tagFirst TimeBest Camp Ever

Best Camp Ever


This is a true story, and I'm so glad it is (I've also obtained the express permission (and encouragement) of the other main character of the story).


It begins in the summer after I turned 18, at a small summer camp in southern Ohio. I was a counselor, and arrived the night before any children were due. That night, as we had a staff meeting and exchanged basic introductions, two boys walked in late. One, I can't recall well. The other, I do, very well.

I can still recall what he was wearing when he entered that room. He had boots, and jeans (the kind I like to make fun of because they're kind of girly), a gray and blue long-sleeved t-shirt, a rubber wristband, his class ring, and an ugly green hat that would grow on me before the weekend was over. The boy himself was another thing entirely. He was extremely attractive, that was undeniable. But more on that later.

I didn't consciously notice all of this right away. After the meeting, the counselors went back to their building, to play cards and get acquainted. I suppose this is when I began to notice him. He changed into basketball shorts (a lovely addition), and laughed and talked as we had been. His smile was perfected, thought for a pretty girl or a show ring I wasn't sure, it had to work wonderfully well in both places. He was intelligent, but the kind of lazy intelligence I was familiar with. I appreciated that, and his sense of humor that was dirty and cute at the same time. We got along. The conversation turned to sex, as it always seems to, and we quickly realized we were the most experienced people in the room. We traded stories, asked questions, and generally got a feel for each other. That wasn't what I was intending to do at that point, but I suppose I was, subconsciously, trying to understand this boy and what he was thinking. He had the most expressive eyes, and looking back now I can see what I didn't then- the look he had when he smoothly instructed I put my number in his phone, or when he casually asked if I was on the pill.

We never went to sleep that night, though he dozed off with his head in my lap a few times. I liked playing with his hair, and he enjoyed me doing it, and I still couldn't believe someone so far out of my league hadn't beaten me with a stick yet. I decided I'd shower before starting the day, and he commented something along the lines of, "Okay, see you in there in a minute." I laughed it off.

"You think I'm joking," he laughed. And I did. But he wasn't. What followed after I was done showering(uneventfully) is one of my favorite exchanges to date, between me, him, and another counselor, Corey.

"DUDE. I don't think you understand how close he was to COMING IN YOUR SHOWER."



"Wait, what?"

"Oh yeah, I got in there, but somebody else started coming in so I had to hide."

That boy had most definitely intended on coming into my shower, and I had all day to process that information. To be honest, I had no idea what to do with that information. But I figured it out pretty quickly.

I think it was probably lunch that day. I made some comment about how I thought maybe I'd wake up at 4 a.m., to take a shower before my campers were awake. He looked up kind of suddenly, and it was my turn. I smiled and added that long showers were stress relief for me.

He nodded. "Yeah, I think I might do that too." He looked out of it for a second, thinking about something. I was scared and excited and trembling to know what.

"What're you thinking?" I asked. His answer sent shudders down my spine.

"Nothing. Just fixing to take a long-ass shower."

The next morning, at 3:55, my alarm went off. I checked on my campers, grabbed a towel, and took a long deep breath. Was I really about to do this?

Then he flashed into my mind again. Fuck yes, I was. I brushed my teeth and walked down to the middle room, but no one was there. I shrugged. He was probably coming. Minutes passed, and a few more. It was 4:10, and I was getting nervous. 4:15, I decided, if he still wasn't there at 4:15, I'd go back to bed. Then I heard a sound behind the men's hallway door. I'd like to say I hid behind a chair or made up some slick lie as to why I was standing around in the common room at four in the morning, but to be incredibly honest, I froze like a deer in headlights.

The door cracked, and there was that smile. I returned it, and we crept out the door silent as mice. There was a shower building, maybe 70 yards from the main dorms. It was a bit of a walk, mostly spent silently rubbing our arms from the morning chill. In those moments, my stomach dropped, and my mind started clicking. Yes, I'm really about to do this. I'm going to go fuck this incredibly beautiful stranger in a public shower. I was terrified and excited and incredibly aroused.

We entered the men's side of the building, as typical of a camp shower room as I'd seen. He led me, I suppose, as he really did in everything, to the end of the aisle. I was still kind of bashful, and I went into the shower next to his and stripped. I wrapped a towel around me, took another deep breath, and meekly peered around the shower curtain. I had to stop and stare at what I saw.

