Last week in the porntheater with Hannah George
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Clueless George In The Tent free porn video
The campfire guttered and snapped as it starved, launching showers of hungry sparks high into the starlit August sky. Low flames cast haunting, dancing, skeletal shadows of branches and twigs on the translucent walls of the tent. They danced a gleeful and macabre jig on the canvas that reminded me of sleepless nights in my childhood. All was quiet save the crackling of the fire, the crickets chirping in the grass around our tent, and the hollow sounds of our breath as we lay on our backs inside our sleeping bags, choking on our own integrity.
It had been ten long minutes since either of us had spoken. The warm, damp air inside the tent was heavy and ripe. A subtle but powerful mélange built slowly as the minutes passed. Smoke from our clothes, day old Samsung, the sweet smell of SPF40, and the wonderful tang of a healthy woman played in the air between us. At times each scent drifted through my mind like a waking dream. Moments later they would merge into such an overwhelming bouquet of fragrant mnemonics from the day that the sum threatened my sanity before they dissolved into their component parts and left my mind bruised and numb.
I was seventeen when she was born to my parent’s best friends. There was no age difference between my parents and hers, but Lisa was ‘unplanned’ – the result of parents with an active sex life well in their forties and a GP who didn’t feel the need to confirm whether a vasectomy had been successful. She was well loved by her family and I remembered her as a precocious child who imitated her much older siblings’ adult behaviour without caring for the adult consequences that inevitably followed.
Times change. Today I was a confirmed bachelor at 38 and she was a gorgeous, mature 21 year old, recently graduated from university with a degree in veterinary science, with an eye to the future and a fire in her succulent belly. I had fallen for her instantly in spite of my last memory of her being of a six year old kicking me in the shins after I politely declined her precocious invitation to dance at a local barbeque.
For a while after we left the fading fire and slipped inside the small geodesic dome, we talked softly. We asked mundane questions about mundane matters in a futile effort to relieve the tension that had built over the day. As we talked softly my mind replayed the day. The memories of her smile flashing from between soft lips, her brown eyes eagerly searching for mine as we walked and talked, and the sight of her body in a blue one piece bathing suit – breasts tightly bound and erect nipples demonstrating not only her natural reaction to cool breezes but also her appreciation for her companion – were as visually intoxicating as the sharp smell of her was aromatically enthralling.
My mother, after speaking to her parents at a local charity fundraiser, had asked me to spend a couple days with Lisa to look at possible sites for her new veterinary practice as she moved away from the city and into the country to establish herself. I had accepted their request grudgingly, expecting anything except the bright-eyed creature who greeted me at the bus station. In my defence, when one hears that a woman has decided to work with cattle for a living, one does not expect exceptional beauty or charm – the world ‘bovine’ has few positive implications in animals or women. In spite of a few awkward moments while I recovered from my prejudices, Lisa accepted me without reservation at the terminal, taking my arm with cheerful abandon and winning my heart with abrupt and shocking ease. The precocious child still lived in her heart and she reached for my hand with the same easy affection of 15 years prior – moments before she bruised my knee and my ego with her small, unforgiving foot. Completely unprepared to meet such a divine creature, some part of me knew fear as I began the long fall from the fortress walls my pride had spent two decades building around my heart. Like ice in the sun, or steel in the forge, my stoic nature melted leaving my heart completely without armour. My soul stretched towards her like a seedling in the sun, while the cold logic of my mind shook in fear at the devastating power she had acquired in the moment that she reached for my hand.
An incredible day filled with physical prowess, good food, stimulating conversation, and a growing mutual affection had conspired against us and by lunch we were holding hands and grinning like fools in spite of ourselves. Dinner by candlelight in the village followed by a campfire and good wine had done even more to nurture the tenderness of spirit we felt for each other. Our original plan had been for two complete strangers to catch up on old stories of the neighbourhood, spend a night camping, and return to our lives perhaps only to meet in the supermarket over a melon. Our original plan now felt wholly inadequate. Times do indeed change – but rarely with such unanticipated alacrity.
