valley. I noticed the fog was nearly gone now too. While he ate, Lee asked me to refill the pot and heat more water for him. I held out my hand for his water bottle.

As soon as he finished breakfast he stood by the fire pit and rinsed off his bowl and spoon and set them on the rocks.

Lee walked over to the hardware tree near his tent and stripped to his underwear. He carefully set his clothes on the lowest tree limb.

Lee soaped a washcloth and scrubbed his face, pits, and between his legs. Then he rinsed the cloth and set it aside. He topped-off the pot with water from his jug, then slowly poured water all over to rinse off.

I stared at his backside and noted that his lack of muscular shape went all the way around. He walked back to return my empty pot. His underwear was drenched since he never took them off. I saw right through his undies as he walked back.

Lee had an amazing look but I didn't want him to see me stare at his clearly visible dick surrounded by black pubes. I tilted my head lower and kept my eyes up to try to watch him walk back by me.

The most noticeable feature was a rather large thing in his underwear. His lower stomach was somewhat hairy. I saw short black hairs which stopped just above his belly button. Above his stomach was his pale white chest. I could clearly see the red head of his dick curled up in his underwear.

He had no sign of proper chest muscles just two mounds, left and right with two enormous dark red womanly nipples, the same color as his lips. They followed the contour of his chest shape and didn’t protrude at all. Even covered by a tight t-shirt you couldn't tell he had big girl size tits. I'll bet he never wore a plain white t-shirt in public.

I felt compelled to stare as he walked towards me with my empty pot in hand.

Thanks dude. He said as he set it on the bench. I was speechless but I’m sure he’s seen that facial expression before in public school. His perfectly round nipples were easily as big around as a can of soda pop, probably more. You done with it? I asked once I finally regained my ability to speak without accidentally blurting out the word 'nipple!'

Think so. He said and glanced back at me over his shoulder as he headed for his clothes in the tree.

I suddenly felt physically inadequate. I never expected this guy to flash me so much skin and have such a nice body too, but I kept those thoughts to myself. I fought with my brain, should I stare or look away. If I stared he'd surely know I was gay and if I looked away then maybe not. More than anything else I wished my brain would just shut the fuck up because I was immobilized by my own internal dialog battle.

Back by the tree he slipped off his shorts and twisted them tightly to wring out the water, then he put his clothes back on except shoes.

This trip just got very complicated. The sight of his body overwhelmed my ability to control my mouth and hands. There was now an inner battle inside my head, should I make a pass at him, which could be very dangerous if he was straight and didn't realize he emitted gay signals. Luckily, he immediately brought up the subject of target shooting.

----

By 10:00am we had the weeds and the fallen leaves around the target stands and the firing position cleared away. After that Lee got in the firing position while I chopped down any weeds that were tall enough to block his view of the targets.

His range had target holders he said were measured off forty years ago. The paper target holders were half inch steel pipes wedged inside one inch pipes hammered in the ground. From exactly the right spot they looked almost side by side, it went downhill a little towards the