He wasn't particularly tall or short; he probably stood an inch above me, and was a few months older. He was slim but nicely muscled, and I can't help but think now that I sound more like I'm judging livestock than describing someone. I always look to a boy's upper body; there's nothing I love more than broad shoulders and strong arms and a chest I can run my hands over. He was built like I couldn't have dreamed up better. He was tan; I loved that about him too. Between that and dark feathery hair, his bright eyes had an amazing contrast. It made it incredibly hard to look away from them. Unless, of course, you were distracted by his rather nice, rather large cock. That helped.

He looked up, and saw me, and smiled. I shyly dropped my towel, and I like to think, in memory, that he smiled a little more.

(If he's reading this, you'll have to forgive me, my memory's not verbatim and I've taken some poetic license.)

I didn't really know where to begin, so I did where I always do. I watched his eyes, and kissed him for a moment. He was really a rather stellar kisser, the kind that makes you wish you were a better one. He was gentle with his tongue, but teasing. He knew how bad I wanted it, and he enjoyed that more than anything else, I think.

He pushed me up against the wall, and I wrapped my legs around him. Of course, we were wet and had difficulty, so he suggested we shower off first and then begin. Thus I had the incredible pleasure of standing back and watching this boy shower.

It's kind of fascinating, watching someone shower. It's almost like seeing them in their own habitat, when they're not concerned about you for that immediate moment. Of course, I'm not really a voyeur, and I don't really condone stalking either, but there's something, a certain truth, in watching someone go about their lives when they're not trying to put up a front for you.

He moved out from the shower's spray and I took the vacated spot, and took a moment to enjoy the way he looked at me. I don't consider myself extremely attractive, nor do I consider myself a gremlin. I'm about 5'8", a slim build, what some may call boyish. I have a 34 A-and-a-half cup chest, and small hips, though I suppose enough to fill size 5 jeans. I've got red or brown hair, depending on who you ask, and a dusting of freckles.

Anyway, I turned off the water, and we toweled off. Genius that he was, he found a plastic folding chair, and put it inside our shower. When he first pushed into me, he was sitting and I was above him. His fingertips squeezed into my hips as I lowered herself onto him, and I couldn't help but let a moan escape my lips. He was big and full, and made my pussy feel like it had been missing his cock for years. I stroked up and down, rather slowly, exploring the two bodies between the two of us. My fingertips explored the exquisite body before me, and I kissed at his neck and collarbone with absolute admiration.

Before long, though, I became desperate. I bounced up and down on that big, hard cock faster, and I could feel my breath come harder and faster. He took over, lifting me by my hips and slamming himself into me. I could feel myself getting stiffer and realized he was penetrating my cervix. I had to bite my tongue to keep from screaming so loud the entire county would hear.

At his instruction, I bent over against the wall, bracing against the corner. He kissed the back of my shoulder, and continued in a line down my back. It excited me, but I was also nervous; I hadn't done much before then.

"You're not really going to-" And I cut myself off with a moan as he sucked at my pussy from behind me. He was incredibly good at it, giving head like he kissed. I suppose it is generally the same idea. He applied pressure with his tongue, and sucked just slightly. Especially because it was my first time receiving oral, it was rather incredible.

I knelt on the chair, and bent over the back. His first thrust into me was slow, but he made sure it was deep. He drew back out, and rammed in again. Harder. Farther. He started moving faster, alternating between short fast strokes and the really good ones, the ones that made his balls slap my clit and made me want to scream. He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back, and I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning too loudly. I hadn't considered myself submissive until then, but lord, did I love it.

He kept pulling my hair and slamming my pussy, and slapped my ass once. I can't explain how much that single slap excited me. It was partly the quick instant of pain that just accelerated the pleasure, and partly this boy above me, who now so unashamedly did as he liked with me, and treated me as his.

I couldn't have loved it more. I begged him to spank me again, and again, until he had to stop for fear the noise of my ass being slapped my own moans would draw unwanted attention.

He flipped me over, had me sit on the chair, leaned back. He slammed into me again, quickly now, and wrapped a tan hand around my throat. I closed my eyes in complete rapture at this, I really didn't know what to do with myself. This boy, he was doing things to me that I hadn't imagined. I almost felt bad, like I couldn't return the favor. But I suppose that's alright, because I'll get another chance to soon. And because he came all over my chest and stomach.

Even though we had to leave camp and go back to our opposite ends of the state, he's still my master, and I'm still his little whore. I can't wait until we're together again. Oh, and his name is Cole.

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by Anonymous02/21/19

Re “Anger Management”

In the story titled Anger Management you wrote...
“Many would consider what master and I have a horrible abusive relationship, but I know better. When I consented to being Master's little whore, I consentedmore...

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