The Camp Out PT 4

Camping Out PT 4

Dawn had finally arrived. The sun looked awesome as it slowly began to rise above the lake. A slight mist was hanging, and it was cool, about 72 degrees. I stood up and hauled out the monster—hadn’t pissed for hours. As Kelso just sat there, with his elbows wrapped around his knees, he comments that I pissed like a race horse. I just grin—we had each killed about a 6 pac during the course of the night.

No one had yet to rise in the camp. It was only about 5:00 AM. Those that rode yesterday would be pretty worn out, and would most likely sleep late. I tell Kelso I had to take a dump, so I start the hike uphill to the bath house. Kelso stayed behind—technically you were still on watch until some activity began around the camp—you never left the equipment unguarded.

Upon entering I see the bath house is empty. Awesome, I think to myself. I prefer to shit alone, lol. I didn’t have any problem tearin up some ass while someone watched, but that dump was just too personal. I hunch down with my elbows resting on top of my thighs, dropping my moto pants to my ankles. The first dump lasted a few seconds—damm, I thought, what all did I eat yesterday ?. The stink was loud and powerful. I scrimmish my face, and closed my eyes—lol—like that would help.

After just s few minutes I hear the squeak of flip flops on the concrete floor. There wasn’t any door at the entrance to the mens house—just a big opening. If you stood just right—you could see dudes standing at the piss trough—but the showers and stalls were out of site. I didn’t hear any further noise, so I assume whomever was just taking a piss, although for the most part most of the guys would just whip it out wherever they were standing if all they had to do was piss.

Finally, he speaks. “God damm homie you fuckin stink”!