It had been a long time since I had or took an opportunity to go camping. I work at a compelling job, and do a lot of freelance work as a theatre technician. My partner, who I love very much, thinks "roughing it" is room service. Needless to say, my tent and fishing gear had gathered a lot of dust.

As it so happened, corporate called me a couple months ago and said if I didn't use up the two weeks of vacation time from last year, I'd lose them. I had a week's notice to take them, and there was no way Gaelin was going to be able to swing free time on short notice. He suggested I go get away from it all and go camping like I used to. Hell, why not?

That Friday night I stopped at Wal-Mart and stocked up on food, beer and supplies for an extended venture. I also hit my local Up In Smoke for some extra cigars and pipe tobacco, and a bottle of Henry McKenna bourbon at Royal Liquor. I was set.

By six the next morning, I was loaded up and kissing Gaelin goodbye. Three hours later, I pulled up to a small cabin with a welcome sign that said "Ranger Lake" The old cowboy type there showed me a map of the camping area, and pointed to a secluded spot where a 'dang good' bass hole was. As I was leaving, another truck pulled up. The man who got out and strolled over to the cabin visually struck me. He was just shy of six foot, with a bearish build. He had a thick cowboy mustache and about a week's worth of stubble. He wore jeans and boots, a denim wife-beater shirt and straw cowboy hat. He dropped a deep 'Howdy' as he strode past me, I answered in kind.

I found the site easily enough and leisurely made camp. I combed the area for firewood, taking in the sights and smells of the piney woods of East Texas. I returned to camp and shed my clothes for a dip in the lake. There wasn't a soul for miles, so swimming naked wasn't a problem. I didn't bother to dress as I prepared and ate my supper. I laid under the stars with some beer and a good cigar. As I laid there, I thought about the man who I saw earlier entering the cabin. I slowly stroked and smoked as I imagined his thick 'stache riding up and down my cock. I alternately worked each nipple as I grew harder and close to the edge. I came with my usual growling, smoky grunt. I took a quick dip to cool and wash off and soon turned in for the night. I woke up at first light, the birds being particularly glad to greet the new day. I stoked up the fire and put some coffee on to brew, then went for another dip to wake up a bit. After breakfast, I donned jeans, t-shirt, and my waders, grabbed my gear and headed for the little bank the old man said would be rife with bass and crappie. A couple hours of casting brought me three bass, nearly a foot each. Fish for supper, for sure. I set up against a tree and took me a small nap. An hour or so later I woke up to the sound of a big splash and a "Aw, gawddam!" that drifted down the lake. The sound came from the same direction as the fire I saw that first night. A few moments later, I saw a canvas hat covered with lures float towards me. I looked down the shore a bit and saw my 'neighbor'. It was the man I saw when I arrived. He was cussing a bit as he waded his way back to shore, soaking wet, apparently having fallen into the water.

I walked down towards him, fighting the urge to chuckle as he sloshed his way to the bank in waterlogged waders. He was still cussing as he climbed up on the bank. He pulled his waders off and drained them, then pulled a leather pouch out of his jeans and a very wet pipe and lighter out of his shirt pocket. I handed him his hat back.

"You all right, bubba?" I asked, as he shook water off himself.

"Yeah, dammit. I tripped on a rock an lost my fuggin balance! Thanks for grabbin my hat, bud."

He looked at his wet pipe and now dripping tobacco pouch.

"Shit! I ain't had a chance to try this yet!"

"Aw man! New pipe?" I was instantly turned on by the thought of this man being a pipe smoker, as well as being damn hot to start with. Fortunately, my waders were hiding my growing cock.

"Yeah... it's all new. I'm tryin to get off cigarettes, smoked my last one, last night. I figgered I'd get a pipe an take a fishing trip with it bein all I had to smoke. Now, I ain't got nothin'!"

"I can fix that, bubba!" I stuck my hand out. "'Name's Rusty."

"Hank." He said, shaking my hand. "Ya got a way to dry this shit out?"

"The pipe will take a few days, the tobacco's a goner. I can fix ya up with a smoke, tho. C'mon up to my spot, I'll stoke up the fire an get yer dud's dry."

"Preciate that, bubba."

Hank struggled to get his wet waders back on and followed me up to the camp.

"Go ahead an get out of that wet stuff, I'll have a fire in a few minutes."

I grabbed some wood an fanned the fire back to life as Hank undressed.

"I ain't got no underwear on..."

"Don't worry about that, bud, I won't be offended."

I hid my excitement as I watched him shuck off his wet socks, then his jeans. I did all I could to not stare at him as he became naked. He had a decent bearish build, with a little more than average body hair. His balls hung low under a well-proportioned dick. He sat down on the ground on the towel I gave him. I laid his jeans on a rock near the fire, with his waders propped open next to them. I went to my tent and returned with two pipes.

"I usually travel with three or four. If ya don't mind another man's pipe. Ya say this was going to be your first?"

"Yup, my boss smokes a pipe an suggested it when I bitched about the price of cigs goin up to four dollars a pack. He says it's cheaper and not so hard on ya."

"He's right. Here, let me set you up. I'll show you how to pack and light it." I packed my big Bari and lit it, narrating my action as I went.

"Damn, that's a big pipe, bubba! Lemme see if I can get the hang of this."

