Passion at the Camp Meeting

(A story based on facts, as they say, with names and locations changed to protect the guilty)

It was an impressive country estate, twenty-some acres with an expansive board fence around much of it to keep the horses in. A long gravel driveway led through woods and pasture to a large stone house with vaulted ceilings and exposed wooden beams that could be the set for a BBC drama.

Instead it was the center of a religious camp meeting, and impressed as Kyle was by the setting, he was asking himself what the hell he was doing there.

Dave, a friend, had recently become absorbed with an obscure middle eastern religion that apparently had adherents in high places, and they had opened their estate to missionary efforts designed to increase the numbers of the faithful. Doing his bit for the cause, Dave had invited several friends, including Kyle and his girlfriend Lindsay to a weekend of camping, music, social interaction, barbecue and hours of boring religious indoctrination.

Kyle and Lindsay arrived early Friday afternoon and found a nice spot by a small stream to set up their small cabin tent. They joined Dave walking around a series of exhibits with religious displays, pictures and literature handed out by gurus who seemed tuned in to ultimate truth on a higher spiritual plane. Most members of the order were dressed in normal casual wear, although some were decked out in saffron robes and gold colored necklaces and amulets. There were some decent flute players and tambourine shakers, but nothing to attract agents looking for the next Springsteen.

The tour led into the impressive house, where Dave introduced Lindsay and Kyle to its owners, a pleasant middle-aged couple who had serene smiles painted on their faces, and then to another of his friends, Paul, who he had known from college. Paul was rather quiet, not contributing much to the conversation. Already converted perhaps?

They all attended a lecture by one of the high preachers of the order, whose resonate voice and elaborate hand gestures failed to draw Kyle into appreciation of the doctrine being espoused. Instead, his eyes rolled and wandered around the large room serving as lecture hall, taking in its exposed beams, drapes, overstuffed leather chairs and sofas and sculpted walnut tables. The magnificence was cheapened, he mused, by rows of cheap metal chairs squeezed in to accommodate the audience.

More propaganda talks followed an evening barbecue on the stone patio. Kyle tried but failed to understand the attraction this sect had for Dave. His friend had enjoyed a rather wild and libertine lifestyle in college -- lots of booze and women. Perhaps Dave was looking for more in life as he got older, or maybe just for "more" from an attractive blonde adherent of the order who had introduced him to it. Anyway, by the time the evening schedule had been completed, Kyle was thinking he had made a serious mistake in accepting this invitation, and was wasting a weekend.

He expressed that foreboding to Lindsay and silent Paul around a campfire singalong featuring religious themes in Persian folk music. As Dave mouthed verses in harmony with the faithful, Paul revealed he was not a convert, admitting he had similar reservations about the doctrine, but added that he questioned most other doctrines as well. He was just taking in the atmosphere, he said. Lindsay nodded.

"Look upon it as an introduction into a different culture," she said. "Talk to a few people of the different persuasion. You may not convert, but you might learn a few things and have an interesting experience." Kyle's tall, dark haired, shapely girlfriend with the deep brown eyes was an open minded sort, and he had learned a lot from her, both intellectual and sensual. Paul was also looking at Lindsay with a serious expression, appraising her words, or maybe appraising her.

Soon, even the open-minded had enough, and they returned to the camping area. Night had set in, and Kyle held a light while Paul set up his small dome tent a short distance away, then started a fire. The three of them sat around it for a while. As earlier, Paul was not a great conversationalist, although when he did say something it was interesting. He had been deployed with the armed forces in the Middle East, and been involved in some traumatic situations, which he was reluctant to go into detail on. Now discharged, he was readjusting to civilian life, trying to figure out what to do, he told them. Lindsay looked sympathetic

Not too far away was a large cabin tent. Three males and a female of college age were milling about, throwing wood into a ring for a campfire. The girl was good looking, medium length blonde hair, blue eyes, nice body which showed off well in shorts and tight blouse. She seemed high spirited, and from what Kyle could hear, had a vocabulary that did not seem in line with staid religious doctrine.

Next morning, Kyle and Lindsay invited Paul to ride with them to a nearby cafe for breakfast. They were in a booth when a young woman approached, and asked if she could join them. Kyle recognized her as the one at the neighboring tent. She sat down on Paul's side.

