Camping: 3, 2, 1

Yosemite Fables | #5 | Explicit Content

It was an amazing and agonizing Monday. Dorian was on a camping trip with his revered girlfriend, Fleur, and her folks. Today was day 3 of 5 day trip. The trip was perfect.

This Monday was sub-spectacular as his routine was disturbed. Every Monday morning it was ritual for him to deliver oral sex to his love. Before he went to work, he’d only rinse his face to keep a bit of her smell on him that day. He wasn’t sure which bothered him more: not seeing her orgasm that day or missing her smell.

She had temporarily released him of this duty while on this trip. Things would be awkward since they shared a tent with him in-laws. He was beside himself. There was a persistent visceral, awful feeling akin to having done something wrong.

When his in-laws went to get s’mores supplies, he saw his chance.

“I know we don’t have much time, but I’m going crazy. Please let me finger you.”

Fleur smiled indulgently as him and lay down. When her hands were at her waistband, he firmly put them to her sides. He slid his right hand up the leg of her shorts and his left hand held hers. He found the beginning of wetness already.

The tent had a vent that gave him a clear line of sight to the approach from the convenience store. They both knew this had to be quick. She relaxed and he skipped to her favorites. Soon her grip tightened on his hand and his fingers.

No sign of his mother-in-law’s neon pink shirt. He needed this to last as long as possible. He moved his left hand from her clasp to her neck. Instantly her eyes flashed open and locked with his in understanding.

“Don’t cum until I get to one.”

He moved more. She made muted strangled noises.

A bright pink speck appeared among the trees.

He tightened his grip on her neck.

“In three. Two. One.”