Finished with the ice cream, I quickly shuttled it to my cooler and returned to his side. In the interim, he had laid down on his bed. Moving the towel, I again rested on my knees, my head near the middle of the bed as we chatted. After about ten minutes, he looked at me and asked a direct question.
“What do you want to do right now?”
In a blunt and honest mood, I responded, “I want to suck your cock. May I suck your cock please?”
He unzipped his pants and pulled out his semi-hard dick. Taking him into my mouth was a familiar and pleasing sensation. Stroking the shaft with my tongue and my lips, I bobbed my head up and down the length. I wanted to enjoy the taste of his balls, but they were still inside his pants. Assisting me in my efforts, he took off his bottoms, as well as his shirt. We were both naked now.
I sucked on his balls, the familiar groan escaping his lips. As I transitioned back and forth between his cock and balls, he asked, “Do you want to fuck me?”
“Beg me for it.”
“Please, please let me fuck you. I yearn to feel you inside me.”
“Do you have a condom?”
Scurring to my bag, I rifled around until I found one of two condoms I had haphazardly thrown in earlier that day, just in case. Ripping the packaging open, I tried to slid the condom down his cock using the common mouth trick, but this proved difficult. In my lust to just start riding him, I reverted to using my hands, extending the latex down the length of him.
He instructed me to ride him reverse cowgirl; he wanted the pleasure of spanking and punching my ass while we fucked. Lifting myself up and on top of him, his dick slid in smoothly, my warmed and wet pussy hungry for it. I bucked my hips back and forth as his hands and fists pounded into my rear. Blow after blow matched stroke after stroke as we fucked and fucked on his rickety camp bed.
Soon I felt the usual build up in my inner walls, the sweet rumblings of an omcoming orgasm. As a good girl, I asked permission for my pleasure. As an excellent Dom, he made me beg. But this time he instructed me to plea to his cabinmate, a Sadist, a man who took pleasure in other people’s pain. I begged sweetly, quietly at first, but my body made me scream, the wanting pleasure of my orgasm just over the horizon. And, magically, the Sadist said yes. A warm deep orgasm surged through me, across my hips and into my thighs.
Done with my ass, he instructed me to turn around. Riding cowgirl, he began playing with my breasts and nipples, pinching, massaging, wrenching my flesh. He put his hands around my neck and choked me, my breathing now his choosing. He grabbed my hips and pinched in the spot I oh so love, pleasure and pain our constant modis operandi when playing or fucking. He thumbed my clit; he teased me horribly.
Feeling another orgasm build, I again begged for my pleasure. This time, he instructed me to scream so loud that people would hear me through the wall. This was a joyful request to fulfill, my orgasm surging through me, my screams a natural and wanted extension of my pleasure.
Using his grip on my hips, he slowed down the pace and made our thrusts deeper, pushing still further in me. My breath slowed, my body moving with his, his cock so far inside me.
Gripping my hair, he pulled my ear to his lips.
“Imagine me all lathered up, in your asshole, fucking you.”
I was gone.
He thrusted harder still, a slow deep grind, as if he were kneeding dough or churning butter. My third and final orgasm swelled. Once more I begged, and he quickly consented, his own orgasm nearing. Fucking slow, hard, and deep, we came together, a sweaty pile strewn across his bed, exhausted, sex funky, and fulfilled.
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