The Society of Creative Anachronism (SCA) is a loosely medieval recreation group. One of the larger events attracts over 10,000 participants. There are many fun, wild stories and crazy parties that take place.
My own encampment is about 30 members from our local group. We are not known for any wild parties, although we have a handful that make the rounds of various parties. Me and a number of camp mates usually are sitting around the fire enjoying beverages. My wife does not participate to my dismay. Which makes sleeping in the tent a bit lonely most nights.
One night after saying goodnight, I made my way to my medieval tent. A say that to describe the door does not have a modern zipper but the canvas can be tied shut if you wished. Typically, I just leave it closed but not tied. Having consumed a fair amount I dozed off soon after.
An hour or two later I awoke to seeing a shadow of someone in the tent. Having a larger tent and usually just me, I make it a habit to have a spare bed in case someone ever is in need. I thought at first someone was doing just that. Clearly the person was not going to the extra bed but instead feeling in the dark for mine. My next thought was “someone has had way too much to drink”. I was about to say something when a hand slid along the front of my pants, on a mission. Fingers untied the drawstring and slid inside, taking me in hand. Slowly stroking, making me harder. I was almost afraid to breathe.
After a minute of slowly stroking, I felt a warm mouth taking me in deep. Back out. Then deep into the mouth. A hand reached up and started firmly fondling my balls. I didn’t want this to end. After another minute the pace began to quicken. I felt like I was going deeper and deeper into the mouth. I wanted to put my hands on the head and thrust even harder but I also wanted to preserve the mystery longer. I knew I was getting close. A few more thrust and I started. I was being completely drained. I fell back on to the bed. At that moment I was close to blacking out. A few seconds later I realized I was again alone in the tent. I drifted off to sleep.
I am typically one of the earlier risers in camp, and often start the coffee. When I made my way back from a quick trip to the restroom (okay porta-castle), one of the others had already started the first pot. Throughout the morning I tried to notice any difference in greetings or looks. Nothing. No one gave any indication of having made a night time appearance. I have no idea to this day if my visitor was male or female, a camp mate or stranger passing through. I tend to think it was someone who knew I was alone but that doesn’t narrow it down. I will just enjoy knowing it happened and hope for a repeat someday.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/ln4frn/one_night_at_pennsic_m_stranger