The Camp Out PT 8

e Camp Out PT 8

I woke about 4:00 in the afternoon. Still raining, some of the bois just lingering about the camp, others, like me, had just retired to their tents, dozing in and out. Blankenship asks me about packing out, and closing ceremonies. “Can we do that in all this rain”?

“Well, it’s possible, but it would be miserable. I’ll go up to the office before they close to see about extending our stay”. As it turned out, because of the rain, most of the reservations had canceled for the weekend, so I annie up two more days, hoping to ride out the rain. It was actually four sites, in a row. We had to have that many because of our numbers, and the amount of vehicles and equipment we had.

Returning to the camp Kelso asks if I felt like dragging out the bikes. I said sure, and he got Alex to join us as well. They were big bikes—Honda CR 250’s, basically professional motocross bikes. I drag out my gear from the jeep, and sitting at the table ‘gear up’. Sliding into the pants, free-ballin, the tite kevlar fabric made my dick swell up almost instantly. I just grin to myself, as Kelso, standing near by comments on my ass, noting the seam riding up the crack of my ass. “Looks good huh”? I respond, teasingly.

Putting on the chest protector, I skipped the jersey—about to get wet and muddy anyway. I slide my big ass size 12 jock feet into the Alpinestars–$700 Italian moto boots, and just smile, thinking to myself how lucky I have been to have all this stuff.

With the three of us now geared up, we fire up the bikes, now waking everyone that was asleep, lol, and head for the field. As expected, it was sloppy as a well used ass. Slippin and slidin was about all we could accomplish really, although we did manage to shoot some pretty tall ‘geysers’ from the rear wheels. The muddy water sailed into the air giving a pretty impressive show, though the three of us were all there was to see it.

We only stayed out about an hour—the field was just to wet to do any racing, or maneuvers, or tricks. We each had laid down our bikes into the mud about 2-3 times, so we finally decided it was just too sloppy, and headed up to the bath house.

We drove the bikes straight into the showers, and turned on all the heads along the long wall, washing off the bikes, and ourselves. As we entered, someone came busting out of one of the stalls, holding his pants up, startled at the sudden loud noise, as it echoed through the concrete structure.