Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 WARNING: This story contains sexually explicit material.

   It is not intended to be read by anyone under the age of 18.  This is a
work of fiction.  Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely
coincidental.  Copyright 2007.



   Title: Oregon

   Author: geraldine

   Story codes: MF, anal, torture, sad





   I decided that I needed a break.  I had just left my boyfriend of a
couple of years and needed to get away.

   For some reason I thought that going to the Oregon coast for a week with
my ex's brother and his new wife would help.  Paula and Andy.

   We drove down the coast and visited the little towns: Lincoln,
Tillamook, Astoria, Seaside, Newport.....  We did some touristy crap, beach
walks, shopping.

   We spent three nights at a little campground close to the beach just
outside of Newport.  The campground was almost empty for the first night.
The second night was a Friday.  Lots more cars and RVs showed up.  The
campground had a few trees between sites, and had a bit of privacy but not
much.  A couple of guys in a little ratty red hatchback set up camp next to
us.  They had a huge bucket of crab they had just caught.  I was sitting
with Paula and Andy, reading at our campsite and just sitting around, when
one of the two guys came over to see if we wanted some fresh crab.  Who
says no to fresh crab?  I don't.

   These guys were in their mid-20s, and looked like they were construction
workers.  They smoked.  I have a problem with smokers.  Somewhere in my
past I started to associate the smell of smoke on a man's breath with sex.
This is not a good thing, really.  The guys looked a little rough so my two
friends decided not to join us for crab.  Paula and Andy have always been a
bit uptight.  I ended up spending the evening hanging out with these two
guys, drinking beer with them and sharing crab.  Back then I could drink a
lot.  I knew it made me loud and violent, and I knew I could put back a lot
of beers before I could feel it.  I never really got hangovers.  I don't
drink much anymore.

   The one guy was a bit shorter than me, stocky, good looking.  A bit worn
around the edges.  His buddy was taller, a bit gangly and goofy.  Still a
good looking guy too.  Two peas in a pod.  Jeans, tshirts, grubby.  They
smelled like cigarettes, campfires.  They were about the same age as me.  I
was 22 at the time.  This was a while ago.

   I don't remember their names.  If you put a gun to my head I could not
tell you where they were from, why they were there, what their names were.
It's ok.

   I sort of remember bits and pieces.  This was a few years back, you see.
Things get blurry.  Some things stand out so stark white against the black.


   I knew that somewhere deep in my soul I wanted to hurt my ex.  I was the
one that left but I suppose part of me wanted to punish him anyway, piss
him off, make him miss me, make him think of me more.  I knew if I got loud
and rowdy with these guys at the next campsite, news would get back to my
ex.  I don't play those types of games anymore, but there you have it. 
Plus I knew I really needed to blow off some steam.  I wanted to cut loose
a bit, have some fun, be irresponsible.  When things get rough and serious
and heavy, sometimes you need to get a bit crazy to balance things out
again.  That doesn't mean that you don't hate yourself later for it.  It
makes me feel hollow, but so much of what I have done has made me hollow.
So much of what has been done to me has made me hollow too.  Being hollow
is a large part of me.

   So here I am at this campsite, enjoying a few beers.  Just the three of
us there.  It was dark.  Probably sometime after 11pm by this time.  Most
people were asleep.  I know my friends were already in their tent, one of
those huge walk-in things that weighs forty pounds.  These two guys also
had a tent, but it was a small one.  At this point I'm feeling giggly,
giddy, with that indestructible feeling you get with alcohol.  I guess
that's the same for a lot of people.  Alcohol makes you feel like a king.
Gives you superhuman powers, makes all consequences go away.  I know I was
flirting, getting both of them worked up, and I was feeding off of that. 
It's what I do.

   I took more of a shine to the shorter guy.  Not really sure why.  I
think he seemed to be the smarter of the two, more of the leader type.  A
bit more of a challenge, as it were.  Not that there was any real challenge
here.  He wasn't that short, maybe 5'9".  I am six feet tall, myself.  He
had broad shoulders, strong.  Just the hint of a beer belly starting.  The
belly is always the weak part.  That's usually where people let themselves
go first.

