After many years without writing fics, I've decided to do it again. English is not my first language, so I apologize if the writing is terrible. I'm open to corrections. I hope you enjoy it. I haven’t seen the movie because it didn’t premiere in my country—I’ll watch it illegally once it’s uploaded online.
Warnings: SMUT, SMUT, SMUT — ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS ALLOWED. 🔞🔞❌❌🚨🚨
You ended up at this camp thanks to recommendations from your previous supervisors. You had never been to Camp Pineway before, but your years of experience attending camps since childhood earned you recognition from others. You were hired immediately for the position—more kids than expected signed up this summer. It wasn’t too surprising though; the pandemic just ended and everyone simply wants to be out of their house, no matter what. For one leader, it would be impossible to handle so many children; having a second-in-command would make the summer not only easier, but better organized and managed. The cabins needed a bit of maintenance—they’d literally been unused for two years.
You were excited. The past two years living in isolation, without human interaction, had been wearing you down. Nothing sounded better than a camp surrounded by nature, reliving your childhood every time you smelled the signature scent of pine and cabin wood. Luckily, you were given your own cabin.
And then you met him. You stepped out of your car on your first day of work, and a cheerful man was waiting in the distance. You could make out his red-blond hair and the friendly smile on his face—everything about him radiated trust. He seemed like the kind of person you could open up to easily, or at least that was your first impression in those initial seconds of seeing him.
And you weren’t wrong. The guy was a softie, a dork, and clumsy—and maybe he didn’t even realize it. As soon as you stepped out of your car, he greeted you with a handshake and spoke to you in a polite and old-fashioned way, which you found funny. Maybe he didn’t have many friends his own age—he seemed like the typical shy guy raised by grandparents. He insisted on carrying your bags, and he was so enthusiastic you couldn’t say no.
As the days went by, you realized he was a total loser. You were sure that back in his school days, he was one of those guys in role-playing clubs, dressed up for geeky conventions. He was at the very bottom of the food chain when it came to shallow girls. You knew exactly the type—those schoolgirls who used him to do their homework in exchange for something they’d never give him, like dates or a little female attention. But you weren’t like them.
In fact, guys like him were your biggest weakness. They all followed the same pattern—just as submissive in daily life as they were in bed. You’ve never felt ashamed of your sexuality. In fact, every pathetic guy you’ve run into probably ended up on your mattress. Many of them, being so clueless, tried to thank you with favors of all kinds—almost laying down at your feet, ready to be used as your doormat. But despite your dominant personality, and the fact that you could have taken advantage of that, you just let it go.
You couldn’t really blame them. Even though you kept a low profile in high school, you were still pretty attractive—and in bed, you were a full-on sexual fantasy for those hopeless guys. You left them wrecked, pushed them to their limits in ways they never imagined. You couldn’t let them go until they’d given you at least five orgasms. And thanks to that, you actually helped a lot of them build more confidence in themselves.
After two weeks of interacting with Jason, you knew you wouldn’t be able to move on without having him in your bed. The last three nights, you hadn’t been able to get him out of your head. He was so adorable—all the kids loved him. His gentle, empathetic attitude had won everyone over. You knew he was your type the moment you started having long conversations during your free time. Just like you’d guessed, he was the kind of guy who knew all about sci-fi—and even if he wouldn’t admit it (out of sheer embarrassment), he knew all the dialogues from Star Trek.
More than once, you saw him stand up for the more vulnerable kids. He could always tell when one of them was being picked on, and he just couldn’t let it go. One afternoon, a younger kid from the group had taken a nasty fall during a hike. Jason didn’t hesitate to help. Some of the other kids laughed at the poor boy, and even though he wasn’t badly hurt, he had several scrapes and his clothes were stained. His teary eyes and flushed face showed how embarrassed he was. But Jason was there to comfort him. He used encouraging words—told him he was smart, brave, and full of potential, and that what had happened could’ve happened to even the best campers.
Something inside you told you that everything Jason said was, in some way, a reflection of himself. As if those were the very words he wished someone had told him when he was younger.
