14 comments/ 63174 views/ 33 favorites The Infiltration By: kjane "No, I'm not letting you go camping with your friends at Camp Parras this weekend," I said steadfastly. "The whole idea sounds like a recipe for trouble." "Since I graduated, I feel that I can make my own choices, Mom," he retorted. "But you still live under my roof. As long as that is the case, you will follow my rules," I replied. It was an argument that my son Ken and I had been having for days. He had just graduated from high school, and several of his friends were planning to go camping at Camp Parras to celebrate their achievement and to say a few goodbyes before they all departed for college later in the summer. It seemed innocuous enough, but I knew what kind of trouble eighteen-year-olds could get into in such circumstances. "I can't even believe that you are so fucking against this," said Ken. "We are only going to be there for six days." "I don't care," I said. "If you go out there, you are not coming back to live under this roof." Without saying a word, Ken stormed out of the room, muttering profanities under his breath. I was okay with that. I knew that he was angry, but as a single mother, I had to stand my ground. He has meant the world to me over the years, and although he was old enough to make his own decisions, I felt that there were still times when I needed to steer him from situations in which he might encounter trouble or exhibit bad judgment. Later that afternoon I received a call from my friend Tara. She is also a single mother, and has a daughter named Lacey, who is the same age as my son Ken. After some incidental chat, she asked me how things were going between my son and me. "Not particularly well," I stated. "Ken is pissed at me for not letting him go camping at Camp Parras next week with his friends." "Really? What is the problem that you have with it?" said Tara. "Lacey will be headed up there with everyone in a few days. She's excited about it. She even bought a costume to dress up for the parties that they have there." "Tara, the problem is that they are likely going to be doing nothing but drinking and drugs, that's what. That is what kids that age do when they are unsupervised. Are you really going to let Lacey go? " "Sure," she said. "I trust her. She is an adult now. She can take care of herself." "I don't know, Tara," I replied. "A part of me feels the same way that you do, and a part of me is worried that Ken is going to encounter trouble if I let him go. I just want to protect him." "Jill, I have known you for years. You are a reasonable person most of the time, but you have to see it from Ken's perspective. He is an adult now, and should be treated like one." She had a point. Maybe I was being overly protective. Maybe I needed to loosen up and trust that my son could handle himself with his peers without getting into trouble. Maybe I was being too overbearing. Maybe I was afraid that I was losing my control over him. Maybe I was simply refusing to believe that he was an adult. "Well, I'll give it some thought," I said. "I don't like the idea of him going there, but maybe you're right. I should probably let him make his own decisions from now on. I just wished that there would be some adult supervision at the campground." "Adult supervision?" laughed Tara. "There you go again. You just can't let go, can you?" "No, I can't," I replied. "At least I am honest about it." "I'll tell you what," said Tara. "I'm off for the next couple of weeks. Do you have any vacation time that you can use to take off of work?" "Yes." "Okay, good. How about we rent a room up near where the group will be staying? We'll relax, have a good time, and at least be near them, if that makes you feel better." "Ken would kill me if he knew that I was spying on him," I said. "Really. Do you know how un-cool he would look to his friends if they found out that his mother was following him around in the woods?" "Jill, it is not going to be spying," said Tara. "We'll stay about a half of a mile away from their cabins. There is a lodge nearby with several rooms at which we can stay. We won't even be 'roughing it' so to speak. The place is more of like a resort in the wilderness. It will be relaxing and take your mind off of worrying the whole time." I thought about her proposition for a few moments before replying. Going up there would make me feel a little better about things, although I was not sure why. And I could use a few days off to relax. "Okay, we can go as long as you don't say anything to Ken, Lacey, or anyone else," I said. "This has to be totally between us." "Not a problem," she said. "It'll be fun, don't worry." Later that evening I apologized to my son and told him that he could go on the camping trip. He was pretty shocked, yet elated, about my reversal of opinion on the matter. By the time we talked, my