The camp

Day off. I was a visitor, not a guide, pack by a small tent, the campfire dead and pale. Nobody in that loop had paid me. Hollis was thirty-eight. Soren was forty-one. They were campers two sites over, friends of a friend of a stove, and they had said yes at the picnic table before the light went. I stood in the flannel, tan arms, dark blonde braid, sun lines at my eyes, and I made the rules boring on purpose. An agreed stalk between the tents, down to the river, not a surprise. If I say cold, they stop and walk me back with their hands visible. They repeated cold. I said then come find me, and I walked.

I did not run like prey. I walked the path I had already picked, boots quiet, cunt warm from the choosing. They gave me a minute, then I heard them, two sets, the way we had set. I stopped where the tents ended and the river dark started, hand on a trunk, the stop that means catch me. Hollis reached me first. Soren was a step behind, grinning, waiting. I told them the rest. Hollis fucks my cunt. I suck Soren's cock. Then we are done and I sleep alone. Both of them said yes again, close enough that I could see their faces.

Hollis opened my flannel and my pants and turned me toward the water. His cock pressed in, thick, and he fucked me standing while the river talked. Soren stepped to my mouth. I took his cock and sucked him, spit and salt, one hand on his hip. Hollis's cock drove my cunt open. I was loud enough for the water and not for the loop. Soren's hand stayed in my braid only as much as I allowed, a rest, not a leash. I rubbed my clit and came hard, cunt gripping Hollis's cock, Soren's cock on my tongue, a long pulse that made my knees soft. They held me up because I had asked them to if I shook. I shook. It was good.

Hollis asked if he could cum in his hand. I nodded around Soren, then let Soren go and told him the same. I wanted to walk clean. They stroked their cocks and came in their fists, not on me, courteous and filthy, and I watched both because I like the end of a thing I started. We fixed clothes. They walked me to my own tent, hands visible, the game over. I thanked them at the flap and zipped it between us. I slept alone. Cold had not been needed. The pack stayed by the door. In the morning I made coffee for one and did not stop at their site on the way to the car.