In The Woods Ch. 01

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32


The lot we finally stopped in was pretty empty. One rust colored Volvo hatchback and one black VW to keep our green Subaru wagon company. It was a little EU rally at the state park. I guess it says something about the type of people we were, driving European cars and going for a day hike in the forest preserve. Of course, for us this was more than just a simple hike, look at the trees, hey is that a thrush, isn’t nature magnificent. Greg and I play on these hikes and play hard. Maybe the Volvo and VW owners were out here getting their freak on as well. Never know, as we’ll probably never see them. Probably. But, of course, it is a possibility, and that is part of the fun.

I quickly downed what was left of my water bottle, and set it on the floorboard. I’ll recycle it later. Greg handed me another, got out and opened the back. I got out and stretched. The warm sun felt good on the bare skin of my arms and legs, even through the thin fabric of my t-shirt, but the change from the air conditioned car ,along with the stretch gave me goosebumps and made my nipples pop hard. Or maybe it was anticipation of the day to come. I cracked the water bottle and forced down as much as I could.

Greg had his pack on and adjusted, canteens slung, knife strapped to his thigh, and camera bag round his waist I had finished about three quarters of the bottle and it was sloshing a bit in my stomach. I offered the rest.

“You had enough?” he asked me, eyebrows up.

“Quite.” I replied, eyes cast down, just a little. “I can take no more.”

Greg knows that’s not something I say lightly. He shrugged, and smiled, took the bottle, and downed it. His throat muscles wrestled one another as he drank, oiled Romans, sweaty and nude, writhing and twisting, cocks half hard rubbing against each other. I was wet watching him drink, and my hands were pulled to my cleftt. I rubbed through the thin material of my shorts. Greg smiled around the bottle as he finished. He handed it back to me and I set it next to its twin on the floorboard, bending over a little too much, teasing just a little.

Greg’s hand against my ass was quick and loud. More a statement to the world, than any kind of reprimand to myself, but I jumped and cried out a bit anyway, from the surprise, and that electric sex current ran through me. His other hand reached in and fell heavy on the back of my neck, just above my collar, pressing my face into the upholstery. Holding me there, he pulled my shorts down over my hips. He spanked me again, and again on my bare ass, and my short slid down my thighs until they were pooled around my ankles. Two fingers explored my sex, feeling the wetness, the tightness. Then with one finger in my cunt and one forced up my ass, I was banged hard till I came quickly, screams muffled in the car seat.

Greg twined his fingers in my hair, tight against my scalp, and pulled me out of the car. Weak kneed and shaky, I stood before him, whimpering and moaning softly. He held his fingers to me, glistening with my wetness. I poked my tongue out and tasted them one at a time, first the salty tang from my cunt, then the dirty bitterness of my asshole. He pushed them into my mouth, feeling my gums, the roof of my mouth, under my tongue. Probing and violating me, making me his. I closed my eyes and suckled. Soon both hands left me, and he walked away.

“C’mon. Let’s get going.” he said, already moving. I shut the car door and stepped after him, forgetting momentarily my shorts around my ankles. I stumbled and caught myself against the car. Laughing at my clumsiness, I pulled my shorts up and hurried after him. Already, I needed to pee.

After about twenty minutes the trail took a bit of a sharp curve to the North. Greg stopped and handed me the canteen. I took a few sips and squirmed a bit from the pressure building up in my bladder. It wasn’t yet urgent, and maybe I played it up a bit, putting on a show for Greg, while he double checked his map and compass. He had a bit of a glint in his eye as he took the canteen back, and took a pull off it before slinging it back over his shoulder, and heading west off the trail and into the woods.

Over the next hour or so the pressure in my bladder built slowly, but steadily, until clambering over a mossy old log, my concentration slipped and a bit of piss squirted out before I was able to clench up again and stop my flow. I whimpered slightly as the warm wet spot spread down Escort İstanbul my thighs, darkening my shorts. Greg glanced back at me, immediately noticing how I’ve wet myself. A sly smile flashed across his face. It was time to begin.

