Sensual Erotica Collection ~ Mega Twenty Book Set

By Derendrea

A steamy collection of twenty delicious erotic stories. Within, you will find stories from a variety of genres, all with themes of submission, tenderness, light bondage, and sexual exploration.
This collection marks the sixth year anniversary of Derendrea's first publication in the erotica genre.
Save over 80% buying them as a set!

Featured Stories:
SEX CAMP SERIES - (Five Book Set) Helen explores the strange and deviant world of menage and bondage.
CRASHED IN THE OUTLANDS - An alien women must depend on four husky humans to survive a jungle planet.
SHACKLES OF THE GENIE - A djinn is trapped by an evil temptress, and his only hope of freedom is through a hunter he finds in the Arabian wilderness (M/M).
SACRIFICE TO TANGAROA - A young island woman is given to the tempest in attempt to appease the god of the sea.
SAVAGED - A woman is pursued by bandits into the wood, but then saved by a husky barbarian.
SKIN WALKER - A Native American woman is rescued from would-be kidnappers by a shape shifter.
FORGOTTEN - A young woman enters a cybernetic suit during an attack on her home. She must join with the being embedded in the suit in order to survive.
PLAIN SKIN - The eldest heir of the king is abducted and sold to barbarians, who tattoo her skin with symbols of their tribe.
THE SULTAN'S HAREM - The sultan's favorite, and least receptive slave has an unexpected guest.
FOR THE KING - Three men enter the queen's bedchamber. She has the chance to refuse, but she doesn't.
SENSITIVE - A woman with a 'sensitive personality' meets a man that sets her nerves on fire.
VALKYRIE - A young New York man rescues a creature on his way home. He hides her in his apartment, but can he hide her from her past?
A FOREST ENCOUNTER - Two traveling merchants make the mistake of staying overnight in a strange wood.
COURTSHIP - A maid lives out her fantasy with her lord.
MY BEST CUSTOMER - A drug addict tells the story of a client that treated her differently than the rest.
SEX BLITZ - Book One: The Red Spot, Helen learns more of the world of Sex Camp.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Derendrea
• Release date: Jul 6, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463586082

Derendrea

Derendrea is a an author of sensual & entertaining erotica. All of her stories are based on dreams.Recent publications:SEX BLITZ - Hayden gives consent to give up all control. Sequel to the Sex Camp Series.SEX CAMP - Helen explores the world of menage and bondage after being invited to a strange camp.SHACKLES OF THE GENIE - M/M story of an enslaved djinn whose only hope of freedom is a husky hunter.CRASHED IN THE OUTLANDS - An alien woman must rely on four sweaty humans in order to survive a jungle planet.SACRIFICE TO TANGAROA - A young island woman is given to the tempest in attempt to appease the god of the sea.SAVAGED - A woman is pursued by bandits into the wood, but then saved by a husky barbarian.SKIN WALKER - A Native American woman is rescued from would-be kidnappers by a shape shifter.FORGOTTEN - A young woman enters a cybernetic suit during an attack on her home. She must join with the being embedded in the suit in order to survive.PLAIN SKIN - The eldest heir of the king is abducted and sold to barbarians, who tattoo her skin with symbols of their tribe.THE SULTAN'S HAREM - The sultan's favorite, and least receptive slave has an unexpected guest.FOR THE KING - Three men enter the queen's bedchamber. She has the chance to refuse, but she doesn't.SENSITIVE - A woman with a 'sensitive personality' meets a man that sets her nerves on fire.VALKYRIE - A young New York man rescues a creature on his way home. He hides her in his apartment, but can he hide her from her past?A FOREST ENCOUNTER - Two traveling merchants make the mistake of staying overnight in a strange wood.COURTSHIP - A maid lives out her fantasy with her lord. (FREE as part of Derendrea's Erotic Sampler)MY BEST CUSTOMER - A drug addict tells the story of a client that treated her differently than the rest.Stories to look out for in 2019:ANGEL APOCALYPSE - An angel falls in love with a soldier during WWIII.THE SWEETEST FRUIT - A non-biblical retelling of the story of Eve and the forbidden fruit.THE DARKNESS OF SPACE - A woman is lured into detective work on a mining colony.

Book preview

Part One: The Red Spot, Sequel to SEX CAMP

These are works of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people or events is purely coincidental. This is copyrighted work. Do not replicate or distribute without written permission from the author. Brief quotes may be used for a review or critique.

SKINWALKER

© 2015 Derendrea Books

FORGOTTEN

© 2014 Derendrea Books

PLAIN SKIN

© 2014 Derendrea Books

MY BEST CUSTOMER

© 2013 Derendrea Books

FOR THE KING

© 2012 Derendrea Books

SENSITIVE

© 2012 Derendrea Books

COURTSHIP

© 2013 Derendrea Books

VALKYRIE

© 2012 Derendrea Books

A FOREST ENCOUNTER

© 2013 Derendrea Books

THE SULTAN’S HAREM

© 2013 Derendrea Books

SAVAGED

© 2016 Derendrea Books

SEX CAMP

© 2018 Derendrea Books

SACRIFICE TO TANGAROA

© 2016 Derendrea Books

SHACKLES OF THE GENIE

© 2018 Derendrea Books

CRASHED IN THE OUTLANDS

© 2018 Derendrea Books

SEX BLITZ

© 2018 Derendrea Books

FROM THE AUTHOR

Dear Reader,

Thank you for your interest in Sensual Erotica, a collection of twenty delicious erotic stories. Within, you will find stories from a variety of genres, all with themes of submission, tenderness, light bondage, and sexual exploration.

This collection marks the sixth year anniversary of my first publication in the erotica genre. It has been an amazing journey, and would not have been possible without the supportive erotica author community, and my cherished readers!

To find out more about these stories and my future works, visit my website.

www.derendrea.com

SEX CAMP

Helen is invited to a strange camp and finds her love life is turned upside down. She explores the world of menage and bondage, while getting a taste of what bi-curious really means.

Includes Sex Camp Parts I, II, & III

And Bonus Chapters:

Midnight Visitor

&

A Visit From Dr. T

CHAPTER ONE

THE APPLICATION

The thin white paper seems restless in my hands. The words are a blurry mess. What kind of application is this? No instructions, no explanation, just a list of questions. Or at least I assume so, from what I can understand of it.