That heartwarming scene had stirred a heat in your belly, a knot growing inside you. Jason might’ve been a strange man, but he was kind—and that sensitivity of his was turning you on. Later that night, when everyone was asleep in their cabins, you couldn’t help yourself from imagining what Jason would be like in bed. You fantasized about sneaking into his cabin in the middle of the night and demanding that he give you oral sex without ever breaking eye contact—and that, being the likely virgin he was, he wouldn’t dare say no.
You couldn’t take it anymore and slipped your hand into your underwear. You closed your eyes and bit your lips. You imagined how his soft hands would slide over your hips, how his moans would sound—because, of course, he was the kind of man who’d moan out loud with just the slightest touch. Maybe tonight his face wasn’t between your legs, but it would be soon.
The next day, one of the camp supervisors showed up unexpectedly. He wanted to check if everything was running smoothly. He brought with him coolers full of ice pops. The kids ran toward the coolers like their lives depended on it. Once the supervisor said his goodbyes and every child had gotten their treat, you and Jason were left alone.
“Your popsicle looks delicious. Is it strawberry?” you asked with a teasing tone. “Mind if I try it?”
Jason couldn’t say no. Your fingers brushed as he handed it to you, and without breaking eye contact, you wrapped your lips around the popsicle, licking it as slowly and sensually as you could.
Jason swallowed hard—he had no idea what he’d just witnessed. He didn’t know if you were doing it on purpose or if it was just a twisted product of his horniest thoughts. He decided to let it go, convincing himself that you were just an attractive woman enjoying a simple treat, and he was just a goddamn pervert. Then, the red food coloring stained your plump lips, and after licking them clean, you said, “So good. Definitely red berries.”
He smiled without saying a word. You handed him the popsicle, and then he passed it back after a bite. The thought of tasting your saliva on that little frozen block started to arouse him. Soon, the artificial coloring wasn’t the only thing red on his face. You knew you’d achieved your goal.
Two days later, in the afternoon, a sudden storm rolled in. It had been a moderately hot summer, and no one expected rain. Who knows—probably global warming, you figured. Jason took charge of getting all the kids safely into their cabins, leaving a walkie-talkie in each one for emergencies. The wind was growing stronger, thunder approaching fast—not a good sign. Jason was strict: under no circumstances should anyone go outside unless it was a life-or-death situation. And if anything happened, they had to contact him first via the walkie-talkies.
Your cabin was right next to his—you only needed to walk a few steps to reach his door. Storms didn’t usually scare you, but this one was getting under your skin. The thunder was loud, possibly striking very close by. It made you anxious, and eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore. You contacted Jason through the walkie-talkie and asked if you could stay with him until the storm passed. You remembered he had a spare bed—he’d once casually told you to grab a pocketknife from his suitcase, and you’d seen it then. But that bed wouldn’t be needed for what was about to happen.
You walked in soaked, your white blouse clinging to your body and clearly revealing your hardened nipples from the cold. Water dripped from your hair. You wore tight shorts. From the very first day, Jason had found you incredibly attractive. He’d made a point never to show it, though—after all, how could an insanely sexy woman be into a pathetic, soft-hearted loser like him? But now, seeing you drenched like that had him feeling very hard.
You stared at each other silently. You locked the door behind you. Seeing Jason sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at you with raw desire, was all you needed. And that’s when it hit you: the wind still howled outside, the branch of a pine tree was slapping hard against the roof, and the thunder was the perfect backdrop. Any moan, cry, or whimper would be drowned out by the storm. Who would ever suspect that two people were having sex just next door when nature itself was covering all the sounds?
You took long strides toward Jason, straddling his hips. His hands instinctively found your waist, and he looked up at you, stunned. You ran a hand through his hair, your eyes trailing to his lips. “Jason,” you whispered, “I want to sleep with you. I want you.” Jason’s mouth fell open. He stuttered for a moment before finally managing to speak clearly. “Are you sure? Shit, I’m such a fucking weirdo. A beauty like you doesn’t need to waste her time on someone like me.” Your heart sank a little. You imagined how many times he must’ve been rejected—stood up by cruel girls, left holding a bouquet of flowers that no one ever wanted. “Oh, Jason,” you said with a wicked smile. “You don’t know me at all.” You kissed him aggressively, and he moaned into your lips.