friend Tara had already secured reservations at a lodge not too far from where Ken and his friends would be camping. Ken left a few days later with his buddies from school. They were all in good spirits, and seemed euphoric about the trip. A day after they departed, Tara came by and picked me up, and we headed out to spend a few days at the lodge. When we checked in to the lodge, we asked the clerk at the desk about the campground down the road. "You mean Camp Parras?" he said. "Oh, that place is always crazy this time of year. It is all of those kids who just graduated from school. They do nothing but party all week. It happens every year." "About how many people go there, usually?" I asked. "I'd say at least a couple of hundred, but maybe more. It is good business for everyone in the area, but they usually leave the place a mess by the time that they leave," he replied in exasperation. "Litter, beer cans everywhere, used condoms on the ground, you name it." Both Tara and I were more than a little shocked to learn about how big the event was. We had both assumed that our children were going camping with one or two dozen others. But hundreds? It became clear that the party was much bigger than we had thought, as it involved not only graduates from our children's school, but other local schools as well. For the next two days Tara and I enjoyed our time at the lodge, relaxing, hiking, and learning more about the area. There was a river nearby, and one early evening we chartered a boat to see more of it. The trip took about two hours. Since neither one of us knew anything about operating a boat, we hired a local guide to show us around. His name was Nick. Nick was a local who made his living taking guests on tours of the lake and on fishing trips. He was probably about our age, in his early forties, and had a handsome ruggedness about him. He knew a lot about the history of the area, and it was fun to talk to him about it. He was a joy to be around. As we made our way down the river, we heard the sounds of music and the voices of people from along the shore. It was getting dark, and we could see a bonfire blazing into the dusk. "What area is this?" Tara asked. "Oh, that is Camp Parras," said Nick. "This is the week of that crazy party that those high-school graduates have every year." "And somewhere among that throng of humanity are our children," I said to Tara, nervously. "It looks crazy over there." "Yeah, it looks pretty wild," she replied, her eyes straining to decipher the action. "You cannot believe what goes on there, man," said Nick. "The police tend to keep an eye on things to an extent, but as long as they keep their activities contained to the property and don't bother anyone else, they let them do their thing." I could only wonder what "their thing" entailed. It was too dark to see much, but it was clear that several hundred young men and women were having a good time. It looked as though some of them were wearing costumes. It was a Dionysian spectacle. After about ten more minutes, we turned around and made our way back up the river to the lodge at which we were staying. We thanked Nick for taking us out, and then Tara and I made our way to the restaurant at the lodge. We were both starving at that point, so it was nice to be back. The restaurant had a full bar, so we both ordered margaritas, which went well with our meals. The place was fairly busy, so after we finished eating we moved up to the bar so that someone else could use our table. We continued to order more drinks, and pretty soon both Tara and I were feeling the effects. One of the effects was that it gradually loosened our tongues. "Jill, do you see those guys over there?" said Tara, pointing to a couple of younger guys at the other end of the bar. "They look delicious." "Girlfriend, restrain yourself," I replied. "They don't look to be much older than our kids, but yeah, they do look tasty." One of the guys was a fit, six-foot blonde with great muscle tone, and the other had dark brown hair and was equally well-sculpted. "I bet both of them have nice cocks," said Tara, her eyes glazing as she licked her lips. "Would you fuck either of them if you had the chance?" "I think that you have been drinking too much," I laughed. "We might need to call it a night, lady. You are talking like someone who has not been laid in awhile." "I haven't been," she said. "We have both been single mothers for a few years, so you know how hard it is to find a good man." "I hear you, but you are talking crazy. Are you ovulating? Try to keep the hormones under control and don't leave any wet spots on the barstool, okay?" I joked. She didn't seem to hear a word. Her gaze was totally fixed on those two men. "Jill, do you think we should go over there and talk to them?" she asked. "And say what? Can I borrow your manhood for a few