Mary Grace, my closest work-friend, gave me the application after a discussion about my recent love life failures. Just fill it out, she had said. Then leave it underneath the black door beside SBB on East Ann Street. See what happens.

Those instructions are not on the application. What is it going to hurt to fill it out? Dutifully I sit at my marble counter and complete the standard questions.

Name, Address, Gender, Age

I stare at the blue ink inscribed 39 for a few breaths, thinking I am too old for these silly shenanigans. I give a sigh of defeat and read the next question.

Sexual Orientation

Well now, this is sounding more like a dating match event. I suppose that makes sense, though I wouldn’t have guessed Mary Grace to be the type to attend one of those name-tag, stand and change partners meet and greets. If I even got an invitation to go, I would probably come up with some excuse to cancel.

I write:

Straight

And thinking of the buzz word I’ve heard around, I add...

& Bi-Curious

What the hell, it’s not like I am actually going to submit this to anyone. I stare across my tidy, silent living room, the weight of the afternoon pressing on me like too many blankets. Thinking of the leftover TV dinner in the fridge, I read the next questions.

Any known allergies, Any medical conditions

I answer None to both, but why do they need to know that? I look on...

Preferred Sexual Position.

Heat rushes to my face and I glance around my apartment, checking if anyone sees me reading the application. My word, what is this an application for? Biting my lip, and emitting a very school-girl giggle, I read the question again.

Wow, that spurns a kaleidoscope of memories, of my first boyfriend Jim, and his musty basement bedroom. And my ex, who at times was a little adventurous, but nothing beyond a quick fuck in the kitchen when I was doing dishes, and a couple times in the shower. Thinking of Leo awakens the familiar bitterness and regret, but it is distracted by tumbling questions and my vivid imagination.

If I could have it any way, what way would I want? My eyes mist and my mouth waters, thinking of all those possibilities. I answer with a ?.

Do you prefer to dominate or submit?

I almost choke though I haven’t eaten. I don’t know much about that culture, I know nothing about sex clubs aside from the stray mention in an R-Rated movie, I don’t read dirty books... but I do know enough to understand the question.

What should I answer? I have never really thought about it. I re-read the question, imagining a leather-bound dominatrix, whip in hand. That’s not me. But I don’t think I’d really enjoy being whipped, either. I answer with another ?.

Do you enjoy oral sex? Do you enjoy anal sex? Do you enjoy artificial penetration?

My head swims, and I would fall if I wasn’t leaning so heavily on the counter. Mary Grace handed this to me, in the middle of our office, and she wasn’t even blushing! Was it some office prank? She wasn’t the type... Not even the gruff guys from maintenance would stoop this low.

Unless it wasn’t a prank...

Unless it is real...

So personal, so private of questions, asked so plainly as if they were asking my favorite food. Some of this I wouldn’t admit to myself, even if I did. Let alone some stranger, with unknown intentions. They might as well have asked me if I masturbate.

Heat rises across my entire body. I’m almost shaking as I write my response:

Maybe

Maybe

Maybe

I feel like I will die. This little piece of paper has made me more aroused than I have been in a long time. I re-read the questions and my answers until the page blurs in my vision.

# # # #

The application folded into an envelop in my lap, I sit in my car staring at the black door, the only feature of a brick building beside the old-time SBB storefront. No one comes in or out. No one else places suspicious looking letters beneath the door.

Am I really about to do this? This paper has my name on it, my address. And some other very personal information. It will take a lot of trust for me to place this note under the door. Trust in something I know nothing about. I check myself in the mirror, my straightened brown hair all askew, my makeup a little smeared. Taking out my concealer, I reapply it under my eyes. There’s a lot of vial, evil people in the world. I don’t want to invite them into my life.

But I guess I’m just lost, desperate, alone enough to try. To hope... for something more. Something exciting.

I feel like I’m wading through molasses as I cross the sidewalk. No one seems to notice me as I climb the five-step stairway. A freshly painted black metal door waits before me, out of place within the crumbling gray brick building. There’s no number, no windows, no sign. Just a door.

Trust.

I place my hand against the warm black metal and lean down to slip my envelope beneath the frame. There’s no sound from within, no one comes out to greet me. After a few minutes of standing there trembling, I walk down the steps and back to my car.

What a foolish, foolish venture. I write off the whole thing before I return to my apartment.

CHAPTER TWO

THE EVALUATION

The day drudges by slower than usual. I avoid Mary Grace, but once I catch her in the employee kitchen, her smile sparkling a little more than usual, adjusting her wavy red hair loose about her shoulders. I just give her a nod hello and slink back to my office.

I leave 15 minutes early. Usually so punctual, I’m sure no one will notice, and if they do they will probably think I’m sick.

I am grateful no one has invented a thought-spying device. All day, not one figure or task crossed my mind. All I thought about was a black door, and questions on a paper, and me flushed and burning stooped over my counter, and some stranger, ravishing me to my heart’s content. I’ve never been so raunchy, so needy, so put off balance. I wish I were a guy with a book of names and numbers, so I could call on someone for a quick fix. At this point I would almost take Leo.

Almost.

I drive home alone. I climb the stairs to my apartment alone. I enter the door alone. But here at my feet is an envelope.

A thousand moths flutter across my skin. The envelope was pushed under my door while I was at work. I glance back at the hallway, but it is empty. I turn back. The envelope is still there. I’m too curious not to pick it up.

The beige envelope is made of quality parchment, like you would receive for a birthday card or fancy party invitation. I break the seal and pull out equally rich paper. Unfolding it I find a neatly handwritten note, in block letters, obviously from a man:

Ms. Griffin,

We have accepted your application.

We will be contacting you soon to initiate your evaluation.

I grab the door to keep from falling. Someone read my application. Someone was there, on the other side of that black door. We it says, who is we? What have I started?

I desperately need to call Mary Grace and get the truth from her, but I can’t bring myself to dial her number. Her voice on the line, saying it out loud, would make this all real, and I’m not sure if I want it to be.

I talk myself into calming down and shutting my front door, then to put the letter on the counter and sit on the couch.

My world is turned upside down, but for some reason, I want more. I want to be swept away in this fantasy.

If this is an office prank, they’ve got me good. I lay back, biting my thumb as my hand drifts between my legs. I imagine some hunk coming through my door and close my eyes, feeling more alone than ever.