I could hear her breath beside me, quick and shallow, and knew that she was suffering. I could tell from the sound that she was wide awake, on her back, and breathing through parted lips instead of her nose. If I held my breath and listened carefully I could hear a gentle tremor with each exhalation – a fusion of anticipation, fear, and mourning that I longed to relieve with a word or a touch. The three feet between us felt like an insufferable obstacle and my mind alternated between pleading, whispering, and demanding that the only acceptable barrier between us was the thin layer of sweat that covered our skin. I craved her with a need that approached genuine desperation. I was certain, on an irrational but fundamental level that I could not ignore, that if I did not immediately find a way to claim her as my own I would die. Falling to my knees, worshipping her, and setting life in her heart, soul, and womb seemed the sole remedy for a chronic and progressive disease that had grown like a cancer in my soul and now promised to deliver its final and fatal blow to a life that in the moment seemed empty and unfulfilled.
Every few minutes I heard a soft sob of frustration, and she would shift in her sleeping bag. The remarkable scent of her body would sigh from her cotton cocoon, saturating the enclosed space with the maddening and inviting smell of a woman ripe with genuine need. The sweet, smoky tang of her musk slipped ghost-like through my mind before fading into the mélange of fragrance in our tiny den. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, imprinting the smell in my mind before it could escape in spite of its maddening absinthian properties. I could feel my resolve slowly eroding – or perhaps evolving – and while a small part of me feared the evolution, a growing part of me waited eagerly for the fullness of the change. The very smell of her was awakening something primal, powerful, and arrogant. Oh, arrogance and I were old friends, but it had never before felt like a deity rising in my blood. Never before had innocence been so certain, commanding, and righteous.
I could smell the warm musk of her body behind the woodsmoke in our clothes. I longed to nestle my mouth in her thighs so I could suffocate myself on the essential oils instead of torturing myself with the ‘eau de parfum’. Like a lilac upwind on a breezy day, I caught only small sips of her heady bouquet as the air in the tent curled between us in sadistic currents driven by the heat of our bodies. I could feel myself trembling, suffering from withdrawal though innocent of the drug. Saliva flooded my mouth as my subconscious placed the sharp taste of her on the tip of my tongue. I swallowed hard and felt my cock twitch, then slowly swell on my stomach.
The knowledge that we were twinned in suffering did nothing to ease my pain. Believing that the solution to her personal madness was also the cure for the persistent pressure in my skull was an almost overwhelming excuse to gently finger the clasp of Pandora’s exquisite box. Even while fearing the outcome, I hungered for the spiritua
l and physical contents of Lisa’s beautifully carved façade with a predatory and primal intensity stronger than reason. Justifications and rationalizations sped through my mind more quickly than I could dismiss them, merging into one single, profound need.
I knew that if I reached out my fingertips would brush her side – that one gentle touch would topple the chain of dominoes we had been foolish enough to build on such unstable ground. The knowledge of what lay at the end of such a chain of cause and effect slammed through my mind like a tsunami, covering every synapse it touched with a primal desire to possess and be possessed by this luscious, willing creature and fill her with new life. My breath caught in my throat at the image of Lisa covered, inside and out with my semen, and I fought the impulse to reach out for her, keeping my arms rigid at my side and holding my breath until I could trust my lungs not to betray my thoughts.
My cock was painfully hard now inside my sleeping bag. The turgid pyramidal shape rising from my thighs in spite of its covering of goose down and vinyl was visible in the dim campfire light penetrating the tent, and I felt my face grow warm with what shame I could muster through the red haze in my mind. I raised my right hand from my side, took hold of my traitorous member by its throbbing head, and bent it painfully toward my chest until its length was flat on my stomach. I found myself wishing I hadn’t removed my jeans after I slipped into the sleeping bag. They made a great pillow, but tight denim would have served me better as a cage for this rather persistent beast in my right hand. As my cock throbbed under my fingers, precum streamed in drops onto my stomach, slid down my sides, and slowly sank into the cotton fill of the sleeping bag at my sides.
