Tent Pitching and Oral Pleasure
During the July long weekend, me and my wife Tabby decided to go camping in a secluded area, away from the bustling city life. It was a long-awaited break, and we looked forward to reconnecting with nature and each other. This time, we were accompanied by our dear friends, Brandon and Camille, another couple who had been our companions on most of our camping trips in the past.
I recalled the times spent with this group of friends in our university days, where we all went out together, partying and having a great time. Those days were simpler and more carefree. Tabby and I had formed a deep connection and we were happy married couples now, just enjoying the downtime away from their usual busy routine.
As we sat together, reminiscing upon the old memories, I glanced towards Camille. Her mere presence made me reminisce about our university years. I was attracted to her back then, and when I found out she was seeing Brandon, I couldn't contain my jealousy. Now, years later, looking at them cosying up, it only increased that envy once again. Her neatly trimmed blonde hair, her captivating personality, the way she easily fit into her surroundings, all of it reminded me of how I felt back then. Standing at 5'3", she sported a cheerful demeanour and radiated a sense of positivity. Her bright blue eyes, hidden beneath thin glasses, were always focused on whoever she was talking to, making that person feel special. She had a penchant for games like Dungeons & Dragons and Minecraft, shared interests that helped bridge the connection between me and her.
I remembered back in the day, how I'd been smitten by her. Though we'd all been drinking and having fun, I couldn't help but be aware of the mounting intimacy between her and Brandon. The flirting they partook in was increasingly evident in the darkened lounge of the student club where we chilled, watching a movie.
Walking in the shoes I wore back when, I knew I was nothing like her dream man. At 5'5", I fit into the usual conception of an average size, sporting a bald head and handsome features, but never quite fitting the mould of a typical romantic figure. A younger Brandon, at 5'11", had the perfect blend of humor, charm, and good looks, the kind of person that turns heads. His carefree attitude, casual dress, and casual sense of humour were quite alluring. He was confident, charismatic, and everyone adored him.
The four of us enjoyed a few days of camping, never really delving into the past, keeping the campfire memories as a reminder of our youth. We had a newfound understanding and admiration for each other. Just the thought of the past sparked curiosity in what their life as a couple might be like.
As I drifted off into my thoughts, I started imagining how it might be. I conjured an image of Brandon, six feet tall and muscular, exuding a natural confidence. In my mind's eye, I saw him taking Camille in his arms, his strong hands exploring her body. He kissed her passionately as her slender fingers clutched his two-handed flashlight, barely able to wrap her hand around his expedient drumsticks. Sensing her intensity, despite the blissful and content expression on his face, he thrust deeply, their rhythm picking up speed as he slapped her bum, moaning with every thrust.
Switching away from the overtly intimate scene, I turned my attention to them as a couple. I imagined their connection as they indulged in the private moments shared between them. Their fingers and tongues dance together, engaging in a sensual tango in the dim light. His patience and tenderness were reflected in the petite size of his hands, as they attended to her. Her head, the top covered in stems of bronze-coloured hair, bobbed in rhythm as she took him in, enjoying the mix of his musky scent and perfumed aftershave. As his body trembled and foamed, I imagined his expert tongue spouting rhymes, paying attention to each word, each rhythm, knowing her orgasm was eminent and lapping it up.
The interconnectedness we felt while speaking of the past ignited a spark. I envisioned Brandon divulging his fantasies about Tabby, muscling his thick mallet-sized rod inside her. He made her groan in delight as he breathed a sigh of relief, the dripping wet vibrator signalling her climax. My thoughts flew to their love-making in Camille's favorite position, moving at a breakneck pace. She clenched her eyes and arched her back, sensing the impending release. I wondered, if she did the same - like the good wife she was - if she thought about our momentous trysts back at uni. Wondering if he warned her when he was about to cum, my perspective turned amicable. Sharing this bittersweet reality of my past fantasies, I tried to figure out if she would allow Brandon to fill her with his seed in pure ecstasy.
Its intimate and shared gazes into each other's eyes and gentle touches combined with their mutual appreciation and respect, it depicted honest and sweet sexual expression. The nuances around them came out clearly, and I could almost touch and feel Camille's lips on my face, her sweet breath in my ear, her back trembling in the arousal expressing from their caring tenderness. My thoughts lingered and resumed after a time, where they expressed their love openly to each other before sleeping in each other's arms.
