Tramping Trip

Tramping Trip

I'm Tim and my wife is Katie. For context, my wife and I are in a one-sided open relationship, commonly called cuckold or hotwife. Her tales of being a slut are what sold me on wanting to marry her. She had advertised herself as a slut when we met, and she never failed to live up to the advertizing. She only married me because I promised I wouldn't interfere with her needs. I found being married to a slut to be every bit as erotic and satisfying as I had hoped.

By the time we had been married for a year she had four guys on the side that she fucked regularly. Sometimes I was actively involved in a threesome, sometimes I was expected to watch and stay out of the way, and sometimes she flew solo, returning home with a used cunt and new tales of her dedication to pleasing her men friends.

Being as good a slut as she is, sometimes she needs something extra kinky. Being as good a cuckold as I am, I would help her make a plan for satisfying this need. One time it was a trip to a strip club where she "accidentally" entered the men's room and once there serviced all cummers. It was great because the men had been titillated by the strippers, as if being prepped for my slutwife.

I became friends with all her regulars, there were only four, there were many more who could be described as occasionals. Katie was the rare kind of slut that once you had some, provided you appreciated slutty women, you were coming back for more. I love it when the phone rings and a guy ask to speak with Katie. I love it more if the guy is somewhat rude, saying curtly, "Put the slut on," making it clear he needs to use my wife for sex.

I love handing the phone to her and hearing something like, "Oh hi, Bob. Of course I'm available. Yes, he is, but you know it doesn't matter. Just come over, please." After the call she would put on make-up and dress for the occasion: stockings, garter, very short dress.

She also loved engaging this ritualistic dressing routine as I was getting ready to leave for work in the morning. Seeing her prep for the men who would be coming by while I was at work had me hard all day. Aside from her monthly, rarely did 24 hours go by without her having one or more of her boyfriend's cocks in her.

Once in a while we would invite several of her guys over for a poke-her night. We all understood the whole thing was a role play, though we did actually play some poker. I would soon run out of chips, betting high on crappy hands and folding when I actually had a good hand, after which I would have to use favors from my wife as bargaining chips. The logical conclusion to these nights was the inevitable full on gang bang. That came after she had serviced everyone individually who won pots containing a favor token.

The best way to describe my wife's sexuality is to say that she isn't just a slut, she's an extra kinky, raunchy cum slut. Cum all over the place is her favorite condition to be left in when the dust settles. Knowing this helped me think of plans for Katie's next extra kinky debauchery session. Which ultimately involved dust and cum.

It was my job to come up with new ways to subject my wife to what she needed. I was always trying to outdo what had already been done, and she had a birthday coming up. Her birthday was July 5th, which that year was a Sunday, so I had a three-day weekend to plan something special around.

The thought of camping crossed my mind. We both loved camping but in the past these outings had almost never resulted in opportunities for her to get needs met. We were usually surrounded by families with kids, which made things fun and festive, but not sexual. Then I remembered Camp Nelson.

They say getting there is half the fun, but with Camp Nelson getting there discouraged most folks from going there at all. Nestled in the Sierra Mountains, its only point of entry was seven miles of one-lane, very steep and windy, dirt road. Most of the journey was bordered by a cliff going up on one side and down on the other. There were no guard rails and if you went off the down side there would be no survivors. Even if a driver was not intimidated, the passengers likely would be. I can just here some wife saying, "You are not taking me and the kids down that road."

I'd camped there many times as I loved tubing down the river at the bottom of the canyon. My ah-ha moment came when I remembered what the fourth meant for Camp Nelson. A motorcycle club called the Midland Marauders, Or M&Ms as their insignia said, converged on the camp on this particular weekend. Families stayed away.

Through diligent investigative reporting it had become public knowledge that the club's primary focus was on sex. In an interview I found online, one of the club's female members talked about being "passed around" a lot. There were rumors of Local women, married, unmarried or whatever visiting their camp parties knowing full well they would be used like whores by the club members. According to one article, this resulted in many divorces.