“You Ok, Steph?” he asked, all innocence and concern. “Is there something wrong?”

He was going to make me tell him, make me participate in my humiliation just a little bit more. I got a little anxious, and for a moment I didn’t want to debase myself, wanted to wait him out, until he couldn’t stand it anymore and had to take what he wanted from me. But the throbbing in my bladder wouldn’t wait, nor would the throbbing in my cunt. It was time to begin.

“I’m sorry, Greg.” I said, casting my eyes down. “We were making good time, and I didn’t want to stop. But I gotta go so bad, and I, well I wet myself a little.”

I just stood there squirming, as Greg looked me over. After a moment he clucked his tongue, and shrugged out of his pack, leaning it against a tree.

“Well, I guess you did, didn’t you. Now what are we going to do about this?”

Greg reached out and put his hand on the wet spot, grinding it up against my clit. I moaned and leaked a little more before I could clamp down. A little piss sprinkled into Greg’s palm. Grunting a little in mock disgust, Greg wiped his hand on my t-shirt, coping a quick feel of my left breast. The dampness caused my nipple to appear through the thin fabric, wrinkled and hard around the silver ring. Greg flicked it with his middle finger, then gave it a quick twist. Moaning, my knees buckled, and I pissed just a little more. Greg clicked his tongue again and stepped back, pulling out his camera. I winced and bit my lower lip, squeezing my thighs together. Greg began snapping pictures.

“That’s just so dirty, Steph” he said, “Do you like being such a nasty little girl?”

I kind of shrugged and kind of nodded, glancing away.

“Look at me, Steph.” he ordered, clicking another picture. “Tell me, do you like it? Huh? Do you get off on being such a dirty little piss girl? Tell me.”

I moaned squeezing my thighs together, squirming in desperation. Greg snapped another picture. A light breeze picked up through the trees, cooling the damp spot on my shirt. My nipple hardened painfully around it’s ring. My bladder throbbed and all the muscles in my pelvic region cramped up.

“Please, Greg. I’m sorry.” I moaned, squirming. “I do, I get off on it. I’m a dirty little piss girl. Please, I have to pee so bad. I’ll do anything you want, anything.”

“Anything?” he asked, leering. “Anything, huh. Well then, I guess you’ll be my piss whore.”

“Oh, God” I moaned, grabbing my cunt. I wasn’t sure if I was trying to help hold it in or get myself off, but I managed to do a bit of both. “Yes, I’m your piss whore. Tell me what you want.”

“Take off those filthy clothes.”

I nodded, and yanked my t-shirt over my head. Greg snapped more pictures with the t-shirt tangled around my neck, as I stretched up to hang it on a tree branch, and as I hooked my thumbs on my waistband and shoved my shorts down to my ankles. I stepped out of them as carefully as I could while keeping my knees pressed together, and trying not to bend forward and put pressure on my bladder. Then I stood before him wearing nothing but my socks and boots, and my collar.

“Lace your fingers behind your head.” He commanded.

I did as ordered, thrusting my breasts out, biting on my lip and clenching my eyes, as if it would help me clench down below. Greg walked around me, getting pictures from all angles, before coming in and picking up my shorts. He spent a moment examining the wet part, rubbing the fabric between his fingers, giving a delicate sniff before pushing it into my face.

“See what you did.” He said, rubbing the pissy crotch in my face. “You’re such a naughty girl, I just don’t know what I’m going to do with you, or with these soiled items.”

My bladder spasmed again, and I moaned, writhing trying to feel some relief. Greg tossed my shorts aside and smacked my ass. And again, bright sharp electric sensations ran through me. And again, on the other cheek. Briefly, I stopped thinking of my bladder.

“Spread your legs, whore.”

He whispered in my ear, pressing tight against me. I could feel his hardness against my ass, grinding. I had excited him so. My helplessness had such İstanbul Escort Bayan power over him. Giving up my control gave me so much in return. I groaned and spread my legs, taking care to grind my ass against him as I did. I felt him breathe in my ear, a voiceless moan of his own. He laid a hand on my mound, cupping my pussy, one finger teasing, testing how open, how wet, how ready. I spasmed, and unable (unwilling) to clench down I splashed piss into his cupped palm, then a trickle before I could catch it.