Occasionally, I would picture them engaging in a poignant 69 position. Her vagina on his mouth with him lying down on his back, one arm around her lower back and the other hand touching her labia. Given that she's around nine inches shorter than him, I envision it being easier to line up his penis with her throat. I believe they must have experienced the most sensuous orgasms together.
If they'd ever allowed me the opportunity to join them, I wouldn't have hesitated.
Brandon and Camille have been together for roughly six years, while Tabby and I have been together for four. We regained contact for the long weekend, filled with bocce ball, Frisbee games (which we primarily refer to as beersbie), card games, day drinking, and exploring the campfire.
The beginning of the weekend was splendid. Tabby and I arrived a day early to secure a prime spot on the ridge, with an open outlook to the valley below. Preferring to camp in crown land, we appreciated the lack of restrictions, silence hours, and fewer regulations. Going a day before the long weekend commenced also provided us with the privacy we desired. I used this opportunity to take advantage of Tabby's eagerness for outdoor nudity. Our interaction had started as a dare during one of the games we were playing. I'm a huge advocate for outdoor nudity, and whenever Tabby is in the mood, I'm thrilled. She made a proposal to me - "Do you want to have sex?". I jumped at the chance, fondling her with my mouth, then proceeding to make love to her in the bright sunlight. When a vehicle passed by, we stopped to sit in our camp chairs and resumed our lovemaking, thriving on the excitement of potentially being seen.
On Friday, Brandon and Camille arrived to join us, allowing us to catch up, eat, and engage in various games. These games were much more enjoyable with extra players. Unfortunately, Saturday weathered the worst of it. Right after dinner, it began to rain, causing us to retreat under the shelter to wear our pajama pants and hoodies. We spent the remainder of the evening in our tents, where both ladies experienced sleepless nights since they were chilled to the bone.
Sunday dawned and after some deliberation, the ladies decided to leave, while Brandon remained with me so I could drive him home. We didn't anticipate better weather, but the plan was satisfactory to us. Turns out, the rains weren't as long or fiery as we had expected, and Brandon and I did catch some glimpses of the sunshine late that afternoon.
After the ladies had departed and with the sun still out, we were able to play more outdoor games. I take pride in being the best at croquet, whereas Brandon excelled at throwing a frisbee. Brandon's prowess in Ultimate Frisbee considerably surpassed mine and he could easily intoxicate individuals during Beersbie. I had consumed a few drinks when we transitioned into different activities.
When dinner time came, we had more food to consume as we had two mouths instead of four. Consequently, we cooked up the remnants of the smokies and burgers in a feast. There's truly nothing like men at a campsite digging into a protein-heavy meal and indulging in drinks.
As the sun abandoned us and it drizzled once more, we stoked the fire to a huge roar. Shielded under a large camping tarp, we stayed dry and talked into the night. Music still emanated from the wireless speaker as we spent our last hours together.
At first, we conversed about a multitude of subjects. We both appreciate retro music (70s-90s rock, metal, and alternative music, which is now somewhat "retro" itself). Both of us sang along to some, shared stories about others. Brandon's music knowledge is vast and dumbfounding.
I can't recollect the exact path our conversation took toward sex, but I suspect it was a natural shift. Perhaps it was my reference to Gwen Stefani of No Doubt. She was the embodiment of my teenage desires for years, and I even dated a girl in high school (went on a date with her), who was known for her baggy cargoes and low waist. It was the closest I ever came to fulfilling my punk rock fantasy.
Regardless, when the subject of Gwen emerged, I mentioned that I had masturbated to her frequently. This marked the first boundary we crossed in the discussion. The floodgates had been opened. Brandon proved to be amicable with my disclosure and shared some of the women who had piqued his interest.
We moved from theoretical to tangible as I inquired about the number of females he had encountered. This was the second threshold I crossed. Astonishingly, I discovered that his roster wasn't all that impressive. Considering how many women could have approached him, it was surprising that he hadn't.
I perceived this as a form of restraint from Brandon. If he wanted, he could have had countless women, yet he selected not to. I believe this reflects the kind of honest, stand-up individual he is. If I had been in his shoes, surrounded by admirers, I wouldn't be able to keep my pants on - I would have taken advantage of all the ladies who offered themselves to me.
