Obi1kenietzsche

Man 55yrs

The Tent

I have always liked Tiger beer, well, ever since that project in Singapore all those years ago, and as I put the cold and frosting bottle to my mouth and drank, I looked around in contentment at the result of my recent efforts. The tent was up, the floor boards laid, and the double bed was made up with crisp white linen and a freshly laundered heavy grey duvet.

Quite a good effort actually, I thought, for the old-style tent was quite large and made of heavy canvass, the likes of which one does not see much anymore. I had found it, of all places, in a garage sale last year. The previous elderly owners had obviously had it custom made and had cared for it immaculately.

Square in shape with a solid wooden centre pole in the middle and smaller timber poles around all sides, this tent had the feeling of old school solidness and I suspected that it would stay waterproof even in the most severest of weather.

Unlike most modern tents, this one had real space, and even at my 6’2” I could hardly reach the ceiling with my outstretched arm above my head. Finishing it off was the flooring I had made myself to keep everything up off the ground, a nice square of new carpet from an local off-cut furnishings sale, and of course the double bed which fitted nicely to one side of the solid central pole.

Whilst it wasn’t exactly “glamping” I felt it was nicely comfortable, particularly when one considered the chest of sliding drawers, and the small wooden table and chairs that I had placed down the other side from the bed. I had also placed a battery lantern on the chest of drawers which would illuminate the room with a soft diffused light once it was dark. Yes, this will do nicely I concluded, and as I finished my beer with the satisfaction of a job well done, I let my mind slip wickedly to the purpose of all my efforts.

I had been conversing with a lovely young couple for over a month now, and now the weekend that we had planned had finally arrived.
Picking up on their interest in camping I had decided on this particular setting for our meeting. I also thought it would be somewhat different from the normal hotel suite that would typically be involved, and I wanted to change the environment a tad. (I’m a bit like that).

I also knew that this particular meeting was going to be a little different from the average play date, and I had planned the forthcoming events meticulously as per their wishes.

Sam was 41 with Nichole nine years younger at 32 and they had messaged me with quite an interesting proposal. This particular night was for both of them to explore a desire that they had obviously previously discussed, namely Nichole’s wish to be dominated and Sam’s wish to be able to be that dominant male for her.

Sam had a tanned and well built body, short dark hair and a really straight forward and amicable manner about him. He wasn’t all that tall, but he was as fit as anything and had a laugh that you couldn’t resist joining in with.

Nichole on the other hand was tall and slim, with long honey coloured hair that she mostly wore up in a messy bun. Her small breasts were firm and high and it seemed that she moved with an exquisite natural grace that seemed effortless. She was also very quiet and shy, and spoke with an extremely soft voice. No one would have thought from speaking with her that beneath that calm quiet exterior lay such a yearning for the various wicked things she had expressed an interest in.

It was however, quite obvious to me that they were clearly and totally in love. They had explored the Dom/Sub dynamic to a very small extent, but Sam had confided in me that he just wasn’t sure if he “was doing it right” (we had both laughed together at the way he had put it, but I had also realised at that point the depth of his love for Nichole). Sam had thought therefore that perhaps some additional “mentoring” in his technique would be beneficial and after discussing it with “Nic” (as she liked to be called) they had taken the leap of faith in that regard.

Nic had done the initial online “choosing” and they had vetted several possibilities together before deciding on yours truly (a decision that, I must say with all sincerely, honoured me greatly).

The rest happened comfortably... a month of chatting, getting to know them as individuals of course, and as a couple, a face to face coffee, them both being comfortable with me and me likewise with them, and then setting the time and date for this particular evening.

And so, there I was, now nicely showered and dressed, as discussed, in black dress pants and shoes, a white business shirt and tie, and wearing a touch of Narciso Rodriguez scent as they arrived at the camping grounds and parked next to the tent. I heard Sam get out of their car and I greeted him at the front of the tent as arranged, and then made my exit in the opposite direction so he and Nic could familiarise themselves with the interior of the tent room.

