First of all: Jefferson was wrong. I was the first one up the day we left for camp. He was not, as he may say, up and ready and waiting for me to get out of the shower. I was poking *him* awake the morning of.

Just sayin’. For Posterity.

After a slightly rough start, involving the car battery and needing to get jumped before we even left the front of the building, it was a smooth and easy ride. For once, I didn’t even need to stop and pee a million time, which was amazing, considering how nervous I was.

The closer and closer we got to camp, the more nervous I felt. I was afraid, I think, that I wouldn’t fit in, wouldn’t know how to behave, that no one would like me or want to play with me, and all that good stuff. Boy, was I worried about absolutely nothing! Within fifteen minutes, I had popped my first camp cherry.

We arrived around two or three, and unloaded the car at our cabin. Almost all our bunk mates were off at classes or play dates or whatever else they were getting up to, except for Selina Fire and Martyn, who were playing in the cabin when we arrived. I believe she was topping Martyn when we arrived.

Jefferson ran off to catch some of a class in progress, while I busied myself unpacking and setting up the bed Avah and I would be sharing, and hanging lights. I had at least an hour and a half until fisting class. (Fisting scares the crap out of me. The idea of being fisted myself, not of fisting someone else. I figured, learning the mechanics and such behind it would be good for me.)

Now, when two people are playing, and they’re both switches, turn about is fair play. I know this from experience. I dated a switch. (Sometimes, I even try to top from the bottom. As you’ll see later, the reaction to my topping from the bottom is usually an excellent gauge of a man.) Heh. So I didn’t bat an eye when Martyn dragged Selina out from behind their curtains and started tying her to the pole in the middle of our cabin (good lord, did that pole see a lot!), and hooking her up to a home made spreader bar. (I do love kinky crafts – why spend all that money on a fancy shmancy spreader bar, when ten bucks and a trip to home depot will yield the same results?)

Now, at this point, I was happily hanging lights and getting myself settled, when Martyn said that I was allowed to beat Selina if I wanted to. What better way to jump in to camp, than with a nice friendly beating between (new) friends? I grabbed my favourite leather strap and jumped on in.

We took turns beating her, until Martyn laid claim to her front, while I worked over her ass and thighs.

Martyn then asked Selina if it was ok with her for me to see how wet she was getting from all this attention, and when she said ok, I dropped my strap and went to play with her pussy from behind. She was soaked! I slid two fingers in, and then three, working her slowly while Martyn came around to watch.

Now, this is where I pop my first camp cherry. Martyn checks in with Selina, and tells me I can keep adding more fingers, and going further, and that I can fist her if I’d like to.

Does a chicken have lips? Of course I did! I went slowly, but Selina was marvelously ready for me, and before I knew it, I was in her to my wrist!

It’s an amazing feeling, to have your hand all the way inside a woman like that. The first time I had gotten close to fisting someone, we were both too drunk to enjoy the experience, and this was so much better. I could feel her muscles rippling around my hand, and it was truly awesome.

It seems I did my homework for fisting class before even getting there! I should definitely get an A now!

After we finished playing and cleaning up, Selina got all dressed up in a lovely party frock and ran to the cabin next door for a kinky tea party while Martyn and I headed over to the fisting class, taught by Felice.

I won’t go over the whole class, but I will say, Felice is a beautiful woman, and an excellent teacher. Avah and I loved her so much we sent her a Cupid.

I had never heard of ‘punch fucking’ before. But then again, I learned lots at camp.

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~
What really caught me about camp was how things that normally would seem rather…unusual, become completely normal during the course of events. This happened all through the weekend, but the lack of notice I took to such things was most notable my first night. (By the next afternoon, Barry walking into the cabin saying ‘Hey, they’re shooting bottle rockets out of femcar’s ass!’ didn’t faze me. I thought to myself ‘Huh. Its too early in the day for them to show up well!’ and then we just told Barry to join our midafternoon cuddle pile)

On my first night, however, while more noticeable, the events were much more down to earth than anal fireworks.

We had a cabin mixer. Now, there are parties, and there are sex parties, and there are the sorts of parties you only have when you get a bunch of open, kinky, sexual people together in a place where we can all be ourselves.

There was Rascal, who showed up naked with a bag. For some reason, a fair few of us were dressed. He commented on how he felt too naked around us all, pulled out a cock ring, popped that on, and said “There! That’s much better!” which was just adorable.

And while I did always party with an open fun gothy crowd, I never had the chance at a party to lace a beautiful woman like Molly into a gorgeous black lace and pink satin corset. Sadly, it no longer fit her, as she had lost weight since buying it. But now, yes, now, we got to find someone else to lace the corset on to!

First, I do believe we tried lacing it on to Match. It looked rather fetching with his black kilt, but alas, he was just to skinny for it to fit properly.

Match was one of the campers I was looking forward to meeting after having seen them on the D.O. site. I like a man who’s been set on fire. That’s hot. (HA! Sorry, couldn’t help it!) Really though. Very hot. Very sweet. And as I found out later in the weekend, delightfully aggressive. I want to keep him in my closet. (Thank god for L-Space, or else I wouldn’t be able to keep all these people in my closet!)