He raised his piss soaked hand to my face, forcing his fingers into my mouth. The salty sour taste of my urine flooded my mouth. Moaning, I flicked my tongue out along Greg’s palm, seeking it. I sucked greedily on his fingers, letting him know I was with him, that I wanted this, I wanted more. Greg dragged me by the face to an old log, and bent me over. The pressure on my bladder skyrocketed. I cried out and a hot stream of piss sprayed out. Gregs palm fell fast and heavy against me. With my legs spread so, I tilted my pelvis back as far as I could, letting him spank my cunt as best he could. My hot piss splashed on my ass, and my thighs. I sobbed and cried out, and finally stopped pissing, barely relieved. Greg shoved his hand in my face again and I bathed it with my tongue, seeking out every drop I could.

“Don’t move a muscle, slut” Greg said, slapping my ass as he stepped away. I listened, eyes closed, as he stepped away, rummaged in his pack and returned. Practiced and efficient, he pulled my arms behind my back, locked the leather cuffs around my wrists, and locked them together. Bound, trapped and helpless, I was finally safe.

“Oh, Greg. Please. I gotta piss so bad.” I cried, writhing, the rough crumbly bark biting against my belly, my breasts. “Please, I’m yours, do anything you want. Tell me what to do, I’ll do anything you want, but please let me pee.”

“Soon” He said, breathless, wanting. His fingers jammed into me, first two then three, filling me up, raping me. They twisted and wriggled, spreading my lips, stretching my hole. He found that spot, inside and ground his fingertips into it. I felt that pissy pressure sensation in a new place, groaned and my muscles cramped up. He kept grinding at that spot and slipped in his pinky.

The pressure was insane, more intense than anything before, and I tried to let it out. But I couldn’t and it just kept building. Everything was clamped down around his fingers, gripping and squeezing, out of my control. I couldn’t tell if I was trying to pull him in or push him out, but it didn’t matter, his fingers were inside me, and I was caught there, bent over, spread wide and exposed, writhing. I tried to pull away, to escape the intense pleasure pain, and Greg grabbed the snap-lock binding my wrists together and pulled up. It took all my balance and leverage away, and forced me to push back, fucking back against his hand.

“Take it, whore” he ordered over my incoherent moans and inarticulate cries. Sweat, tears and spit soaked my face, picking up the dirt and bits of rotted bark off the log I was grinding against. My thighs and ass muscles turned to jelly and I started shaking violently from the strain. My cunt vibrated around his fingers, and he forced his thumb up inside me.

With a push and a twist Greg slid his fist up into my cunt, knuckles grinding against my sweet spot, and I came, screaming and pissing, for what seemed like an eternity, or the moment that would end my life. I howled, and shook, and collapsed, and couldn’t breathe, and couldn’t see. Greg worked his fist, pleasing/punishing me, taking me, making me his. It went on and on until I could take no more, and beyond. I bucked and writhed and squirmed, and finally froze, rigid, paralyzed. The world stopped, and I felt nothing but my heartbeat in my cunt. Greg drew his fist out, leaving an emptiness that ached and burned. He released my wrists, and stepped back. I waited, helpless.

He stepped back into me, cock out and ready. He pressed against my asshole, and forced his way in. I was covered in sweat and piss and cunt juice, and he slid in pretty easily. He fucked me hard, rough, worked up to a fever pitch. Too overloaded and exhausted to scream, I moaned through another painful orgasm. Greg rode me hard, but after all this build up, not very long. He pulled out, grabbed my by the hair, and pulled my to my knees in front of him just Anadolu Yakası Escort in time to take the first splash of cum against my lips and cheek. I tilted my head back, and opened my mouth, extending my tongue for him, making myself his receptacle. He sprayed onto my tongue, across my nose and into my sweaty damp hair. He pulsed again, spraying the roof of my mouth, then dribbled out the rest, a thick glop hanging from the end of his still erect cock.

