Tag Archives: camping


Couple in sunset

The sound of the waves pounding the beach was a perfect backdrop for the night.  We watched the sun go down from our camp chairs, cold beer in one hand, plate of delicious campfire food on our laps, soaking up a relaxing moment after a busy day of activities.

We counted down as the last sliver of sun went into the ocean and I made the familiar hissing sound as I pictured it submerging beneath the waves, fiery rays temporarily quenched by cool water.  He smiled sideways at me – not the first time my child-like mannerisms had resulted in that grin.  We toasted each other over our beers and tucked into our food.  The long day spent together had inspired a multitude of appetites; we quenched the most urgent one first.

After dinner, we used the campfire to melt marshmallows, trading our sunset views for starry skies above.  The coastal night, often shrouded in clouds and whipped by cold wind, was surprisingly clear and temperate.  We took full advantage of nature’s gift, deciding that s’mores tasted best when eaten with a side order of Milky Way.

I rose to put my empty beer bottle by the truck, pausing on my way to lean down and kiss him.  He responded eagerly, mouth teasing and tasting mine, hands roaming the curve of my ass as I bent forward to kiss him.  I pulled away, licking my lips, willing my body to slow down and not rush this rare, sensual moment.  I dropped the bottle by the truck and retrieved our campfire staple, a bottle of Sinfire.

I returned to my seat by the campfire, my legs grateful for the temporary reprieve from the heat radiating off the fire.  I briefly contemplated cups and then decided against it.  I took a swig and passed him the bottle with a glint of mischief in my eye. He smiled and accepted the bottle, his finger tracing mine before grasping the neck and taking a long drink of his own.

The cinnamon fire on both our tongues, he rose from his chair, handed me back the bottle and wound a hand in my hair, gently tugging my head back to drop a sultry kiss on my tingling lips.  He moved around behind me, hands sliding down my chest to squeeze my breasts as his mouth drank its fill from mine.  I sighed against his lips as his fingers found my nipples and he teased them expertly before pinching them hard and drawing a gasp from me.

He chuckled, walked away to put away the last of the food, and returned shortly, kissing me again on his way back to his seat.  I waited for him to get settled, taking a few more sips of Sinfire.  The whiskey worked its way quickly through my body and coating me in warm lassitude that was only enhanced by the fire.  After a few minutes of conversation, I rose again.  It was time to act.

I bent forward over him, tracing his lips with my tongue, tasting the flavors of him even as my nose savored the scent of his skin.  My lips traced their way down his neck, nipping and biting at the skin as he once again filled his palms with my breasts.  I stood and pulled my shirt off, removing my bra and leaning back down and admiring the shadowy view of his mouth eagerly teasing my nipples to stiff attention.  I moaned softly, the pleasure of his hot mouth on my skin in beautiful contrast to the cool kiss of the slight ocean breeze.

Before I could take advantage of my free hands, his husky voice broke the silence between us.  “Take your pants off.”  It was a command, not a request, and my heart raced a little as I stood to comply.  I knew the beach was deserted, that we were the only ones camping out there on that perfect autumn night.  But I had a moment of trepidation, knowing that when naked, my body would be on display – aglow in the blazing light of the campfire.

The pounding of my heartbeat was merely an overture for the a more intense cadence I knew was coming.   His fingers traced my face and he pulled me down again to savor my kiss. I could feel the heat of the fire making my backside tingle.  He flicked his hands across my nipples before raising my breasts to his mouth and devouring them one by one.  He sighed happily and I echoed the sentiment.  He used his teeth with gradually increasing pressure and I felt the wetness begin to ooze out of me.

He released me long enough to pull his pants down, a sudden wave of desire making fully removing them far too much work.  I felt the pressure of his palms on my head and heard his husky voice tell me what he wanted next.

I obliged.

My lips were coated with salty-slick precum before I could even open my mouth to taste him. He traced his cock across my lips, pulling me suddenly up again to kiss me hard.  I felt my pussy twitch with anticipation as he drank his own essence from my mouth before shoving me back down.  I was ready and my hot, eager mouth enveloped him.  He groaned louder this time, muttering “Oh my god, that is so fucking hot.”  I glanced up to see him looking over my shoulder, taking in the sight of my body aglow in the firelight.

He stroked my skin, petting my hair reverently then assertively grasping a handful to steer my mouth.  He thrust his hips up to meet me, then suddenly commanded me to turn around and bend forward.

I stood and turned, the sand and alcohol making my feet clumsy.  I spread my legs, bending forward and secretly hoping the alcohol didn’t send me face-first into the campfire.  It would be just my luck that a fireside fuck would turn into an emergency room trip and second degree burns.

He held my hips steadying me and when he felt my hands grasp his ankles, he leaned forward and drove his tongue into my wet slit.  He traveled all across my body, tongue flicking around my ass, dipping lower to my dribbling pussy, across the soft skin of my thighs and ass cheeks.  He reached around me with his other hand, smearing my cream all over my clit and making my legs begin to shake.  He recognized the precariousness of the situation and opted for a safer thrill.

“Sit.”  He said.

I lowered myself onto his waiting cock, using the arm of the camp chair for balance and slid down on his swollen sex.  He marveled at the sensation of my fire-hot skin against him.  I started out of the gate like I was trying to win the derby, my pussy so hungry it was greedy.  He steadied me again, telling me to slow down.  I fought my animal urges and made my body listen.