The interviewed woman said they ran ads in swinger magazines announcing their camping parties and inviting women only. There was a parking lot at the top for people who couldn't tolerate the road, and women, she said, were escorted to the camp on the backs of motorcycles. She also said it wasn't unusual for a woman to have to earn the ride down with a blowjob. Another rumor was that women who came looking to get fucked had to consent to a tattoo just above their pubic patch that said MARAUDED PUSSY. I hadn't yet heard that rumor.

I wanted to get a couple days of tubing in before the biker studs started arriving. I also wanted to pick an advantageous camp site, so we left on Wednesday morning and arrived in early afternoon.

When we traveled Katie always brought a separate pink suitcase for what we called her slut-wear. She caught me noticing that she had packed it and said, "I know, it's just camping, but you never know."

Yes, I had to hear, "We're not going down that road," as we entered the treacherous, "donkey trail," as she called it. I consented to going 5 miles an hour or less and assured her she would be glad she made the trip because of how beautiful the canyon was. I made no mention of the bikers as I wanted that to be a surprise.

There were two campgrounds separated by the river and joined by a bridge at the far end of the campground. The far side campground ran along the river from the bridge. The near side stretched up a few hundred yards into a tributary canyon. I selected a campsite at the very end of that canyon for strategic reasons. The bathrooms and showers and water spigots were at the entrance end. Picking a campsite away from the essential amenities sounds like a bad idea.

I pitched our spacious 10 x12 tent and we set up camp. We enjoyed two days of quiet obscurity as the camp was empty, except for us. Friday, about noon, I heard the unmistakable roar of motorcycle engines and soon thereafter they started rolling into camp. We would hear them coming slowly up the campground toward us as they explored the campsites and presumably checked to see if anyone else was around.

When they came to end of the campsite where we were, they found Katie and I and got a first glimpse of Katie, wearing a micro mini dress. As they reached the end and turned to go back down the u-shaped drive toward the front, Katie waved at them. They were generally big, rough, scruffy looking men who smiled at Katie and waved back.

They arrived in pairs and groups and occasionally a truck would be with them full of camp gear. The campground turned into a hub of activity as a city of rebellious looking campers set up all along the that u-shaped road between us and the entrance to that offshoot campground.

When they started arriving Katie and I set up our camp chairs and watched. I didn't have to ask to know what Katie was thinking. As we watched and she waved at the arriving pirate looking men on their beautiful machines, Katie made sure they got a peek at her panties as they rode slowly by making their turn to explore back in the other direction and pick out their campsite.

As we sat drinking our first beer of the day at roughly 10 a.m., Katie said, "Looks like there may be opportunities after all." Another pair of bikers approached the end of the U and I saw Katie reach down and hike her skirt up a little more, though her panties were already showing. I started waving too to let them know I was a friendly husband.

By that evening the campground was full, and I think we had only seen one other woman. Katie mentioned that and I said, "Looks like they're going to be needing a slut like you. She grinned and said, "Flattery will get you everywhere."

"We need some water to wash the dinner dishes. Take that bucket and go to the other end where the water spigot is and get some."

"I can't carry a five gallon bucket of water."

"Do you really think you'll have to."

"I'll have to ask for help."

"Exactly."

I could see several campers, or roughens, from where I was. I saw them glancing our way frequently to get looks at Katie. I was amazed at how many reasons Katie found to bend over with her ass in their direction. So as she left the campground with her bucket I could see her being followed by interested eyes. Katie had changed out of her mini-dress and into a mini skirt with an elastic band that enabled her to adjust the height of the skirt at will. She also wore a half-top T-shirt that came almost to the bottom of her breasts. The only other items were her skimpy white panties and a pair of flip-flops. She couldn't have looked more whorish and I couldn't have felt more in love as she walked off.

I could hear her being greeted as she walked past the various campsites. "Hey pretty lady," "Want to have a beer with us," "Looking good," and such. From her I heard things like, "Hi guys," and "Maybe later," and as my eyes followed her I could tell she was hiking the skirt up as she went. She rounded a slight bend and I lost sight of her.

Now the waiting game began. I knew anything was possible. I knew she might get fucked before ever returning with the water. I hoped that would be the case, but more than anything I knew she was going to receive multiple lovers before the weekend was over. Happy Birthday Katie.

