Loading...My husband and I always looked forward to the NASCAR season. This goes back to the day we met while camping in Rock City for the race at Charlotte. Every season we tried to make it to as many races as we could, camping out in the off field campgrounds and enjoying the total NASCAR experience. As time went on, and we became more successful, our camping equipment went from tents, to pop-up trailers, to a fifth wheel trailer then on to our current luxury motor home.
While we had the means to afford infield camping, we preferred to stick to the roots of NASCAR that first brought us together and camp in the off field campgrounds, many of which aren’t campgrounds at all, but businesses and private properties who rent their space to NASCAR fans for “dry” camping. For those of you who don’t camp, a “dry” site has no water or sewer hookups. This usually isn’t a problem for us in our motor home as we have mastered the art of water conservation and have a large tank capacity allowing us the use of our clean bathroom rather than use the porta-johns set up throughout these make shift campgrounds.
Four years ago, we headed to Richmond for the fall race, setting up our camp at a nearby business who had several acres of “campsites” available. Having been regular customers for several years, we got a pristine site complete with shade trees and a little privacy. By far, we got the best site available, far better than some of the others who parked amongst broken buildings and junk cars and other trash. We arrived on Wednesday in order to watch all the races – the truck, the Busch, and the final race of the Chase. Things were going great. Our motor home was equipped with all that we needed, and as my husband has a very successful internet business, he was able to stay on top of “things at the office” from his lap top. As usual, we met some old friends and made some new ones. We ate like bar-b-que kings as NASCAR fans are some of the best camp fire cooks in the world. Drinks generally started flowing around 8 AM (or whenever you woke up from the alcohol induced slumber) with the morning mimosas and bloody Mary’s, and didn’t stop until bed time with the final jello shot or tequila shooter. All the recipe for a perfect NASCAR long weekend. Our weekend attire consisted of jean cutoffs, skirts or shorts and tank tops or t shirts or just a bathing suit; a far cry from the stuffy business suits we normally have to wear when working our office jobs.
We watched the Truck Series race and saw Kevin Harvick win the Busch race on Friday night.
The night following a Busch race and before the Nextel night race is usually the best party night for NASCAR campers, and this year at Richmond was no exception. Shortly after we got up that morning, my husband approached me with the bad news, something clogged our toilets and we needed to use the porta-johns or we would have a very messy flood in the motor home. I took this in stride, and remembered seeing a secluded porta-john about a 5 minute walk from our site. This porta-john was off the beaten track and not overly used. First thing in the morning, I went to check it out. It was cleaner than most and didn’t quite smell as bad as all the others which by Saturday night would probably be near overflow. While it wasn’t clean, it definitely wasn’t filthy like the others. It also had a couple of extra touches the others didn’t have like a waterless hand cleaner dispenser, a stick-up air freshener which did little to hide the smell, and a battery operated push light. This one didn’t make your wretch when you were 10 yards away as most of the others did. However, it was a porta-john and the stench was still evident once I got inside. After fighting off the gag reflex, I took care of my business while listening to Metallica blare from the camp grounds. Funny, I never listen to that stuff unless I am at a race, then I love it, though I couldn’t imagine being in the camp site where the music was playing as it was plenty loud from where I sat.
I finished my business and headed back to the camp site. We drank and partied throughout the day and I made a few more trips to my porta-john. I could tell it was being used by others, but not nearly as much as the others. Following the race, we made our way back to the camp site where my husband quickly engaged in a game of Texas hold-em with some other campers. There was a mix of old friends and some new faces. One of them, Ricky had partied with us for several years. I never really cared for him much as he was always hitting on me and other women right in front of his wife and he basically treated his wife like shit.
I stood by and watched them play, enjoying their banter, but not understanding the game at all. The drinks were flowing heavily when one of the guys needed a break and said they should move the game to his trailer on the other side of the “campgrounds” as he had more liquor and a working bathroom there. They asked if I wanted to join them but I said no, it was already 1:30 AM, and I was tipsy and tired. I told my husband to go ahead and go, I would just run down the porta-john and then go to bed. They went off to go play and I grabbed my flashlight and headed back to the porta-john. I took a deep breath before entering and tried to hold it as I pee’d. However, my alcohol fueled bladder far outmatched my lung capacity and I soon had to breathe in the stench. Fighting back my urge to gag, I finished up and pulled up my panty and straightened my denim skirt. I went to un-latch the door and push it open, but the latch was jammed on something.