As time went on, I became anxious and sexually aroused. My personal preference for exhibitionism makes recounting my stories thrilling for me (perhaps this is why I'm penning my own experiences).
I was seeking a way to take the conversation deeper. Would Brandon like my narratives? Would he maintain my secrets? I've never been in this position before. Only strangers know about my sexual desires when I engage in one-night stands. Yet, despite the potential consequences - our relationships could be jeopardized, and here I'm considering sharing more with him. And yet, I felt I could trust him. It's a strange feeling, but I sense anyone could.
So I kept talking. I discussed Tabby and he did; and I shared my experiences with my ex, Angela, about how my fetishes for cuckoldry and bisexuality pushed her to open our marriage, contributing to its demise. I talked about how I wanted to watch my ex-wife have sex with other men and my experiences of doing so. I divulged how I desired to cater to my ex-wife's desires by servicing her while she was with these men, acting as her personal sex toy as she messed around.
I crossed another boundary. I could feel the thumping of my heart, anticipating judgement or approval. Telling him about my bisexuality was a major step (in my mind). Brandon merely sipped his drink and responded with a remark that confirmed my sentiments. He questioned whether I'd already completed that task.
This was what I desired - I longed to share. I wanted him to know about my bisexual side. So I spoke openly. I elaborated on my experiences, recounting how I sought out men for pleasure, mostly focusing on fellatio. I shared my fondness for facials and cum play. I talked about my desire to be a submissive, climaxing once before revealing my bi sexuality.
In our confessions, he also unveiled some of his. They were nothing unexpected. Locations and people, though his stories typically involved his wife named Camille. There was one that intrigued me - that he fantasized about being penetrated anally while he had intercourse with Camille. The thought would have impressed me because it hinted at a possibility of hidden bisexual inclinations.
I pondered and uttered, "Wow, that's hot." It was a clue indicating a potential attraction for me, and I was thrilled because there might be an opportunity waiting. Therefore, I was delighted when Brandon inquired if I still enjoyed performing oral sex on men. I instantly nodded and affirmed, "Yes, it's something I must occasionally indulge in." He thoughtfully took another sip of his drink.
I was becoming more uneasy, and my heart skipped a beat as I tried to down the lump in my throat. My nervousness was amplified by the awareness of the hardness in my pants (although I was comfortably dressed in a hoodie, boxers, and sweat pants, I still felt restricted by the fabric). I was so near to overstepping the line. And so, I did it. I asked him if I could reveal a personal detail without any condemnation. Brandon replied, "Of course."
Then I took the bold step yes, and acknowledged, "I'm really keen on sucking your dick right now." He smirked and sipped his beverage before replying, "I figured." I followed up with, "So would it be acceptable for me to take it?" Brandon grinned and calmly responded, "Yes."
There it was. I had transgressed a significant boundary in my life. I had secured consent from someone I saw daily to let me enthusiastically blow him. I would now have a man's penis in my mouth, and it wouldn't be a fleeting encounter as in the past. Each time I met Brandon, I would see the face of the man whose penis I'd sucked out.
Despite my fear, I rose from my seat and strolled around the fire, removing my hoodie and placing it on the lawn chair. The night air was cool. It had stopped raining when it became dark dark, leaving a chilly ambience. I then approached Brandon, dropping to my kneels in front of him. I welcomed the warmth of the fire on my back, appreciating its soothing comfort.
I wasn't about to lose our groove or have either of us change our minds, so I gently tugged on Brandon's waistband to help him pull his pants and underwear down. As his cock made its appearance, I couldn't help but notice a few things. First off, my fantasies had come true - Brandon was indeed well-endowed, with a length of about 8 inches and a thickness that was impressive even when not fully hard. Additionally, he was uncut, which I had never experienced before. Eager to put my fantasies into action for the very first time, I grabbed his shaft and started stroking the foreskin up and down. This seemed to help Brandon relax, as he pushed his hips up to make the job easier for me.