# # # #

I’ve fallen asleep, but a loud noise tries to lure me from a restless slumber. It’s knocking. There’s a voice at the door. Knocking again.

Ms. Griffin?

Coming! I call back. Stiffly I stand, vaguely aware that I fell asleep fully clothed, uncomfortable in my bra and button-up fitted dress. And I haven’t eaten, so says the ache in my stomach. But I have something more pressing to attend to: some stranger knocking at my door past dark, judging by the windows. I make a quick fix of my disheveled hair and open the door.

Dear god I’m still dreaming. Or at least I hope I am, because if what I think I see is real, I may be going completely nutty.

Before me stands one of the most handsome, sexiest men I’ve ever seen. And I’ve never seen one such in person, just in movies and magazines. He is model quality gorgeous, and just as well dressed, his body fitting a seamless gray suit. His thick blond-brown hair is just long enough to hold a little style, purposefully wavy and out of place. Well-defined cheeks frame his dark, watchful eyes, and he smiles, offering more proof that he is a figment of my imagination. Real people aren’t that perfect.

And he’s not alone. To his side and his back is another similarly dressed equally gorgeous man, only different in his dark brown hair, shimmering tan skin, and slightly different build, less muscular but still well-defined.

My throat emits a nervous laugh and I fall backward. The man closest to me moves swiftly, skillfully, and catches me before I hit the floor. He holds me halfway back, but between his strong arms, I’m not going anywhere.

In a very deep, rich baritone he asks me, Are you alright?

I give another breathy laugh as he rights me. Yes... I just... tripped.

Still holding my arms, the blonde stranger stares at me, memorizing my face. He looks like he’s about to kiss me, and I almost would let him. Hell yes I would let him. I would love to see how those pink-brown lips feel pressed over mine. I catch a trail of what must be very expensive cologne, because it is strong and soft in the same moment. I want to sink my face into his chest and bury myself in his scent.

But he doesn’t kiss me. Slowly he releases me as I stand on my own, then he backs up to wait at my threshold.

I can’t believe what’s standing before me is actually real. Sexy, attentive, and polite. What more could a girl ask for in a guy? And times two... I feel like I will pass out.

Can I... uh... help you? I stutter and laugh like a giddy stoker, pressing my hand on my cheek.

We received your application.

My face must be beet red by how it burns. My stomach flutters. I don’t even know what that application was for. Now two gorgeous men are at my doorstep.

My name is Colin. He offers his hand, and I return the gesture. But he doesn’t shake my hand, he holds it with a light pressure.

I’m Hayden. The other man steps up, and I barely feel my hand exchanging holds. Hayden’s eyes are a pale green, despite his dark brown hair. His expression is more serious. Though he doesn’t smile, he is friendly, in a direct kind of way. My fingers curve in his palm as he presses his fingers lightly between the bones in my hand. It is a strange greeting, almost intimate.

He releases me and my hand rises to my mouth. I stare at both of them, completely at a loss what to say or do.

May we come in? Colin asks me. Shit, what should I say? I want them to, but I don’t know who they are. That same feeling compels me, same as when I slipped my application under the black door. Trust in something I don’t understand, and a foolhardy hope... for something more.

I motion them inside.

We enter and suddenly my apartment living room feels very small and cramped, though I have comfortably hosted small get-togethers here with twice as many friends. My hands nervously rub my neck but I stop myself, sure it will leave marks with how close my blood is to the surface.

Lord help me, I’m burning from the inside.

Eyeing the thermostat on the wall behind Hayden, I wish he would move ahead so I can adjust it, but they have both stopped in the entrance way, casually examining my home. By their watchful eyes I see they are making conclusions: I live alone, I don’t have any pets, I have simple yet elegant tastes. Ha, maybe. Or they may consider my meager possessions unfashionable compared to their pampered lifestyles.

I lower my gaze to my plain, low-cut carpet. But... something lures my attention up again. Both men turn to face me. Both men stare at me, their faces unreadable aside from a confident calm.

My mind blossoms with the possibilities of this encounter, a sweat streaked three-some in my bedroom, me stuck between their two muscular bodies in complete ecstasy.

My body shudders, and I cannot suppress it. If my handsome visitors notice, they do nothing to indicate such.

May we sit down? Colin gestures to my couch. I don’t think I can blush any more than I already am.

Uh... yes... please. I walk them to my beige sectional, trying my best to keep from stumbling. I bite my lip before I utter some more garble. They sit together, facing me, relaxed but giving me their full attention.

Colin folds his hands together. The evaluation is fairly quick.

Evaluation... that’s right. This is some kind of test for something else to happen. I want to ask what this is all about, but I don’t want to look like more of an idiot. All I can manage to do is nod.

We will take a couple measurements, a couple samples, and do a simple physical examination. He says this so casually, like he is repeating a coffee order. Is that alright?

Sure that I will stutter if I ask what he means by ‘physical examination’, or if I try to say anything, I nod again.

Colin and Hayden both stand. Colin motions me up and I comply, goosebumps forming across my body as to what is about to happen. He wraps his hand around my arm, reassuring, steadying me. While before I was burning, now I’m chilled, and his touch is all that’s warm. I want him to cover me with his embrace. I want to feel his skin across every inch of mine. He’s cast a spell, now I feel I will tip over if he lets me go.

Hayden takes something out of his back pocket, a folded leather pouch, almost like an enlarged wallet. In it are several plastic vials, but I can’t tell what else. Is it some kinky sex kit? I can think of several uses for the phallic tubes, none of them terribly unpleasant.

Hayden takes out a long q-tip, the kind you see at the doctor’s office, and hands it to Colin. I can’t breathe as he lifts it to me.

Open your mouth please.

I comply, looking from one to the other of them. They don’t look like doctors. Or nurses for that matter. No one gets through med school without acquiring at least a few stress lines on their forehead. As Colin swabs the inside of my cheek, Hayden takes out a miniature measuring tape. He presses his thumb on my collar bone and starts taking measurements. My chest to my hip, my hip to my knee, my hip to the floor. Just like a tailor would do. But he doesn’t measure around my stomach, which I’m grateful for. I’m not as skinny as I was in my twenties.

They work in sync, Colin placing the swab in the vial as Hayden lifts it, Hayden giving him another q-tip. There’s only one thing he can use it for, and the look in his eyes tells me I’m right.