"I saw you out at the mansion," she stated. "Thought we should get acquainted. I'm Joy."

After full introductions were completed, Kyle warned Joy, "We're just visiting here at the invitation of a friend. We're apostates, except maybe for Lindsay, who hasn't decided yet if this particular god is dead, or only has a bad flu."

Joy smiled. "I kind of figured that. You guys didn't look to me like you were chanting or going hallelujah at those boring talks last night."

"So you're not one of the faithful either," Kyle said, returning the smile.

"No, in fact I'm really bummed," she said. "One of my classmates at State invited me. He said he and two other guys were going to a group camp-out, and they really wanted me to join them. He was so intense, I thought it was gonna be a love-in or something."

Lindsay snickered. "Bunking in a tent with three guys -- that could sound like an invitation to something other than a religious revival."

"Yeah, I thought I might have difficulty walking by the time I got back, but all they've been doing is trying to save my soul. They have their noses in the scriptures rather than around my pussy. I can't interest any of them in taking a sniff."

Kyle felt a stirring in his groin. "What is wrong with the male congregation around here," he asked rhetorically. "Well, maybe you'll just have to convert."

"No way. I can't get interested. I like to fuck too much." Joy said it with a smile, but also as a simple statement of fact, no humor intended. "If anything, I'm going to convert some of the guys around here to my philosophy -- sex is a higher calling than any religion; fucking is the closest we're ever going to get to divine love."

Kyle's eyes bugged out, as he smiled broadly at this girl's candor, also feeling more of a stir between his legs. Through the corner of his eye he saw Lindsay put a hand to her mouth, her eyes wrinkling in amusement. Paul's expression was placid, with no noticeable change. He took a drink of his coffee.

Conversation continued, the subject matter just as provocative. Joy was voluble and animated, talking about places she had been and guys she had been there with. One detailed account was of a sailing trip with a boyfriend, during which she had sex with the captain and one of the crew as well.

Kyle was curious if this nymph was really hot to trot or just all talk. It would be a shame not to find out, he decided, as she looked delicious.

He and Lindsay had an "open" relationship. In the three years they had been living together, they had not gone actively looking for new people to spice things up, but did take the bait a couple of times when someone cast a line in their direction. Nor did either of them try to dissuade the other from netting an interesting catch.

Back at camp, as they prepared to endure the day's spiritual propaganda, Kyle told Lindsay of his attraction to Joy.

"I got that vibe from you," Lindsay said, taking his arm. "But maybe you should check with Paul before you start out hunting. He's here all alone, and my intuition tells me the poor guy is lonely. He might be able to use a pick-me-up, and after all you already have such recourse if you need it." She batted her eyes.

She was right, although Kyle really preferred to seek his own enlightenment with Joy, and did not feel overly altruistic when he went to Paul's tent, just mentioning offhand that the girl might be a nice choice to brighten up the weekend.

Fortunately, Paul was not greatly interested in Joy. "She came on to me at the restaurant when you went to pay the bill, and I told her I'd think about it, but frankly, she's like the B-girls around the base, not out for anything more than money and a stiff dick. Nothing against sex, but I'm trying to find a woman with more than just hormones -- one with some depth and substance."

Kyle reported that conversation to Lindsay. She looked thoughtful for a moment, then said lightly, "Go ahead and try to scratch your itch. I'm cool to hang with Dave and Paul at today's agenda."

They walked over to the proceedings. Kyle told Lindsay he was going to scout around "for something interesting," and she smiled knowingly. He soon spotted Joy at a lecture. Her companions, the three guys, were listening attentively to the speaker. Joy looked completely bored. He walked over and took an empty chair next to her.

"I've been thinking about what you said during breakfast about your philosophical convictions. If you're bored, maybe we can find something more stimulating around here," he whispered, with a suggestive smile.

"I think we should," she responded with a coy look, and rising from her chair, told her friends, "I'm going with this potential convert to see if I can develop his inspiration into something solid." They looked a little confused, but smiled their blessing and uttered some Persian phrase for "see you later," before renewing their concentration on the lecture.

"It may be a challenge converting those guys to your ecclesiastical views," Kyle said, as they walked away.