Wishing desperately for sleep to ease my pain, I closed my eyes, only to have the image of Lisa fill my mind. Her clothing evaporated in my vision and she stood smiling before me, welcoming me with open arms to join her in the freedom and release that the dream would provide. I noted with satisfaction that my vision of her was unexaggerated by cartoonish or childish enhancements and was exactly as I believed her to be within the warm cocoon of her sleeping bag beside me. My subconscious mind overpowered my conscious inhibitions, and in my vision she pirouetted coquettishly and walked towards me, smiling mischievously. She reached for me, determination and deep resolve replacing mischief in her eyes, and I felt myself respond in kind…
I opened my eyes, dispelling the vision. Even a virtual Lisa could elicit an overwhelming physical response, and sleep offered no respite. A small, warm pond of cocksap had pooled above my navel during my brief vision. My erection throbbed painfully, imprisoned forcefully by the weight of my hand flattening it against my body. Precum coated my fingers, saturating the cloth of the sleeping bag. The volume of slippery fluid made every surface in contact with my cock as slick as the dream of Lisa’s warm, fragrant cunt. My mind’s eye forced the image upon me, overpowering rational thought and replacing the reality of physical restraint and cotton with the image of her fingers, her mouth, the skin of her breasts, and the warmth of her cunt rising and falling on the length of my aching, hungry cock. The power of the images crashed like a wave over conscious control, drowning restraint. I gripped my cock tightly, desperately trying to stem the rising tide of images and counterfeit sensations streaming through my mind. The reality of the dim light in the tent struggled for dominance with the surge of images in my head. My peripheral vision began to fade and I blinked frantically and futilely in an effort to restore it. Fading from the outside edges in, tunnel vision claimed my sight. Darkness washed over me like a soft blanket as the intensity built, robbing me of reality and declaring lust the victor over reason.
The realm of possibility and fantasy lay open to my treacherous mind without the contrast of the realm of the real. Images flashed like soft, warm lightning through my mind. Lisa in her bathing suit. Lisa beside me in the tent. Lisa’s mouth softly descending on mine. Lisa’s cunt embracing the girth of my cock. A final fantasy image gripped my mind like an iron fist in a velvet glove. Lisa straddled my thighs, pressing herself down onto my body, the warmth of her thighs descending around my cock, her body slowly swallowing the length of my throbbing erection. Her hands clenched her own breasts, face distorted in the throes of an orgasm. In my mind I felt the ripple of muscles deep in her cunt clench and release rhythmically and heard her voice rise in bestial triumph as she came. As her cunt gripped my cock in a glorious, pulsing embrace, the floodgates burst in my own, all-too-real body. I felt my breath catch in my throat, felt my testicles rise into my body, and – full of shame and rife with pleasure in the same moment – felt the warm, pulsing streams of semen burst through my clenched fingers to soil my stomach and sleeping bag. I held my breath, desperate to conceal my condition from the gorgeous creature just inches from me in the realm of the real.
In my vision Lisa’s intense resolve within her orgasm turned to a warm, wide grin as she felt my streams of semen rise and flood her cunt. She opened her thighs above me and pressed herself as deeply onto my cock as she was able as she embraced the gift I was pouring in streams of ecstasy against her cervix. Sated, content, and eager for the inevitable consequence of our union, she held my cock immersed deep inside her body. In my waking dream I sat up to embrace her, still buried deeply within her. She caught and held my gaze, smiling gently, as I wrapped my arms around her back and held her against my chest. I saw a spark deep within her eyes and heard her breath catch as the miracle caught in her body. Miraculously, she gasped as I felt her stomach swell gently against mine and heard her moan softly in awe and pleasure as she claimed her birthright as a woman. I had always enjoyed sex in the past, but never had it been accompanied by such a sense of pride and moral certitude as I watched her swell with my child.
The vision faded slowly, but the sound of her satisfied breath remained in my ears as the wondrous sight of her now ecstatically tumescent form slid from my mind into the fantasy world that had created it. Just as the vision dissolved she looked up to me and smiled – a beautiful woman made transcendent by sweat, semen, and the new, eager life in her womb.
In the real world, the last slick, warm bursts of semen exploded from my cock through my fingers to course onto my stomach. I exhaled slowly, shuddering with catharsis. My erection remained painfully stiff, swollen and rigid beyond any memory I possessed. I moved my hand, literally covered with semen, away from the head of my cock and tried to find a dry surface to wipe it clean. The interior of the sleeping bag was saturated with sweat, precum, and the massive quantity of semen that had just poured in pulsing streams from my cock. There was no dry surface within reach. I wiped my fingers as best I could on the soaked cotton, and reached down once again to refold the lecherous betrayer against my stomach. Unrepentantly defiant, my cock throbbed against my hand with a motion reminiscent of the inhalation and exhalation of a predator – safe only when sated or sleeping. After a minute or two the wilful beast quieted and my erection subsided to a force easily held against my stomach by the weight of my hand.