Will you lay down on the couch please? His voice is unemotional, but the ‘you’re in for a treat’ look in his eyes says this will be much different than my yearly visit to my GYN. They wait for me to move on my own, though I draw out the moment to see if they will coerce me.

But there’s none of that. Collecting myself, I make my posture straighter, distinctly aware of the discomfort of my fitted bra, of my suit sticking to my clammy skin. If this isn’t a dream, if it’s real, I want to be fully aware.

Hayden steps closer as I start to sit. He takes a couple pillows and positions them as I lay back. Hayden kneels beside me and takes my hand, doing that weird finger pressure thing again, while Colin sits at my feet. Colin doesn’t hesitate, he pulls up my skirt to my hips, exposing my underwear. I push my free hand over my mouth, stifling a nervous laugh.

My breath catches as Colin’s fingers hook around the sides of my panties. I bite my lip as he starts to pull them down, turning away.

Don’t be afraid. Hayden increases the pressure on my hand.

I’m... breath sucks between my teeth as Colin firmly spreads my legs apart... not afraid.

There’s no ‘Now you’re going to feel a little pressure’ or ‘Now here’s a little pinch’ like the doctor would say. Just his perfectly-manicured finger spreading my folds, delicately exploring my flower. His finger, and something slightly rough, briefly dips within my vagina, and I gasp, my hips arching out of impulse. I see Colin smile out of slitted eyes, but he is not mocking me. He places something in Hayden’s hand, takes hold of my underwear and deftly glides them back into place. They both stand as Colin rights my skirt.

The light goes off. I want to stand. I want to chase them, wrap my legs around them, make them satisfy this need they’ve awakened in me, but I utterly cannot move.

Colin leans over me. I hold my breath, trying see his face in the darkness. He spreads my quilted throw over my trembling body.

In a luscious voice he whispers, We’ll be in touch.

The door opens to light, then shuts again to silence.

CHAPTER THREE

THE INVITATION

I wake up hungry. My god, I’m starving. Was what happened last night real? My cramped body tells me so. As does yesterday’s clothes, my unwashed face, and the pillows positioned behind me as if I were some pampered diva.

I want to lay here forever, in this exact position they put me. I stretch, feeling caressed by the pillows under my head, the blanket across my chest and legs. Closing my eyes, I try to settle back into sweet dreams.

But my body protests. With a groan I stand, peeling off the throw like a second skin.

There’s nothing in the fridge I want. Nothing in the cabinets either. I take a quick shower, and call in sick to work.

I walk to the corner bistro a few streets down from my apartment. None of the pastries look appetizing. I order some raspberry tea with honey and sit at an outdoor table.

Fragrant steam rises from my cup, dew condenses on the rim. I let the scent deep into my lungs, feeding me though I haven’t eaten.

With heavy eyes I watch the people pass, and I can smell them. I’ve never before noticed their pleasant scents. Perfume and cologne, lotion and shaving cream. All pampered and clean in the cool morning air. Underneath all this charade, however, is raw, soft skin. Different shades, different forms, but all warm, all pulsing with the same blood below the surface.

I rub a sheen of sweat off my neck. It should feel uncomfortable with all these people. I imagine them last night, asleep in their beds, some alone, some with their partners. Some with sweat dripping and hearts racing, joining their bodies.

They pass me, casually on their way to work or the store, casually passing each other without any acknowledgment.

Little do they know what took place in my apartment last night.

My skin flushes, my own scent growing stronger as my heat rises. None of them know... last night I exposed myself to two strangers.

And I enjoyed it.

Am I some kind of deviant? It was so wrong, so raw. I watch the hurried people out of slitted eyes. Has a single one of them ever felt this way? Have they ever woke in the morning, not sure if they are awake or dreaming?

Strange, how this peculiar, forbidden encounter has made me feel. I feel human. More human, more alive than ever before. Somehow I’m connected with these people, yet strangely apart. Like they will never understand, cannot understand what’s inside of me, without following down the path I now travel.

I sit back with eyes half closed, drunk on the scene, high on the rhythm of the city. Small swallows of tea warm my chest, deepen my breath. Soon the tea is gone, and, drowsy, I allow the pace of the city to lead me down the street, through the crowds and across the sidewalks. Free of the restrictions of job, groceries, bills, or mortgage, I just wander. After most of the day is spent, the slow rhythm of the city returns me to my apartment.

And another envelope.

I just stand and stare at it, resting like a regular piece of mail on my hardwood floor. I check the hallway, expecting to see the two handsome strangers following me like ghosts. Their visit haunts me. I sense their calm eyes on me, though I am alone in my doorway.

I step inside and close the door, careful not to disturb the cream-colored envelope. Delicately, I lift the letter and carry it to the couch.

Sitting where I sat last night, I break the seal and reveal in the same block, handwritten letters:

Ms. Griffin,

We would like to invite you to camp. Tomorrow evening, follow Highway Fifteen north out of the city. After twenty-five miles, turn right at the red abandoned school house. Follow the gravel drive for five miles. Turn left at the green and yellow mailbox.

We look forward to seeing you.

What kind of invitation is that? No address to plug into the GPS, no specific time, no phone number to RSVP.

And no explanation, besides how to get there.

I have half a mind to write NO THANK YOU all over the letter and shove it under that black door on East Ann Street.

Camp... what the hell kind of camp is it? All I can conjure is a bunch of hippies cooking hot dogs around a camp fire and going canoeing on a lake. What else would camp mean? A sleepover? A ‘sit down at the picnic table and let’s do crafts’ type of gathering?

I read the directions again, imagining what type of event Colin and Hayden would be inclined to attend. That makes me bite my lips. Something elegant, something interesting, something out of the ordinary.

With my initial application, and the nature of my evaluation, this camp must be something far, far from the norm.

And what in god’s name am I supposed to wear?

CHAPTER FOUR

ARRIVAL

The small black dress that comes to my knees? Some capris and a white empire shirt? Should I go in survivalist mode? My brown dress pants and jacket? It’s a camp, whatever that means, so it shouldn’t be formal. I try on my black sun dress, examining my front, sides, and back in my closet mirror.

It is a princess-cut silk dress, with little embellishments. I bought it for last year’s summer office party, but I chickened out and wore something... longer.

