[MF] Once upon a time, I deleted a post and then reposted it, or: Tent Sex. | 2016

This fiery temper burns real hot. I wrote this, and I showed it.

It matters to me, and so do you, so I'm putting it back here.

Once upon a time, I got fucked in a tent.

I used to fantasize about hooking up with fellow hikers while in the backcountry, perhaps due to my naughty stranger need and my odd love for being naked in the woods.

It’s at once a release and a curse to commune with nature while alone. To hike mountains and valleys and rivers all day with your world on your back, and finally curl up in a sleeping bag at night, oh it’s a delicious pleasure.

But it also means being in a tent, all night. Alone.

I mean I don’t have any problem with sliding my panties off and gliding a couple of fingers around and over my clit while I listen to the forest around me transition to night. I’m no doctor, but I’d argue that arching my back off my sleeping bag while I ride out waves of orgasms is a good measure of stretching after a day of hiking with a pack on. Moaning to that extent certainly repels bears.

Health and safety measures aside, I’ve always wanted to know what it would be like to be thoroughly fucked in that tent, by more than just my lonely hands.

And then I met Fantasy Man, and it turns out he’s adept at feeding my desires both on and off the grid. Actually, this is a really good story arc, considering most of the beginning of our interaction was over the phone (you know, quite on the grid). There’s a joke here somewhere about the climax being in the woods.

Anyway, I’d like to start right in the tent, except we stopped so many times along the trail so that I could taste his cock that it seems careless to leave that out. Perhaps even more careless to leave out the road head that preceded that, or how he managed to slip his hand down the front of my panties in between gear shifts on the drive to the trailhead (there’s another joke here about trailhead) (also thank you, fancy auto manufacturer, for paddle shifters) and, er, single-handedly bring me to orgasm between traffic lights.

The worst though would be to leave off the part where I didn’t make it out of the airport parking garage without slipping my lips over his cock and licking and sucking him until he came down my throat.

There’s something about parking garage blow jobs that I really love—he’s got to play lookout, and is otherwise fairly immobile in that front seat, and I have to do a bit of yoga to get the proper leverage over the center console business. Someone might see, but all they’d really see would be his lovely face, a bobbing red ponytail, and those gloriously bendy yoga pants. Glorious because they allow for this position, because they allow me to roll my hips the way I do when there’s a chance of any part of him being inside me, and because they allow him to reach around under the pants, under the panties, and past my ass to slide his fingers along and inside me.

So I suppose it went something like this:

One of us clawed open his pants and I desperately sucked his cock dry while we sat in his parked car.

We left the airport and he instructed me to hold his coat on my lap, then slid a hand under my panties and insisted on touching my clit and sliding into my pussy, but all in time with whatever song was on the radio. Which was both fun and total fucking agony, and I was helpless until a good ten minutes after I came. At least I didn’t kick out the windshield.

I returned to my face-down position so that I could push him into my throat while he accelerated along that curving rural road toward the beginning of our hike. I didn’t manage to finish him off though. I blame the restraint of the seatbelt, but I wasn’t too upset, because this meant I had 6 hours of hiking during which I could repeatedly drop my pack, drop his pants, and drop to my knees on the springy forest floor.

We hiked all afternoon, stopping to refill our water bottles in rivers and refill my mouth in any relatively quiet spot by those rivers. I saw the mossy undersides of several bridges.

We made camp by the ocean, watched the sun set, drank whiskey, and when it was dark enough that the stars were really all that could be properly seen without a flashlight, I took his cock in my mouth one more time while outside the tent, him lying on a huge piece of driftwood on the beach and me just openly kneeling over him. It was too dark for the scout group down the beach to see us, and the roar of the surf was too loud for them to hear, bless their sweet eyes and ears.

But then it was too cold to have any naked anything outside, and we retreated to our little enclave in the trees just off the beach, into the tent and the pile of comforters he’d packed for us, and peeled off all the layers of clothes to dive under the covers and warm ourselves.

Oh god, I one part wish there had been enough light to see, but also love the heightened senses that the relative blindness induces. Especially in sex. He started all slow and romantic, which please, hear me out—I mean we were naked in a tent on a beach, all at his planning, and never has such a master plan for my birthday been concocted that involves so many of my favorite things…travel, hiking, beaches, whiskey, sex—so yeah, being instantly warmed by this man’s lips all over my neck and arms and boobs and abs was so. Fucking. Hot. And romantic. It was everything.