It was a five minute walk in each direction. An hour went by and she still hadn't returned. When she finally did come into view there was a guy walking beside her carrying the bucket. They walked into camp and Katie introduced Hal, a tall stocky biker wearing his denim colors vest, blue jeans and stereotypical engineer boots. He was ruggedly handsome and looked like he could have fucked a mare to satisfaction.

"Hal, this is my whore loving husband Tim."

"Hi Hal, I'm Tim," I said, standing and then sitting back down in my camp chair.

"Hi Tim," Hal said sitting in the chair next to me. He looked up at Katie and said "Katie, why don't you go meet some more of my friends while I talk to your husband."

Katie walked over to me and took my hand, bringing it between her legs so I could feel how drenched with cum her panties already were. We smiled at each other, mutually delighted at how events were unfolding. I wet my fingers on her panties and brought them to my nose, inhaling deep the scent of her true nature. I looked at Hal and said, "Smells like she has already met a few."

He smiled and said, "Run along Katie." She almost skipped as she danced off to find more cock, a slick sheen forming on her inner thighs as she went. "Run off," as she calls it.

I went to the ice chest and got us both a cold beer. He had a paper bag with him but hadn't mentioned what was in it. I considered it might have nothing to with his visit to my camp. I opened our beers and handed him one.

"What have you heard about our club," He asked.

"The gist of what I've read, and there hasn't been much available..." I felt awkward and I didn't want to offend a man who met my wife an hour ago and was already turning her out as if she was his whore.

"Spit it out," he said.

"Some of the articles accuse your club of ruining good women and breaking up families."

"Yeah, that's basically what we hear. Do you want the truth?"

"Yes. I always want the other side of the story."

He took a long draw off his beer. "There are a few truths related to the myths. It's true that married women come here for sex, but it's rare that they come without their husband's knowledge. Sometimes husbands send them because their wives have asked to experience being a slut. Sometimes husbands send them because they want their wives to learn how to be a slut. Sometimes it's because their wives already are a slut and they're just accepting what their wife needs. In most cases the husbands are excited about it and want to hear the stories when the wife returns."

"Sounds like you guys are providing a valuable service."

"We think so, and two years ago something new happened. A husband came with his wife and we started to learn more about men who love being cuckolded. Since then we've learned a lot, and Katie tells me you're a cuckold."

"Yes, that's true. I love being married to a woman who can't get enough of other men's cocks."

"Excellent. Do I have your permission for my club to treat your wife like a submissive slut and you like a submissive cuckold?"

"Of course. My cocks getting hard just thinking about it."

"It is summer and around here it stays warm all night. I need you to take your clothes off and stay naked all weekend."

I liked where this was going. I stood and pulled my pants off, exposing my hardening cock. Hal looked at my cock and chuckled a bit. It was deliciously humiliating.

"It seems to be a trait among cuckolds that they have small cocks. What is it, barely five inches when fully hard?"

"Four and seven eighths measured from the top," I told him, with an air of pride.

"You seem proud of that," he said questioningly.

"I am. It's a guarantee that my slut wife will go out seeking big cocks, and it allows me to accept the responsibility for making sure she gets what she needs."

"It's also why I want you to stay naked. I want the club members to see what your wife gets at home. It will make them want to fuck Katie even more and cucks like you love humiliation. Isn't that right?"

"That's perfectly true."

"You'll get plenty of it this weekend."

We chatted on and I came to like the guy. We had a few more beers and then I fixed us a burger. An hour or more had passed before Katie came strolling back to camp with that beautiful smile she always had after being used real good. She came up to me and bent down, kissing me and pushing a load of cum into my mouth while reaching down and stroking my naked cock. She broke the kiss and looked at Hal, saying, "Isn't he tiny."

Hal, looking at her legs and appreciating how short her skirt was said, "Looks like someone's been having fun." It was in reference to the jizz that was now running all the way to her sandals.

"Yeah, your friends know what to do with a whore like me. Watch this. Honey, get on your knees."