"Lost cause," Joy agreed. "But this weekend may turn out good after all. I may not get three guys at once to play with, but maybe it's not a total loss. So, tell me, what do you have in mind and where do you want to do it?" she asked with a grin, taking my arm.

"I think you should take the lead in this endeavor. I'm open to any guidance. As for location, we could strip to our souls and start in my tent near the stream of living water."

"Oh, I'm getting wet just thinking about it," she responded, skipping a little, her loose blouse bouncing a little in the strategic location. We picked up our pace.

"I guess your friends Paul and Lindsay aren't joining in," she said, sounding a little disappointed.

"No, they're still reviewing that rival theology, but gave their blessing to our endeavor."

"Does Lindsay fuck both you guys?" A direct question, for sure.

"No. She and I live together. Actually, we just met Paul yesterday."

"I was hoping he might join in too. I get excited in a crowd, and you guys both look like studs. But you'll do by yourself if you can keep up the energy. Guys say I'm very demanding."

"I'll do my best for you, Joy." Do my best to enjoy Joy, Kyle thought, an erection well under way.

They reached the tent. Kyle unzipped the door, and they went in. Fortunately, it was shaded by a large oak, so not too hot inside. There was no need for preliminaries. Joy quickly pulled her blouse over her head, her well-formed braless boobs jiggling a little, and slid down her shorts and panties. She had a nicely sculpted bush, Kyle noticed.

He took off his own t-shirt, at the same time she pulled down his lined shorts. His dick was already semi-hard from anticipation. "Let's pump it up a little,"Joy said, taking hold of it, and giving a few yanks. It quickly responded. She sank to her knees before it, and he had an impression of a high priestess worshiping a phallic image.

"I love these things," she said, licking up and down it enthusiastically.

"It appears you've studied the liturgy. How many such icons have you had?" Kyle asked.

'Oh, I don't know. I lost count. Maybe over a hundred by now. I just turned 19. I've been fucking for a while. Really picked up speed my freshman year.

It would probably be advisable to wear a condom, Kyle thought.

Joy enthusiastically sucked his cock. He was enjoying it, but slowed her down so he did not lose control. He thought about returning the oral favor but was hesitant, thinking about what might have been left by some of those hundred-plus cocks that been in there before him. She solved the dilemma, coming off him and lying down on the sleeping bags, spreading her legs widely.

"Come into me, Kyle. I need a good, hard fucking from a big dick."

He quickly complied, dropping between her legs and poising his erection at her entrance. He was about to stick it in before remembering the condom, quickly retrieving his wallet and taking out the little package. He tore it open.

"Oh, let me. I like doing this," Joy said, taking the little vinyl ring from him, and rolling it down his stiff cock. "Now, come in."

He inserted the tip in. There was very little resistance, and he pushed a little deeper, quickly sliding all the way in, pubes meshing against pubes, and started thrusting.

Joy had her eyes wide open and was encouraging him with cries like "good fucking cock, deeper, stop there, go round and round, kiss the sides." Kyle remembered her saying she had received complaints that she was demanding. "Wait a minute. Let's change positions," she said.

She rose and told him to lie on his back. He did and she straddled him, taking his dick in hand and guiding it back into her. She rode him vigorously for a minute or so, then dropped her torso for some boobs-to-boobs contact between their chests. Her boobs were firm the nipples at attention, he noted happily, as she began twerking with her butt, controlling the rhythm of the fuck, her vagina almost expelling his dick, then reclaiming it with vigor. Damn, but the girl is enthusiastic, Kyle thought.

A short while later Joy directed another change, coming off him and assuming the position for doggie style. He entered her again. She dropped her head so one cheek was lying on the sleeping bags, her butt high as Kyle thrust in and out. "Oh, yes, this is my favorite -- your dick is just the right size, shape and length for this," she said. "Fuck me. Harder."

He did so for several minutes more. She urged him to slow down or speed up occasionally, but for the most part just made happy little moaning sounds. Kyle lost track of how long they fucked, going into a sort of mechanical zen state of pleasure. Joy brought him out of it eventually when she began making grunting sounds mixed in with dirty talk.