   They only had two camp chairs so I think I spent a long time leaning
against their car, sitting on the hood.  There was a campfire going, a
small one crackling away.  It was really just about the only light.  That
and a bit of moonlight.  They were both smoking tons of cigarettes, and
those little lights jumped around in the dark.  For the life of me I can't
remember what I was wearing.  The way I remember their eyes on me, it was
probably something tight and low-cut.  Something that showed off the round
hard curve of my ass.  Something that made them look at my breasts every
time I moved or bent over.  I made sure I bent over a lot.  I like to see
that hunger in men's eyes.  It has nothing to do with sex.  It has
everything to do with power and control.  But you already know that.  I was
flirting a lot, teasing them.

   I think the shorter one came over and stood next to me while I sat on
the hood of their car.  It was really quiet in the campground.  You could
only hear the fire crackling and my little giggles.  It doesn't make any
noise when I toss my hair around and play with it.  I put my arm around him
and he put his hand on my leg.  I let him lean forward to kiss me.  He
tasted like beer and cigarettes.  I love that.  I don't know why.  I spread
my legs while I sat on the hood and he got his hips between my legs so he
could move closer.  He had his hands all over me.  He was a really good
kisser, even though he was pretty loaded.  I let him run his tongue all
over my neck.  He had one hand under my shirt and I let him run his rough
hands over my skin.  He was chewing on my neck, biting me, leaving little
marks, being rough.  I love that.  He had one hand under my shirt and the
other hand sort of under my ass, pulling me closer to him.  I could feel
that he was really hard.  I love the feeling of an erection against me.  He
had me almost lying down on the hood now, my shirt shoved up to my neck,
and I wrapped my legs around his back.  He was pressed so hard against my
pussy that I was going insane.  I kept pulling his head up so I could feel
his lips on mine, so I could roll my tongue around in his mouth and taste
him.  I wanted to own him, to take everything from him, his sweat, his cum,
his breath.

   I could sense that his friend was no longer sitting at the campfire.  He
was standing next to us, watching us.  He didn't make a move to touch me.
His eyes were locked on me.  He liked to watch.  That was fine by me.  I
like being watched.  He had a beer in one hand, and already had his cock
out in his other hand.  I remember giving him a huge grin.  He did not
smile back or say anything; his eyes were locked on my body and how I
moved, and that was all he could see.  I am sure I could have bowled him
over with a feather.  It was wonderful.

   I realized that I was making all sorts of noise, moans, groans,
whimpers, talking softly, talking dirty.  I sat up suddenly and said that
it might be better to go inside the car before we woke up the whole
campground.  It took them both a moment to understand this.  I slid off the
hood and opened the car door.  I didn't really have any other choice if I
wanted this to stay private.

   I got onto the passenger seat.  The shorter guy got into the driver's
side.  He reached across me and tilted my seat way back, so it was almost
flat.  There was more room in this car than I had thought.  This was good.
He got on top of me and straddled me.  I had already taken my top off.  It
was getting so hot in here.  I was in only my bra and tights.  I had
already kicked off whatever sandals I had on.  He had removed his tshirt.
He was leaning down on me, pressing his cock against me, his chest hair
brushing against my skin, his mouth on mine.  Out of the corner of my eye I
saw his friend standing just outside of my window.

   The shorter guy kept saying how badly he wanted to fuck me.  I wanted
this to last.  He took off my bra in one quick motion and had his mouth and
hands on my breasts, pinching and licking my nipples.  I couldn't stop
moving my hips, grinding them against him.  His cock felt so good.

   I remember being like that for a while, just panting and moaning and
feeling him against me, feeling his lips and tongue on me, licking off my
sweat and tasting me.  He was muttering something, fuck this and fuck that.
He was very drunk and very hard.