The back of my legs disappear into the frills of the dress, suggesting more, wanting to be lifted. The top’s fitted cut shows all my curves, in just the right way.

I’ve curled my hair. I don’t care what kind of camp it is, I’m wearing it down. I’m tired of always wearing it in a tight bun at work. Shit, what about shoes? I don’t imagine heels would be a good idea. I dig out some medium-height sandals from the back of my closet. The little added height shows off my legs even more.

I apply light make up and lipstick, thinking for a moment I should eat before I put it on, but then dismiss the thought.

Am I actually about to do this? In the bathroom I make one more check of the smoothness of my legs, and lift up my dress to my cashmere panties. I am quite sure someone else will be seeing them tonight. Quite sure someone will be removing them... I run my fingers along that hot, soaked space between my legs. It is absolutely burning... throbbing. I’m not sure... but I truly hope that someone tonight will satisfy that need.

Last time all they did was look, and well... touch. But not long enough. Not nearly long enough.

I squeeze my arms, imagining one of those handsome men hold me again. Colin... I could melt under his gaze. I run my fingers over my lips, imagining he kisses me there.

With that I stand, make a final check of the essential contents of my purse, mostly the folded cream paper that holds the directions to this camp, and pull out my keys.

# # # # # #

Highway Fifteen is deserted in the afternoon. After I turn at the school house, there are no other cars. The green and yellow mail box is easy enough to find, the road is mostly boxelder and maple trees on both sides. The driveway follows a tunnel of light-green leafy trees, golden with the afternoon sun. Tall, bushy grasses prevent any view of my destination. I creep my car forward, not sure what I will find at the end of this road.

There’s a building, about the size of a one-story house with a raw pine exterior. Behind and to the right is another building, much larger almost the shape of a barn, with cathedral style windows. Though I can’t see a doorway, a group of people walk down the front, and I am sure they enter the building out of my sight. There’s also no other cars parked that I can see, but they could easily be hidden behind the buildings.

I pull up to the smaller building. It is closer to being some sort of reception area. There are no numbers on the buildings, which doesn’t surprise me. No numbers have existed on anything related to this camp.

My hand trembles as I put my car in park. I can barely close my fingers around my purse strap. With deliberate movements, I manage to place my keys into my purse, grasp the handle and open the door.

The open air comes at me as a cool breeze, refreshing and clean, carrying the songs of wild birds from every tree. The lawn is well manicured, but the trees grow wild, scattered all around the buildings and beyond. Gently rolling hills create a green horizon in every direction. This place makes me realize how much I needed a vacation from the closeness and concrete of the city.

I start for the wooden building a little more confident, a little more calm. I grasp the handle to the thick door and my heart misses a couple beats. This is it, my last chance to turn back. Get in my car and return to my apartment, my job, my lonely life.

But where’s the fun in that?

I open the door and find Colin and Hayden at a desk. Colin sits behind it with his feet propped up on the mahogany top, Hayden sits on the edge, his long arms stretched to either side comfortably supporting this medium-sized torso. I’m about to examine the rest of the room when they both stand at attention, noticing me.

Helen! Colin exclaims as he rounds the table. We are pleased you made it.

Hayden meets me first. He takes my arm in his hands and gently leads me inside. They both look genuinely happy to see me, smiling as they examine my attire.

You look beautiful, Hayden whispers.

I blush, unable to respond. Great, that again. Taking my bearings, I see it is an open room with no decorations beside the desk and a couple chairs, and another door in the back. Hayden and Colin wear collared, form fitting t-shirts and khaki pants. Their handsome appearances otherwise haven’t changed.

I feel I will stumble as they lead me forward, and I’m grateful they hold my arms. Hayden removes the purse from my shoulder and releases me.

Come, Colin commands, wrapping his strong arm around the small of my back. He leads me through the back door and into a dimly-lit hallway.

The closeness makes my pulse flutter, sensitive to every place Colin’s body presses into mine. I look to my counterpart. Is he leading me to some room where he’ll strip off all my clothes and fuck me senseless? The expression on his face suggests otherwise. There are other people here. I have a feeling there’s more in store tonight. Much, much more.

How could someone go through life being so sexy without becoming an obnoxious, self-loving prick? I wouldn’t have thought it was possible, before meeting him. All I can read on his smooth face is calm, tactful interest.

The whole rest of my life has been a dream, and only now I am awake. That is the only way to describe how I feel. The encounter in my apartment awakened me, and I’ve been adrift since then. Here and now, I’ve come to full consciousness.

I let myself relax in his hold, and feel a flush of numbness, almost tipping me over. Colin supports me. I rest against his solid chest and he smiles down at me. I trust... wherever he is taking me, I will enjoy it.

He leads me to another door, and opening it I find we have entered the large two-story building I saw when I arrived. It is an immense room with a tall, yellow log and plank ceiling, and it is filled with people.

A hundred, more than a hundred, maybe several hundred people... chatting, drinking, sitting around yellow polished wood tables. They are all around my age, thirties and forties, attractive in their own ways. There’s a wide mix of backgrounds, judging by their appearances and attire.

What is going on here? All of this for a casual party? Colin leads me forward, and guests we pass kindly nod and smile in greeting. No one is naked, no one is doing some exotic dance atop a table, not that I want them to. This is just not at all what I expected.

Are you hungry? Colin asks me. A bit of my strength returns at the thought of food. I realize that I haven’t really eaten in days, and I’m suddenly gripped with ravenous hunger.

My host doesn’t wait for me to respond, he can probably read the expression on my face. He walks me to the nearest table, empty though a few people pass by, mingling. He pulls out a carved wood seat with a deep cushion.

I’ll be right back, Colin tells me as I sink into the comfortable chair.

I am desperate to know what’s going on, and yet I am content, just going with the flow of these strange events. I wouldn’t be surprised if one of the men sat down and starting hitting on me, but none do. The men and women that come near my table greet me with good evening good afternoon or just nods and smiles.

Music plays from the other side of the hall, something modern with a lively beat. The guests on that end casually dance to the music. A tall black woman catches my attention, her hair fashioned in a disco-style afro. I would think that is out of style, but it suits her, flowing around her head as she bobs and laughs with the music.

I bite my thumb, but then stop myself, fidgeting with my hands beneath the table and trying not to look nervous. Before my nerves can get too worked up, I see Colin approaching with a plate of food and drink in hand.