hours?" I giggled. "Aren't guys supposed to be approaching us, rather than the other way around?" "In the wild, cougars are predators," she said in a deadpan manner. Well, we were slightly older than forty, so we probably fit that tag. I could also see that she was dead serious about meeting those guys. I don't know if it was the effects of the margaritas, or the fact that I also had not been laid in months, but I kind of wanted to meet them too. There was no way that I had the courage to do it by myself, but Tara seemed more than willing to lead the way, if I approved. But should I approve? Or should I do the proper thing and get her back to our room? Ah, I was completely torn on the matter, but eventually gave in. "If you go over there to meet them, I'll go with you, but you have to go first," I said, rolling my eyes. "But be nice, alright? Keep yourself in check." Without saying a word, Tara got up and walked over to the two men. She said something to them, and then sat down. I stayed behind for a minute or two, but made my way over to them once she waved me over. Oh my, what am I getting myself into, I thought. It turned out that the blonde-haired guy was named Kent and his brown-haired friend was James. They were nice guys, but they could not have been more than twenty-five years of age. They called themselves entrepreneurs, whatever that meant. We soon learned that they ran a business, in part, around the party at Camp Parras every year, which is the reason why they were in town. I didn't ask further questions about it. Although I kept a proper demeanor as we chatted, I could see Tara occasionally brushing her hand across Kent's hand and thigh somewhat invitingly. She was subtle about it, but even a man could pick up on that signal. It was an invitation. "So what are you guys doing tonight?" asked Tara, looking down at her drink, as her index finger circled its rim. "We have a little business to which we need to attend, but not much," said James. Tara then reached into her purse and pulled out a pen. She scribbled her cell phone number as well as our room number at the lodge on a cocktail napkin, and handed it to him. "I'm thinking it might be fun to get together with you two later in a place that is, well, maybe a little quieter and more private," she proposed. Alright, Tara, you did it, I thought. You have asked them to come up to our room to fuck us. Initially there was no response from either James or Kent. They simply looked at each other, somewhat bewildered. It was a very awkward moment. I was beginning to think that maybe we were not attractive enough, or that we were too old to gain their interest. Although Tara and I look great for our age, we were at least fifteen years older than them. The silence was somewhat embarrassing. Eventually Kent broke the silence. "Come out to our car," he demanded. After paying our tab, we went out into the parking lot, where Kent and James led us to a beautiful Mercedes. Without saying a word, Kent opened the trunk and showed us what was inside: there must have been six pounds of marijuana and two pounds of cocaine sitting there, along with a scale, plastic bags, and a few handguns. "Although we would love to take you ladies up on your offer tonight, we are drug dealers," said Kent. "Don't take it personally. You are both lovely. We would love to get to know you better. We just don't know how long we will be working tonight." "And . . . where are you guys going to deal tonight?" I stammered. "Camp Parras," said James. "It is a great market for us every year. We come out of the event every year with tens of thousands of dollars." Tara and I looked at each other in disbelief. Hmm, so the two guys we tried to pick up tonight need to go deal drugs to a group of recent high-school grads that include our children? We were both speechless. "Listen," said James, "we like both of you. How about you come with us tonight? If you have never seen the action at Camp Parras, you will be in for a treat. It is a place where you can even be one, if you want." I had no idea how to respond. Part of me wanted to simply have a quiet night at the lodge, where things seemed safe and secure, and part of me wanted to check out Camp Parras. After all, my son Ken was there for the week. Tara's daughter Lacey was there too. The only problem was that they might see us. "Our kids are there, so we can't be seen," I said. "I'm afraid we'll have to pass on the offer." "No, you won't be 'seen'," replied Kent. "During the day, it is pretty much a regular camping atmosphere, with people cooking, boating, hiking, etc. But at night the camp turns into its own being. It is a tradition there. People wear masks that cover their foreheads down to their noses, and anything goes: drugs, sex, booze-everything. Since it is night, we'll give you masks, and nobody will know you. You'll