   And then I don't remember exactly what happened next.  I know I was
suddenly naked, and he was naked too, and we were still in the car.  I was
on my knees with my face just about jammed against the dash, facing
forward. He was behind me.  His friend was still outside my door.  I could
feel a tongue licking my pussy from behind, fingers rammed deep in my
pussy. I was moaning.  I told him to fuck me.

   His huge cock was inside me immediately.  I was surprised that someone
who had been drinking that much could be that hard and ready.  I did not
complain.  I had to brace my arms against the dash to keep my head from
going through the windshield.  He was slamming so deep and furiously into
me that I couldn't keep quiet.  I was glad the windows were rolled up
tight, but I was sure anyone still awake would still hear me.  The sound
echoed inside the car.  All I could hear was wet noises and my moans.  He
kept demanding that I tell him how much I liked it.  I had no problem with
that.  There was very little room in the car for him to maneuver.  He just
kept thrusting straight into me and getting his cock so deep that I was
having problems breathing.  I love that.  I was so wet with sweat and pussy
juice and heat.

   He pulled out suddenly, before he came.  I took a deep breath and tried
to relax my body.  My muscles were all tense.  I was trying to get some
fresh air into my lungs.  I was gasping and trying to regain my sense of
balance, trying to get an idea of how my body was doing.  And then I heard
him behind me, saying he was going to fuck my ass.  I tried to turn around
but I couldn't.  He said it again.  He said I was going to like it.  I let
out a very long moan and tried to relax.

   He was gentle at first, working his cock in with no lube.  I focused on
my breathing, just trying to stay relaxed and sane.  I love the feeling of
cock in my ass.  I didn't know if he knew I had done this before.  He was
still so wet from my pussy.  He finally got his cock in all the way to the
hilt.  I was gasping for air, just the way I like it.  And then he started
pounding me.  I mean, reaming me, hard.  Holy god he was fucking me hard. I
was trying to hold onto something, anything, trying to stay awake and in
one piece and I was just clawing at the dash, the seat, the window, the
door.  I felt out of control, desperate.  He was so quiet.  I could hear
his steady breathing under all the noise I was making, like a machine
driving me.  It was awesome.  And I could just make out, just outside the
car, the other guy standing there stroking his cock.

   I wanted so badly to take that cock in my mouth and taste all the cum
that I knew was coming.  The car window was closed though, and I was having
enough trouble just breathing and trying to stay sort of quiet and awake.
My body wanted so badly to pass out, but I wouldn't let that happen.  I saw
him stroking his cock just inches from my face, as he stared through the
window, watching me.  I was getting off so much on knowing he was right
there.

   I felt the cock in my ass get bigger, and it started to hurt.  Anal is
not easy on the body.  I was still just trying to hang on.  When he came
inside my ass it was a huge rush of warmth, such heat and power.  My whole
body went limp almost immediately.  He was holding both of my hips and
didn't let go for the longest time.  I just had my ass up in the air while
my upper body was slumped over.  When he finally pulled out I felt all the
cum rushing out with him, dripping all over the car seat.  I didn't care.

   I never saw the other guy cum, which was too bad.  I know that he came
though.  When I finally had enough energy to get up and get out the car, he
was sitting in his camp chair, half awake, grinning at me.  He never said a
word.  He didn't have to.

   I got cleaned up and dressed.  I didn't leave their campsite.  I was a
bit tired, but I still had energy.  The shorter guy was already drinking
another beer.  They both were.  I found a Coke and drank that instead.  I
was sobering up a bit.  My ass hurt like hell, but in a good way.  I didn't
want to sit down.  Finally the tall guy said he was going to bed, he was
tired.  He staggered a bit and got into his tent.

