Brazzers – Glamping With Glory Holes

Demi Sutra and her boyfriend are on a camping trip, and she’s not exactly impressed with his outdoor skills. When he sends Demi off to collect firewood, she stumbles onto Small Hands’ campsite, which has been taken over by rogue outdoorswoman Gia Derza, who happens to be masturbating inside Small Hands’ tent. When Gia catches a glimpse of Demi, she invites her to join, leading to intense pussy-eating and scissoring. The fact that they’re in Small Hands’ tent, though, means they’re hoping to get caught. When Small Hands realizes what’s happening, he puts his bushcraft skills to good use, cutting a glory hole in his own tent and introducing Demi and Gia to his massive cock in a truly unforgettable way. From there, the call of the wild leads to a truly intense threesome.

Getting caught masturbating can be a harrowing, embarrassing experience; at least it was for me. It wasn’t that I got caught by my brazenly slutty, swinger mother on the couch, watching Star Trek the Next Generation, with my hand in the proverbial cookie jar. It was that the very next day she sat my very embarrassed and shamed ass down for “a talk.” I remember it clearly.

The talk began with, “Kryssi.” She always calls me Kryssi. If the words, “Krystal Samantha Greene,” escaped her mouth, this little redheaded slut knew that she was in big, big trouble.

“Kryssi, just so you know,” she addressed me in that soothing, motherly tone. “There’s nothing wrong at all with pleasure, including self-pleasure. If the Goddess hadn’t intended us to enjoy sex, she wouldn’t have made it feel so fucking good.”

I grew up pagan. In our particular breed of paganism, there are no sins except for failure to embrace your best, true self and to harm others in any way. So, rather than getting the “You’ll need glasses; you’ll burn in Purgatory; proper ladies don’t touch themselves down there,” diatribe, I received my very first vibrator, all wrapped up like a birthday gift. I also received verbal instructions on how to use it properly, where to find my clit, and how to fuck myself. Additional information included what lube to use, if I wanted to shove the phallic treasure up my ass, and way too much information on how my mom likes to incorporate her vast collection of toys into her hedonistic, sexual escapades.

My sixteen-year-old self was mortified, but not so mortified that I didn’t take my new present for a test drive, or ten, that night. Shortly thereafter, mom kept me supplied with her steamy, housewife-porn, romance novels as soon as she got done reading them. The woman reads voraciously. I’d get them with the first page of the hotter, more torrid sex scenes folded down at the upper corner so I could easily find them, in case I wanted to “flick the bean.” Dad constantly lamented over the fact that batteries were constantly on the shopping list.

Exploring my body became a devout hobby. The discovery that I was multi-orgasmic was a delight. The fact that I could fuck myself and finger my clit at the same time was, I thought at the time, pure Summerland, the pagan version of Heaven. I quickly expanded my repertoire of masturbatory aids, finding new things to fuck, hump, and stimulate myself with. No object, corner, or surface was safe from my horny impulses.