A Series of Collapses Derail Jessie's Plans
"Having a little trouble, there, honey?" Lane called out, a hint of a chuckle shading his voice as he watched Jessie struggle to get her tent frame set up. As infuriating as his condescension was, Jessie had to admit she felt a maddening itch between her thighs at the way he teased her for her inability to pitch her own tent for the evening--he'd as good as told her he'd put a few suggestions in her head to make their camping trip a little more interesting, and the only thing Jessie valued more than her pride and independence was the sneaky arousal she felt whenever Lane undermined them.
Which didn't mean she was just going to roll over and admit defeat. "No, I--I'm good--" she gasped out, mere seconds before the metal rod she'd just stuck into the ground sprang loose, thwacking her in the shin and sending the left half of her tent into a sagging collapse that prompted a yelp of dismay from the frustrated blonde. What made it even more infuriating was the sure and certain conviction that she was missing something obvious, that there was a problem with her whole procedure that she would one hundred percent have spotted if she hadn't spent about thirty minutes 'dozing off' on Lane's couch before they got on the road. Jessie was no dummy, she knew when her head had been messed with, but there was a big difference between knowing she was following a post-hyp and figuring out what her mind kept slipping off of no matter how hard she tried to grasp it.
Lane told her, "You know there's plenty of room in my tent, babe," but Jessie knew her friend-with-benefits well enough to know she wouldn't get much sleep if she bedded down with him for the night. He'd wind up keeping her wet and weak and horny until the small hours of the morning, and then she'd be all groggy the next day and her resistance would be at a low ebb once he started talking to her in that low, soothing voice he liked to use and before Jessie knew it their whole camping trip would be nothing but three days and two nights of sucking and fucking. And she knew she didn't want that, even if she had a private suspicion that she only didn't want that because Lane told her not to want that because he knew how horny it made her to lose all her internal battles and descend into meek, slutty ecstasy.
Which probably explained why she let out a tiny whimper of lust when she managed to get the metal rod back into the ground on one end, only to see it pop free on the other and send the entire tent collapsing into a heap of loose nylon. She started to crawl over it to the side that had flattened most recently, her mind reeling with a confused desire to see the whole thing upright even if she had no idea how anymore, but that was about when Lane decided to end their little game by grabbing her by the hair and pulling down her shorts to reveal a pussy so wet it was practically drooling. He tugged her shirt up as well, exposing her heavy tits, and fucked her doggy style right there in the middle of the clearing… and all of Jessie's supposed independence collapsed just like her tent when her eyes rolled back in her head in orgasmic bliss.
(If you enjoy this fiction and want to make sure it continues, please visit https://www.patreon.com/Jukebox to become a supporter. Or, if you simply want to make a one-time contribution, you can drop me a tip at https://ko-fi.com/jukebox instead. Thank you!)
