The Camp Slut- Night 4

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and fantasy. Any resemblance to real persons, places, or events are coincidental. This story is not intended to be an accurate reflection of any particular lifestyle.

Night 4

I woke up into either Heaven or a dream. I had something warm and wet sliding up and down my cock, which was throbbing almost painfully. Something soft and firm held my wrists over my head. A siren’s song of passion building whispered in my ear and breathed across my cheek. My first conscious thought was that I was being raped by my sleeping bag. My second thought was that my first thought was ridiculous, because you cannot rape the willing. I opened my eyes to focus on the face of an angel, her dark hair a curtain shielding us from the rest of the world. Her eyes met mine and I knew I could never let her go. She leaned down, her lips touching mine. We feasted from each other, breath, sound, passion. Her breasts pressed against my chest, her hips rolling, swaying as she took her pleasure from me, used me to fill her carnal desires. I felt the soft velvet throat begin to pulse, drawing me in deeper, milking me. I released into her, screaming into her kiss. The feeling of my heat in her must have been what she was waiting for, as her orgasm crested with mine, her screams pushing against mine where our lips met. She clung to me, shaking as if she would float away. We lay there, panting, taking turns breathing through the other, moaning with each twitch, each sensation, until I softened enough to fall from her folds in a flood of our mating. She broke our kiss, moving so we were cheek to cheek, her grip relaxing around my wrists.

I whispered, “Good morning, Slut. I should punish you for taking liberties.”

I could feel the heat rise in her face where it touched mine. “I am sorry, Master, but I saw your cock so hard and I could not resist the temptation.”

I kissed her cheek. “You are forgiven under the condition that you will repeat this performance every morning before you leave my side. I rather enjoy being woken so.”

She giggled and nodded, kissing my cheek. “As you wish, Master. Shall I get your coffee ready?”

“Mmmm… Yes, my pet. That would be acceptable penance for now.” We laughed as she slowly untangled herself from me, leaving a trail of our juices across my body. I languished for a few minutes, listening to her greeting the others. I rolled out of the blankets, making a mental note to have her air them out today. I stepped out of the tent to see Steve, Bitch, and Andy having what seemed to be a rather deep discussion, while Tim read a book. Mike was just walking back into camp with an armload of deadfall for the fire. Slut knelt by my chair, coffee in hand, waiting. I smiled, petted her head, and glanced down at my cock. “I have to piss, Slut.”

She blushed and smiled. “Yes, Master.” She moved close, and opened her mouth under my cock, taking it gently between her fingers of one hand, bracing herself on my thigh with the other. I smiled and let the stream flow, sipping my coffee as I watched her swallow the first mouthful. I looked up to see that Andy and Bitch had stopped to stare.

“Isn’t that unsanitary?” Andy asked?

“Not really,” I said. “Piss is just sterile water, excess salt and potassium from your body, and ureic acid- urine. It’s all byproducts of eating and drinking and is in your blood anyway. Her body will use what it can, like the water and some of the minerals, then pass the rest like anything else.” My stream had ended to a dribble and Slut was suckling the last of it out. “Clean me up while you are there, Slut.”

“Yes, Master. Thank-you, Master.” Her mouth and tongue went to work at lapping up the remains of her wake up call.

Bitch looked unconvinced. “But, Sir? Doesn’t it taste bad? Can’t she get sick?”

I shrugged. “The only real bad taste would be from the urea, and about forty percent of people are genetically coded to not taste it.