Mark had always enjoyed the outdoors, but this trip was different. When Laura, his partner of two years, invited him to spend a week camping with her Swedish family in the heart of Dalsland’s pine forests, he said yes without hesitation—though he didn’t fully grasp what he was agreeing to.

The setting was idyllic. Tall, whispering trees surrounded a pristine lake. The scent of moss, birch, and pine hung in the air. The family campsite—tents arranged in a neat semicircle—was a blend of rustic charm and rigid order. It didn’t take Mark long to realize that “family trip” meant very family oriented.

Laura’s parents, stern and composed, treated every morning like mass and every dinner like a structured ritual. Her father, Anders, wore a perpetual frown of moral disapproval, and her mother, Ingrid, said grace before every meal with her eyes closed and hands clenched tightly, as if warding off sin itself.

No shared tent, no private cuddles by the campfire. Mark and Laura, though deeply in love and fully grown adults, were relegated to separate sleeping bags in separate tents like disobedient teenagers. They snuck glances and touches when they could—brief fingers brushing over tea mugs, lingering gazes by the campfire and the odd heated txt exchange —but that was all. Their intimacy was bottled tightly behind the cork of Laura's strict Catholic upbringing, which her parents enforced like camp rangers with a Bible.

By day, they hiked through endless forests, where Mark tried to keep pace with Anders’ militant march and nodded politely to Ingrid’s stories about Swedish saints and chaste romance. He respected them, but the atmosphere was stifling. He missed Laura’s body against his in the morning, the quiet kisses before sleep.

Then there was Maxine.

Laura’s younger sister by three years—blonde, sun-bronzed, with mischievous eyes and a lopsided grin—was the only wild card in the group. Maxine was untethered: still single, still spontaneous, and decidedly less devout. She flirted without guilt, teased without restraint, and had an ease about her that made Mark feel both relaxed and on edge.

They bonded naturally. Mark and Maxine swam together in the ice-cold lake each morning, laughing as they emerged breathless and dripping under the summer sun. She teased him about his accent, about how earnestly he tried to impress her parents, about how he "looked like a man in exile" each night he walked to his lonely tent.

He tried to keep a respectful distance, but Maxine's presence stirred something—something Laura couldn’t touch in the presence of her parents. It wasn’t betrayal, not quite. It was chemistry under pressure. A spark in a dry forest.

On the fifth day, after a long hike, Mark and Laura stayed behind at the lake. The others had gone back to camp. They stripped behind a cluster of tall reeds, giggling like conspirators, and slipped into the cool water. Naked, weightless, free. The water clung to their skin like silk. Laura wrapped her long, toned legs around his waist, her mouth trailing wet heat along his jaw as the pine trees swayed gently overhead.

It was the first moment of real privacy they'd had in days. They floated in the crisp water as their bodies responded to each other’s touch.

Laura laughed softly as she felt Mark grow between her thighs, pressing into her warm folds. They held each other like a secret. They didn’t go too far—she ground against him, feeling his swollen head brush her clit, but didn’t let him slide inside her. The fear of being caught still lingered in the back of their minds. Still, it was enough to take the edge off the tension, enough to feel like themselves again.

Eventually, they couldn’t take it anymore. They had edged each other to the point of no return, and the strain of resisting climax was becoming unbearable. Laura slipped off Mark, and they swam back to shore, where sun-warmed rocks waited for them.

Laura stepped out of the water like an aqua goddess. Her long, tanned legs gleamed with droplets in the sun, and her firm, peach-shaped butt looked temptingly delicious. Mark had spent many hours worshipping it, his mouth buried there until Laura screamed with pleasure. She walked toward a large, flat rock, then turned and lay back on it, arms behind her head, her body glistening in the golden light. Her legs fell open, revealing the smooth, waxed folds between her thighs—glistening with a mix of arousal and lake water.

Mark followed slowly, savouring every second of the view. He stepped out of the lake and ran a hand over his body to wipe away the excess droplets. The sun caught the planes of his broad shoulders and lean frame. His erect nine-inch cock swayed with each step, its bulbous head and thick veins making it look more like something from a nature documentary than that of a pasty, five-foot-eight boy scout.