They didn’t ask what I wanted, but I guess it doesn’t really matter. I’m so hungry I will eat anything. Colin slides the plate before me, and I’m actually not sure what it is. It smells creamy and delicious, maybe fish, ground up, or squash and vegetables? It is expertly scooped in the center of the plate, delicate, edible embellishments around it, like at some super fancy restaurant. At first I’m not sure it will be enough to fill my stomach, since I am near-starving. But as I slide my fork into the dish and let it melt in my mouth, the quantity doesn’t matter.

Here, are you thirsty? Colin asks, and I almost jump. I was so focused on the delicious food, I lost focus on everything else. He hands me a wide-rimmed glass, the kind one would serve wine, but I’m glad to find it is some kind of fruity, pink mixed drink with crushed ice. I take a sip of natural, smooth flavors, but I’m not sure what they are. There’s definitely a tinge of alcohol, but it’s not bitter or tart.

I start to finish the food, smiling at Colin. I don’t want to be rude, eating in front of him, but there’s no way I’m passing up this wonderful meal.

He doesn’t make conversation, he just watches me eat. I’m finishing my last bite when I hear someone else approach the table. It’s Hayden.

Are you ready? he asks, gliding his fingers down my bare arm.

It’s too late to ask ‛what for,’ so I just nod. Colin stands, and both men offer their hands for me to take. I can’t suppress an excited tremor. I accept their offer, and slip my fingers into their smooth, masculine hands.

The guests quiet as I stand. Silent, I realize as Colin pulls out the chair and comes up beside me. The music must be off. All the guests, every single one is turned toward me.

Hayden and Colin lead me out, and it’s good because I don’t think I can move. The crowd is mostly a blur, but I manage to make out their smiling faces. What is so damn important with me being escorted by these two men? My body trembles like it’s caught a chill in the air.

Just relax, Hayden whispers, his voice as creamy as the mysterious meal. He squeezes my back, commanding the tension to release. His mouth is close to my neck. Though he doesn’t kiss me, I can feel his hot breath.

Still leading me to the other end of the hall, Colin’s hand slides across my abdomen. The way his hand wanders my stomach makes me wish I was alone with him. Then his hand slides higher and grabs a fistful of breast and squeezes.

My god, in front of all these people! I can’t stop it, a loud, long moan escapes my mouth. I lose control of my legs, but the two men easily hold me. It feels like all four of their hands glide over me, massaging, rubbing, exploring. Through misty eyes, I see the door. Somehow it opens, though I don’t feel their grips leave me.

The crowd cheers as we pass through the threshold, their claps and hollers amplifying the feel of the bodies against mine.

# # # # # #

We step outside. Why? Where are they taking me? My apprehension fades as they intoxicate me with their hands. They massage my back, my thighs, my breasts, my neck, and somehow we make it down a flight of cement steps and across a yard of grass without a misstep. One of their hands slips under my dress and I gasp. Hayden chuckles, warm and rich tones that reach my core. The hand drifts across my abdomen. I wouldn’t stop them if they drifted lower. I feel something leaking down there, and suddenly embarrassed, I desire to pull away from them and check what it is. But no, I feel... it is warm honey, dripping almost a steady stream onto my panties.

They are awakening such desire in me. I thought I was needy before, but no. I need both of their cocks in me at the same time, if that is possible. The hand drifts up and bare skin grasps my breast. I moan again, and the wanting sound echoes back from the trees.

We travel downhill. Through watery eyelashes, I see a small structure we are approaching. It is difficult, with their sensuous massage up and down my body, but I force my eyes to open wider and focus.

It is a tent.

Not a single-person flimsy camping tent either. The head space is well above the height of my companions, and it is made with thick material. It is hexagonal shaped, reminiscent of Arabian desert tents, but made of green-colored nylon.

Their gentle assault on my body slackens as the tent is unzipped and they ease me inside. Light filters through mesh windows, as does the breeze and the air is comfortable. The floor beneath us feels more like a mat than a layer of fabric over the ground, it is even and level. In the center of the tent is a black hump, some smooth thing covered in fabric. My body is like putty, and I can’t help but allow them to direct me forward.

I eye the black hump, trying to determine its function, when both men turn on me, demanding my full attention. Hayden pulls me against him, locking my gaze with his serious peridot eyes. He presses the front of his body against the front of mine. From behind, Colin moves his solid chest against my back, his groin against my butt, and one leg between my legs. I bite my lip to control a whimper. Though we are all fully clothed, I am in near-ecstasy.

You smell so sweet, Hayden brushes brown curls out of my face. He inhales next to my neck, then breathes warm on my skin. I lift my chin and expose my neck to him, wanting him to kiss me there. He doesn’t. He looks down and starts to lift up my dress. As black cotton lifts to my abdomen, Colin’s hands follow. He caresses my skin with a genial touch. I lay my head back farther until I rest against his chest. Hayden lifts the dress above my breasts and Colin’s hands follow again.

Yes, god yes, yes! My body begs for them to fuck me. My pelvis pushes forward into Hayden’s legs, then back into Colin’s groin. I grasp Hayden’s hips, trying to pull him harder into me, but Colin firmly grabs my wrists and pulls my arms back. Together they lift my dress over my head then down my arms. Tilting back I push my chest up, lifting my partially exposed breasts. Hayden takes the invitation, leaning his face down to them, but his hands are somewhere else. He lifts my right ankle, exposing my burning pussy to the pressure of his leg.

Gingerly he removes my sandal. Colin unsnaps and loosens my bra. I grind my pussy into Hayden’s thigh, and the two men still. Hayden turns and puts the thickest part of his thigh between my legs. Colin pushes his groin harder against my bottom, so I’m not touching the ground. I grab Hayden’s silk shirt, but Colin captures my wrists again and pulls my hands behind my back.

Hayden massages my outer thighs as I grind into him. He kisses my neck, and down to the middle of my breasts. I push my butt back and rub deep up and down Colin’s groin with my cheeks. Forward, across Hayden’s thick thigh, and back into Colin. Again and again, without rhythm, just strong pumps to satiate my throbbing pussy. I want to wrap my hands around Hayden’s chest, but Colin holds my wrists tight. I moan as my gyrations send me higher, and Hayden encourages me by deeply kissing my neck. Finally, they set me off. I groan as wave after wave of euphoria washes over me, in time with my pussy clenching at Hayden’s leg.

