As I drifted asleep late Wednesday night, excited for camp and the coming days, I thought of what I had done and what I needed to do to get ready for camp.

Earlier that week, I had brought two of my bags to Jefferson’s, and put them in the car. One had my duvet and a pillow, and the other had all sorts of food stuffs, tea, paper towels, and things of that sort. Stuff that, by the end of camp, would be gone.

I still had to pack a few more things in my big polka dotted suitcase, those last minute things you can’t pack ahead of time. Toothbrush, comb, hair stuff, medicine, contacts, and other incidentals. But for the most part, I was ready.

My toy bag lay empty on my suitcase – I could pack that when I woke up in the morning. I was simply too tired now, as it was about three am, and I needed to sleep. Thursday, though not a camp day, was still going to be full.

I had planned to wake up at 10. I was going to shower, shave, and pack. I was going to clean the kitchen and finish cleaning the bathroom, so I wouldn’t have to worry about that before camp. Take out the trash and the recycling. Get my bags together. Get some rest, before hauling all my stuff to NYC.

Jefferson’s party had been switched from its usual day to Thursday, which worked out nicely. I had already been planning to try and stay with Callie that night, since she lives very close to Jefferson, and I would be able to walk over with my stuff in the morning. But since the situation had changed, and Jefferson was able to have the party that night, I was able to stay over with him, and leave in the morning.

Franklin was coming to this party, and we decided to meet for dinner beforehand.

All this was flowing through my dreams, along with the back round noise of “CAMP CAMP CAMP CAMP CAMP CAMP CAMP!” as I slept.

I felt like I had just drifted off, when I heard my phone make text message noises that dragged me out of my dreams.

It was 7:45 am.

“Hey, I’m gonna be in your area around 10:30…are you close to ____? – Sebastian”

Ah, Sebastian. The only person who could get away with waking me up that early.

And, he had accurately remembered that I live semi close to _____.

I texted him back “Yeah…”

“Want me to come by? ;-)”

Yes. No. I wanted to sleep. But how could I resist him? Ya’ll know I can’t.

“Sure! Call me when you land, and we’ll figure out how to get you here.”

Ah, who really needs that much sleep? That was at 8:05. I figured, I could cram in another hour or so, and shower and shave while he was on his way. (Thus, I began a long weekend of sleeplessness. No wonder I got sick once I got home)

He called when he touched down, which started off a ‘what bus goes where’ game to figure out how to get him here. You see, there are several bus’s that run from that place through my neighborhood, but I don’t know their numbers. I just know ‘oh, this bus at that corner goes here, and that other bus on this street gets me to the post office, and this one gets me to the gym’.

Along with getting him here, I offered to cook. It’s the Italian in me. He’d been on a plane all morning, how could I not offer to make a little snack?

After a flurry of calls and conversations with bus drivers, he arrived at my apartment with more bags than I’d ever seen one man carry. Granted, he’d been away for several weeks, but lordy, I thought boys traveled light! (For camp, Jefferson packed one bag, in the morning. I think he packed like, three shirts, a pair of jeans, his daisy dukes and his boots. Of course, he did forget his towel. What kind of Frood forgets their towel? )

Sebastian and I ate burgers and Annie’s Mac and Cheese while he told me about his adventures, and I told him about going to camp.

He got so excited when I told him Tristan Taromino was going to be there. He thinks she’d really like him.

Maybe next year, we can get Sebastian to go to camp. I’m sure I could set up a nice anal gang bang for him. There are probably plenty other girls besides me and Betty who go to camp who like to fuck the hell out of pretty boys.

After we ate, we headed to my room for some digestion, smokes, and hot sex.

Now, despite the rampant anal eroticism of our relationship, we actually tended to be very vanilla in bed. While I’m not a 24/7 kinkster, I’ve noticed that quite a bit of my sex tends to be a little kinky. But with Sebastian, it was either fairly vanilla (which doesn’t mean it isn’t always hot. It was. Just minus the slapping, punching, being tossed around growly male stuff I generally like. The dirty talking and hard fucking is all there, but I still haven’t gotten him to hit me or anything) or I take the slightly more aggressive role.