That’s when Mark saw her.

Perched higher up the slope was Maxine. Laura’s younger sister, lounging casually on a wide, sun-baked rock. Her hair was twisted into a messy bun, sunglasses pushed up just enough to reveal the unmistakable spark in her eyes.

She was watching.

Not shocked. Not embarrassed. Just watching, openly, calmly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Mark’s breath hitched. He reached for his cock, slowly covering it with his hands. Laura hadn’t seen her. She was smiling up at the sky, eyes closed, legs stretched out like a cat basking in the sun, her forefinger lazily stroking her outer lips.

Maxine didn’t wave. She didn’t say a word. She just tilted her head, one eyebrow arching slightly above the rim of her sunglasses, then leaned back, resting on her elbows as if settling in to enjoy the show.

Something passed between them then. Mark and Maxine, a silent, electric moment. A shared awareness. A private crackle of heat.

Then she stood, smoothed her sundress over her hips, and walked away, disappearing into the trees without looking back.

Later that evening, as the family relaxed around the fire enjoying a glass of wine, Maxine sat abruptly down on the log beside Mark. So close that her thigh pressed against his, and his nostrils filled with the scent of her perfume.

“You must be going mad, with all this... denial,” she said, her tone devilish. Her mouth was so close to Mark’s ear he could feel her breath on it.

“I’m managing,” he said, not quite convincingly.

Maxine smirked, then stood and walked away barefoot, leaving Mark in equal parts confusion and arousal.

That night, as the fire crackled and Laura’s parents whispered their quiet bedtime prayer, Mark lay in his tent, eyes wide open, pulse still racing. Laura was in the tent beside his, just a few meters away.

Maxine’s tent was further still—but not far.

The forest air was cool and still, but inside his chest, everything burned.

Mark’s heart thudded.

BUZZ — Mark's phone lit up from within the pocket of his discarded shorts. He rolled over and stretched for it, eyes adjusting to the screen in the dark. A text from Laura lit up the display:

“Missing you babe xx”

He smiled to himself and replied quickly:

“Missing you more xx”

A couple of minutes passed before his phone buzzed again.

“What did Maxine want earlier? You looked defensive when she walked away.”

“Not a lot,” he lied. “I think she’s caught onto our flirting and was questioning my mental state with all your teasing, etc. She said I must be going mad with desire.”

“Well… are you?” she replied swiftly.

“I’m at bursting point!!” he wrote back. “Today in the lake was just cruel!”

Ten minutes had passed, and Mark had just settled into his sleeping bag when the now-familiar buzz and glow of his screen pulled him back from the edge of sleep.

The first message was simple:

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you finish. Maybe I’ll find a way later. In the meantime, I hope this helps…”

The second message was a short video—and it blew Mark’s mind.

It showed Laura’s middle and ring fingers sliding effortlessly between her swollen lips and into her tight, velvet heat. Soft moans rising in the background, before withdrawing, leaving behind a glistening web of clear, sweet nectar.

Mark’s cock surged to life. Before he could even wriggle out of his boxers, he was fully hard, aching to be touched. He wrapped his hand around it and gave it a few firm strokes to bring it to full attention, then snapped a photo and sent it back to Laura.

“I and it will be waiting for you. Tent unzipped for silent entry.”

He reached for the zipper and pulled it down slowly. Stripping off completely, he lay back between the open folds of his sleeping bag, heart pounding in the stillness of the night.

The familiar, warm rhythm of sucking and slurping pulled Mark out of his light sleep. He groaned softly as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, his brain struggling to process the unmistakable sensation of Laura trying to take him deep into her mouth. Another moan escaped as her tongue traced the sensitive underside of his throbbing cock.

“Shhhh…” came her voice in the dark.

She pivoted beside him, straddling his head and lowering her dripping slit to his mouth.

“Moan into that,” she whispered, grinding gently against his face.