Thinking I had drunk too much to even be able to open a door , I giggled to myself as I tried again, taking my time as I listened to Master of Puppets blaring from beyond. I looked down at the latch in the fading light provided by the dying battery in the push lamp. Going step by step, I turned the lock to open, pushed down on the handle and pushed the door. Everything worked fine until the push open the door part; it wouldn’t budge. This time I actually laughed, and as any good drunken person talked out loud to myself, “OK Krista, you can handle this, you’re not that drunk!.” I told myself” then laughed again. My laugh was quickly cut short as I heard another laugh from outside.
“Ok, you got your laugh . . .open the door now please!” I said thinking some drunk prankster was getting his kicks. I banged on the door again and said “Open the door PLEASE!” giggling a little at my situation. Hey I would have thought this to be hysterical if I were on the outside, so I could see some humor in it now. The laugh outside turned and went from amusing to a sinister one and the porta-john shook a bit, almost knocking me off balance.
“Come on . . .you’ve had your fun . . Open the damn door!” I pleaded. The porta-john shook again requiring me to put out both arms against the hard plastic sides to maintain my balance. This caused my flashlight to fall in the john making a sickening splash in the mix of piss, crap, vomit and who knows what. “STOP IT” I yelled as I heard and could see in the failing light of my flashlight the contents of the toilet sloshing beneath the seat coming close to over flowing on to the floor. I just heard more laughter, followed by a scratching sound from the side of the porta-john.
A shaft of bright light came in from the side and I saw a hole in the side through which whoever was outside was shining a bright flashlight. I leaned down to look through the hole only to be blinded by the light in my eye. “Please!” I said, “This has gone far enough. You’ve had your fun now let me out.”
From outside beyond the shaft of light I heard “I have just started, and my fun hasn’t yet begun!” The porta-john shook again this time some of the contents from below oozing over the top.
I screamed “STOP IT! PLEASE!”
From outside I heard “Sit down!”
I looked down and saw the mess had just oozed out of the top and under the seat. The seat itself was still dry. I slowly sat. The bright light shone through the hole and went over my body as I sat there shaking a bit. It shone on my orange tank top, and focused on the “20” which was curved over my 36c breasts. “Tony Stewart Huh?” I heard from outside. “I hate Tony Stewart! Take it off!”
“What?” I blurted, “are you fucking crazy?” The only answer I got was a hard shake of the porta-john which required me to brace myself against the sides to keep from falling off the seat. “OK, OK!” I yelled. The light shone on the “20” again as I reached down and started to pull off my top. It’s just like a bikini top I told myself as I pulled the top over my head. It’s ok.
“Much better!” I heard from outside as the light shone over my breasts now clad in just an orange scalloped lace push up bra. My dark nipples were pushing out at the bra in the chilled air and were otherwise partially visible through the lace top half of the bra.
The light played over my breasts for a few minutes as I sat there. “There, are you happy now? Open the door!” I said sternly.
“Lose the bra!” came the voice from outside. I shivered.
“Come on” I said, “this is enough, just open the fucking door!” The porta-john shook violently and I fell off the seat and on the floor. Some of the vile contents splashed on my arm and I screamed.
As the porta-john settled the light came back through the hole focused on my breasts. Calmly but, with authority the voice simply said “Lose the bra.” Hands trembling, I reached up and undid the front clasp. I shrugged off the bra and covered my breasts with my arms even though I knew what was coming. “Drop your arms!” I hung my head as my arms fell to my sides then pushed my self back up and sat on the seat again. The light ran over my breasts focusing on my nipples which were fully stretched out in the chilled air. Grabbing some toilet paper, I wiped the vile mixture from below off my arm. Feeling like throwing up and crying, I sat there trembling on the seat, hoping this guy would just get his rocks off quick and leave me alone.
“Bring them over here” came the voice. It wasn’t a command, but a statement, which I knew I couldn’t deny unless I wanted the entire contents from below all over me. I turned to face the hole where the light was coming from and held my breasts in front of it.