He was absolutely your type. And you were going to ruin him in that little room. A man as sweet as him deserved to die of orgasms. You pulled away from his mouth and pushed him onto the bed, placing your hands on his chest.
—"But you have to know one thing… I won't leave you alone until you make me cum at least 3 times… For now. Consider it as a first time sex, just because we haven't known each other long."— You winked at him.
“It’s… It’s just that, I’m a virgin. I’ve never done it before, no woman has ever been interested in me that way,” Jason said quickly, his face turning red. He closed his eyes in embarrassment. You couldn’t have felt more touched in that moment. You ran your thumb along his cheek. It wasn’t the first time you’d been with a virgin—actually, all those pathetic guys you’d taken had been. You loved knowing you were their first. You leaned in to kiss the corner of his lips.
—"I can't force you to do something you don't want to do. Okay, if you don't want me to be your first time, I'll…"—
“No, no! Shit, of course I want to. God, I just never expected you to want me as much as I want you,” he interrupted.
“The other day, when we shared the popsicle—it was the most sensual thing I’ve ever experienced. God, you’re so hot. I wished it would never end. I kept thinking how your lips might taste. You left me so hard. I couldn’t stop watching your mouth, how those little strings of saliva hung on the popsicle. Tasting it through the ice was all I could get. I had to rush to the showers to masturbate.”
That confession turns you on so much, and you start rubbing yourself against his hard bulge. You both moan, Jason closing his eyes as he curls up against the mattress. You turn your face up to the ceiling with your eyes closed, biting your lip as you feel the friction. The storm is still raging outside. You hastily take off your shirt, then your bra and turn to look at Jason. His eyes, squinting in pleasure, shift to your breasts. He stops biting his lips and sighs. He runs one of his hands over your left breast. The touch leaves goosebumps on your skin.
You give him space without getting off his lap, helping him take off his shirt, and then you kiss his neck desperately. Jason lets out a sharp moan. You knew it—he’s noisy, and that turns you on even more. You keep grinding against his clothes, kissing from his neck to his jaw. His beard tickles you, and you can’t help but smile. Then you kiss him on the lips, moaning into his mouth. Jason grabs your butt with both hands. You keep rubbing it faster and faster, it turns you on so much. Then you both come. It's a small orgasm, not as delicious as penetration, but it's a start. You're just tasting each other. You let your breathing slow down. Jason brushes your hair out of your face.
They remove the last of their clothes and throw them away who knows where. Both begin to fondle each other, caressing here and there. Small bites on sensitive areas. You let Jason explore you; there's no rush; you want everything to be special for him. The small exploration warms you up again; you feel the dampness between your legs. Jason is hard too. You understand that it must be special, but the fact that he's quite submissive doesn't erase your dominant role.
You grab his wrists, straddle him, and before you start riding him, you say, "You're so sweet. I love that it's your first time, but remember, I'm the one in charge here. I'll make you cum any way I want, whenever I want. I'll break your legs with my buttocks." Jason whimpered, nodding wordlessly. Then you start riding him; you love this position. You could feel the knot in your stomach growing; you were almost ready to cum. You let go of his wrists so you could lean against his shoulders.
And without warning, Jason grabs your face with both hands. You open your eyes, and he’s staring at you with dilated pupils and tears of pleasure.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers.
You slow your movements, touched by the moment. And then, before you know it, he flips you over—he’s on top now. A moan escapes your lips, and he kisses you deeply, stealing your breath. When he pulls away, he murmurs in your ear:
“I can be pretty dominant too.”
The role reversal unexpectedly turns you on, and then Jason starts pounding into you so hard, their hips colliding so hard that the sound of them echoes around the room.
But outside, the rain still falls hard, the thunder still rumbles, and it’s a relief—you know no one can hear you. You took advantage of the roar of thunder to moan as loudly as the pleasure allowed. Jason ejaculated inside you at least twice that afternoon, taking his time between each one.
By the time you stopped having sex, the storm was also slowly fading. You were cuddling, still reeling from your orgasms. It was like those rare times when an orgasm leaves your mind blank, almost fainting like a drunk who has no idea where he is. Jason's touch was grounding you. Luckily, it was quite late in the day; the guys should be asleep by now. No one would bother you until the next day.