Ah no, I’m wrong. It became more. He carried on down to my pussy, where again keep in mind I can’t really see much except his silhouette above my hip bones, but I can hear the ocean and smell the salt and the pines and now the beginnings of that unique fragrance that is Eau De Us Fucking.

He began with that agonizingly light motion with his tongue, barely grazing my clit, making me moan for more pressure, more touch, any amount of his cock, please. And this time he slid a finger, oh so slowly, inside my dripping pussy, first pressing…upward? I think? God I don’t always actually know what he’s doing when it feels like OH HOLY YES PLEASE, I just notice there are lips and tongue and fingers that exist in some extremely pleasurable moment and for some reason the heavens are smiling down on me.

I really do try not to knock into his face too hard when my hips respond to all of this, but perhaps I moved too aggressively, because suddenly everything stopped, and his face came closer to mine—I knew because I could smell my pussy in his facial scruff—and I felt something I could identify.

He spanked my pussy.

Um. I was shocked. Not because he did it, but because it made me cry out, and then moan. His lips and tongue pressed firmly into my mouth (the one on my face), while his fingers returned to their own personal drowning in my pussy, and I tried to remember how to breathe, when it happened again.

Oh my god I think I shrieked. And then he kept doing it, with more frequency, more intensity, alternately stroking and flicking his fingers and lips over my clit and then there was likely something poetic about the crashing of the waves of the ocean in time with my orgasm, but I was too much of a maniac by that point to care and just needed his cock inside my pulsing pussy.

He shifted on top of me, both of us now burning hot in those blankets and still not really able to see, but I was so clearly aware of the heat of his hard cock sliding up against my wet pussy and pushing inside with the kind of motion one can make with something very hard into something very soaked and willing.

It’s difficult to remember to slow down at this point. Immediately after an orgasm, I’m insane. If I feel his cock inside me in those moments, I probably lose some mental function at the expense of the cavewoman desire I have to get his cum. I want it, inside me, now, please. My hips have a mind of their own. My fingernails have a mind of their own. I bite, I beg, and everything throbs.

He slid a hand up my arm and into my hand, both for the contact and also to pin it back (perhaps his back was tired of my nails). I dug my other fingers into his hair, he pressed his other up under my ass cheek, pulling me to him, covering my mouth with his as he continued to thrust into me, slowly, hard, deliberate, impossibly slowly, agonizingly slowly, and then I could feel that final change in his cock inside me as he pressed against me inwardly from all angles with his growth and hardness, and then I heard that wonderful sound of him saying my name as he came hard inside me.

We passed out for a few…minutes? Hours? I awoke when it was still dark, we were still tangled, and I was dripping with everything from my pussy to halfway down my thighs. I unzipped the sides of the tent and fly and stepped out and stood up into the sharp cold sea air. The contrast of it took my breath away. I felt the sting of the wind against my exposed nipples, my exposed body, but stood dreamily in the wind and under the stars, thinking about that man in my tent.

I absolutely meant to wake him up in the morning by sucking his cock, but I found myself doing Round II of Dreamy Consideration while I had daylight, this time while seeing him sleep next to me. When he cracked open a drowsy eye and I slid in closer to kiss him, my hips did that thing where they begin looking for his cock, and I remembered what I’d wanted to do. I crawled under the blankets and found him already hard, and oh tasting amazing (as he does in the morning), and just took my sweet damn time exploring all the ways I could glide my tongue and lips over his cock and balls.

You know, until it was too much and I needed to ride him. Which I did, because how else would I have known if my tent was tall enough to accommodate such an activity?

Turns out it is, with the minor inconvenience of me having to lean slightly forward to accommodate my head in the matter. A terrible side effect is this brings my nipples right to his face, and he takes full advantage of the situation.

I rather aggressively ground my hips down and across his, pulling his cock as high up into me as I could. He ran his tongue over my boobs, nipples, mouth, and then took my hips in his hands and moved me up against him, his force and rhythm building with intensity. And then we were each calling out the other’s name, and I was pulsing until I utterly collapsed onto him.

It’s likely we slept again.

And then I took another chance to step out of the tent and stand, naked before the ocean, his cum dripping down my leg and the rising sun beginning to warm my totally exposed skin.

Goddamn what a way to spend a birthday.