“Bring them closer.” I moved to within a couple of inches from the hole. I could feel the heat from the light on my left nipple as he shined the light on it. “Put it in the hole!” I slowly pressed my breast against the hole, The hole was about a 4 inch circle and about half of my breast fit through. The cold hard plastic scraped my breast a bit and I winced. The outside air was a bit colder than in the porta-john and my nipple stretched out further. I braced myself not knowing what was going to happen next.
My nipple was rubbed, and then pinched between his fingers. As hard as it was in the chilled air, I shivered as it was rolled between his fingers. My nipples are very sensitive to begin with. When my husband and I have sex, he usually plays with them for a while which gets me very wet and very ready for sex. The tightness of them just intensified their sensitivity. He continued to roll and pinch my nipple then I felt his tongue flick over it. A shiver went through my body as his tongue and fingers worked it. I thought to myself Krista! There’s no way in hell you are getting turned on by this. A man you don’t know is humiliating you! You can’t be getting turned on by this! Can You? His tongue rolled and flicked over my nipple while he pinched it. I bit my lip to keep from moaning out loud as he lightly bit it. Knowing he couldn’t see inside with my nipple in the hole, I slid a hand up my thigh and over the satin of my panty. I could feel the warmth from within, and it felt a little damp. You can’t be wet from this! I slipped a finger under my panty and immediately felt the wetness of my pussy. I let my finger slide along my lips and tickle my clit as he continued to lick, flick, and pinch my nipple. He sucked my nipple in his mouth hard as my finger pressed inside of my pussy. I bit my lip harder to keep the moan inside. Then he released my nipple from his mouth. With my finger still sliding in me, I waited for what was next, wanting him to go back to my nipple.
“Stand up!” I slowly pulled my finger out, my breast still pressed through the hole. “Stand up!” came the voice again. I slowly stood, bracing myself against the sides as my knees were shaking a bit. “Drop the skirt.” Again not a demand, but a statement he knew wouldn’t be denied. I slowly unzipped the back zipper and let the skirt fall to my sandaled feet. I shivered standing now in just my sandals and my orange satin Tony Stewart bikini panty. The light shone over my panty. The little white number 20’s all over it shining bright.
“Turn around.” I turned putting my ass towards the hole. Looking at the dying push lamp on the green plastic wall in front of me, I jumped and screamed when I felt a hand rub my ass. Almost falling, I braced myself against the walls again, leaning slightly forward. I screamed when the hand stopped rubbing and came down hard on my ass, the slap cracking in the enclosed space of the porta-john.
“I fucking hate Tony Stewart!” came the voice. My ass burned from the slap as I braced myself to keep from falling. Two more quick hard slaps followed and I screamed with each slap.
“PLEASE STOP IT!” I cried. He just laughed, telling me to scream all I wanted, with the music playing from the camp area, no one would hear.
“Turn around!’ I turned without question, tears rolling down my cheeks as my ass was burning.
He took his finger and traced along the large “20” on the front of my panty. I shivered. Shit if he feels how moist I am . . . Shit! He roughly pulled my panty to the side, exposing my closely trimmed mound. His fingers went right in pushing against my swollen lips. I moaned lightly as he pressed a finger inside of me and it easily slid in. Oh My God! You can’t be enjoying this Krista! His finger slid in and out of me and my hips started to rock with his rhythm. Shit He’s gonna think you’re some kind of a slut. What the fuck is coming over me . . .God I must be shit faced! I started to moan a little gasping as his finger slid in and out of me. My moan became a little whimper as he pulled out and laughed.
“Too bad you’re a Tony Stewart fan . . . Otherwise I might let you enjoy this you little whore . . . Get on your knees!” Fuck it! This has gone far enough!
“Come on you bastard, leave me alone!” I pleaded. “Just let me out of here! Pleeeease!” This last plea was cut short as the porta-john shook violently and I fell against a wall and landed on my knees. As I braced against the wall I felt my calves getting wet as the sludge from the john over flowed and splashed on the floor. The vile stench filled the porta-john as its contents were disturbed. I gagged violently, almost throwing up as the porta-john swayed and I thought it was going over, but instead it crashed down causing more of the contents to splash out as it came to rest standing up again. I was choking and gagging but I could still hear him outside, his laughter taunting me along with the thrash rock from the camp sites.