The tent filled with muffled sounds of pleasure. Mark groaned into Laura’s thighs as his tongue circled her wet opening, flicking her clit with eager strokes. Above him, she moaned around his cock. Her mouth stretched wide, lips tight around his thick shaft as she bobbed up and down, taking as much of him as her throat could manage.

Without warning, she shifted forward and rose onto one foot, grasping his length and aligning it with her slick, hungry entrance.

Mark watched, holding his breath, as she slowly lowered herself onto him. She gasped as his head stretched her open, inch by inch, until she sank further down his shaft.

After a few moments of adjusting, Laura managed to take in about three-quarters of him, more than Mark needed. Despite his size, stamina had never been his strong suit. He lay back, breath ragged, watching the woman he loved ride him with hunger, her body moving over him with unrelenting need. He admired how her inner lips clung to him each time she rose, before plunging back down with a soft, wet slap.

He could feel it building, he wouldn’t last much longer. Laura’s walls were already starting to quiver as her climax approached. Taking control, he gently pushed her forward, sucked on his thumb, and slid it slowly into her ass.

The effect was immediate.

Her orgasm ripped through her. Tightening her pussy around him as his thumb moved rhythmically in and out of her other hole. Laura bit her fist, muffling her moans as Mark’s already monstrous cock began to swell inside her stretched pussy.

Then he came.

A muffled grunt and a subtle upward thrust signalled his release. Laura felt every twitch as he erupted inside her, pumping thick, hot waves of cum deep into her.

Mark collapsed back onto his sleeping bag, gasping for breath. Laura reached down, gently withdrew his thumb from her puckered hole, then leaned over to grab her knickers from the side of the tent. She stood, pressing them firmly between her legs, trying to stem the warm flood threatening to spill from her still-pulsing pussy.

“Thanks, sweetie. I hope that helped,” she whispered with a grin, before slipping quietly into the night.

Mark was already asleep.

The morning sun filtered through the fabric of the tent, golden, soft, casting dappled patterns on Mark’s bare chest. Birds chirped in the distance, and pine-scented air drifted in through the half-zipped flap. He stirred, blinking against the light, the warmth of the previous night still clinging to his skin.

Laura’s voice broke the peace.

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

He looked up to see her crouching at the entrance of his still-open tent, already dressed in shorts and a loose tee. Her hair was tied back, eyes shaded slightly by the sun, but her smile was sheepish.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, crawling in and sitting beside him. “I meant to come last night. I really did. But I took it too far, came… and passed out. I didn’t even hear my phone buzz.”

Mark raised an eyebrow, amused.

“You’re serious?”

She nodded, laughing awkwardly. “Dead serious. You must’ve been so frustrated.” Her eyes flicked down to his prominent morning erection.

He sat up slowly, pulling the sleeping bag over his waist. “Laura… you did come last night.”

She blinked. “What?”

“You woke me up, gave me one hell of a surprise, and… well, things escalated. We were quiet. You even shushed me,” he said with a crooked grin. “You rode me like it was the end of the world. You even thanked me when you left.”

Laura stared at him, the playful light in her eyes dimming.

“I—Mark… I swear, I didn’t leave my tent. I had the wildest dream, but…”

She trailed off, brushing her fingers through her hair with a nervous laugh.

“Oh my God. You’re serious. You think that happened?”

He tilted his head. “Laura. I didn’t imagine it. You were on top of me. You left holding your knickers between your legs, trying to” he paused, smirking, “contain the, uh, evidence.”

Laura flushed, a mix of shock and amusement crossing her face. “I think you had a very vivid wet dream, babe. But maybe later I’ll let you plant some evidence.”

Mark opened his mouth to argue, but movement outside the tent caught his eye.

Maxine.

She stood a few meters away, barefoot, a steaming mug in hand, her hair damp from a morning rinse in the lake. She wore a simple tank top, no bra, and the sunlight behind her left very little to the imagination.

She met Mark’s gaze.

And smiled.

No. Winked!

Mark’s breath caught.

Maxine took a slow sip from her mug, then turned and walked toward the trees, her hips swaying, deliberately.