fit right in with everyone else. And don't forget that there are a couple of hundred people there. We have some extra masks in the car." As I listened to Kent, Tara bumped me in my arm with her elbow. She was clearly up for it. I was still feeling trepidation about it, but I admit that I was very curious to see what went on there. Yeah, I wanted to go. Badly. "Ok, let's go," I said curtly. Tara and I got into the back seats of the Mercedes, with Kent and James in the front. Kent then started to drive towards Camp Parras. It was 10:50 PM at that point, and both Tara and I were half-drunk, but the adrenaline running through my veins was unlike anything I had ever experienced. It was like a voyage into the great unknown. Just a few days earlier, I was arguing with my son Ken about his right to go to Camp Parras, and now I was in the backseat of a Mercedes with two drug dealers on my way to the very same place. It was, to put it mildly, surreal. I felt like I was eighteen again. Quite frankly, it was a thrill. What was a half-mile trip seemed like an eternity. Kent showed his pass at the gate, and then we proceeded to ascend a hill after which there was a steep decline. When we got close to the bottom, by the shore of the river, the bonfire was still raging, and there were hundreds of people dancing around it. The music, which was a strong, techno-beat pulse, was nearly deafening. Everyone around the bonfire was wearing masks and costumes. Immediately upon arrival, two young men came up to the car and befriended Kent and James. They reached into a bag, and handed over a stack of $100 bills. At that moment, there must have been $5K that passed hands. I could not hear what they were saying to one another, as the music was too loud, but James opened up the trunk, weighed some marijuana and cocaine, and placed it in bags. After he handed it over to the buyer, another guy came over and did the same. Then another guy came over and did likewise. It was clear that Kent and James were selling to other dealers, who would then sell to casual users. And business was good. At this point, Tara and I were still pretty removed from what was going on. About a hundred yards away people were dancing around the bonfire, and there were tents and cabins in the distance. We were simply watching drug deals at this point, and it was getting somewhat boring. Both Tara and I wanted to be closer, but we had to establish our cover first. In between his numerous deals, I was able to pull Kent aside. "Tara and I would like to get a little closer to the action, but we need those masks," I demanded. "Jill, that is not a problem," he said. He reached into the car and gave us a couple. They were a little odd looking, black with glitter lining the sides, and small feathers protruding slightly from the top, but they would work. "And how are we going to get back to the lodge?" Tara asked. "When you want to leave, just call me on my cell," said Kent. "We'll drive you back. We'll be done doing business in an hour or two, but we might hang around awhile for the festivities. After all, we are humans who like to play too." I did not really know what he meant about that last sentence, until Tara and I made our way towards the crowd. By that time, we had already donned our masks to fit in and be incognito. On the periphery of the bonfire, around which many were dancing, there were people engaged in acts that were pure depravity-or sensuality-I guess how it would be defined would depend on one's own moral compass. Simply put, people were fucking everywhere. I would say that about 30% of the sex acts that we saw were performed without condoms. As Tara and I made our way through the crowd, we saw at least three guys pull out of girls, leaving their pussies dripping white. In one case, there was another guy who immediately moved in to have his turn. Yeah, there was a train coming for that girl, who seemed to revel in going to the destination to which that ride would take her. Tara and I were both somewhat mortified to see all of this. She was more unnerved about it than I was, which surprised me, as I'm generally the more conservative one between us. "What is going on here, Jill?" she asked in exasperation. "There is so much debauchery here that it is inexplicable." "Are you worried about Lacey?" I inquired, knowing that her daughter was on the premises. "How the fuck can I not be?" she exclaimed. "I was wrong about letting her come here, and you were right about initially not letting Ken come here as well." "Oh, Ken will cum here," I added. "So will Lacey." The activities going on at the camp were clearly as out of control as I thought they would be, which is why I didn't want my son to attend the event with which to begin. Yet the camp did have a "what goes on here stays here" type of atmosphere, so at least I knew that our kids would