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Main characters featured in this story:
The narrator — Male, 24 years old; first year in medical school; married to Meg in the Bountiful Utah Temple; BS degree in Health Science from BYU–Idaho.
Meg — Female, 22 years old, 5’10”, 35C; BA degree in Dance Performance from BYU–Idaho.
Marie Wright — Female, 30 years old, 38D; graduated from Brigham Young University (Provo) with a degree in Marriage and Family Studies.
Mike Wright — Male, 34 years old; graduated from Brigham Young University (Provo) with a degree in sociology.
Eli — neighbor to Wrights — Male, about 45 years old; retired Marine, weightlifter, African-American.
Emily — neighbor to Wrights — Female, about 35 years old; white, 36D.
Annie Stevenson — Female, 24 years old; finishing second year in medical school; has a third-year placement at the hospital in Elko, Nevada.
Austin Stevenson — Male, 25 years old; B.S. in Computer Science from the University of Utah.
Jeff Wilson — Male, 36 years old.
Jenny Wilson — Female, 33 years old, 36C.
Boyd Brigham Miller (nicknamed “B.B.”) — 44 years old; bishop of our local ward (congregation).
Braidy Miller — 42 years old, Irish, red hair, 38DD
This story is fictional, and the characters are not based on any single individual — though they are a compilation of characteristics and personalities encountered in real life, and in the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to any particular person is not intentional. These characters live in a fantasy world where there are no STDs and no unwanted pregnancies resulting from unprotected sex.
This story includes references to plot lines from previous stories, including “Helping and Serving Our Neighbors,” Meg and I Go to a Nudist Resort,” “Meg’s Anniversary Celebration,” and “The Bishop’s Wife.” Although this story stands on its own, you may want to read previous stories to fully appreciate the referents.
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Every summer our church has a family campout and talent show at a local state park — well not exactly. A member of the ward has a farm right next to the state park. On the outer edge of his property, next to the park, is a large, wooded area that he’s improved over the years.
He put a private gravel road on the boundary between his fields and the trees and he has cleared areas for people to put up tents. He even has several fire pits out there, so we don’t accidentally start a forest fire. There is no running water yet — that’s his next project. For now, we use a porta-potty that he rents, and we pack in all our water.
The event is a community party — even though it is sponsored by the church, many who are not members of the church attend, including some non-member spouses who would never come into the church building for services.
The main dish at the event is a whole hog roasted in the ground, like the Kalua pig roasts from Hawaii — though ours is more midwestern style than Pacific Islander style, with burlap bags instead of banana leaves.
This used to be a major merit badge earning opportunity for our Boy Scouts troop, led by the Venturing Crew until the ward dropped our BSA charter. Now the young men and their advisors go out to the farm Thursday night to prepare the roasting pit. The farmer digs out the hole with his backhoe, and the young men line it with firewood and stones.
At about 4 a.m. the young men get the fire going, heating the stones before loading the pig in. The pig weighs about 150 pounds and is delivered by the local butcher around 5 a.m. already trimmed and wrapped in chicken wire — ready to plant in the hole (minus a large piece cut off for the next morning’s bacon). Remote thermometers are attached, and then it is covered up. The young men monitor the cooking temperature all day while preparing the grounds for everybody’s arrival.
Families begin arriving about 5 p.m. on Friday with their children and their side dishes.
The farmer usually has a few animals in a pen nearby so the children can see what live chickens, pigs, and goats look like — which is always popular. He gives horseback rides on his older horses and has a four-wheel 18-foot trailer where he puts bales of hay for hayrides (or hayrack rides as they call it here in the Midwest), pulled by his bright green John Deere 6430 tractor — this is Deere country after all.
If the young men did their job well, the meat is ready to be served at about 6 p.m. If you’ve never been to a pig roast, let me assure you there is a lot of meat on a single pig — we never run out. After everybody eats, we still have leftovers that are packaged for the shut-ins in the ward, and anyone else who wants to take some home.
After dinner, we have a talent show on the same trailer used for the hayrides. Everybody gathers around to see the typical church talent show performances. There’s the 6th grader who just recently learned to play the clarinet squeaking out “I Am a Child of God” and the high school senior who diyarbakır escort thinks she should be on American Idol (but has no chance whatsoever) belting out some popular song.