I kneeled in front of her and she draped a leg over my shoulder and grabbed the back of my head and pulled it against her drenched panties.

"My panties are way too dirty. Lick and suck the jizz out of them."

There was no mistaking my enthusiasm for the task at hand. Running my tongue across her panties garnered a nice coating of cum and from there I sucked her panties into my mouth, refreshing my memory of how good a well fucked whore taste.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Hal rubbing the large bulge in his pants. "I see you've trained him to love sperm," Hal said.

"You've no idea," Katie responded. "And he does everything he's told. I trained him myself."

"Really. How about a demonstration."

With that Katie stood up and spread her legs apart about two feet. "Do you see the nasty mess those dirty bikers made of my thighs. For Christ's sake there's jizz running all the way down to my sandals. What do you think about that Cuck. Is there something you want to ask me?"

"Yes master," I said. "May I please use my tongue to clean your thighs."

"Why would you want to do that Cuck."

"To show Hal I'm a good cuck for you."

"Yes, of course, but why else?"

"Because I need the jizz."

"That's the answer I was looking for. It's a little more honest than the first answer, isn't it?"

"Yes, Master." I got on my knees and bent way down to start at the sandals and work my way up. It felt so erotic to be doing this in front of Hal. When I finished she sat in her chair and scooted toward the front, telling me to go back to sucking on her panties as the cum continued to drip out.

"You don't mind that I let six guys fuck me while fetching the water, do you Cuck?"

"No, Master."

"See Hal, he's become such a jizz lover that his biggest concern is getting to clean me."

Hal, in the mean time, stripped off his shoes, socks, pants and underwear, exposing a really beautiful cock. It wasn't the longest or the thickest I had seen Katie grapple with, but it was impressively long and thick. He walked up to Katie and was the perfect height to offer it to her mouth as he stood in front of her. As I expected she couldn't get it in her mouth fast enough.

"Your mouth clearly knows what to do with a cock. You suck like a dirty slut."

She took his cock out of mouth just long enough to thank him for the compliment.

"But I'm still only mildly impressed with your cuck training," he added.

"Well, if you want a better demonstration you may have to take matters in your own hand. When you're on the brink of cumming, grab my husband by the hair on the back of his head and pull his face to your cock. Tell him to open his mouth and shove your cock in. Finish in his mouth. Do you have a problem with that Cuck," she asked me.

"How fun," Hal said.

"No, Master, I promise I'll milk him good."

"Yeah, you'll get whipped if you don't, won't you Cuck."

"Yes, Master; I would have that coming."

"You'll have it cumming alright." Then she shut up and got busy sucking with a level of expertise that was fun to watch. I knew how good her blow jobs felt, so it was exciting to see her doing another man with her mouth, and to notice she appeared to be much more enthusiastic when it was any cock but mine.

I stopped licking her panties and sat up on my knees to get a close view of her oral ministrations. In no time Hal was moaning and I knew it wouldn't be long. Sure enough he said, "Open up Cuck" and moved his cock from Katie's mouth to mine. As soon as I sealed my lips around the area below his cockhead I started stroking the shaft.

"Suck it good Cuck," Katie said, "And once you get it all open your mouth so I can see it."

I guess that comment pushed him over the edge. I only sucked cock when I was ordered to, not that I minded being ordered to, but if I'm being honest, when ordered to I always hoped for a huge load. Katie didn't really train me to love jizz, I'm not sure that can be trained. It came natural, and she so consistently came home full of it, wanting me to do my clean up duties, that my hunger for the slippery fluid grew. Hal did not disappoint my need. I kept stroking and he kept squirting.

I made sure not to lose any when he pulled out. I looked at Katie and tilted my head slightly back before opening my mouth. She looked in my mouth and said, "Good job, now swallow Cuck." I always do as she instructs.

I swallowed a copious amount of sperm while Katie hungrily lapped up the remnants off Hal's cock. Hal then grabbed the bag he had been carrying and pulled out a can of red spray paint. He handed it to Katie and told her to paint "24/7 whore" on the flap of our tent. I was really liking this guy. Then he pulled out a black Sharpie and wrote