Insides spread outside
I tugged at the collar of my blouse, fanning myself with a glossy camping brochure. The air in the outdoor goods store smelled of pine shavings. The overhead fans whirred uselessly in a heatwave.
All Travis wanted to do was check out the new selection of fishing rods.
I had a different rod in mind to check out.
The problem was that Travis had the notion of taking my womanhood under the stars, in the Bunya Mountains National Park. His idea of a honeymoon.
We had been engaged for a sweet six months. I suppose I was fresh, unsullied meat in town. Travis had no idea about my Gold Coast upbringing and my favourite adult toy store. What brings an upwardly mobile girl to a country Queensland town, Agri-biz, I was a whiz with technology. The cows, the flies, the red dirt, the locals could keep.
You know, the Travis type, the well-brought-up country boy who attends chapel on Sunday. Works hard with steers, Monday to Friday. Saturday is devoted to nature; hunting, boating and fishing. And yes, Saturday night to whores, because taking them up the arse doesn't count toward losing your true virginity with a girl who has your ring on her finger.
The outback, all I could picture, was ugly cane-toads, mosquitoes and the wrong type of lurking snakes. Why couldn't my man picture a Gold Coast condo? King's Cross Shows. Hell, I'd take Vegas for a honeymoon.
A naughty idea popped into my mind. Like the best naughty ideas, they are best acted on fast, or you won't ever do them.
I sidled up to my human hulk, six-four, six pack, muscles I hadn't seen and said, "Let's check out the tent over there."
So cute, set up in the store; fibreglass rocks, plastic flowers, and a fake goanna. Nice pink tent flaps. God, if mine were that bright, I'd fucking blush.
"Honey, take a look, I just might cope in the outdoors with this one."
I got the macho reaction, "Anything but pink, babes. It will scare off the wildlife."
"Exactly, "I offered, "Still, let's take a peek inside. You might change your mind about pink with the inside view."
"Doubt it, but I suppose I could lift the flap."
"That's my boy."
I had my hand in his back pocket, leading him up a pristine garden path. No dust or dust mites in sight.
Of course, he stopped at the entrance, "Savannah, babes, it's not done, we can't go inside."
I faked the perfect clumsy girly stumble. Not the first girl in history to perfectly place her heel, clipping his ankle and letting gravity throw us into the tent—
"Ooh Fuck me!" I mouthed.
And yep, my boyfriend, my betrothed, heard his sweetness and light, swear for the first time. Oh, he heard my first fart out by the weir last month.
Some thoughtful store personnel had decked the tent with the absa—fuckin top of the range double sleeping bag and one of those gold-standard mega-inflatable camping mattresses. Softer than my cushy buttocks.
My hands ripped the buttons off Travis' country check shirt. His chestnut eyes darkened as I pressed against him, my thighs wrapping him, female dominant straddle.
He exhaled low and rough. "Fuck, Savannah. Whoo-Hoo! You sure?"
My tongue circled inside his mouth; my lips crushed into his. My fingers undid his belt. He got his answer.
Travis caught up fast. Girls and skirts. His fingers dug into my lace panties before yanking them down my legs.
Two of his fingers hit my soaked pussy, and I gasped as his mouth crashed against me.
He tossed me like he did, tying down a calf. My hands were pinned. His tongue was hot, relentless, swirling around my clit like he was tasting something he'd craved for six months.
I tangled my fingers in his hair, hips bucking against his face.
Whatever he learned in a whore house, he was putting it to my best use.
"Travis—fuck—right there," I panted, my voice cracking.
Thank Christ for the store muzak. And I tried to muffle my fem-enjoyment.
"Mmm, mmm, mmm," still escaped.
Travis had tongue talent, the tip probe, the fast prod, the lingering basting, the wide flat full tongue sweep and pressure.
My legs were thrashing, the tent walls fluttered.
He spat in my arse and rimmed me. Whore house expertise!
I had the thought; this lad has real potential.
"I need your cock," I gasped. "Now."
Travis didn't argue.
His pecker springing free, thick and long, and already leaking.
I licked my lips, raised my feet to the tent roof, then reached for him, but he caught my wrist.
"Hands on the ground. Ass up."
A shiver tore through me. I obeyed, bracing myself on my forearms as he lined himself up.
"Oh, you dirty, wonder man!" I gasped as his belt secured my hands behind my back. He propped two pillows under my arse.
Hell, there is vulnerability, and followed by apprehension, I think I missed that and headed directly to the unknown.
The unknown depths of pleasure as he spread my insides outside.
My pussy and my arse gaped. My lower body was treated like a fucking bowling ball.Two fingers in my coochie, one up my patootie.
Spit, swathes of lush, warm saliva, drizzled and directed into my twin joy holes.
"I'm gonna ride you, babes," he said.
"I frickin hope so," I added.
His first thrust was brutal— I understood how a calf must feel when branded, no warning, just his hips slamming into my soft rump, his balls slapping against my backside.
My muffled cries of ecstasy and rawness were swallowed by another tent pillow.
My reserves of desire emerged.
"Fuck yes—harder," I begged, pushing back against him.
His grip on my waist was sure to leave a bruise, fingers digging in as he pounded into me.
The tent smelled of musk released to excess, the nylon walls swaying with every punishing stroke.
Christ, I thought, what if the flippin' tent collapses! Travis leaned over my neck, his breath hot against my ear.
"You love my cock, don't you?"
"Yes—god, yes—"
My voice broke as his thumb found my clit again, rubbing in tight circles. The dual sensations—his dick stretching me, his fingers working my clit—sent me spiralling.
Sex couldn't get better than this.
"Ughh! Uggh!"
It did in an instant. His finger in my ring. Two digits burrowing like a busy wombat.
"Fuck! Orrgh! Oof! Yes, ooh, ooh."
The fuck as his cock hit my rim.
The orrgh, that first raw, wincey but unbelievably good first inch.
The oof. Okay, he was testing my balloon knot's limits.
The rest, when a girl gets her rear space relaxed, the rest is insane enjoyment, catapulting on a one-way ticket to unbelievable flesh release.
My orgasm crashed through me, my arse clenching around him, girdling his shaft. Travis groaned, his rhythm faltering as he came inside my back door, thick ropes of cum filling me up. I could feel it dripping out around his cock, sticky and warm between my thighs.
Just glad the sleeping bags weren't mine. They'd need the dry cleaners.
He undid my hands. Planted a sweet kiss on my forehead, then my lips.
"I'll make a country girl camper out of you yet, Savannah."
Interrupted by, "Store closing in ten minutes," the PA announced. Travis chuckled darkly, nuzzling my neck.
"Guess we'd better get dressed. We could go night fishing?"
Screw, gnats, mozzies and riverside creepy-crawlies.
I smacked his chest, breathless.
"Or we could just stay in this tent. Sneak out when they re-open tomorrow."
Hell, I was in charge; this time.
And though my arse was smarting, this naughty glamping was as close as Travis dear was ever going to get me to the real outback.
I grabbed his belt, took his hands, and tied them.