Wild Camp, Wet Dreams

The rain hammered against the canvas of our secluded retreat, a relentless rhythm that mirrored the rising heat within me. We’d come seeking solace from the relentless demands of city life, a weekend of quiet contemplation and, inevitably, a little something more. Rob had just finished unpacking, his broad shoulders straining slightly as he wrestled with the heavy sleeping bags. I’d been helping him set up the tent, acutely aware of the situation we found ourselves in, and the inherent invitations it presented. As we worked side-by-side, a strange, primal awareness began to build, a silent acknowledgment of the tension that hung thick in the humid air.

I found myself leaning slightly forward, my hips shifted awkwardly under my denim skirt. It wasn't a conscious decision, more a consequence of the way I was working, the slight angle of my body exposing a generous portion of my vulva. It felt vulnerable, yet undeniably powerful, and I could feel Rob’s eyes tracing the line of my flesh, a flicker of something akin to lust crossing his face. The memory of the drive here, the insistent, playful ministrations he’d offered throughout the journey, flooded back, bringing with it the sticky, insistent warmth that still clung to my skin. The anticipation had been building since we left, a slow, delicious burn.

We’d both worked up an appetite, so we let the camp stove simmer as we prepared a simple meal of grilled vegetables and fresh fish. The aroma filled the tent, a welcome distraction from the incessant drumming of the rain. As I chopped vegetables, the heat of the fire radiating against my bare legs, the familiar comfort of Rob’s presence intensified the feeling of vulnerability. I deliberately positioned myself so that my skirt remained slightly askew, a subtle invitation that I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist.

As we ate, the rain continued its relentless assault, creating a cozy, almost claustrophobic atmosphere. It felt like the perfect setting for the release we both craved. After we cleaned up, a shared understanding passed between us, a silent agreement to abandon the pretense of restraint. We grabbed our jackets and headed out into the downpour, seeking refuge in the darkness and the company of other adventurers who had sought the same solace in this remote location.

The evening air was cool and damp, clinging to our skin as we walked along the muddy paths. The rain-slicked ground reflected the flickering lights from distant campfires, creating an ethereal, almost dreamlike quality to the landscape. Rob led me to a weathered wooden bench overlooking a valley filled with lush greenery, illuminated by both the dying embers of the setting sun and the artificial glow of other campfires. It was a breathtaking view, but my gaze was firmly fixed on Rob, his presence a tangible force in the gathering darkness.

He turned to me, his eyes gleaming with an almost predatory intensity. He took my hand, his grip firm and possessive, and led me closer to the edge of the bench. Without a word, he brought me to his chest, his body a warm, solid weight against mine. He leaned down and kissed me deeply, a slow, deliberate exploration of my lips and the soft skin of my neck. The taste of rain mingled with the scent of pine needles and damp earth, creating an intoxicating combination. His hand slid under my skirt, finding the sensitive flesh of my vulva, and he began to tease, slowly, deliberately, driving me to the edge of ecstasy.

Then, he uttered the words that shattered any remaining reservations, a low, almost vulgar rumble in his chest. “I want to suck your puss!” The raw desire in his voice was palpable, electrifying. He pulled up my dress, his movements swift and decisive, and knelt before me, his gaze locked on mine. As he dove in, his grip firm and possessive, I felt a wave of pleasure wash over me, a primal response to the invasion of his touch. The sensation was exquisite, a complete surrender to the moment. My body began to tremble, my breathing quickening as I fought to maintain control.

His touch was insistent, demanding, a relentless exploration of every inch of my sensitive flesh. He moved with a brutal efficiency, finding the exact pressure points that sent shivers down my spine. The rain continued to fall, drumming a frantic rhythm against the tent, but I was lost in the intensity of the moment, oblivious to everything but the pleasure he was inflicting. My orgasm began to build, a crescendo of sensation that threatened to overwhelm me. I gasped for air, begging for more, my body writhing in anticipation.

He stopped abruptly, his breath hot against my ear. “You taste wonderful down there! Sorry to stop now, but I want to make a meal of it.” The casual cruelty in his tone sent a jolt of excitement through me. Without hesitation, he pulled up my dress again, kneeling before me once more. This time, his movements were even more aggressive, more demanding. He plunged his hand deep inside, searching for the perfect spot, and I moaned with pleasure as he found it. The sensation was exquisite, a complete surrender to the moment. My orgasm intensified, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatened to consume me entirely.

He continued to tease, pushing deeper and deeper, until my muscles were clenched tight with anticipation. Then, he released his grip, and I collapsed back against him, breathless and spent. We kissed again, a passionate reunion after the intense pleasure, and then he led me back to the tent. The rain had lessened, but the air still hung heavy with moisture. Stripping naked in the darkness, we found ourselves in an intimate embrace, both of us consumed by the afterglow of our shared experience. The thought of the next act, the fulfillment of our desires, hung heavy in the air.

As we lay entwined in the tent, Rob spoke up again, his voice a low murmur against my ear. “I want a cream pie.” The request hung in the air, a blatant invitation to further indulge our lust. It was clear what he wanted, and I knew exactly what he meant. A full-blown, uninhibited session of sex, culminating in him ejaculating into my mouth. It was a bold request, a blatant disregard for any semblance of modesty. But the thought of it sent shivers down my spine, a delicious anticipation that made my heart race.

“You most welcome to have one!” I replied, intentionally sounding as slutty as possible. Without hesitation, we hurried back into the darkness, seeking a secluded corner of the camp where we could indulge our desires without interruption. We found a small clearing behind the main tents, sheltered by a cluster of trees. Stripping naked, we lay down on the damp earth, our bodies intertwined in a passionate embrace. The air was thick with anticipation, the scent of rain and arousal mingling in the darkness. Rob took the lead, his movements swift and decisive, as he inserted his manhood into my swollen, sensitive pussy. The sensation was exquisite, a complete surrender to the moment. As he began to thrust, my body convulsed with pleasure, my moans echoing through the clearing. The rain continued to fall, washing away any lingering doubts or inhibitions. Rob continued to pound my pussy, his movements wild and unrestrained. Each thrust brought a fresh wave of pleasure, a desperate need for more. My orgasm surged through my body, a torrent of sensation that left me breathless and spent. He came, a powerful, explosive release that reverberated through my entire being. The heat of his semen spread through my body, coating my already-soaked vagina. As he pulled out, he brought his mouth down between my legs and began to suck, greedily devouring every last drop. It was a messy, chaotic, and utterly exhilarating experience. The creamy warmth of his semen filled my senses, a delicious reminder of our shared pleasure. As he finished, he looked at me with a satisfied smirk, his eyes gleaming with pleasure. He pulled me close, whispering in my ear, “Thanks for the cream pie. You taste indescribably good down there.” The intimacy of the moment was complete, the experience leaving us both utterly satisfied and completely spent.

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