Hank copied my actions as he carefully loaded my smaller Lorenzo. I handed him my lighter and he fired up. If I was having trouble hiding my hard on before, it was impossible now. I hid by getting up and taking my waders off by the tent and putting on my hiking boots. I grabbed a couple beers on the way back to Hank and handed him one as I sat back down. I told him to pack the plug down and relight the pipe. He inhaled as he lit and blew out a few nice thick puffs. He was doing great for his first time, and damn, he looked hot as hell, sitting there in naked furriness, smoking one of my pipes. I couldn't help but watch him as he smoked.

We talked a bit about where we lived, what we did, fishing, guns and the like. After a bit, I needed to take a piss, and get more beer. My 'toilet' was a ways off, as I know that the hot weather would make that reek after a few days. I make a point not to urinate close to camp either. As I walked up to my tent coming back, I could see Hank by the campfire... He was slowly stroking himself! I grabbed two more beers and stood there, taking in the sight of this hot man, smoking a pipe and beating off. He was back to me, and with the thick carpet of pine needles, he didn't hear me as I came up behind him. I purposely made a noise when I stood behind him. He quickly turned his head."

"Aw shit, I... uh... didn't hear ya comin, I... ah... "

"Got turned on by smoking a pipe? Ya wouldn't be the first... would I be wrong in saying that wasn't all?"

Hank's face had turned a scarlet red. He was taking deep draws from the pipe and seemed at a loss. I put my hands on his shoulders and slowly turned him back onto the towel. I reached out and gently fingered his nipples. He grabbed his cock and began to jack off again.

"Aw yeah... thank Jesus!" he growled, pulling on the pipe and exhaling long puffs of sweet smoke. "I was jacking off last night thinking about ya, with that hot red beard, bubba... .gawddamn that feels good!"

Hank reached up and grabbed my right nipple under my shirt and copied me, occasionally adding his right hand. We stared into each other as we massaged nipples and smoked. Hank reached down, unzipped my fly and pulled out my raging six inches. Hank easily had another inch on me, and a bit thicker. I pulled my pipe out of my mouth and Hank followed suit, our mouths coming together as we jacked each other off. We explored our mouths with each other's tongue. Hank was a hot, deep kisser, which I've always liked in a man.

We kissed for a good while, the connection was that hot, and eventually, I broke off to work my way down to a nipple where I licked an bit it lightly. Hanks growls of pleasure deepened as I worked one nipple, then the other with my teeth and tongue. He was pounding my dick in his fist. I worked my way down and licked the head of his cock, sliding my tongue in the piss slit and rubbing it under the head. Hank reached down and grabbed my nipples as I swallowed his shaft.

"Oh my fuggin gawd! Aw yeah, bubba! Ummmmmmmmyyyyyeeeeeaahhh!"

Hank bucked his hips off the ground to meet my mouth at the bottom of his cock. He mouth fucked me while he worked my nipples harder and harder at my sounds of encouragement. He drew heavily on that old Lorenzo, almost rhythmically exhaling like a steam train. I had my tongue wrapped around the head of his dick, then curving it around the shaft as it plunged. Over and over he pile drove his pulsing member down my throat. He grabbed my head and pulled me back up to his face, he took out his pipe and planted my mouth on his. He exhaled a full charge of smoke down my throat as he buried his tongue deep in my mouth.

He pulled back. "Why don't ya get yer duds off, bubba? I think we're gonna be a while."

I stood up and shed my jeans and t-shirt. Hank slipped my underwear down and swallowed my dick whole. While he sucked me, he passed my Bari up with a lighter. I fired up as this hot bear blew me big time.

"Mmmmm! I hummed, exhaling jets of pipe smoke out my nostrils. I looked down to see what had me cranking the night before. "Aw hell yeah! I was jackin off to this sight last night too! Oh... .uuhh... ... damn, yer a good cocksucker!"

Hank bobbed his head to meet my thrusts as I face-fucked him. His mouth was so warm from the pipe smoke, and he sure knew what he was doing, lapping the head, sucking me with incredible power, that thick 'stache brushing against my shaft as it slid up and down was indescribable. I had to finally pull away to keep from coming.

Hank picked up the Lorenzo and fired it back up. I sat down and we faced each other. Hank started to jack off and so did I as we took deep draws and exhaled smoke at each other. His cock was getting thicker as was mine as we grew closer and closer to blowing our loads. Hank started growling low and deep, beating his meat faster and faster. I felt my wad start the trek up and watched as the first blast from Hank flew an hit me in the stomach. I finally shot and hit his chest, nearly missing the pipe. He made long grunts as I roared to my climax, filling the air with the sound of masculine sex.

We laid there, breathless, chests sweaty and heaving. We grabbed our beers and gulped hungrily. We hardly moved for some time, exchanging looks of satisfaction, lust, anticipation, all the emotions that coincide with the afterglow and the knowing that this was just the beginning.

"I think this here bowl is tapped out, bubba." Hank rose as he spoke. "I-uh don't have as much settled as ya do... Ya mind havin a campmate?"

"Hell, you ain't gotta pitch your tent! For that matter, we ain't gotta get dressed!"

I walked up to my tent, grabbed my keys and we climbed into the cab.

"I think I'm going to enjoy becomin a pipe man." Said Hank, as I turned my truck onto the road towards his camp.

continue... read Part II