“Unless you want this thing going on its side, and then down the hill, I suggest you listen to me from now on.” His voice was calm but strong and it left no doubt in my mind that he meant business. The hill he referred to was a short, but rather steep hill. I had no doubts that if he pushed this over it, by the time it came to rest on the bottom, not only would I be covered from head to toe in the sludge, but I probably would have a broken bone or two as well.
“Understand!??” Coughing as I tried to catch my breath, I nodded and weakly said “OK” My lower legs felt sticky and I grabbed a hand full of toilet paper and squirted some of the sanitizer on it and tried my best to wipe them clean. Even after I had wiped them they still felt as though something was crawling on them.
I shivered as I looked towards the hole in the side and meekly asked “What do you want?”
His answer was simple. The hole darkened and I saw his cock pushing through it. “Suck it!”
Swallowing hard, I looked down at the semi-hard cock pushing through the hole.
A thousand thoughts went through my mind, just how steep is the hill, my husband, my children, I know I’m good at this I can finish him off quickly and be done with it, it can’t be worse than lying half naked at the bottom of the hill covered in the sludge, perhaps I could grab it and yank it hard through the hole, or bite it, no both of those would wind up with me busted up at the bottom of the hill . . . Reluctantly , I reached forward taking him in my hand as I squatted down. I closed my eyes and leaned in taking him in my mouth. His skin was cold but it quickly warmed under my tongue and I felt him grow bigger and harder in my mouth. Make it good, make it quick I thought, and you’ll be out of here fast.
I could still hear him laughing from outside as I sucked, my tongue swirling around his head while I pumped his hard shaft with my hand. His laughs were interspersed with moans as he bucked his cock in and out of mouth.
“MMMM you’re a good cock sucking whore aren’t you?” He asked me from outside. Slurping loudly on him I just increased my pace and intensity of my sucking and stroking, tasting the saltiness of his precum oozing from his cock. I sucked him in deep rolling my tongue over the underside of his shaft, lightly bobbing my head on him as he was buried in my throat. Then I followed this up with a series of long slow sucks slowly sliding my mouth all the way up his shaft till just the head was in then back down again just as slow.
He moaned and “Oh yeah I found me a cock sucking queen!” he said as I popped the head of his cock in and out of my mouth. “You like sucking cock don’t you?” He asked. As I rolled my tongue up and down his shaft I moaned.
Yes I do! Shit this has me soaking wet I thought. Krista you are a drunken cock sucking whore . . . My tongue flicked across his head and then rolled around it before I once again engulfed him in my mouth. I felt his cock twitch in my mouth and his thrusts became quicker and more urgent.
“Stroke my cock and make me CUM! I wanna cum in your open mouth and on your sweet fucking face!” He shouted at me. I took him out of my mouth and pumped his slick cock with my hand. “Oh yeah! Here it cums you whore . . . Catch it but don’t swallow yet . . .you’re gonna show me your mouth full of cum!” As my hand pumped up and down on him, he exploded. The first shot cleared my mouth which was open and waiting under his cock. It hit my forehead and splashed in my hair and down my cheeks. I moved my mouth catching the next wave in my mouth. It was warm, salty and filled my mouth. As I tried not to swallow, he continued to cum, this time I moved up and it hit my neck and rolled down to my breasts. As my hand continued to stroke him he came in three more waves, which covered my breasts and dribbled down my tummy.
He slowly pulled out of the hole. The light shone through once again. “Let me see your mouth!” I opened my mouth showing him my mouthful of his cum. “Now swallow!” I did swallowing it all. His light shone over my body seeing my hair, face and breasts dripping his cum. “There, now you look like the cock sucking whore you are!” He said.
“Are you happy now? Can I get out?” I asked.
“Open you’re mouth again and let me see!” He said. I opened my mouth again for him. “Bring it closer so I can really look at it.” He commanded. I brought it close to the hole again. As I knelt there, with my open mouth an inch from the hole, I jumped when I felt a warm hard cock press into my mouth. Pulling my mouth back I gasped.
