I’ve known Roger and Pamela for about five years. I met them not long after moving to southern Oregon. They introduced me to the wonders of this beautiful part of the country, from the waterfalls to the redwood forests to the coastline. We spent many camping weekends together along with some of their other friends. They are in their mid-fifties and are both quite fit. You’d never know by looking at her that Pamela has borne two boys.

There is something about her, in the way she carries herself. She’s not a raving beauty, but she has a confidence about her that is blatantly sexual. She radiates “I could fuck your balls off”. Her love for Roger is equally apparent. I always thought he was damned lucky.

One early summer day we were on a three-day trip to one of the many rivers here, and I was already shoulder-deep in the cold water. There’s a standing joke, “You’re only cold a couple of minutes. Once you go numb it doesn’t bother you.” Roger was content with sitting at the campsite having a beer, but Pamela was slowly edging into the water, commenting on how cold it was. Geez, she was hot looking; I was surprised the water around her wasn’t boiling. She was still able to rock a bikini. I could see goosebumps on the skin of her arms and belly, and her nipples seemed like they were about to pop through the fabric of her top. My dick responded despite the cold water, and I was glad it was hidden.

When she was waist deep, she pushed off and rolled over onto her back as she floated toward me. “Oh, that’s cold,” she exclaimed. Seeing the swell of her breasts glistening wet with the nipples jutting out against the fabric caused my cock to harden further. When she floated next to me, she tried to stand but slipped on the rocks and went under. The next thing I knew, her hand was on my crotch and just for a moment she seemed to almost grasp my shaft, then her hand pulled away and her head came out of the water sputtering. “Geez, I’m sorry. Damned slippery rocks,” she said. Her face was bright red, not from the cold water I was guessing. We both glanced at Roger who was tending the fire, oblivious to what had just happened.

“Come on in, Roger,” she hollered.

He replied, “No, thanks. That snow melt water is too cold for me. You polar bears enjoy.” Pamela sighed and swam away in a breaststroke. I was content to just float there, swimming only enough to keep me from drifting downstream. Luckily, we were at a rather wide, deep spot where the current near the bank was very slow. After about a half hour I decided I was numb enough and returned to the campsite to warm up by the fire. A few minutes later Pamela came walking back, too. She was so fucking delicious looking. Damned dick started rising again so I rearranged the towel to make sure it didn’t show. We’d all been swimming in various places before, even shared hot springs (in bathing suits) together, and I’d never reacted like this. It was as if she was radiating more than usual. She gave Roger a quick kiss and walked off to their RV trailer to get dressed. What a fine ass! Just a little cottage-cheesy and a sweet wiggle.

The rest of the afternoon and evening passed with us sitting around the fire, deciding on what to do tomorrow, and eating the supper Pamela fixed in the trailer. I’ve always been a tent person myself, but I must admit there are advantages to having a kitchen with you. Fortunately, with Pamela dressed in t-shirt and baggy shorts, there were no more potentially embarrassing rises from my cock. Eventually we headed to bed, them to their trailer, me to my tent.