Date: Tue, 9 Oct 2018 10:00:43 +0200 From: boris chen Subject: Camping in Kentucky, chap 3 Chapter Three. 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 trees and the fog like yellow steel beams, thick enough that it might hurt it if you tried to walk through one. At the 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. 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 go out from the edges of the valley. We hiked-in from his truck on the west trail that started about ten o'clock. That trail actually curved straight south towards six o'clock. The next largest path went south. It started about 6 o'clock, and ran alongside the rifle range targets. I have 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 way behind the wooden bench and headed east to the creek (where it T's and paralleled the creek to the north and south). The paths at 10 and 2 go 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 down to the center of the clock then over to 10 that would pretty much enclose the entire camp site. The rest of it is 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 hung on the side sat about halfway between Lee's tent and the firing position. And I have no idea where the dreaded sewer pipe toilet sits, haven't seen it anywhere. The trees here were about 50% pine, even low to the ground you can't see very far here the foliage was so dense. One wall of the valley had no trees because it's mostly granite. But it sat behind some pines so it's not easy to see. I should've brought my cell and took 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, then came 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 you could squeeze but it would pop right back into shape. 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 tolerates 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. 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. 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 wears 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 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 on his feet. 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 10am 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, but it did go downhill towards the furthest target. The range ran near the base of the west valley wall in places, they were all close to the same level which made the range appear straight-ish. The firing position was in the corner of the sandy area. It was the kind you lie down on the sandy ground, prop your rifle on a half buried log for support, then aim and squeeze the trigger. There was a one inch pipe pounded into the earth just next to the shooting position where all the other target mounts were measured from. He said they called the firing position, 'the zero point.' We started our target practice, Lee fired ten times then it was my turn. I got out my tools and made one microscopic adjustment to the rear sight on my rifle, but basically it was spot-on, just like always. Lee told me three times the most important thing here was to not shoot the target support pipes. He said, "you bust it, you replace it." After my first shots hit low and to the left on two targets he got on his knees beside me to change my body position. Lee didn't seem at all hesitant to go hands-on to adjust my position. His hands felt large and smooth on my arms and shoulders. He even lifted me by my waistband to adjust my alignment to the plane of the range. That's the first time somebody put their fingers down my pants in years. I realized right then that I was rather comfortable being alone with Lee, he treated me very well so far, but my gaydar still got mixed signals back from him. I'm the kind of guy who needs clarity in these matters. I probably need to talk about stuff more than most men do. We had to shoot steel jacketed bullets so the paper targets didn't get torn off their mounts. The bullets passed through and left a tiny round hole which was difficult to see from the zero position. Lee used his rifle scope for that purpose. It took a couple hours before we ran out of ammo at a very relaxed pace. Lee brought the targets from home. They were white sheets about the size of copier paper. He put a strip of tape across the top and bottom edges so they wouldn't get ripped off the stands. When Lee walked downrange to gather our targets. I watched closely as collected two paper targets from each mount, his on the right, mine on the left. In my mind I tried to imagine what he'd look like if he collected our targets with no clothes on. Then I became aware that I had watched him the entire time and he watched me back. I was being way too careless with my closet door! I'm pretty sure he noticed I've watched him closely since he modeled his body to me a few hours ago. As he entered this part of the valley and I was still on my stomach at the zero point I saw him look me in the eye and reach down to grab the bottom of his t-shirt then pull it up to wipe the sweat off his forehead, which exposed the entire front side of his stomach and chest to me again. His display was duly noted in my nether regions. "I thought you said you had a place here for pistol practice?" "Oh yeah. Come on, I'll show ya." He said as he stood up and headed back to the south. I caught up and walked beside him. We walked to the south part of the valley and headed to the right towards the base of the valley wall. Back in the trees was a small area with a stack of three very large tractor tires. Then he stopped and pointed at them. "Bring your targets and a roll of grey tape." "Those tires look new." I added. "They are. We made them but the bead wires tested bad so they were gonna throw them away. I asked if I could take them home for range backstops." "Huh. That's a great idea!" We both turned around and walked back to camp. When we got back we spent almost two hours cleaning our rifles, he cleaned his pistol too. We just talked about weapons and nature and stuff like that, it was a nice relaxed conversation. Over time my ability to decode his accent also improved. Sometimes I need him to repeat what he said due to his accent and choice of words. He laughed at me when I needed a repeat or a translation. I noticed certain movements Lee made while he cleaned his pistol, like he tried to make his pistol have an orgasm. I half expected him to put the barrel to his lips and blow out the tiny chunks of gun powder, but he never did. I decided if he did that I'd hand him my rifle and ask him to blow mine too. After the maintenance portion of our day was done we reviewed our paper targets. I asked how he knew which one was which. Lee explained there were three target stands: ten, twenty five, and fifty meters. The target stands were made from half inch steel pipe in the shape of a 'T,' with tiny steel prongs welded to the cross pieces that acted like tiny spikes you pressed the paper targets onto to keep them in place. They all had one spike in each upper corner. Then they added one more spike for the first stand at ten meters, one side had the third spike towards the left, the other side had the extra spike to the right. The second stand at twenty five meters had two extra spikes and so forth. The only flaw in his design was if it was very windy you couldn't use paper targets because they'd just blow around like flags. He said in bad weather you put empty pop cans on the ground and shot them instead. And if the wind blew the cans around it was too nasty to be outside anyway! Later on he added that they'd used cardboard before too on breezy days.