I eagerly wanted to show off my expertise, so I dropped my head down and started giving him a blowjob. As I sucked on his semi-hard cock, I used my tongue to go under his foreskin, a tactic I'd never tried before. I'd always assumed that foreskin would be gross, somehow unclean and icky. But with Brandon, it was nothing but pleasant. His skin tasted good, and I could even detect a hint of whiskey from his foreskin. Furthermore, his skin was clean and fresh, and he was still a little wet with precum. It's important to note that I'm not attracted to dirty or hairy guys, so I'd turned down guys after starting before, only offering to work on them if they were clean enough. Fortunately, Brandon's body hair was located at a safe distance.
To make things easier on both of us, I suggested he take off his pants, which were still around his ankles. He obliged, standing up and removing his pants and boxers, then sitting back down with his legs spread wide. I slid in between his legs and grabbed his cock, resuming my blowjob. Using one hand, I slid the foreskin up and down over the first few inches of his shaft.
Despite my best efforts, I couldn't make him cum. I'd noticed his response to my actions - he would sometimes tousle my hair, and at one point he'd even rubbed my shoulder. I appreciated these little signs of enjoyment. I didn't want to be dominated or forced into anything too extreme, but I craved his encouragement.
Sadly, the booze got the better of us that night. No cumshot was in the cards. We agreed it was getting late and decided to call it a night. Since it was cold outside, I offered to share my tent with him. This would not only keep us warm, but allow me to continue exploring this newfound encounter.
So we extinguished the fire, relieved ourselves in the woods, and got into the double sleeping bag I'd shared with Tabby the previous night. It was chilly in there, since it hadn't been warmed up yet. I was tired but still incredibly aroused. As much as I wanted to continue, my jaw was aching from my unsuccessful attempt at making him cum. Instead, I lay my head on his chest, draped one leg over his thigh, and gripped his cock in my hand. If he were truly interested in trying again, I figured he'd let me know - either through speech or bodily signs, like the unmistakable feeling of his erection in my grip. However, it wasn't in the cards that night, so I rolled over and faced the other direction to snuggle up to his body. I really enjoyed the sensation of feeling safe and held. This encounter had awakened my longing to serve him.
I didn't sleep very well that night, as I had a rock-hard boner for most of it. When the sun finally started to rise, I guiltily turned towards Brandon and gave him a handjob to wake him up.
I managed to wake him up, and with him beginning to stretch, I decided to do what I wanted to. I slowly descended down to his cock, taking it in my mouth. "Good Morning" came a faint voice, to which I replied, "Morning!" as I continued with what I was doing.
It was now bright and I could properly observe his manhood. The head wasn't too massive, roughly the same size as mine, but the shaft was the widest in the middle. It was the thickest part that caught my attention. I had never seen a cock like this before, yet it was very appealing. The foreskin played a part in his soft tissue, maintaining a silkier and softer outer layer. It was like I was sucking on that mouth-watering piece of meat for long periods throughout the night. My own cock was smaller and felt hard and tight when filled. His size, on the other hand, seemed more suitable for a longer and more distinguished experience.
I was completely entangled in this heavenly experience, but my jaw had started to ache. I was feeling discouraged as the lubrication had worn off, making it painful for me. I consulted him on this, and he tend to his own cock. I watched intently as I also started to rub myself against him. My throbbing member pressed against his cock and testicles as I kissed his groin in lustful delight.
Feeling the need to change positions, I shifted in between his legs to grind against him. To my amazement, rather than just allowing it, Brandon lifted his buttocks slightly to make the grinding easier. This position reversed our roles: I was now the one receiving pleasure, while he was seemingly submissive and laying down.
Flashbacks of Tabby's liking for such angles filled my head. Her position before I fucked her often required the same as what I was doing now - her legs over my shoulders. The roles had shifted. While I sucked his cock last night and this morning, I was now dominating him, just like I did with Tabby. I represented the dominant male, pushing him down and using him for pleasure.
Taking advantage of the situation, I decided to test his confession from the previous night. He admitted that he too wanted to be fucked. This idea whetted my desire. Since all the conditions were just right, I proceeded to indulge in him, taking advantage of the proper placement to give him the fucking he desired.
One thing about Brandon that makes him unique is how despite heavy consumption of alcohol the entire preceding day and night, his bowels are always healthy. As I began rubbing my cock against his anus, I wasn't worried about it. However, I was concerned about lubricant and how adept his insides' proportions were at handling it. He had larger genitals than me, while I was small. This unusual circumstance might be a factor.