   Now that his buddy had passed out I decided to drag the short one out to
the beach.  I had an idea.  I wasn't really sure what it was, but I knew I
wanted to take him away from the campground.  The beach was not that far
away.  You could hear the surf from the campground, just barely.  He was
dressed now too.  He was pretty drunk still.  I don't know how much beer
either of us had packed away, but I knew at this point I was in my element.
I felt strong.  I was in total control.  I knew he was a bit off his game,
tired maybe, and definitely drunk.  Sometimes it is just so easy.

   I walked him out to the beach and then up onto some soft sand, just
where the long grass was growing up.  It was totally dark except for a bit
of moonlight.  I couldn't really see very well, but my eyes were adjusting
quickly.  It was darker out here.  I hadn't been here before.  No one else
was around.  I couldn't hear anything but the surf.  My hands were shaking
a bit.  I had no idea what I was going to do, but I was excited.  I had
nothing with me except a beer and a knife.  No, I didn't know what I was
going to do with it.  That's the fun part.

   This guy was really horny again and pretty much out of his mind with
excitement.  I can feed off of that pretty easily.  I knew he was very
physically strong, but he was weak right now through the beer and blind
lust.  That's the sort of thing I wait for.  I don't know what he expected.


   He took off his jacket and lay it down on the sand.  He had a dull fire
in his eyes.  I asked him what he wanted me to do.  He said I could do what
I wanted.

   I love when guys say that.



   I don't know what drives me sometimes.  Being drunk, horny, being off in
a secluded place where I can do what I want, being out at night in the
fresh air, being lit up by the moon.  Feeling the wind in my lungs. 
Reenergized.  Being in control.  Not knowing what will happen next. 
Feeling a rage of power bubbling up to the surface, and not knowing where
it will lead.  The thrill of knowing I am in control of someone else, and
the thrill of not knowing how much control I have over myself.  The thrill
of just letting myself go and not knowing where I will end up.  Knowing
that I am strong and no matter what happens, I will win.

   I got him to get on his knees, to sit back on his knees.  He had been
able to walk out here on his own, so I knew he could manage that.  I don't
know what he was expecting, but he was very excited again already.  It was
cooler out here too, with the wind off the water.  I had goose bumps but I
wasn't cold.  I knelt behind him.  I pulled the neck of his tshirt to the
side to better expose his neck.  His hair was short so it wasn't blowing
around in the breeze like my hair was.  I brought my mouth down on his neck
and ran my tongue along his skin.  He was almost vibrating.  I opened my
mouth wide and brought my teeth down full force on the curve of his neck,
that large hard trapezius muscle.  I bit down, hard.

   He tried to move, to get away.  He was pretty strong.  He lunged
forward, getting away from me, startled, holding his neck.  He turned to
me, not quite sure.  He looked a bit hazy.  A I said I wanted to do it
again.  I knew he wanted his turn to be submissive.  I could see it in his
eyes.  He had already dominated me; now it was my turn to get what I
wanted.

   I got him to take off his shirt.  I told him to leave his jeans on for
now.  His skin was prickly with goose bumps, like mine.  He got back on his
knees in front of me.  This time I did not wait.  I bit down on his neck
and held there.  He was breathing really hard now, making all sorts of
noises.  I knew it had to be painful.  I started to chew on his neck.  I
knew even without looking that I was leaving huge red marks.  I was drawing
blood.  I was eating him, feeding on him, and he wasn't stopping me.  I
could taste the blood.  It was very hot.

   I don't remember what I used to do it, but I remember tying his hands
behind his back with something.  He was still sitting up and I was still
behind him.  I was so close behind him that I was twisting his shoulders
back.  That had to be painful too.  He liked it.  I kept pulling down on
the bindings holding his hands together, twisting his shoulders down
further.  I worked my teeth along the other side of his neck.  His nipples
were rock hard and he was breathing shallow and quick.  I was holding him
up, propping him up so he couldn't fall over.  If I hadn't been there, he
would have gone right over.