“Suck him too you whore . . . And anyone else who sticks their cock through the hole!” To reinforce this, the porta-john shook again as a subtle reminder of my fate should I disobey. Knowing there was nothing I could do; I leaned forward and began to suck the second strange cock that night. This one only took a couple of minutes before he exploded. I had never felt such an explosion and gagged on it as it forcefully hit the back of my throat. Pulling back and coughing he continued to spray my face and breasts with what seemed like gallons of hot sticky cum.
I have no idea how many cocks I actually sucked that night. Someone had pushed a fifth of Jack Daniels though the hole between the second and third guy. I didn’t even hesitate or need any reinforcement to suck off number three after the second guy emptied his cum filled balls in my mouth and on me. By the time I finished the fifth of JD, I had lost count after the seventh guy covered my face and breasts in cum. Most of the cocks were average sized and easily slid down my throat. One was very small, but he still filled my mouth with his warm cum.
For some perverse reason, I found that was extremely turned on by this. I have always loved to suck cock, since I was a high school sophomore, and was well known for abilities in both high school and college. That night I put my abilities to the test. By the time the fifth was gone, my panties had long since been removed and my fingers were buried three deep in my pussy. I came hard. I came a lot. I was covered in the cum of strangers. I realized that I was truly a cock sucking whore.
As the latest and largest cock thrust in and out of the hole and in and out of my mouth, my jaw was tired and sore. I could barely get him all the way in my mouth, but he kept pushing his probably 10 plus inches down my throat. I was gagging and gasping as he fucked my mouth until he erupted in the biggest load of cum I have ever seen. My hair, face, and breasts already sticky and tight with the drying cum of the others were drenched. I was full from having swallowed so much cum. He sprayed me down like a fourth of July grand finale. When that last cock slid back out of the hole, I could see the gray of dawn coming through. I sat and waited, wondering if I was in fact done as I wiped the gobs of cum away from my eyes. I tentatively reached out and tried the door and it opened. Stumbling to my feet, I wiped the pools of cum from my body, surprising myself by licking my fingers clean with each scoop. I then pulled on my skirt and tank top and started to stumble back to our campsite.
SHIT! What the fuck do I tell my husband when he asks where I’ve been? How do I explain the obvious dried cum stuck all over my body?
The answer to the second question came as I passed a campsite. In the early morning light, I saw a solar shower set up towards the back. This is basically an elevated water tank with a gravity fed shower head. Checking it, I saw it was nearly full. I quickly peeled off my clothes which were stuck to my body by the cum of unknown men. Turning on the shower head I gasped as I stepped under the cold water. The idea behind the solar shower is the sun warms the water. Being the early morning hours, no sun had warmed this water in a while. Using some body wash I found there I gave myself a quick shower and used a towel hanging there to dry my body. Wet hair will be easier to explain than dried cum I thought and laughed to myself.
Pulling on my skirt and top, I walked the rest of the way back to our campsite. I quietly opened our RV so as not to wake my husband. Looking at the clock, I saw it was 5:45 AM. Shit! I had been sucking cock for almost 4 hours! I saw my husband was not in bed. Figuring he just passed out at the camp site of his poker game, I quickly stripped off my cum crusted clothes and put on my soft cotton pajamas. I quickly blow dried my hair thinking if he came in while I was doing that I would tell him I just got up. Once my hair was dry, I crawled into bed.
Just as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard whispering followed by the sound of the door to the RV opening. I opened my eyes just enough to see my husband and that asshole Ricky stumble in, obviously still drunk and still going on with their night.
“See I told you she’d still be sleeping,” I heard my husband say. “She had a lot to drink last night and probably passed out right after we left here. Remember, we played poker all night right?”
“Oh yeah!” Ricky whispered, “We played poke her mouth! Man I wonder who that fucking slut was, I haven’t had a blow job like that in years!”
“Just shut the fuck up about it!” My husband said. “Just shut the fuck up!”
“Don’t worry man . . . It’s our secret. Man too bad our wives don’t suck cock like that slut in the porta-john! That was the best 20 bucks I spent!”
My husband made some comment to Ricky that I didn’t really hear. I was shocked. I knew. I was the slut. They both paid my captor 20 bucks and I had sucked their cocks. A tear rolled down my cheek as I felt my husband crawl into bed next to me, his body curving to mine as his arm draped over me.