One of the older men, a former bishop who thinks he’s funny, does a bunch of one-liner jokes that we politely laugh at. A missionary does a juggling act, and a handful of girls do tumbling routines (on the ground, not on the trailer — that would be dangerous).
There’s also a tradition that the Young Women perform the skit they are planning on using for Girls Camp, coming up in two weeks.
“So what talent are you going to show us?” I asked my wife, Meg.
She leaned in close and whispered in a sexy voice, “I’ll show you after it gets dark,” and then gently stroked my crotch. Anyone looking in our direction could have seen her touching me, and I think that made it more exciting for her.
As the evening got later, and the skies got darker, the families that chose not to camp overnight headed back into town for the comfort of their own beds. There were well over 100 people who came to the dinner and talent show, but only about 30 stayed for the campout. Those who stayed could look forward to the Saturday breakfast, where our host farmer cooks up the reserved bacon and fresh eggs from his own chickens.
We invited Eli and Emily, neighbors to the Wright family, to join us at the campout. They accepted the invitation and offered to bring his tent and share it with a group of us. He owns a green Kodiak canvas 16×24 foot cabin-style tent with a walk-in entry and six windows that open for air circulation.
We had some fun times inside that tent before — that was where Meg experienced Eli’s extra-large cock. Eli had also been helpful to us at our anniversary celebration at the local strip club, so we were happy to have him along — but rest assured, he was not going to fuck my wife a second time. A “once in a lifetime” opportunity for a BBC doesn’t happen twice.
Since it is a large tent, it normally has room for 8 people to sleep in it. We invited Mike and Marie Wright, and Jeff and Jenny Wilson to join Eli and Emily, and Meg and I inside the tent. When we realized that Annie and Austin Stevenson would soon be leaving for her third-year placement at the hospital in Elko, Nevada, we decided to include them — so there would be 10 people in the tent.
Since it is summertime, it was warm enough that we didn’t need cots or sleeping bags — we would all sleep on the large foam mat that Eli puts out. The cozy sleeping arrangements also meant more of an opportunity to be close to our friends.
But before we retired for the evening, we took the opportunity to visit around the campfire. Since it was getting late, the children who were still there had all been sent to their tents to sleep, so it was an adults-only conversation. About 15-20 people gathered around the fire and there were several conversations going on at the same time.
We asked Bishop B.B. Miller about his vacation to Saint Martins — but he only told us about the beautiful sights and beaches. Braidy started laughing as her husband avoided telling us about the sexual adventures they had, the beach sex, the tit fucking, and Mike’s fucking Braidy with a crowd watching.
“Why are you laughing?” B.B. asked Braidy.
“They know. I already told them,” she answered.
“Everything?” the bishop asked.
“Yes, everything,” she replied.
Bishop Miller started turning red and admitted that they had experienced “pleasures of the flesh” while on vacation.
“You still owe me a fuck,” Marie said, making everybody laugh — both at the crudeness of her language and her boldness. “Someday I’m going to collect.”
The bishop tried to change the subject by asking Meg about our anniversary celebration, where she danced naked on stage at a strip club, fucked me in front of a crowd of people, and then had been tied up, blindfolded, and groped by the audience.
He hoped that it would shift the focus away from him and maybe embarrass Meg. It did the opposite, as Meg was excited to re-live the experience by sharing the story from her perspective.
Bishop Miller did not attend the strip club show — he thought that it might be misinterpreted by other members of the congregation if someone saw him walk in, so he asked Meg if she could show him some of her act, “You know, your contribution to the talent show for tonight.” I don’t think he thought she would do it — but she jumped at the chance.
Meg opened her phone and found some music to dance by. She then climbed up on the hayride trailer, pushed play on the music, and began to dance. Everybody around the fire stopped their conversations and turned to watch as my wife did some erotic hip thrusts and ass shaking.
A few folks around the campfire decided to call it a night and left for their tents — apparently, they weren’t interested in watching a strip show at a church event. Several stayed to watch the show.