With the release of my orgasm, my sight began to return and the light of the campfire crept cautiously into my awareness through the translucent walls of the tent. I quietly turned my head to my left. Lisa was turned towards me, eyes closed, lips parted, breathing deeply and quietly. She was, thank mercy, asleep. Knowing that I no longer risked discovery, I released my cock, laid my hands at my sides, closed my eyes, a
nd promptly fell asleep.
I realized, even in my dreams, that my life as a man truly began in the moment that our eyes met at the airport. I knew that I loved her. I knew that the first thing I would do after waking was to acknowledge my love openly and surrender to whatever task she set before me. With that understanding my dreams faded to a comforting sense of warmth and purpose and I fell soundly asleep.
I woke abruptly, eyes wide and instinctively aware that something was profoundly wrong. A dull glimmer cast by the coals of the fire still penetrated the polypropylene walls of the tent. I knew it hadn’t been long since I had fallen asleep. The air of the tent had lost little of its heat or humidity. At most, thirty minutes had passed since I had shut my eyes. For a moment I held my breath and listened, seeking the source of my unease. I could still smell the musk in the air from the delicious creature on my left – a musk now well mixed with the smell of slowly drying semen that wafted from my sleeping bag. Thankfully Lisa was asleep and the smell would be gone in the morning. I pulled my hands upward from my sides, breaking a thin, slick crust of partially dried semen where my cum-stained fingers had bonded to the natural fibre of the sleeping bag, and crossed my hands defensively on my chest. I felt a chill.
My eyes scanned the interior of the tent for any minute sign of that which had disturbed my sleep. Save the mating crickets outside the tent, all was calm. My mind ran a quiet checklist of that which I knew to be true. The fire was gutted. No sparks had spread to the fabric of the tent. The moonlight, now more powerful than the dim light of the fire, gave a dim luminescence to the walls of the tent, spreading a thin blue light through our quiet den. Nothing seemed amiss.
I could still feel the pressure of palm and fingers encircling the girth of my cock. Awake, eager, and demanding in spite of its earlier coup d’etat, my erection once again throbbed gently with my pulse, twitching against the gentle pressure holding it flat to my stomach. More precum had pooled on my stomach while I slept. I could feel it dripping down my left side. For a moment my mind began to slide into the same pattern as prior, imagining the pleasure of Lisa’s hands on my cock. I felt my erection begin to respond to the thought, and felt fingers automatically slide from the base of my shaft to the head of my cock, palming and holding the unrepentant monster firmly in hand. Precum continued to drip, squeezing between fingers to join the small pond in and above my navel.
The discovery of that which had disturbed me came in three stages too rapid to separate without accepting the holistic reality of the whole. Holistically, I was in serious trouble.
Sleeping people breathe deeply and evenly. They make noise, but the tent was completely silent. Lisa was awake.
There was a slight draft of cool air entering my sleeping bag from my left side. My cotton cocoon had been breached. Lisa had breached it.
Both of my hands were crossed on my chest. I was not controlling the firm caress of the fingers on my painfully erect cock. Lisa’s hand, slick with precum, was stroking my cock.
A small part of my mind observed my response from a distance, detached and amused. My heart stopped for a beat and suddenly tripled its rate, sending a deep blush to my cheeks and an extra surge of blood into a cock that changed consistency instantly from soft steel to reinforced concrete. A surge of intense pain accompanied the surge in hydraulic pressure and I heard myself yell in response, incapable of stifling the unbelievable agony streaming from my groin as the sanguine pressure built beyond rational limits. My testicles joined in the chorus of complaint, adding a tortuous harmony to the melody screaming in my mind. At the same time every muscle in my body seized and my thighs pushed upward against the small hand that palmed the head of my cock. I felt the skin of my cockhead press against her soft palm, then between her thumb and fingers as she felt the thrust and guided my cock expertly into her grasp. The cum-stained fingers of her left hand encircled and gripped the length of my shaft. She pressed down against the base of my cock with all the force she could muster, sending a surrealistic descant of pleasure into my mind. The gestalt of incredible pain and unprecedented pleasure forced an inhuman moan from my throat. I heard her respond with a bestial shout that sounded like raw victory and felt her move toward me in the tent.
Vicky
- 28.07.2021
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