likely stay out of legal trouble. There were no cops around. If they were going to be drinking, doing drugs, and having sex, at least they would be able to crash on the premises, and not be driving around town drunk or anything. That made me feel a little better about things-actually, a lot better. And although I did not say it out loud, I admit that the things that I witnessed were rather arousing and stimulating. I felt like a hypocrite, really, for enjoying the scene so much, but it was just being human. The Infiltration After we made our way through the initial depravity, we decided to move beyond the bonfire and loud music to go into one of the cabins nearby. It was good to get away from the music, which was painful to our ears. Maybe we were just too old for that crap, but we had had enough. Tara and I walked to a cabin in which, lo and behold, Kent and James were setting up lines of cocaine for everyone. Additionally, the place was filled with pot smoke. There were about thirty people there, half of whom were engaged in sex, and half of whom were doing drugs. On the bunks, couples were fucking, giving head, or in 69s. The others were smoking pot or doing cocaine. Because Kent and James were the only ones who knew us in our masks, as they had given them to us, they were gracious hosts. "Care for a line or two?" James asked us. I had not snorted cocaine in about two decades, and part of me felt that I needed to decline the offer and be a good girl. But I was a fairly heavy user back in my youth and I loved that drug. The chance to revisit the experience of that high was too tempting. "Sure, I'll do a couple of lines, but Tara might need three," I replied. "She is a little uptight." Tara and I both approached the table, and with a small, glass tube, snorted a few lines of cocaine. The euphoria was nearly immediate for the both of us. It was like there was a clarity and perception to the world that did not exist before. We were high, in the truest sense of the word. "Oh my God, I feel good, Jill" said Tara, in a drug-fueled epiphany. "Oh, shit this feels really, really good." I could only laugh at her response. Later I learned that this was her first experience with it. She went from worrying to completely euphoric and confident in an instant. It was a good thing, at least at that moment. In our cocaine reverie, we chatted with Kent and James, smoked a bowl of pot, and watched people come into the cabin to do drugs and fuck. We decided just to hang out there for the rest of the night. In retrospect, the entire scene was crazy. But everything that went on felt good to everyone. Within those walls, there were neither limits nor laws. Long after midnight, as things were winding down, two guys-one black and one white-came in to buy some weed from Kent and James. They bought a couple of dime bags, and smoked them in front of us in the cabin. They were wearing really cool masks, and their frames were rock-hard. They were beautiful young men. Tara and I did a couple more lines of cocaine, and we were riding the high, so to speak. We felt invincible. We were also feeling very randy. Tara looked over at me while pointing at the guys and nodded her head affirmatively. That was her sign for "let's move on these guys." I was all for it. We weren't even going to stop and ask for their names. While the black guy was in between taking hits on his pipe, Tara walked over to him and gave him a deep French kiss. She then grabbed his crotch, and started to massage his balls through his shorts. Eventually Tara fell to her knees, unbuttoned his shorts, and slid them down his ankles, after which she started sucking his cock. She was a portrait of pure animal instinct and, of course, like any guy, he did not protest. His penis was about four inches flaccid, but after Tara's lips and tongue urged it upwards, it reached its full length of seven inches. It was hot and heavenly to watch that thing grow. While Tara artfully ran her ravenous tongue in circles across his frenulum, I became eager to do the same with his white friend. I leaned back on the table on which I was sitting, unbuttoned my pants, and shimmied them down to my ankles, before kicking them off to the floor. I motioned over to the white guy, took him by the hand, and started to suck his fingertips, while rubbing my pussy through my panties. He reached down with his other hand and assisted me. I pulled my panties aside and let him put one of his fingers inside me, after which he pulled it out and licked it clean. I could tell by his smile that he liked my flavor. I knew right then that we would be a good match. I pulled him closer to me and we began to kiss, face to face, mask to mask. With our costumes, he had no idea that I was forty-two. He probably thought he was making out with an eighteen-year-old high school grad from another local school. He