This one time, at summer camp, a busty teen slut fucked a married man.

Crazy story – yes – but this is one of my favorite fantasies. I’ll let you guess how much is true and how much is imagination! At nineteen, my summer job was at a Girl Scout Camp. I loved being outdoors, loved the kids, and – it turns out – really enjoyed flirting with one particular coworker. Surprisingly, the Scouts will hire male staff for day camps. At this particular camp, we had an older, married male staff person who started in my second summer. During the school year, he was a science teacher. I was SUCH a sexy little nerd. We hit it off right away! I was totally into him, wanted him to fuck me hard, and nerdy, geeky Lilah doesn’t give up easily. Read on to see how this busty teen slut ended up getting pounded at Girl Scout camp!

We spent the whole summer flirting hard. This sweet Girl Scout turned into a busty teen slut. I found ANY excuse to be alone with him.

Every staff person had a “camp name” that we used all summer long. I was “Ladybug,” and he was “Mustang” because he drove a sleek grey Mustang convertible. And what a wild one he was! He loved the outdoors as much as I did. After hours, I’d stick around the camp and help him with admin work just so we could be alone. There was no question that he wanted me. While we talked, I’d catch him glancing at my breasts. We were always standing too close together, drawn to one another like two magnets. Damn, did I tease that man? Still, even after an entire summer, he held strong. He was married and loved his wife. His daughters were a bit younger than me. Mustang was old enough to be my Dad. Still, I wanted him.

I’d never seduced a married man before, but “Mustang” made my pussy wet with a sideways look and a sexy laugh. I had to have him.

About halfway through the summer, I made it my personal goal to seduce this married man and get him to fuck me hard. I knew I could do it. He and I were like soul mates, born twenty years apart. All our coworkers already suspected we were fucking. I was a busty teen slut, after all, and he and I were barely ever separate. When we got too physically close, the air was alive with heat. It tingled across the skin like static electricity. Every day was an exercise in sexual frustration and I’d had enough. The more I flirted, teased, and tempted him – the more connected we became. Like a double-edged sword, my seduction plot made me fall for him even harder. I wanted him more than ever.

This busty teen slut couldn’t wait to turn unrequited love into a wild, desperate fuck-fest of consummation.

At the end of the season, tradition required a party in which all the staff celebrated a successful summer. Dinner, staff gifts, drinks, and lots of letting off the steam from months of hard work. As a “non-work event,” drinks flowed freely and in true office party fashion the craziest, naughtiest stories always came from the end-of-season banquet. This was my last chance to succeed at making my sexy, clever Mustang, my lover. My last chance to convince him to cheat on his wife, give in to temptation and fuck me hard. That night, I dressed in my sexiest skirt and most revealing blouse with full makeup and heels. I wanted him not to see me as just a busty teen slut but as a potential lover. He was going to explore the depths of our desire, and my body.

All through dinner, I flirted with him hard. Leaning in close, brushing my body against his, stealing touches, and seductively glancing his way.

The evening was over and I was too drunk to drive. Always the gentleman, Mustang offered me a ride. Wouldn’t his wife miss him? She wasn’t expecting him home this early, he assured me. Once we hit the road, I teased him about driving such a powerful car so slowly. He glanced sideways at me and said, “I drive fast when I’m in a hurry. I’m not ready for this night to be over, so I’m taking my time.” With one hand, he reached out and trailed his fingertips down the side of my neck, to my collar bone, and across my shoulder. My entire body felt alive. Next, he caressed down my bare arm before following the inner curve of my elbow all the way to where my hand rested in my lap. I held my breath. His large, warm palm stroked down my skirt-covered thigh, fingers reaching naked leg, and dipped between my knees. Instantly, I began to grow wet. I looked at him and whispered: “the night isn’t over yet.”

To be continued…

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