I knew what was expected of me. I swallowed what seed he managed to get into my mouth, then delicately licked what was hanging from him. His erection was slimed and tasted strongly of my ass, bitter and strong. I bathed his cock with my tongue, my lips, my mouth, suckling him.

“You’re just filthy, Steph.” He said, lazily fucking my mouth. I nodded, grunting assent.

“We need to wash you off a bit.” He said pulling out and stepping back. “Hold still. I’ll give you what you deserve.”

He aimed his cock at me, and visibly relaxed. I sighed, grateful, and closed my eyes as the first stream of his piss struck my face. A forceful stream, hot urine splattered my face, rinsing away the dust and bark and cum, soaking into my hair, running down my chest and back. My mouth filled up quickly, as usual tasting stronger than my own, more masculine. I swallowed without closing my mouth, causing some piss to fountain out and run down my chin. I was still feeling the aftershocks of my orgasms, and the perverse dirtiness of being used like this added to those sensations, breaking me down. The paradoxical feelings of being cleaned and soiled overwhelmed my brain and I shut down, until I felt nothing but that pride/shame, joy/disgust, ecstasy/debasement of being Greg’s toilet slut.

I swallowed, struggling hopelessly against the cuffs, wanting to feel myself scrubbing at my skin, massaging his hot piss into my hair, my face, my breasts. Wanting to rub my clit, bring myself off in this debasement. I swallowed and struggled, and his stream died down to a trickle which I chased with my mouth, not wanting to waste in on the ground. Finished, Greg tucked his cock back into his pants, zipped up, and headed over to his pack.

“C’mon, Steph.” He said, shouldering his pack. “We have a ways to go yet.”

I struggled to my feet, still shaky and weak kneed. I stumbled over to him, and stood, dripping, feet apart, while he took a long drink from his canteen. I had a sour piss taste in my mouth, and wanted to rinse it out, but my stomach was bloated and sloshing as it was, and my bladder pressure was building again, so needless to say I was conflicted. Also, if I asked Greg for anything now, he could use that in our play, and that danger/excitement dichotomy kind of froze me up, like a shaky, aroused, piss soaked deer caught in the headlights. I just stood there.

Greg grabbed my hair and pulled my head back. I gasped open my mouth and Greg poured from the canteen. I got a good mouthful and swallowed. He released me, and went to collect my discarded clothes.

“I guess I’ll put these in my pack until we can get them washed.” He said. “There’s a stream a few clicks West of here. Well wash up there, then follow it North back to the trail.”

He opened his pack, set my clothes inside, and pulled out my leash. It was a thin, pretty, stainless chain, with a thick, soft, heavy leather loop handle. Greg hooked it to the ring on the front of my collar and dropped it. It fell heavy, cold steel chilling my skin, the leather handle whipping sharply on my cunt. Greg shouldered his pack, settled in, and grabbed my lead, pausing to violate me with his fingers briefly. Just enough to remind me I was his, that he could do with me whatever he desired, and that I really needed a piss.

Greg set off to the west, and I, stripped, cuffed, collared and leashed, and soaking in piss stumbled after him. It was time to begin.

We hiked for about an hour, long enough for me to air dry. Greg would occasionally tug and twist on one of my nipple rings, or slap my ass, or stop and give me a quick choke while he rammed his fingers up my ass, but mostly we made good time. The pressure built in my bladder, making me squirmy. With my hands cuffed behind me, and being led on a leash, I was walking pretty awkwardly, my tits thrust out, my ass sticking up, my knees turned inward, I felt as though there were a hundred eyes on me, glued on my gaping open asshole.

We finally came upon the stream Greg found on the map. Just a little to the south the wood cleared a bit and there was a large boulder jutting out into the stream, warming in a patch of sunlight. Greg honed in on it, like a honeybee to the stamen, and led me to it. It was time to begin.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32