was a good kisser, and he smelled lovely, almost earthy, like pine. While we probed each other's mouths, I unbuttoned his shorts and started to rub his cock through his boxers. Once he was hard, I dropped to my knees and took his tool in my mouth, running my tongue along the underside of its head, before sucking it deeply. I knew that I could make him pop at my will, but I wanted to save him and savor him. I wanted his balls to ache for release, but to be denied. I wanted to tease him as well as please him, so that is exactly what I did. He may have taken a lot of classes in high school, but I was going to give him a lesson of a whole different sort. Although there were at least a dozen people in the cabin watching both Tara and I perform these sex acts, it did not matter. We had been watching people fuck in the cabin all night, so it seemed like normative behavior at that point. Our new friends Kent and James were a few feet away from me. I think that they were thrilled to see me about to be fucked. Once my panties were off, and they could see my bare pussy, they took out their cocks and started casually stroking to my image. That made me feel good. Maybe I am still attractive after all of these years. Across the room, Tara was looking quite fine in her own right, as she was getting worked over by the black guy. In a deep embrace, they fucked in the missionary position for several minutes, kissing passionately. Beads of sweat dotted their frames as they moved rhythmically as one. They were beautiful. It was obvious that the guy had already blown some cream into her, as one could see it foaming on his cock during his strokes, but the visual was a reminder that one of the great benefits of men his age is that they can have multiple orgasms. He was clearly going to empty himself into her again. After I finished my oral tease on my masked lover, I lay back on the table, spreading my legs for him. With his cock in his hand, he eagerly moved in between them, parting my labia with his purple, bulbous head. Oh my, every millimeter of his six inches felt good, and we both moaned softly, as we rocked in unison. He was very tender and loving, kissing my neck while thrusting. Probably due to his inexperience with feeling a pussy, within about two minutes his breathing quickened and deepened. I knew that he was about to lose it. Seconds thereafter I could feel his cock pulsating, spasming, and delivering forth. After his orgasm subsided, I could sense that he was about to apologize for coming too quickly, but I stopped him, and pulled him close to me. "Don't say anything. Not a word. Stay in me, baby." I whispered. "Stay in me until you get hard again." His cock was softening, but I held him by his hips, and kept him inside of me. I could feel his jizz running from my pussy and down my ass. I tried to use my vaginal muscles to grind and squeeze him back into firmness, while kissing him deeply on his soft, supple lips. "That's it, honey," I whispered in his ear encouragingly, as I held him tightly, grinding him. "That's it." It was only a matter of a few minutes before he was hard again. Feeling him go from hard, to soft, to hard again was incredible. We picked up where we had left off: that is, fucking each other senseless. After a good twenty minutes, and after I had three orgasms, he came again, and collapsed on me in exhaustion. Together we lay arm in arm, as a pile of sweaty, spent, creamed flesh. Masked and sweaty, we were two spirits united as one. It felt like perfection. At that moment, there was nothing beyond us. "You felt amazing," he whispered, before pausing. "I have a question," he added. "What?" I whispered back in a daze. "Can I see you without your mask?" he asked. I was too screwed up to respond right away, really. Booze, marijuana, cocaine, endorphins from orgasms-I was a human cocktail. But he was an exceptionally good fuck, and I was willing to along with it. "I'll lift up my mask if you do yours at the same time," I said, also curious to see who I just fucked. "Okay, that's fine," he said. "Let's do it on the count of three. One...two...three..." I took off my mask and my partner took off his. What I saw was unbearable. "Ken?!?!" I exclaimed in a raw gasp. It was my son. Out of the couple of hundred people there, I ended up fucking my son by accident. The look on Ken's face as he peered into my eyes was disbelief and horror all wrapped into one. He didn't say a word, but the trauma on his face spoke volumes. He squinted his eyes and shook his head, probably hoping that it was a bad dream. No, it wasn't a dream, but it was excruciatingly bad. I didn't say another word. I just held him in my arms as tightly as I possibly could. People in the cabin were laughing, but I simply held him. All of a sudden we were in a different kind of wilderness, completely alone among wolves.