She Takes What She Wants

When we stopped outside of Miss Julia's tent she embraced me tightly. We kissed deeply and she boldly reached her hand between our bodies and began to rub my erection through my jeans. I was surprised when she stopped and broke away from me.

"Goodnight, Eric," Miss Julia said. "Don't forget, you're not allowed to masturbate. Perhaps I'll join you later tonight."

With that she stooped to unzip her tent. Even after she was inside I stood for a few moments in the darkness, painfully hard and frustrated. A short while later I climbed naked into my sleeping bag. The cool nylon was smooth and soothing on my still hard cock, and I was tempted to play with myself.

I assumed that I wouldn't see Miss Julia until the morning. She was probably aroused as well, perhaps naked in her own sleeping bag, lightly fondling herself in the darkness. Since Miss Julia made the rules, she could masturbate any time she wished. I thought of slipping a dirty sock over my penis and stroking myself until I filled it with cum, but just in case Miss Julia wasn't teasing me, I lay on my back, hands at my sides, and tried to wait patiently.

Maybe only a few minutes passed, or it could have been a few hours, but I must have dozed off and was suddenly waken by the sound of my tent flaps being unzipped. The moon shone brightly through the thin nylon roof and Miss Julia was clearly visible as she crawled into the confines of my small backpacking tent. She was wearing a long t-shirt that came down below her waist and some soft leather moccasins. I reached to unzip my sleeping bag but she stopped me.

Miss Julia climbed on top of me and without a word began to kiss me, her tongue darting deeply into my mouth. Her body pressing down on top of mine, I could feel a slow subtle grinding of her hips against my groin. My cock was throbbing hard in no time, the heavily insulated sleeping bag an impenetrable barrier between our bodies.

I wanted to embrace her and caress her body, maybe finally get my hands on her breasts, but Miss Julia's position on top of me had my arms trapped inside my sleeping bag. She then began to kiss and lightly nibble at the base of my neck, and as she did so, she reached down between us and grabbed hold of my cock. Roughly fondling me through the sleeping bag, Miss Julia said that she was glad I had obeyed her and not masturbated.

"For that you get a reward," she said.

Before I could even contemplate what I might have earned, Miss Julia got up on her knees, turned around, and started to lower herself onto my face. Hiking up her long t-shirt, for a split second I could see that she wasn't wearing any panties, and then she lightly pressed her thick patch of dark pubic hair against my lips.

She was already moist with arousal, and musky with sweat from a day of driving on the trails. I treated her to long, slow licks of my tongue, with periodic darting probes for her clit. Miss Julia responded quickly, rocking her hips, I assumed to get the best angle of penetration for my tongue. My nose was occasionally mashed between her butt cheeks, making it hard for me to breathe.

As Miss Julia began to move in a more steady rhythm, I felt her stroking my erection through my sleeping bag. I was so turned on and still sexually frustrated from earlier in the evening, and knew if she didn't stop playing with my cock soon I would explode.

It was then that I realized this wasn't foreplay. She was steadily riding my face towards a powerful orgasm. There was no way that she was going to stop to free me from my sleeping bag so that I might hump her for a few moments before erupting, and I did indeed erupt.

My heavy moaning was muffled as Miss Julia ground herself against my mouth with several spasms signaling her orgasm. I could feel the expanding pool of cum spreading on my stomach as I spurted one blast after another inside my sleeping bag.

Then she raised herself slightly. Both of us breathing heavily, I gave a few gentle, teasing licks, giving Miss Julia several light aftershocks. She slowly stroked my now softening penis through the sleeping bag, milking the last drops. Her final gesture was to firmly rub a hand all over my crotch and stomach, effectively spreading the mess all over me and soaking that portion of the sleeping bag with my own cum.

"Goodnight, Eric," was all she said, and without a kiss or even looking back over her shoulder, she slipped out through the tent flaps.

I found my damp towel in the pile of dirty clothes by my side. Unzipping my sleeping bag almost all the way I tried to clean myself and the inside of the bag as well as I could. Later as I lay back down I could still feel the sticky dampness, but after having such a powerful orgasm, I quickly fell asleep.

Early the next morning I woke up just as sunlight was beginning to filter in through my tent. Though I lay comfortably in my sleeping bag and the campground was silent, I could not fall back to sleep. After quietly rummaging through my gear, I soon had a small percolator brewing fresh coffee on a little backpacking stove set up on the picnic table.

Returning to our campsite after a quick trip to the restroom, I saw that Miss Julia was up now. She was dressed in some tight black nylon runner's shorts, a heavily worn denim jacket pulled over a white top of some kind, and her usual riding boots. Her hair was pulled back in a thick dark ponytail and she sat at the table with an empty coffee mug, knowing that I wouldn't dare refuse to offer her some.

"You think of everything," she said, nodding towards the coffee pot as I approached.

"Well, maybe not everything," I said, accepting the compliment. "I drink it black. If you want cream and sugar I can go see if Sue and Dave brought any. That is if they are awake yet."

Miss Julia was willing to drink her coffee straight from the pot and we sat right next to each other, our bodies lightly touching. We barely sipped from our mugs as the brew was still too hot to drink. The morning was cool, which made the hot coffee and body contact that much better.

