Great Smoky Mountains Pussy Buffet: Three Old Fishermen Feast on Blonde Campfire Dessert
The Great American Daddy Hunt: 50 States, 50 Daddies, 50 Weeks. A Sabbatical Sex Scorecard for a Rebellious College Girl.
This erotic post is intended as entertainment only for mature audiences. Reader discretion advised. Please simply & kindly skip it if it offends you. Thank you so much! Hugs!
I write erotica novels & short stories. I also publish handbooks on how to train us, young women, for sex and share my sex confessions as a spermivore, spermaholic, and submissive teen (18+) slut. Yes, a slut! And I’m proud of it! Sex is good, and girls who love sex shouldn’t have to hide and pretend to be “pure.” Sex is pure! And naked skin is natural. #FreeTheNipple #FreeThePussy
This erotic short story is part of The Great American Daddy Hunt: 50 States, 50 Daddies, 50 Weeks. A Sabbatical Sex Scorecard for a Rebellious College Girl. I hope your cock (or pussy) enjoys it!
Cassy's heart pounded against her ribcage as she stared at the sliver of sunlight peeking through the tent flap. Outside, the voices of the strangers drew closer, leaves crunching beneath their boots with each step. A strange, rebellious heat spread through her body, battling against the cold wave of embarrassment that threatened to drown her. Dale's eyes glittered in the dim light of the tent, his expression a mixture of challenge and anticipation as he waited for her to make her choice.
"Fuck it!" The words were barely audible even to herself.
Before her rational mind could intervene, Cassy crawled forward on all fours, her heavy breasts swinging beneath her like ripe fruit. She pushed through the narrow opening, the canvas rough against her bare shoulders, and emerged into the crisp mountain morning like a butterfly from a chrysalis — a completely, gloriously naked butterfly.
The morning air kissed her skin with cool lips, raising goosebumps across her exposed flesh. Dew-dampened grass tickled her knees and palms as she straightened to her full height, blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders in wild disarray.
Two older men stood frozen by the fire pit, fishing rods clutched in suddenly white-knuckled hands. The taller one — well into his seventies with a shock of silver-white hair — had his mouth hanging open, revealing a row of surprisingly straight teeth. His companion, a heavyset man with thinning gray hair and thick glasses, had gone completely still except for his eyes, which moved rapidly up and down Cassy's nude female form like a scanner memorizing every curve.
"Oh!" Cassy's hands flew to cover herself — one arm across her succulent breasts, the other hand cupping her waxed pussy — but the gesture was symbolic at best, leaving most of her tantalizing body on full display.
The silver-haired man recovered first, his weathered face splitting into a grin wide enough to threaten the structural integrity of his cheeks. "Well, good morning to you too, young lady!"
His heavyset friend adjusted his glasses, as if to ensure his vision wasn't deceiving him. Through those thick lenses, he devoured the sight of Cassy's youthful flesh — her firm, rounded buttocks that would fit perfectly in a man's hands; the tanned, flat expanse of her stomach leading up to those magnificent, mouth-watering breasts partially hidden by her arm; the hint of pink between her fingers where she pretended to try to shield her most private treasure from their hungry gazes.
"Towel! Toss me a towel, sweetheart!" Dale's voice called from inside the tent, breaking the spell of frozen embarrassment.
Cassy glanced around the campsite, spotting a blue towel hanging from a nearby branch. She darted toward it, each step causing her unsupported breasts to bounce gloriously, the soft flesh jiggling in a hypnotic rhythm that drew the old men's eyes like magnets. She grabbed the towel and hurried back to the tent, throwing it through the opening while maintaining her awkward attempt at modesty.
Dale emerged moments later, the towel wrapped around his waist like a makeshift sarong, his belly hanging slightly over the terrycloth barrier.
"Gentlemen! Good morning!" He extended his hand toward the visitors as if hosting a dinner party rather than encountering strangers while half-naked in the woods. "I'm Dale, and this is Cassy."
The silver-haired man stepped forward, his eyes still periodically flickering to Cassy's exposed skin. "Raymond. This here's Gerald. We've been coming to Site 17 for fishing trips for — what is it now, Gerry?"
"Fifteen years." Gerald's voice was surprisingly deep, his gaze fixed somewhere in the vicinity of Cassy's hips. "Never had a welcome quite like this, though."
Raymond chuckled, the sound like dry leaves rustling. "You folks planning to stay long? We usually camp here through the weekend."
"We don’t know yet." Dale's hand found the small of Cassy's back, fingers splaying possessively across her skin. "Showing this little lady the wonders of nature."
"I can see that." Gerald's eyes drifted downward again, settling on the triangle of blonde hair above Cassy's hands. "Some mighty fine natural wonders on display."
Heat blazed across Cassy's cheeks, yet she remained rooted in place, her legs refusing to carry her away from this mortifying situation. Something in the way these old men looked at her — with hungry appreciation rather than judgment — sent confusing signals through her nervous system. Shame mixed with a strange, unexpected pleasure.
Daddy's Little Campsite Display
The two newcomers began unpacking their gear, setting up their tents on the opposite side of the fire pit. Raymond moved with surprising agility for his age, his movements efficient and practiced. Gerald worked more slowly, his breath coming in audible puffs as he hammered stakes into the ground, his gaze returning to Cassy's exposed female skin between each swing.
Dale squeezed Cassy's bare shoulder. "Let me get dressed, and then we'll sort out breakfast."
With practiced efficiency, he slid his boxers up under the towel, followed by his khaki shorts, maintaining a modest barrier throughout the process. When the towel finally dropped, he was fully dressed from the waist down.
Cassy took this as her cue and stepped toward her clothes she had left on a camping chair. "I should get dressed, too."
Dale's hand shot out, catching her wrist. "Whoa there, sweetheart. No need for that."
Her mouth fell open in disbelief. "But I'm—"
"Part of nature." Dale's voice carried across the clearing, loud enough for Raymond and Gerald to hear. "These gentlemen came all this way to enjoy the wilderness. Would be a shame to cover up the most beautiful part of it."
Cassy froze, her brain struggling to process what was happening. Was Dale seriously suggesting she remain naked for... how long? In front of these complete strangers?
"That's right!" Gerald paused his tent setup to wipe sweat from his forehead. "Nothing prettier than a young woman in her natural state."
Raymond nodded sagely. "Been coming to these mountains for decades. Never seen anything as spectacular as you, miss."
Dale's hand squeezed her shoulder, his voice dropping to a whisper only she could hear. "These fine gentlemen can enjoy looking at your gorgeous body while we enjoy our morning."
Images of the college boys at the hostel flashed in front of her eyes. They had stared but remained paralyzed by social convention. These older men — Dale, Raymond, Gerald — knew exactly what they wanted and didn't hesitate to pursue it. There was something almost refreshing about their honesty, their unabashed appreciation of her female form.