I think the profiles and messages boards on the members section of the site were an excellent idea. It was nice to get an idea of what my cabin mates were like and what they were into and who they were. It made it much more comfortable to bunk with people who were, at the beginning of the day, strangers.

Another man I was looking forward to meeting and next up in the Cinderella corset game was Hunter. What a sweet, beautiful soul that boy is. The first thing he ever said to me was “I don’t know you yet, but I would like to”. I know that sounds cheesy, but the way Hunter says it, and the way he looks at you, and you know he’s genuine. Along with a beautiful soul, he’s gorgeous man. Ya’ll know I love me the tall skinny boys, and they don’t get much taller than Hunter. I mean, the man is 6’7’’!

Hunter fit the corset perfectly. I loosened the stays while Molly hooked it together at the front. He raised his arms so I could settle and lace it properly at the top. I have to say, I love lacing anyone into a corset. My favourite part is when it’s getting snug, but I’m not quite done, and I put my knee on their back to brace my self for the final pull that cinches them in. Hunter took it beautifully, and was very patient as we tried to tie the laces closed. It took a few tries, but eventually we got it.

It set off his shoulders and arms perfectly, and the lace was just below his nipples, leaving them bare for fun.

At some point after cinching the lovely Hunter into Molly’s corset, I hear a commotion on the other side of the cabin. When I come back in, Molly and Hunter are making out on the floor, while being wrapped in cellophane by Marcus and Rascal.

How fucking hot is that?

It gets better. Really. It does!

I wandered away, and when I came back, they were cutting Hunter and Molly free of the cellophane. Before he could get up, Marcus climbed on top of Hunter. (Goddess, why were none of my earlier camping experiences like this? If there had been more bisexual sex, I would have stayed a Scout much, much longer)

This, I had to pull up a seat and watch. It’s just my thing. If two beautiful men start making out, I can’t help but watch. As close as possible. From the nearest surface available for me to sit on, since my legs will give out. (I’m a woman who knows myself)

Now, none of this was really the unusual part. What made it unusual to me, was when Molly started playing with Marcus’s asshole. With her big toe. Her gorgeous, well manicured, rather sexy, big toe. (I’m not foot man, but Molly was hot enough, and sweet enough, and had a sexy enough accent that I would have gladly licked her feet.)

So there I sat, on the edge of a bed, very intently watching this scene, when a gentleman sits beside me. Now I, being who I am, begin to rather distractedly jerk him off. Sometimes, I think I need to pay better attention to my surroundings, because this gentleman was someone who I normally would not have wanted to play with. I was not getting sexy vibes from him.

As Marcus, Hunter and Molly wrapped up (hur hur!), I was still playing with my gentleman. I rather wanted to go, and head off to the dungeon with Avah, Jefferson and Jocasta, but I felt like I ought to finish what I started. In my normal life, I’ve found that sometimes, it’s easier to blow a man than talk your way out. So, I went to town. I enjoy giving a good blow job, most of the time, and this was no different. That it was meant to serve an ulterior motive as well…sue me. Sometimes it helps. (Unfortunately, in a communal camp setting like this, blowing a man who’s interested is akin to leaving out milk for a stray cat. That cat will come back as long as it thinks you might have milk)

It wasn’t all bad, however. I do enjoy being watched, and we were gathering a small but interested audience. Through the bathroom doorways, on the other side of our cabin, I caught the eye of a voyeur, and on the side of the cabin we were playing in, there were the remnants of those watching Marcus, Hunter, and Molly. One of the watchers came closer, and stood over me and the gentleman. I did not look, but I could feel his presence.

“Could you do me a favour?” I opened my eyes, and shifted, cock still in my mouth, until I could see who it was.

Mmm. Match. In his boots and kilt. Yes please!

I nodded.

“Can you kiss me after taking his dick out of your mouth?”

Goddamn, that’s hot. I love bisexual men. (Especially sweet and adorable, yet hot and kinky bisexual men. God I loved our cabin!)

I let the cock slip from my mouth as I leaned up for a kiss. My free hand slid up his kilt, reaching around for his ass. When the kiss broke, I flipped up his kilt, and took him into my mouth, still working the other gentleman with my hand.

Now, I’ll be honest here. This was in two parts, a completely selfish act. One, I had wanted to play with Match all evening. Two, I thought this might be a good way to ease out of playing with the other man. I was attempting to send Match a telepathic help signal, but apparently my telepathy is blocked when I have a dick in my mouth.

After a few moments, he pulled back and gestured me back to my first partner, and I went back to him, still stroking Match. Then I switched back, but it seemed Mr. Match is polite, and didn’t want to interrupt too much. I was back to my first gentleman.

I have really got to work on that telepathy thing.

Eventually, the gentleman I was playing realized he wasn’t going to be coming, at least not with Avah and Jefferson yelling at me to finish up and get ready to go to the dungeon. So, at least happily for me, we finished, and I got cleaned up.

I was in for a fun night. But that’s another post.