She broke the long but comfortable silence to inform me that she would be giving me a ride home, so that when we broke camp I was to load my gear in the back of her Jeep. There was no time to refuse because then Miss Julia ordered me to go to the other campsite and see if the others were awake and starting a breakfast.

It turned out that Sue was cooking a communal breakfast. A large cast iron griddle had been placed over the fire and what looked like a whole package of bacon was sizzling on it. An open carton of eggs lay off to one side, ready to be cracked open and fried in the grease.

Mike looked hung over as if he had sat up drinking beer by the campfire long after Miss Julia and I had left. Dave had incredibly good luck catching some crappie last night, some of which were packed in a cooler.

Not long after breakfast, Miss Julia and I broke camp and were on the road. Her play tires were noisy on the highway and seemed a little squirrely, though it looked like she had good control even when driving a bit over the speed limit.

She asked if I had plans for later today, but I told her it would just be my normal weekend routine of doing laundry and grocery shopping. I added that I was also looking forward to taking a hot shower.

"I imagine you do," Miss Julia said, reaching over and briefly rubbing my crotch and inner thigh. Then she went on to tell me about her job and how a new rolling mill was going to be installed soon. Evidently she had turned away a lot of potential customers since her employer's shop wasn't set up to roll form sheet metal. She'd been working hard to sell the idea to her bosses as installing the equipment would not be cheap, but she figured it would pay for itself in a few years. Miss Julia was also imagining the extra sales commissions she would earn.

I told her a little bit about a liquid nitrogen distribution system I was designing. It was for chilling high tolerance machine parts down to cryogenic temperatures so they could be fit together. Miss Julia was probably the only woman I've ever met who would find that interesting.

Our conversation was easy, as if we hadn't spent any time apart, but I could not forget that we had, and why. Hot as she was, and regardless of how well we normally got along, I wasn't willing to be in a relationship with her, knowing that I would be punished whenever she felt it necessary. I was anxious to be dropped off at my apartment complex and would probably avoid any future four-wheeling trips with Mike.

Miss Julia told me about a festival that was coming up soon. Some event held out in the country where a bunch of old farm machinery would be on display. Antique one-lunger gas engines, and even a steam powered tractor hooked up to a portable sawmill. There was also live music and a bonfire after dark, with plenty of hard apple cider and homemade wine available. We could even camp out overnight there. The scene as she described it actually sounded pretty cool. However, if Miss Julia was planning our next date, I would have to decline.

When we were getting close to the city, I was surprised when she turned off on a county road. It didn't take long for me to realize that she was taking me to the farm where she lived.

"I thought you were taking me home," I said as casually as possible.

"I will," she answered coolly. "Just not now. Don't worry. I'll make sure you have plenty of time to do your shopping and laundry." It was then that I realized I'd made a mistake earlier, telling Miss Julia that I didn't have any real plans for later today.

We pulled in the main gate and followed the long driveway towards the large house. When she was a child, Miss Julia had been in and out of foster care, and at one time had lived on this farm.

Circling around the house, I could see Miss Julia's dumpy little shack of a cottage in the distance, but she pulled off to one side towards a cluster of buildings. She stopped in front of a small open front shed, shut off the engine, and told me to get out.

Just down the road was a large metal building and through the open bay doors I could see a hydraulic lift, other machinery, and numerous gleaming red tool boxes. The farm's repair shop.

The place Miss Julia had parked in front of was a contrast. A rough wooden framed structure covered with dull corrugated tin, which leaned slightly to one side but would probably stand for another decade or more.

Inside, a battered old tool box and a clutter of tools were sprawled out on top of a wooden wire spool that evidently served as a workbench. Four radial tires mounted on aluminum rims, were leaning against the wall. In the back of the shed among other clutter, on a low stand knocked together out of scrap wood padded with carpet remnants, was a black fiberglass hardtop for her Jeep. This was clearly Miss Julia's shop.

"Take that hose over there, it will reach that hydrant, and rinse the mud off my Jeep," Miss Julia ordered. She pointed with the switch that she had removed from behind the driver's seat, at an old garden hose hanging in her shop and a distant water faucet. "It doesn't have to be perfectly clean, but I want you to be sure to get the underside and inside the wheel wells. Come over to my cottage when you are done."

As she started to walk away I realized that if I was going to confront her, this was the time to do it.

"Julia. Wait," I called. She stopped in her tracks and turned to face me.

"That's Miss Julia to you," she said in a stern tone.

"Julia," I said. "I can't be in a relationship with you. You're beautiful and I love being dominated by you, but I only want that as a fantasy. For you, it's a way of life. I've given this a lot of thought and I just can't handle it. Please, just take me home."

Her face drew up in a scowl. She placed one hand on her hip, breasts thrust out in her low cut white tank top, and threateningly pointed the switch at me.

"Don't speak to me as if you have a choice, Eric," she said bluntly. "I want you, and I take what I want."

With that she spun around and started to walk off towards her cottage in a slow confident strut, the sunlight making her black rubber boots and tight black nylon shorts gleam with a low shine.

Watching her walk into the distance, I knew there would be no arguing with Miss Julia. She takes what she wants. Having no other choice, I walked into her shop to fetch the hose.

The End

A note from the author:

I just want to say a quick thanks to readers of this series that have sent feedback, positive and otherwise. I probably would have moved on to something new after just a few Eric and Miss Julia stories had they not picked up such a good following. Stay out of trouble, and always be careful what you wish for.