I collapse in their holds. Tenderly they ease off the pressure, then remove my bra and other sandal.

They don’t remove my underwear. I come enough to my senses to realize they are lifting me. No, no, no! I want more. I want their cocks plunging inside me, exactly how we were, with me trapped between their bodies.

But they lower me down to the middle of the tent, turning me against the contoured hump. They situate my body and the curved hump fits me perfectly. It supports me, solid underneath but padded on the surface.

It was fitted... with the measurements they took that night in my apartment. I try to rouse myself as they lay my chest down, then my head, angled at a downward slope so my butt is higher than the rest of my body and every part of me is completely supported.

Damn, it is comfortable. Okay, if they want to fuck me like this, that will be just fine. I prepare for the backward assault that is about to ensue, when I feel the two men grab my wrists.

There’s the distinct sound of velcro. They wrap something soft around my wrists, then tighten and secure them. I test the restraints, and my arms can barely move from either side of my head.

I’ve never used straps before, and I don’t know if now is the best time to start. It’s already strange enough... being with two men... outdoors in an -albeit fancy- tent.

I pull at the straps and lift my head, trying to see the near-strangers kneeling on either side of me. They must sense my apprehension. Deep, rolling massages resume over my shoulders, my back, my legs, my bottom, until I relax and submit to them, resting my face on the padded surface.

Should we use the blindfold? one of them asks, I think Hayden.

Another time, Colin answers. I can’t see him, but I think he’s smiling.

Something small and plastic presses against my lips. Drink, Hayden commands. I obey, and find it is lightly flavored lemon water. He moves my hair out of my face and around the back of my head, tenderly. After several sips, he takes away the cup.

Just relax awhile, Colin tells me as he stands. The guests will be arriving soon.

CHAPTER FIVE

IN THE TENT

My hosts left me alone before I realized I should stop them, my butt in the air, exposed to the door to the tent. Well, they left my underwear on, but that will be the first thing anyone sees when they enter. They also left a yellow-glowing electric lamp in the corner, though it is still light enough outside to see.

And who is going to enter? There were so many guests in the meeting hall. Will this be some kind of free for all? I shudder at the thought and test the black restraints. I can’t undo them to free myself. I’m sure that if I tell them to stop, they will let me go. Still, individual muscles tremble in my arms, legs, and abdomen, apprehensive as to what is about to happen.

Someone enters the tent. There’s no zipper, just the crinkle of shifting fabric, then approaching footsteps. Though I lift my head, I can’t see who it is, blocked by the black contraption I lay upon, and my own body. My breath hitches as the person kneels behind me. A firm grip grabs my leg, and I assume it is a man by his hold. He spreads my legs apart and presses his knees within to keep them in place. He’s wearing jeans, the denim rubs against my legs, brushing against me as he eases closer.

Good evening, the man states in a sultry southern voice.

My body flushes with sensations I’ve never before experienced. I’m about to be intimate with a complete stranger, who I can’t even see. When he touches my back I flinch, not because he hurts me, but because my body’s reaction is so strong.

He gives a thoughtful hum then moves something leather against my outer leg. When I hear a zipper and feel him rummage inside, I surmise it is a bag. What are its contents, I cannot guess.

A plastic cap opens, then follows the sound of liquid. Both hands wet with oil, the stranger fans out across my back. I exhale the breath I’ve been holding. He’s good with his hands, and I should know. I frequented the masseuse the year or so after my divorce. But always with a woman, never a man.

It’s been a while, my muscles and joints needed this badly. As he reaches up to my shoulders to deeply kneed them, his pants press into my backside. But I don’t mind, he makes me feel so good.

He spends a long time on my shoulders, my neck, my lower back, my hips. I mostly forget where I am, lost in his touch. It isn’t until I hear another person entering the tent that I come to my senses.

Is it Hayden or Colin returning, watching this man massage me? Or someone else? I can’t tell, they position themselves in the corner of the tent, out of my sight.

This changes the strange dynamic of this encounter. The touch of the man behind me is amplified, as if all the nerves for pleasure and pressure fire in the area he works. He starts to work on my legs and my lips part, lightly panting.

He squeezes my calves, then spends a few minutes on my feet. When he moves back up, he concentrates on the inside of my legs. My breath quickens with anticipation. He clenches my inner thigh, up higher and higher. My pelvis shakes with need. I close my eyes, concentrating on the unexpected pleasure.

One hand glazes over my wet panties, while the other deeply massages my butt cheek. I turn my head and moan into the black fabric. I’m pure soaked, and I’m sure he feels it through the cotton and cashmere. He doesn’t seem to mind, caressing the spot with light circles. Then he moves forward, stimulating my clit through the soft fabric.

To different spots his fingers glide, sometimes making fast, small circles, sometimes pressing into a sensitive area, deeply massaging my butt or back or thighs with his other hand. I’m panting and shaking, overwhelmed by the feelings, savoring each of his movements, but desperately needing them to change.

His hand glides over the rim of my panties, then inside, and I bite my lip.

Do you want to take these off now?

He pulls them ever so slightly. I want to speak, but I can’t make words form. When I don’t respond, he resumes the light banter up and down my panties. Again, he moves up to trace the elastic rim, dipping one finger slightly inside. On or off?

Off, I answer with a half-breath. Another stranger enters the tent, perhaps two. I’m only half aware of them as my masseuse glides the cashmere panties down my hips, exposing me to all onlookers. I gasp as cool air tickles my slick, dripping folds.

He glides my underwear down my legs, taking his time. I tremble from the change in temperature, and the excitement of being exposed. It feels surreal. I know it’s my mind trying to cope with the situation. This is very real. Undeniable. I lick my lips, waiting for what happens next.

My sweet-talking masseuse releases my underwear from one leg, but leaves them bunched up above my left knee. He eases my right leg back into place, then pushes my legs apart farther. He grabs my butt cheeks and my upper thigh and pushes them apart, exposing every inner part of my sex. His knees spread my legs wider, keeping me open.

I bury my face in the fabric and pull my wrists against the restraints, wishing I could cover my head. This is too much.

