Awakening

You regain consciousness slowly, rising out of a delicious liquid sleep, your eyes gradually focussing on the fire flickering in front of you. You stretch and purr with contented delight, slowly starting to remember the events of the night. You still tingle with excitement, your pussy and ass still feeling stretched and erotic. You stretch again and snuggle down into the sleeping bag, relishing the warmth, luxuriating in the pleasure. You hear footsteps approaching and someone squats beside you.

"Want some coffee, Lisa?" Pete asks. You open an eye to see him holding a mug out. You prop yourself up on your elbows and take the mug, savouring the first sip of the hot liquid. It's warmth fills you, and you purr again with contentment, looking up at Pete from under your eyelashes.

"You feeling ok, sweetheart?" You answer with a satisfied nod and another murmur, stretching your legs out and wriggling a bit to limber your body. He smiles and strokes your cheek. You turn your head and nuzzle his hand, then pause, your bladder suddenly making you aware that it needs emptying.

"Bathroom?" you murmur, starting to sit up further, trying to hold the warmth of the sleeping bag around your shoulders.

"Over there," he points. "There's a chemical toilet. No shower but there's some hot water. If you don't mind a sponge bath."

You nod thanks and get up, looking around for something to wear, but your bladder gives you an urgent signal and forgetting about clothes you scamper to the bathroom to relieve yourself.

Finished you stand and look at yourself. Your body is marked with dried come and sweat. Your hair is a tousled mess, and you can see some bruises where strong fingers gripped your thighs and ass. You look exactly like you expected. Like a slut who got fucked hard and left to pass out. You catch a whiff of yourself, and you smell of rutting animal sex, of a well fucked cunt. You cradle a ripe breast and look at yourself in the mirror, rolling the nipple between your fingers, moaning softly with satisfaction. You can feel the warmth of arousal starting, but you mentally rebuke yourself, and start to clean up.

Filling the sink with hot water, you sponge yourself clean, washing the come and sweat off your lush body. You'd kill for a shower, but this will have to do, and in a few minutes you've cleaned yourself up, even managing to get your hair in some kind of order. You still look like a hard fucked harlot, but at least you look like a clean harlot you tell yourself.

You think of the events of the night, remembering the feel of the men as they used you, remembering the sensations that shivered through you. With that thought in your head, you reach for the bathroom door, stopping suddenly as you realize you are still naked.