Over edirne escort the last several months, Meg had discovered her exhibitionist side and didn’t miss this opportunity to show off a little more than the bishop had bargained for. She wasn’t wearing the standard stripper outfit, but she was still able to un-button and remove her shirt, undo her bra while dancing around, and toss it to me with the same flare as if she were in the club.
She was still wearing her garment tops and her knee-length shorts — and I briefly thought that was as far as she would go — but I was wrong. With a nearly full strawberry moon as her spotlight and the dying campfire as her footlights, Meg pulled off her top, revealing her hard tits to the whole crowd, and quickly removed both her shorts and underwear in one motion, revealing her recently shaved pussy to the bishop and the remaining ward members watching.
She was now naked on the hay rack trailer, except for her tennis shoes and socks. She danced a little longer, shaking her tits and ass until the music ended, and then jumped off the trailer, giving her tits a bounce, and stepped up to the bishop.
“See what you missed?” Meg said, with a huge smile on her face.
Bishop Miller sat there stunned, as were others who didn’t know my wife. His eyes were not on Meg’s face, and she knew it. She gave her tits another shake and asked, “So are you a tit man,” then turned around putting her backside in his face, and bent over so both her holes were visible, “or an ass man?” she asked.
After a long pause where he admired the tight lines keeping her asshole constricted, in contrast with the beautiful soft pillows of flesh that guarded her vagina, he responded. “I appreciate all of God’s creations.”
I offered Meg a towel to cover herself with, but she promptly folded it, put it on her camp chair, and sat on it — like any good nudist would do. She had the biggest smile on her face as she knew she had just one-upped the bishop.
She sat there stark naked for him to look at. Her perspiration-covered tits shimmered in the flickering firelight as she spread her knees just enough for him to see the crimson-red labia lips and the growing moisture between them.
The bishop then decided to up the ante a little — “I hear your show was more than dancing. Is that all you’ve got?”
Several of us around the campfire reacted with an “oooh” — the game was on. Bishop Miller had called her hand and gone all-in. Meg and I both knew she wasn’t going to lose this contest — though I wasn’t sure how far she would go to win.
Meg just stared at B.B., with this wicked smile on her face. I could tell she was thinking about what to do next.
She noticed his eyes repeatedly drop down to her tits and crotch, then back up to her face. He was affected by her display, and she knew it. She could also see that his pants were getting tight as the outline of his cock became clearer.
Meg turned to his wife, Braidy, in an unspoken connection between the two women, Meg asked with her eyes for permission to escalate the game. Braidy smiled back, and nodded her head, “Yes.” There was no doubt whose side Braidy was on.
Meg then stood up, and in her sexiest walk, floated across the ground to the bishop’s chair. She began doing a lap dance on him, first running her crotch just above B.B.’s hard cock, which was pushing his thin pants fabric to its maximum. Then she turned around, bent over her bishop so her tits were hanging just above his face, and shimmied them a bit.
He unconsciously lipped his lips, and Meg moved closer, putting her nipple in physical contact with his cheek. She was giving him her famous “fuck me” face that had taken down more than one strong man. But B.B. resisted the temptation to stick his tongue out and suck on the nipple in his face. He wasn’t going to let her win.
Meg turned to look at Braidy again — who nodded her head “yes,” knowing through some kind of psychic connection what was coming next.
Meg reached out and unzipped B.B.’s pants, fishing out his now very hard cock, spat on it, and gave it a few strokes with her hand before lowering her mouth down on top of it — all the while looking straight at her bishop. She pushed her head down taking almost the whole cock in her first attempt. On her second attempt, she put the whole thing down her throat and, with her fingers massaging his balls, began face fucking him.
B.B. turned to look at his wife — but Braidy was just grinning at her husband who had started a game he was never going to win.
After a few minutes of face fucking, Meg could tell B.B. was starting to get close to coming, so she stopped, and stood over him with her tits in his face, leaving his balls cramping for more.
“I’ve got more if you’re *up* for it,” Meg said in full tease mode, with an emphasis on “up”.
B.B. Miller isn’t a quitter. He hesitated, while he was thinking. His balls were aching, and he hadn’t been this hard since edirne escort bayan Saint Martin. He knew his wife wasn’t going to intervene, and he thought for sure Meg wouldn’t go any further. Or would she? This had already gone further than he ever thought it would. He looked at me, and I just shrugged my shoulders.