The orgasm was building up inside me, threatening to make me scream right there in the middle of the beach.  Once again he came to my rescue.  “Come have a taste of that beautiful pussy.”  He told me.  I stood and turned, once again baring my tender parts to the heat of the fire.  I licked him eagerly, my citrusy juice on his cock one of the best flavors I had that night. I swallowed him deep, thrusting him into the back of my throat in quick deep thrusts.  He pulled me up again with a firm hand in my hair.  “Sit again.”

I obeyed, my pussy aching to be filled again.  I sat effortlessly, my hot skin once again igniting his as he drove up into me, countering my thrusts until I cried out, shaking from head to toe as my pussy grabbed him and pumped his cock like a fist.  His lips were on my back, tracing tongue and biting teeth as my body shuddered and my juices poured down his balls.

With a deep groan and a powerful thrust, he filled me with his cum.  I couldn’t help the laughter.  My body felt so amazing and the experience was so liberating.  The air on my skin, the sand between my toes and the heat of the fire on my body.   He wrapped his arms around me, his lips kissing my shoulder over and over as his cock softened inside me.  When I stood finally to retrieve my clothing, he slid back into his pants and watched me pull on my clothes.  His eyes shimmered in the firelight as I settled back into the camp chair next to him.

He gave me a wolfish grin and handed me the Sinfire.



Filed under Erotica

A Puppy Off Her Leash

The packed sand stretched out low and flat along the horizon.  Tire tracks made lazy zig zags up and down the beach where vehicles had driven from one end to the other.  The ocean, moist and vocal as a woman in the throes of something deeply erotic, welcomed me home once more.

I hid my giddy excitement from my camping partner.  Like a puppy looking out the window of her master’s truck, I knew I’d be sprung from my iron cage soon – that I’d be free to chase the seagulls and grip sand between my toes.  I didn’t want to seem childish to him, so I bit my lip to keep my smile in check and forced myself to stop bouncing in my seat.  The smile he threw me called my bluff.  He could see my ardor, even if he could not discern the source.

It had been over a year since I had set foot on the ocean’s edge.  The last time, a mournful journey to relinquish the pain and sorrow of my divorce, was a trip that led me to a doorstep with wild daffodils clutched in my hand and wild notions in my head.  Now, having come full circle from that flower-strewn path that ended with its own form of sorrow, here I was once more, on the cusp of something new.

Why is it that a precipice of earth and salt water always seems to mark the beginning and end of my life’s chapters?

None of this mattered on that overcast Friday afternoon.  What mattered was the joy of the moment that stretched before me.  An overnight camp on the beach with a friend and the virtual guarantee of a relaxed evening of laughter and fun.  An evening of disconnecting from the electronic world and forging a connection of an earthier nature.

We parked the truck and set about putting up the camp.  It was a simple affair, the most complex step being the digging of a fire pit.  Once the fire was roaring and we were parked in our chairs with the first round of cold beers in our fists, my inner puppy began to whine.

While I was relaxed with my camping partner, I was not completely at home in his presence.  The walls that recent experiences had built up around me left me guarded – constantly vigilant about the words I chose, the expressions on my face, and how much, if anything, of my true thoughts I revealed.  I secretly wondered if I would be able to stop myself from playing in the water; a tradition so much a part of trips to the beach that I instinctively packed extra pants to wear while the first set dried.  And when that puppy whine began to build inside me, I stuffed it down with beer and reminded myself that 41 year old women did not frolic in the surf like careless canines.  Well okay, most 41 year old women don’t do that.

Or do they?

After a campfire dinner, a hazy sunset, a few more beers, and the addition of some whiskey that my fellow camper surprised me with, the puppy broke its leash.

I was staggering back over a sand dune, having successfully navigated peeing in the outdoors without hitting my feet or my pants, when I glanced up to get my bearings.  I was standing on the rise of sand dune that ran the length of the beach.  From my vantage point I could see the campfire, the dark outline of the truck, and the moonlight breaking through the cloud cover and shining on the water.  With a shrug I knew the battle was lost and I called out to my bewildered camping buddy as I hurried past the truck, “Back in a flash!”

The cold ocean water met me as I nearly ran into the surf.  As always, the waves of water at my feet called forth the waves of emotions locked deep inside me.  The chill of the salt water and sand brushing my legs was as welcome and familiar as my mother’s embrace.  I felt the tears before I could stop them and I whispered my usual greeting as the waves licked across me.  In that moment, the world fell away – the man with the truck who was waiting for me, the men who sought to claim me, the family and obligations that waited at home, the expectations and memories, the ghosts and the past that followed my every step vanished, washed clean by the Pacific.

As the water washed away the clutter of my life, what I wanted – what I needed – became abundantly clear.  This puppy needed to be unleashed.

I am not a woman who can be tethered.  I wear no collar and serve no master other than myself.  I am free to pursue what I want, how I want and I do not answer to anyone when it comes to what makes me happy.  I need no justifications.  I need no permission slips.  I am free and intend to remain that way.

I splashed a moment longer, thanking the sea for the magic of healing and cleansing this ritual always gave me.  I stopped for a moment, turning my head toward the orange glow of the campfire, contemplating the dark silhouette of  the truck whose cab housed my bedroom for the night.  I thought of him and smiled, blew one last kiss to my Mother, and headed up the beach to the warmth of the fire waiting to embrace me.

The water had washed away my reservations.  It had washed away my fear.  For one shimmering moment on a Friday night in May, the walls themselves had been swept away.  The puppy was free from her leash and running in the surf.



Filed under Erotica