   I got up onto one knee behind him.  Kneeling on one knee.  He was a
stocky guy, so I knew I couldn't lift him up all by myself but I was
willing to try.  I made sure my one knee was right against the center line
of his back.  I reached forward, around to his chest and worked my hands
along his ribs.  He was leaning back against my knee so it was easy to
finger his ribs.  I slowly hooked my fingers underneath his ribcage.  I
took a deep breath, shook out my muscles, and lifted his body up and
towards me in one giant motion.

   I can't really describe the noise he made.  He couldn't really get a
full lungful of air the way he was bent back in the first place.  I heard
his back crack, and I felt his whole body flex on top of my knee.  He tried
to get his legs up underneath him to take some weight.  I had centered my
knee fairly well so he didn't roll.  I held him there for a moment.  God he
was heavy.  Then I dropped him back down again onto his knees and let go.
He fell over on his side, and even in the moonlight I could see there were
tears running down his cheeks.

   I propped him up again on his knees.  He did not say a word.  He was
just breathing harshly and rolling his eyes around trying to look at me.  I
was right behind him now and he couldn't see me.  I forced his bindings
down again with one hand to get his attention.  I got on my feet slowly,
making sure he did not move.  I reached down in front of him again and
found his ribs again.  I know better than to lift with my back.  I got my
feet planted and bent at the knees.  My knees stuck out on either side of
his torso.  I lifted again.

   I was taller than him, and pretty strong.  I got him partway up.  I
don't think he could even breathe being held like that.  His feet thrashed
out desperately from under him and tried to take the weight again.  The
moment he got his weight onto his own feet I pushed him forward into the
sand.  He landed clumsily and didn't move.  He was making little noises.  I
could now see some of the blood on his neck under the moonlight.  It shone
and glistened.

   I untied his hands.  He immediately threw them up over his head and
stretched them out ahead of him.  He did not move otherwise.  I kept asking
him if he liked it, if he thought he deserved it, if he wanted more, if he
wanted me to stop.  I don't remember hearing any full coherent sentences
back, but he didn't say no.  He did not look at me.  His face was covered
in sand.  I knelt down beside him and brushed what sand I could see off of
him.  He finally opened his eyes and looked at me.  He did not look drunk,
or scared, or tired.  He looked right past me, like I was not even there.
He moved his lips a little, and it made me smile.  He was so loaded.  I got
in front of him and tied his hands together in front of him.  I rolled him
around a bit so he was laid out flat and straight on his belly.  I remember
taking something and tying his feet together too.  I took his tshirt and
put it under his head so he wouldn't breathe in any sand.  The wind was
dying down a bit, so nothing was really blowing around.

   I straddled his hips and bent down low over him.  I brushed my hair to
one side and dragged my mouth along his right side.  I felt his whole body
shiver.  I turned my head a little to get a good angle, and I bit down just
under his right armpit.  Again, hard.  He moved and struggled a little, but
I did not let go.  When he finally stopped moving I let go, moved down a
little, and bit him again.  I was drawing blood, and I could see big red
welts coming up, even in the little light we had.

   I worked my way along both of his sides, chewing and biting and locking
my jaws down on him.  It was like eating a giant steak.  I did not tear out
any flesh, but I took in a lot of his blood.  He was moaning the whole
time. I know he liked it, even though he never said a single word.

   When I was done, I straddled his hips so that his bare back was in front
of me, and I pulled out my knife.  It was a boot knife, about five inches
long.  Nice thin blade.  New.

   There was so much skin in front of me that I did not know where to
start. I got positioned comfortably, shifted my knees in the sand so I felt
solid.  All the skin along his neck and shoulders and sides were covered in
blood and red marks.  So I started low.  I put my left hand flat on the top
of his back, just below his neck.  I squeezed with my knees to hold him
still, and then I touched the blade against his skin.  I dragged it along
his lower back, just above where my crotch was straddling him.  He let out
a little moan.  I pushed a little harder, leaving a mark.  He started to
move.  I angled the blade a little and pressed down harder as I dragged it
across his lower back.  He started to bleed.  I felt him move under me,
squirming a bit.  I was still stronger than him, in my position and in my
more sober state.  I dragged another line across his back, and watched as a
thin new line of blood burst from his skin.  He started to say something,
but I told him to be quiet.  I said, shhhhhh.  I took my left hand off his
back and stroked his hair as I told him to be quiet.  I also told him to be
still.  He obeyed me fairly well at first.