I didn’t believe Lily when she told me he could get all aggressive and dominant. (After camp, I found out how delightfully aggressive he can be. That story is coming soon…once I stop vigorously masturbating every time I think about it) In fact, Bastian had mentioned to me on several occasions that he thought it would be hot if *I* were more dominant with him. This came right about when I started to feel the more dominant part of me (re)surfacing, and I’d been thinking about it for weeks. My new fantasy involved dragging Sebastian to his knees, getting him to suck my cock, and fucking him on Jefferson’s balcony. (Why the balcony, I have no idea. I don’t control most of this stuff. It just appears in my mind. ). Between that, and my mind state before camp, which was also turning rather aggressive and toppy, Sebastian was in for quite an unusual amount of aggression from me this day.

The two of us hadn’t played in ages, so there were few pleasantries before we were naked on the bed, my fingers buried deep in his ass, stretching and preparing him for the massive red toy he had pulled out of his suitcase. (He’s a boy after my own heart. I don’t think I could travel anywhere, other than my parent’s house, for an extended period of time, with out my toys.)

I sat between his knees, fucking him as he directed me. Take it out. Shove it back in. Rip it out. Shove it back in. And when I say ‘shove’ and ‘rip’ that’s what I mean, and that’s what I do. I’ve torn that toy out of his ass and pounded it back into him at his direction.

“Yeah, you like that darlin’? You like me fucking your ass like that?”

”Oh yeah. Fuck me! Fuck that ass hard. Faster. Fuck me faster! Talk to me, tell me how you love to fuck my ass…”

At that, something came over me. It was almost as if there was a barrier between ‘Ms Wendy, the dom’ and ‘Wendy, the submissive’ that broke, or meshed, or something. He was begging, and he was ordering, and my instinct to both is too respond.

In one fluid motion, I moved from sitting between his knees, to kneeling above him. He lifted his legs in the air to give me better access and more room, and with one hand still fucking him, I grabbed his ankles with the other, bending him back, nearly in half, with his ass completely up off the bed. He had just enough room to work his cock, and I had a much more fun and interested angle with which to fuck him.

And with that change of position, came a change in attitude. He stopped instructing me, and became lost in the moment, and started begging me to keep going, fuck him harder, fuck him more, don’t stop, keep going, oh god Wendy fuck me, fuck me, fuck me Wendy!

(I love when he says my name when I’m fucking him. It’s uncommon, because neither of us really use the others name. When he’s fucking me, I call him baby, or, I refer to him as ‘Yousonovabitch’, usually when yelling at him to fuck me harder. As in ‘Fuck me harder, I know you can fuck harder than that, come on Yousonovabitch, come on, fuck me baby, FUCK ME!” When I whimper his name, well, then you know things are fucking gravy. Good god. Just like when he calls me by name. I know something good’s going on.)

I was working the cock as hard as I could, one knee keeping him propped up in the air, left hand pinning his legs against the wall, and fucking fucking fucking as hard and fast as I could, slamming the toy all the way in, with the flat of my hand, and grabbing it back out, almost all of the way, before it went back on in.

And he looked glorious, lost in the moment, the most wanton I’d ever seen him under me, with his lithe legs framing his face, eyes closed in concentration as he groaned, panted, worked his cock in time with my thrusts, and when he came, his eyes popped open, and locked with mine. I smiled.

And I realized, this is what I’d been wanting the past few weeks. Someone under me, to push to the edge, and the control, along with the desire to hit, to hurt, to fuck, to please. It was heady. I could get used to that.

He was dead to the world before we had even cleaned up, and it was one of the few times when he was comfortable letting me cuddle up with him. Sebastian, while sweet and awesome and hot and all that, is not much of a cuddler, and I am. I like physical contact with people, especially after something that intense. Him, not so much.

But poor Sebastian, between his flight, and the hard fucking, he was out like a light. Neither of us had anything to do till later on in the day, so we both dozed on and off for the rest of the morning.

It was a most wonderful start to such a great weekend. :)