"Hear that dick sliding in and out, hear the sounds it's making, like spitting and slurping. Now it's like a suction cup. Hear your thighs bounding off my ass, or is that your big ball sack bouncing around between your legs, slapping me just below my cunt as you come in. Oh, that dick is so big and powerful. It's one of the best I've ever had. I wish I could take it home. It's better than any dildo."

All that talk had the predictable effect. "I'm going to cum," Kyle announced, and he did with a loud grunt or two.

"Keep going, you fuck! Keep going. I'm almost there," Joy yelled. He valiantly complied, willing himself to stay hard, and she screamed so loud he was sure it could be heard at the mansion house and the cops would be called to investigate.

He slowed his pace as her screams died down, finally ceasing. He remained inside her for another minute or so, then leaned back, his dick popping out with a final suctioning sound, and collapsed on his back next to her. She dropped down on her stomach, her face turned to the side, smiling at him. She. was soaked in sweat, as was he.

"You are one good fucking man," she said. "That was better by far than my three friends could have done if they took turns on the best day of their lives. I'm rating your dick in my top ten."

"Thanks," Kyle said. "You were good too. Your experience shows."

They lay there a while, recovering energy. Finally, Kyle took off his condom and tied it against spillage, putting it in the trash. He opened the tent flap and peered out. Seeing no one around, he suggested they take a dip in the brook to wash off the sweat.

Gathering their clothes, they picked a location on the stream bank shielded by bushes in case anyone should come walking that way, entered the water and splashed around. Joy took his now flaccid cock and scrubbed it with her cupped hand.

Sitting on the grass in the sun, drying off, Joy rattled on about how great a fuck it was and how good Kyle's dick was, then began reminiscing about guys she had fucked, in what positions, with details about the sizes and shapes of their cocks and how long they went.

"The largest dick I've had was a foot long, but it wasn't as good as a fat eight-incher belonging to one of my instructors. He gave me an A in the course even though I flunked most of the tests," she said, laughing. "The smallest dick I've had was barely five inches, but it wasn't too much of a disappointment because it made contact with my G-spot."

It was only a little after noon, and Kyle wondered what to do now with this nymphomaniac, finally proposing they eat at the food court and take a drive somewhere, "maybe even into the city. There's a lot to see and do there -- parks, art galleries, museums, . . ."

"Let's do that," Joy said excitedly. There's a museum I've wanted to see for some time."

So she did have some interest in cultural things, not only fucking, he thought.

They drove to the city, bucolic countryside giving way to strip malls and urbanization on increasingly busy roads. There was not much new conversation of a memorable nature, just more on the "fucktastic sex" they had just experienced, which jogged her memory anew on "sexsational times" with other lovers, exotic positions, almost getting "busted" by her parents, etc. Once she had fucked two cops in their patrol car so they would not write her up for reckless driving. Looking at her phone occasionally, she gave Kyle directions on how to get to the museum, which she did not name.

"Saving it as a surprise," she said. "It has a lot about my favorite subject."

So it was not a great surprise when they eventually arrived at the "Museum of Sex" in a rather tacky art deco building on a side street in a questionable neighborhood. Kyle paid the admission charge. They were given a guide to 15,000 items on display, including an antique vibrator, a dildo resembling Chiquita Banana and a Braille issue of Playboy Magazine. Also several accessories used for "enhancing pleasure or pain."

A museum highlight was the "Erotic Carnival" -- a sort of fun house entered through a design resembling giant pussy lips. Once inside, patrons could roll skee-balls into rings and pull at plastic penises that projected through a wall, which if done right earned tokens to feed into small viewing booths that featured "a curated selection of cinematic and music video compilations and experimental films." The tokens were also good for "discounts" at a gift shop that sold the cinematic delights along with authentic replicas of historical erotic artworks and the other museum items on display.

Joy did well in the carnival, and put serious contemplation into the gift shop, figuring how to use her discounts. At one point she grabbed Kyle and said her earlier fantasy was possible. She virtually begged him to give her a "Favorite Member Remembrance" item, promoted as a means to "renew the pleasure after the lover is only a fond memory." But Kyle refused to stick his dick into a conveyance resembling a sausage grinder which would make a cast of his erection for use in manufacturing "a customized, one of a kind dildo out of the finest latex."