After waiting the required 10 minutes I returned and entered the tent, and even though we had planned it, what I saw still took my breath away and quickened my pulse. Sam was standing in the middle of the space, dressed exactly the same as me, whilst Nic, in a long red open cut evening dress, stood with her back to me, a black cloth blindfold firmly covering her eyes.

It was obvious that were both nervous and yet I could feel their excited anticipation as I approached them. I paused and looked in Sam’s eyes for a last confirmation of permission, and he nodded almost imperceptibly in return, whereupon I commenced with the proceedings as planned. Moving in close behind Nic, I put my mouth close to her ear. “Good evening young lady, I trust you are comfortable?” I said.

Nic gave a little start and gasped nervously, but she nodded her head. “Yes,” she replied.

I put my hands softly on her bare shoulders and gently admonished her.

“No young lady, tonight, when you are asked a question, or given a command, you must respond in the correct manner. If I am speaking to you, you must answer using the title “Mr Watson", Do you understand young lady?” I questioned.

Nic nodded again. “Yes... I mean, yes Mr Watson,” she replied, her voice trembling ever so slightly.

“Good, I am pleased with your answer,” I said, keeping my voice low and evenly modulated. “Now then, young lady,” I continued, with my mouth very close to her neck, and taking note of her deliciously subtle perfume “You DO understand what is now going to happen, don’t you?” I asked.

“Yes Mr Watson,” she replied again.

“Tell me,” I commanded, my tone firmer this time. “Tell Sam and I what it is that you think is going to happen”.

Nic paused, and her breath caught in her throat. She recovered, and took a deep breath.

“Mr Watson, I think that you are going to fuck me,” she said softly.

“And is that what you desire, young lady?" I asked.

“Yes, Mr Watson, I want you to,” Nic breathed out.

“Then I am pleased young lady,” I said. “However, if you want me to fuck you, you must first ask Sam if HE will allow me to do so. From now on you must always ask for permission. Do you understand?”

This clearly startled Nic, and she paused again, but the process of her submission journey had started and I was relentless.

“Do you understand?” I asked again, pressing her firmly.

“Yes Mr Watson,” Nic replied.

“Then ask,” I commanded firmly, turning her blindly to face where Sam stood watching.

“Please Sam, do you want Mr Watson to fuck me?” Nic asked softly, and I could hear the beautiful anguish in her voice, conflicting deliciously with her dark desire.

It was a bitter sweet moment for them both, but I had briefed Sam previously about this process, and he was ready with his reply. He stepped forward and lifted Nic’s beautiful blindfolded face in his hands.

“Yes Honey, I am going to let Mr Watson fuck you,” he said, “I want to see him fuck you like the slut you are longing to be.”

Nic’s body involuntary trembled at his reply and her sharp intake of breath was clearly audible in the tent. Sam turned Nic back to face me and nodded to me silently, whereupon I took her hands from her sides and placed them on my chest. Nic’s hands gently explored my chest, my shoulders and my face, building a mental image before I placed her arms back against her sides.

From my height I could see the shape of her petite cleavage, and as I slid the strap of her dress off one shoulder her black lace bra became exposed. Nic stiffened and her breathing shallowed. I ran my fingers ever so gently across her face, down her neck then across her bare shoulder, and then down over her right breast, grazing her now erect nipple, still confined in its lace prison. I moved my hands slowly down to her waist and to her hips, feeling the shape of her body under the sheer material of that satin dress.

Nic gave a small moan as my left had moved up to grip her hair and gently pull her head back to expose her throat, as my right hand slid into the slit in the side of her dress and gripped the cheek of her ass. Her arms went around my neck as I raised one side of her dress slowly up, and she brought her knee up against my hip as my own pressed in between her thighs. She gasped again, and her nails dug into my shoulder.

I lowered her leg and stepped back from her, and I could hear her the elevated tempo of her breathing. I put my hands on her shoulders and with a gentle downward pressure I spoke one simple word that I know she must have been expecting.

“Kneel,” I commanded.

To be continued...

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