The Watcher

Jon and I had been dating for about three months before he asked if I wanted to go on a camping trip with him. “Of course I will,” I told him, smiling. If nothing else it meant that we would be alone for a couple of days and able to do anything we wanted.

Jon picked me up in his car and drove us out to the national state forest. We parked the car, gathered the camping gear and set out to find our camping spot.

Two hours of hiking and battling the tree branches we found a clearing and decided to call it home for the weekend. While Jon pitched the tent, I began to search the surrounding woodland for firewood. Nothing screamed camping like roasting marshmallows over a roaring campfire.

Ten minutes later I returned with more than enough firewood and Jon was still cursing the tent. It took nearly another two hour to put the tent up. I offered to help but Jon was instant. “I can do it,” he said, scratching his head, as he stared at the tent poles. “Now, which one of these is the middle pole?” I sat on a log and watched, wondering if I should intervene with the tent instructions but once he got the first three poles in, the rest seemed natural.

As the daylight disappeared, giving way to the night, Jon started our campfire while I organised our dinner. We ate in silence as the sounds of the wild called around us. A howl from a coyote had me snuggling closer to Jon for fear of being eaten alive. Jon laughed as he rubbed my back. “The only thing that will be eating you here is me,” he said giving me a teasing wink. I rolled my eyes in response then let out a playful scream as Jon began to tickle my ribs.

A twig snapping had him place his hand over my mouth to keep me silent. He looked around, almost expecting to see Jason Voorhees breaking through the woods. My eyes darted from side to side, searching the darkness. The amber flames from our fire licked the night sky.

Jon removed his hand. “What is it?” I asked, sitting up, dusting off my jacket which was covered in dirt and leaves. Jon shook his head, dismissing his paranoia. “Nothing,” he said. He smiled at me. “Why don't we take this inside.” He stood up and made his way back to the tent with me in tow.

I watched as he unzipped his jacket, removing it along with his shirt. I bit my lip, my eyes lingering on the bulge in his jeans a little too long. I discarded my jacket along with my T-shirt. I unzipped my jeans and tugged them down, my feet becoming trapped as I tried to pull them off. Jon jumped to my rescue, pulling my jeans off and running his hand up my creamy white thighs, feeling the softness of my skin.

When he finally kissed me, it took my breath away. I moaned into his mouth as our tongues intertwined, my breasts crushed against his chest, my hand slipping beneath the waistband of his pants. I unzipped his jeans before dropping to my knees. Glancing up at him, I gave him my best seductive look and licked my lips. Jon gulped as I lowered his briefs and began to tease the head of his fully erect cock with my tongue.

Jon threw his head back and let out an animal groan as I proceeded to take the length of him into my mouth. My tongue swirled around his head while my eyes locked onto his body, searching for any signs of excitement.

Jon reached down, pulling my hair. I pulled away from him. His dark eyes flashed with excitement as he discarded my bra and panties. “It takes you two hours for you to put up a tent, but two seconds to get me naked,” I teased, lying back on our sleeping bags. Jon pulled a condom out of his pack and rolled it onto his erect length. “I wanted you naked more then I wanted to put up this fucking tent,” he replied, mounting me with such force I'm still convinced there's an imprint of my body in the soft ground beneath the base of the tent.

Our collective moans became louder with each thrust. My blood red nails raked down his shoulder, leaving slick claw marks on his sweat-soaked skin. I turned my head as Jon began to suck and lick my neck. Panting hard, I opened my eyes slightly. What I saw caused a scream to rip from my throat. Jon took that as meaning what he was doing was pleasurable and continued to pound away.

“Jon!” I cried, digging my nails into his back. “Jon, stop!”

“What's wrong?” he asked, his brow creasing with concern, sweat dripping down his nose. I reached up and turned his face to the entrance of the tent. He gasped and pulled out of me. I grabbed his T-shirt, holding up to cover my naked body, our eyes trained on our campfire.

The amber flames still burned brightly, casting an eerie shadow across our camp sight. That wasn't what was so terrifying. Standing in front of the fire was a coyote.

I nudged Jon in the ribs. “What?” he asked, eyes still trained on the beast.

“Get rid of it,” I hissed.

“And how do you propose I do that?” he asked, turning to look at me.

“Scare if off or something.”

“But it's cold out there,” he protested weakly.

I shot him a disapproving look. “It can get cold in here too,” I warned him.

Sighing Jon grabbed his jeans and slipped them on. Not bothering with shoes he approached the entrance to the tent before grabbing a flashlight. “Don't go anywhere,” he said. “I'll be right back.” I nodded, pulling his T-shirt over my matted blond hair. The fabric teased my nipples until they were hard like diamonds.

Jon stared at me for a minute before shaking his head and bursting through the tent flaps. I heard him screech like a banshee as the shadows played across the tent. Jon was waving his arms about wildly and kicking dirt at the coyote. I giggled. From where I was hiding it looked pretty funny.

A book sticking out of Jon's pack caught my attention. Carefully I reached over and grabbed it. “101 Campfire Stories Designed To Scare,” I read aloud. I chuckled to myself. Jon loved to tell scary stories especially to me because he knew I didn't like them. I flipped through the book, stopping on a page with a black and white sketch of a man hiding behind a tree, large knife in hand, while two lovers made out in their tent.

Feeling just a little freaked out, I tossed the book aside and ventured out of the tent. The coyote was no where to be seen. And neither was Jon.

Shifting from foot to foot, I hugged my body, running my hands up and down my arms trying to keep warm. “Jon?” I called. There was no answer. “Jon? Jon? Come on, this isn't funny!” A twig snapped and I jumped, turning around. I saw a shadow move among the trees. Panicking, I felt around the ground with my foot until I found a solid stick. I picked it up, my eyes still trained on the trees.

A hand landed on my shoulder and I screamed, whirling around with the stick, hitting Jon in the jaw. Blood burst from the cut near his lip and he swore, his hands automatically moving to his face.

“Oh shit,” I said, covering my mouth. “Jon, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I thought you were-” My voice trailed off. “Thought I was what?” he demanded, wiping the blood from his face.

I blushed and told him that I found his book and more importantly about the picture of the man in the woods watching the two lovers. Jon sighed and reached for me, pulling my shaking body into his. His arms held me protectively while his chin, still dripping with blood rested on my head. “Princess, I'm not going to let anything happen to you,” he said soothingly. “Nothing is going to happen.”

Holding back tears, I looked up at him. “If my hair turns pink it's your fault,” I said, referencing the fact that his blood had left a streak in my hair. Jon smiled and kissed my forehead. “I think a pink streak would look good on you.”

His arm around me, we walked back to the tent. As I crawled inside, I felt sick. My stomach lurched and my eyes widened. Lying on one of our pillows was a large blood soaked knife.