(X-rated) May 31 2023, Blackburn Trail Center to Shenandoah Street (Harper’s Ferry):
The same guy that walked in on us yesterday ended up packing up early and went to sit on the porch to eat a snack before heading out.
I woke up feeling so aroused, so I guided Voodoo’s hands down to my pussy. He began to finger me under the sheets. I moaned gently while the guy sat on the porch, the only thing blocking us being a screen door.
Voodoo whispered, “He’s right there.” My pussy opened up for him as he continued, “he’s right there listening to your moans.”
He felt how wet I became and got on top to slip his cock in, quickly picking up the pace of his thrusts, fucking me deeper and harder. His eyes grew sultry with lust. Then, he spat on my face and smirked when I grew frustrated.
He says, “Awe, you look so cute when you’re angry,” he mocked, “mm, so pitiful,” then rammed his cock in harder.
I could feel my pussy throbbing for every inch of him in that moment, unsure as to why him making fun of me and acting condescending got me off so much.
“You gonna cry?” he provoked, “cause I like it when you cry—shit gets me off.”
Like Stockholm syndrome, I couldn’t help but stay enamored by him. I wanted to please him, even if it meant I wasn’t in my right mind. He fucked me so hard that it brought about my period. Soon after he came, we cleaned up and Voodoo went outside to smoke a cigarette. He apologized to the guy sitting outside on the porch.
He looked directly at Voodoo with a straight face and said, “I gave you guys space to fuck and I come back and you’re fucking again. And then again at night and in the morning.” He shook his head in disappointment and seethed, “you two fuck like rabbits, what the fuck.”
I did feel a little bit bad, because every time the guy walked into the room, we were either fucking or doing some foreplay, but to be fair, we were trying to be really quiet and discreet… well, sorta.
Voodoo and I packed up and walked less than a quarter mile up the blue blaze trail that connected back to the AT. I spotted a campground and I asked Voodoo if he wanted to take a sex break with me, to which he was very open to. God, I loved how virile he was and how strong his stamina appeared to be. The first guy I dated in my teenage years couldn’t even fuck me this much.
So, we got situated on the picnic table and he penetrated me numerous ways, the best being propped up on the edge of the table while he rammed me. Lucky for us, a few different people happened to walk by in the distance which just drove me mad with euphoria. By the time we finished, there was so much blood everywhere. I cleaned up, while Voodoo released more of his energy by running up the bear pole naked.
As we started walking again, both of us began listening to our separate tunes. I noticed he kept picking something out of his pants as if something was biting him, so I poked my trekking pole near his butthole and he skipped like I have never seen him skip before. I peed myself from laughing so hard.
Once off the trail, we hitched to Walmart to do some resupplying and then we headed to Applebee’s since I was craving a grilled chicken sandwich. Afterwards, we hitched to Harper’s Ferry.
As we had our thumbs out, I said, “We’re going to need to figure out where we are going to stay for the night.”
Right at that second, a couple of people stopped to give us a ride. They happened to recognize me from my writing. I told them how we were looking for a hostel to stay at for the night. Turned out the guy giving us a ride was named Hippie and he owned his own hostel and invited us to stay with them.
When we arrived, they showed us our private room and we felt so beyond grateful for what they had given us. There were two queen sized beds with a full living room set up and couches. It was just what we needed. We celebrated our gratitude by having sex on the floor, as we didn’t want to get their sheets covered in blood.
There was a point where he grabbed my hand aggressively, telling me to stop scratching him and how much he hated it. The way he expressed it felt so intense. I could tell he was visibly angry instead of being playful in a sexual sense.
I kept riding him, trying to push the feelings of taking it personally aside, which only lasted about a couple of seconds before I had a mental breakdown. I bawled my eyes out, unable to control the hyperventilating. I felt as if he was disappointed in me and I took it to heart.
He pulled his cock out because he said it felt weird/wrong that I was crying with him still inside of me. I kept trying to run to the bathroom so I could cry by myself without having to make a huge scene. Instead, he pulled me in close and tight in his arms, holding me, the way I secretly wanted to be held in that moment.
I felt so overwhelmed to the point where I felt I could cry for hours. The waves of sadness came up strong and with great intensity. I felt such a strong feeling sense of having done something wrong. It felt weird, especially because we continued to have sex after we talked it out and still, I couldn’t help but cry. It had almost been a decade since I last experienced the feeling of crying during a sexual act. It was one thing if it was brought about in a sexual way, but very different when I needed a lot of communication instead of cock in that moment.
Eventually, the feelings passed. I brushed it off by believing in thoughts that told me I was simply overreacting because of my moon cycle. Voodoo cheered me up when he started acting silly, entertaining me by doing hand stands, dancing and attempting to moon walk while simultaneously laughing hysterically. I sat on the couch while I enjoyed the view of him, in appreciation for the moments in which we shared laughter and childlike playfulness.