He turned back to Meg, looked her straight in the eye with a defiant attitude, and asked, “What else have you got?” He was daring her to take it further.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” she told him and then went to talk to Marie Wright and Braidy Miller. He could hear the women whispering in the distance but couldn’t hear what they were saying.
The three women had come up with a plan. Marie and Braidy stripped their clothes off and joined Meg at B.B.’s chair. Marie stripped his shirt and garments off of him, and then Meg and Marie tied his hands down so he couldn’t touch anyone. They then stripped the rest of his pants and underwear off. Braidy took one of the dish towels off the picnic table and wrapped it around his head as a blindfold.
He sat there, tied to his chair and blindfolded, as naked as Meg had been on the stage at the strip club, his cock flinching and waving to everybody watching.
One by one they took turns wrapping their hands around his cock and stroking him, while someone else massaged his balls, and a third person was massaging his chest with their hands. Then someone turned his head and started kissing him, pushing her tongue deep into his mouth. He hesitated, but soon his cock told his brain to kiss her back — and he did, playing a full game of tongue hockey with whoever was on his right.
He was confused — how many women are touching him right now? He realized it had to be more than three because there were multiple hands on him at the same time from different directions, and someone was kissing him. He didn’t know who they were as they circled around him, taking turns kissing and stroking and caressing his whole body. The nerve receptors in his body were in overdrive — stimulated from every direction.
Then one of the women, he didn’t know who, was holding his cock while someone else was rocking her hips, stroking the tip of his cock on her labia and vagina reverse cowgirl style. Then he heard the women move, rotating positions, and someone else was holding his cock, teasing it at the entrance of another woman.
The women rotated several times, in both directions. He lost track of which woman was which. It was the classic shell game of moving cups back and forth while the mark tries to keep track of which cup holds the prize, only in this game he now hoped the prize was going to be a well-lubricated fuck.
Suddenly, one of the women wasn’t just teasing — she sat down on his cock, penetrating herself all the way down. He wasn’t prepared for that to happen; he thought it was just another tease when she suddenly just dropped on him. She rocked up and down a couple of times, drawing the shaft of his cock in and out of her vagina. She teased his cock by acting like she was going to let him fall out, but then quickly slammed down again.
Then suddenly she just stood up leaving his now cream-covered cock hanging in the wind. The women circled and moved around him, so he was lost again. Then it happened again — someone sat down on his cock, rocking up and down. Was this the same person? How many women is he fucking?
Then that woman stood up and everybody moved, and then it happened again. Were all three women fucking him? He was so aroused and confused by the movements that he couldn’t keep track of who was doing what to him.
The people watching would occasionally laugh at the fantastic teasing play that was being executed. They started joining in the teasing and questioning. “B.B., there’s a pair of tits on your right.” “B.B., how many women can you fuck in a night?” “B.B. — are you fucking my wife?”
He warned them all, loud enough for the whole campfire area to hear, that he was going to cum soon. The women stopped touching him and posed for individual and group pictures before continuing the game. B.B. thought they had finished, leaving him aching for release.
Then they moved again, and another woman sat on him. “Wait, is this a fourth woman?” he asked himself. He exploded inside whoever it was as she squeezed every ounce of cum out of him that she could.
After a few shots of cum, she stood up and left and somebody else took his cock in her mouth and was sucking him dry, licking up the side of his cock, cleaning him like a cat cleaning its coat. No, there were two tongues. Two women were cleaning his cock, but he couldn’t tell who it was. He had just cum, but his cock was still hard, stimulated by the tongues cleaning him.
B.B. realized he had lost the game against Meg… or did he? He just got three women, maybe four, to have sex with him in front of their husbands, he thought. In some contests, that would be a legendary victory.
As soon as his hands were untied, he pulled the blindfold off his eyes and saw standing before him were six naked women, his wife Braidy, Marie, and Meg, plus Annie, Jenny, and Emily, who were not naked when the blindfold was put on. He couldn’t tell who he had fucked by looking at them. They all had the same victorious smug look on their faces.
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