I kept up the light pressure. There was little to no resistance from his sphincter, only after a few moments, I had entered about halfway. It wasn't my first time doing this with someone. He had had larger things in him. Yet, he had concerns he needed to hide - this was clear from his mention of how promiscuous I was and the diseases I could have. This brought up two thoughts in me.
First, I reflected on the safety aspect - I had been tested a few months back and had hung out with someone I had known for a couple of years. His remarks were presumably hinting at something, but I was unsure what to be exact. The second thought that shot through my mind was on our mutual fear of the 'gay' hangup. This man was obviously hesitant about completely committing to the idea. Hence, he had to express this hesitation, possibly for my benefit or his own.
Hesitation can happen between two people about the proposition of being gay but wanting to retain some aspects of their former lives. He needed me to recognize his concern, and I was willing to comply. "Go ahead, enjoy it," were my encouraging words. In a firm grip on his erection, having a solid ground with my thighs, I actively fucked him.
Rubbing himself gave him no resistance or complaints. He became more submissive, caught in my sweet spot. I was now completely committed, straining his anal muscles with each stroke. Eyelids heavy, I was nearing my climax and rubbed his cock for just a few more minutes until I came. It felt amazing to release my tension into him, my balls hitting his buttocks and moans emanating from my chest. I was content.
I didn't hold back. I didn't tell him. I just pushed my manhood deep into his bottom and leaned on top of him as I sensed my rod throbbing within his bowels. I pressed against his chest and relaxed as my climax faded. I stayed there until my cock grew limp and then I remained there, warm. His butt gripped my limp cock like a lover who wouldn't let go. Maybe it was around five minutes later when I pulled out, my member now soft but covered in the slippery substance I had just released into him.
I'm not a self-centered lover, so I moved closer and placed my face over his cock to begin licking him again and getting him hard. This was novel for me. Generally, after I cum, I feel very straight. But Brandon had taken a risk and jeopardized himself and his relationship to trust me, and then literally allowed me to penetrate his ass to reach my orgasm. So I felt not only required to get him off - I wanted to do it. I wanted to treat him to the same pleasure he had let me experience. As I guided his rising cock toward my mouth, I stopped to express my gratitude for letting me penetrate his ass and flashed him a smile. Then, I got back to work, trying to repay him. I sucked and jerked off his cock to life. However, I knew a day of heavy drinking would make this difficult.
My sore jaw and his endurance got the best of me, and I had to have him climax manually. So, I lay next to him, my head resting on his chest, watching his johnson. I thought about sitting on him to receive that cock and slide it through my anus.
That would've been largest thing I've taken. I worried it would be quite messy if I sat upon that massive rod. I knew I couldn't handle it then, not at that moment - I've always required prepping with plenty of cleaning, lube, and time to stretch. I'd brought no supplies along with me because I'd never imagined I would engage in such activity with a friend. Instead, I surrendered to the situation and observed his member as it firmed up and exploded its seed in front of me, cum streaking down his stomach. Disappointingly, it missed my face. My bisexual instincts had disappeared (temporarily) but if he had insisted or even shoved me down, I'd definitely have eagerly consumed his release, inspired by my submissive fantasies.
After our mutual climaxes, I think we both felt more 'straight'. Mental complexities prompted us to part ways and clean up. I offered him the wet wipes we always brought along.
Soon after, at breakfast, we chatted about how we would keep this experience a secret, as our marriages were top priority. I knew it wouldn't be wise to discuss this, share messages, text messages, or anything. It wasn't worth the risk. I also feared it could mean we'd never enjoy more of it.
And I wanted another opportunity. I believed I could excel if I planned ahead and refrained from getting drunk beforehand.
On our next camping trip, I did hint that we could stroll into the woods and I'd be thrilled to handle him orally. He claimed he'd never done it before. "That's okay," I reassured him, promising I'd respect his decision and wouldn't bring it up again unless he did.
We went back to being normal, him with Camille, whose bubbly personality captivates men, and me with Tabby, whom I adore for her fitness and intelligence. I thought we were quite fortunate gentlemen.
But Brandon and I did engage in an additional playful encounter - but that's an entirely separate story. [Note: Make sure to keep the text length same and follow given guidelines]