The same guy that walked in on us yesterday ended up packing up early and went to sit on the porch to eat a snack before heading out.
I woke up feeling so aroused, so I guided Voodoo’s hands down to my pussy. He began to finger me under the sheets. I moaned gently while the guy sat on the porch, the only thing blocking us being a screen door.
Voodoo whispered, “He’s right there.” My pussy opened up for him as he continued, “he’s right there listening to your moans.”
He felt how wet I became and got on top to slip his cock in, quickly picking up the pace of his thrusts, fucking me deeper and harder. His eyes grew sultry with lust. Then, he spat on my face and smirked when I grew frustrated.
He says, “Awe, you look so cute when you’re angry,” he mocked, “mm, so pitiful,” then rammed his cock in harder.
I could feel my pussy throbbing for every inch of him in that moment, unsure as to why him making fun of me and acting condescending got me off so much.
“You gonna cry?” he provoked, “cause I like it when you cry—shit gets me off.”
Like Stockholm syndrome, I couldn’t help but stay enamored by him. I wanted to please him, even if it meant I wasn’t in my right mind. He fucked me so hard that it brought about my period. Soon after he came, we cleaned up and Voodoo went outside to smoke a cigarette. He apologized to the guy sitting outside on the porch.
He looked directly at Voodoo with a straight face and said, “I gave you guys space to fuck and I come back and you’re fucking again. And then again at night and in the morning.” He shook his head in disappointment and seethed, “you two fuck like rabbits, what the fuck.”
I did feel a little bit bad, because every time the guy walked into the room, we were either fucking or doing some foreplay, but to be fair, we were trying to be really quiet and discreet… well, sorta.
Voodoo and I packed up and walked less than a quarter mile up the blue blaze trail that connected back to the AT. I spotted a campground and I asked Voodoo if he wanted to take a sex break with me, to which he was very open to. God, I loved how virile he was and how strong his stamina appeared to be. The first guy I dated in my teenage years couldn’t even fuck me this much.
So, we got situated on the picnic table and he penetrated me numerous ways, the best being propped up on the edge of the table while he rammed me. Lucky for us, a few different people happened to walk by in the distance which just drove me mad with euphoria. By the time we finished, there was so much blood everywhere. I cleaned up, while Voodoo released more of his energy by running up the bear pole naked.
As we started walking again, both of us began listening to our separate tunes. I noticed he kept picking something out of his pants as if something was biting him, so I poked my trekking pole near his butthole and he skipped like I have never seen him skip before. I peed myself from laughing so hard.
Once off the trail, we hitched to Walmart to do some resupplying and then we headed to Applebee’s since I was craving a grilled chicken sandwich. Afterwards, we hitched to Harper’s Ferry.
As we had our thumbs out, I said, “We’re going to need to figure out where we are going to stay for the night.”
Right at that second, a couple of people stopped to give us a ride. They happened to recognize me from my writing. I told them how we were looking for a hostel to stay at for the night. Turned out the guy giving us a ride was named Hippie and he owned his own hostel and invited us to stay with them.
When we arrived, they showed us our private room and we felt so beyond grateful for what they had given us. There were two queen sized beds with a full living room set up and couches. It was just what we needed. We celebrated our gratitude by having sex on the floor, as we didn’t want to get their sheets covered in blood.
There was a point where he grabbed my hand aggressively, telling me to stop scratching him and how much he hated it. The way he expressed it felt so intense. I could tell he was visibly angry instead of being playful in a sexual sense.
I kept riding him, trying to push the feelings of taking it personally aside, which only lasted about a couple of seconds before I had a mental breakdown. I bawled my eyes out, unable to control the hyperventilating. I felt as if he was disappointed in me and I took it to heart.
He pulled his cock out because he said it felt weird/wrong that I was crying with him still inside of me. I kept trying to run to the bathroom so I could cry by myself without having to make a huge scene. Instead, he pulled me in close and tight in his arms, holding me, the way I secretly wanted to be held in that moment.
I felt so overwhelmed to the point where I felt I could cry for hours. The waves of sadness came up strong and with great intensity. I felt such a strong feeling sense of having done something wrong. It felt weird, especially because we continued to have sex after we talked it out and still, I couldn’t help but cry. It had almost been a decade since I last experienced the feeling of crying during a sexual act. It was one thing if it was brought about in a sexual way, but very different when I needed a lot of communication instead of cock in that moment.
Eventually, the feelings passed. I brushed it off by believing in thoughts that told me I was simply overreacting because of my moon cycle. Voodoo cheered me up when he started acting silly, entertaining me by doing hand stands, dancing and attempting to moon walk while simultaneously laughing hysterically. I sat on the couch while I enjoyed the view of him, in appreciation for the moments in which we shared laughter and childlike playfulness.