   By the time I had made my fifth line across his back I was pressing down
pretty hard.  I was taking my time dragging the sharp blade across his
skin, and enjoying how the blood came forth.  It looked so black and wet
and hot.  It was hypnotizing.  I wished he could see it too.  On the sixth
line he started to move.  A lot.  And make noise.

   I didn't mean to do it, but I cuffed him across the back of the head
pretty hard.  It didn't knock him out but it did make him start to cry.  I
knew damn well he was enjoying this and that crying was just part of the
game.  I threatened to shove something in his mouth if he didn't shut up
quick.  He started to say something but stopped.  Smart boy.

   I continued with his back.  I was getting bored with lines, so I started
to draw in big loops and swirls.  I held the knife as you would hold it to
butter toast, not as you would hold it to stab.  I twisted it around a bit.
I started to write things, like names.  I was having fun.  The canvas was
not that big, but it would do.

   After a while I realized that he was making noises again.  I had sort of
got carried away and wasn't paying attention to him too much.  He was
actually screaming, not for help, and not for me to stop, but just general
screams.  No words.  Just crying out in pain.  This was too much for me. 
It sickened me.  It gave me goose bumps.  I reached forward, pulled his
tshirt out from under his head, and shoved as much as I could into his
mouth before he could shut it.  He tried to close his mouth but I jammed my
fingers in there to shove the cloth inside.  His eyes were huge and wet.  I
wagged my finger at him like an angry mother.  He was trying to spit out
the shirt in his mouth.  I bent down low over him and got very close to his
face.  I looked him in the eye and grabbed his jaw so I could force him to
look at me.  There was enough light that he could see my eyes.  All I said
to him was, "This is mine." He got very still.  And he closed his eyes.

   I took my time with the rest of his back.  He let out the odd noise but
at least it wasn't the screaming anymore.  Eventually I just pulled the
tshirt out of his mouth so he could breathe easier.  He was very limp.  I
drew all over his back, up his shoulders, along the sides of his neck where
I had left marks already.  There was a lot of blood.  It flowed.  It pooled
a bit in the small of his back, and some of it ran down his sides.  I made
sure very little blood got on me.

   I don't really know how I decided that I was done.  I guess I was tired
and realized I was bored.  My body felt stiff.  I knew I had been on the
beach for over an hour.  I was suddenly cold and wanted to go to sleep.

   I covered him up with his jacket, tucked it under him so it would not
blow away.  I made sure I untied his feet and hands.  I wiped off my knife
on his jacket and put it back in its sheath.  I knelt next to his head.  He
was breathing okay, but out cold.  His skin felt a little cool.  I put the
back of my hand over his forehead.  He felt fine.  I stood up, brushed the
sand off my legs, and stretched.

   I walked back to my campsite.  I had my small tent set up next to my
friend's tent, and I slid into my little bed without waking anyone up.  I
think I checked my watch just before I fell asleep, and it was 4am.  I
slept really well.  I was pretty tired and spent.  I think I heard myself
snoring.  I don't normally sleep really well when I'm camping, but that
night I slept like a log.

   The next morning I woke up pretty late.  My friends were already up and
reading in their little camp chairs.  Paula gave me a dirty look when I
crawled out of my tent.  Later on, Andy would ask why I did what I did.  If
I got off on it or needed a thrill.  He didn't know what I had done, and it
didn't matter.  No one needed to know.  I told him I didn't know why I did
it, except that it made me feel better.  He didn't understand that at all.
My motivations, my intentions.  I don't care.  It doesn't matter why.

   When I bothered to look at the next campsite, I noticed it was already
empty.