You will enjoy this, he speaks as he rummages again through the bag. He opens a new container, with a twisting lid. I promise you will. His hand touches my engorged sex and I startle, something cold and creamy against my wet folds. He lathers the cream up and down my smooth skin, making me gasp. I lift my head, needing air.

Damn, you’re so swollen. He pays attention to each lip, each fold, each opening, but he doesn’t enter. The cream makes my sex throb even more, if that is possible. It is like it pulls out more hot desire, pulsing and burning at the surface. I grip the fabric beneath me, and it has enough give that I can squeeze two fistfuls. That does little to help me deal with the sensations.

There’s a woman to my side. She’s nicely tan, with straight white hair past her shoulders. Her shirt is more a bikini, with long dangling fabric rippling across her chest as she leans forward.

She touches my lips with a warm finger. The man spreads my folds apart and holds them there, exposing my vaginal opening while he reaches for something else from his bag. The woman presses a straw into my mouth and I oblige, expecting water, but this drink is thick and woody, tasting heavily of rum. It tingles down my throat and adds a new kind of butterfly to my stomach. I expect her to pull it away, but she leans down farther until her mouth is on my neck. Her perfect tan breasts bounce in my vision, the fabric of her shirt drapes around my head. The man presses something smooth and plastic into my opening. I tense, not knowing what it is. The woman licks my neck and I shiver. She takes in my skin into her mouth, near my jugular, and sucks on it with a soft moan. My entire body shudders with a strange, new pleasure. Reflexively I drink more of the rum, my mouth thirsty for something else.

The plastic at my opening is slender and pushes inside easily. Deeper it gently slides into my canal. The pressure shifts, and I feel him push a plunger and release very warm, oozing liquid that crawls across my ribbed insides. I cry out and tense from the tantalizing sensation. The woman shifts her mouth closer to my jaw, sucking harder. The plunger is removed and I am enamored with the blonde woman making love to my neck. I stare at her plump breasts, wishing I could see their full roundness.

She is the type of woman that should be the center of all these people’s attention, not me. I flush, embarrassed at these thoughts I’ve never had before, and take another drink of the rum.

Something plastic presses my opening, and I think it is the plunger again, but this is curved, and eases inside my vagina in a twisting motion. It is not hard plastic, it gives a little as my walls flex around it. It is narrow at first, but as the man twists it deeper, it widens my opening. I gasp, and the woman lifts from my neck.

It is not a dildo. But whatever it is, it is very pleasant. The man keeps twisting. It pushes my canal on all sides, the size of a large cock. Shit, it feels good, but I want more. My pussy flexes, wishing for some friction, some grinding. But the man twists one more time, opening my entrance a little wider than it ever has been before, and leaves it there.

More people enter the tent, I think. I don’t know, it’s so hard to focus. I gasp again when fingers glide down the center of my back. It’s not the man, these fingers are more smooth and narrow. I open my eyes, finding the woman, and the cup, have left my sight.

It must be her, sensually tracing my spine down to my ass. I inhale deeply then hold my breath when her fingers glide lower, pressing between my lathered, wet cheeks till she finds my anus.

The contraption inserted into my vagina has not been moved. My walls still clench around it, growing more used to its girth.

The woman traces the device stuck in my dripping pussy, then makes tight circles around my anus. I tense, trying not to move, trying not to moan. She dips the smooth part of her finger into my anus and my pelvis tilts up in response.

Mmm, like that do you? the man with the southern accent responds, then reaches inside his bag.

Slender fingers spread my cheeks to the left and the right, exposing me. Trembling, I turn, seeing someone enter the tent to my left.

It is a couple, both middle-aged, both with black hair, both completely naked. Holding hands they watch me as they walk to the edge of the tent, and about seven feet away they lay down, with her on her back and him on top. They start kissing and fondling each other and I bite my lip. I want to look away but... they invited themselves in here.

The man has sleek black hair and tribal tattoos down his arm and sprayed on his back. The woman’s hair is tied back, but is coming undone as they make out.

Something smooth presses against my anus and I have to close my eyes as it is squeezed inside. It is another plunger, thinner. Gentle circles ease it past my extremely tight muscles. It is pushed in deeper, then gooey warm liquid gushes inside. I feel faint. Shakily, I open my eyes.

The couple is more into their french-kissing. The man kisses down her neck and pushes her legs apart. She breathes heavy, readying for him to enter her, and she looks at me.

Her gaze connects with mine. There’s mischief in her eyes as she smiles at me, lifting her hips to allow him entrance.

Damn, I’m only yards away from a couple having sex, complete strangers. I suppose that’s not any weirder than someone sticking objects into your private parts, and a woman playing with your ass.

Something new presses against my anus and disrupts these thoughts. It is twisted inside, much like the one in my vagina, though this one is smaller. I still heave with apprehension: the device used in my canal got bigger and bigger, and this is enough as it is.

Gently, the screw-like object is turned, easing deeper and deeper into that forbidden space. My muscles flex around it, and a jolt of high-intensity pleasure flashes through the area. My face burns, embarrassed at my raunchy desire, but wanting to completely give into them.

The twisting stops, and movement from both areas ceases. But the movement next to me is just getting started. Muscles bulge in his thighs as he lifts her legs and pushes into her, hard but slow. I’ve never watched an X rated movie, never saw this view of a couple making love... and damn, it is so sexy to watch. Sweat slicks their bodies, molding perfectly against each other. He massages her breast, continuing his slow, firm banter between her legs.

The man behind me shifts and I intake a quick breath, having forgotten he was there. He presses down on the object embedded in my pussy, and my whole body pushes down into the fabric.

Are you ready to turn this on? his sultry voice asks.

What? I ask with genuine concern and surprise. The couple looks my way, chuckling. There’s a myriad of light laughter around the tent, not condescending but amused with my naivety. I blush and bite my lip, but more concerned with how many people I heard watching, and also what on earth this thing is he put inside me.

My dear, you didn’t think we did all that for nothing did you? How about a low setting... Fingers press near my vaginal opening, then the object twists slightly. I find it isn’t just a hollow tube, there’s a mechanism inside that starts to hum, making the whole thing slightly vibrate.

But there’s more than that. A marble-sized bump forms at the end of the device, deep in my canal, then begins to move, following the spiral. As it reaches my opening, it forms again at its tip. It presses gently against my walls, but they are already stretched so far the massaging ball has a profound effect. I moan, grabbing tightly onto