Gilia faces a predicament.

Does Gilia manage to make it out of the tent before the others are up? Fate Roll: 50/50 (CF 3). 1d100=52. Nope!

Gilia wakes slowly, feeling rested and surprisingly content, though still stiff from the cold last night. The birds are singing, the dappled sunlight is starting to filter through the tent walls, the air is warming up.

And there's a warm, hard cock in her mouth.

And she can faintly hear voices nearby, around the campfire.

Fuck!

She tries to jerk upward, but her body doesn't obey her, and she realizes Jamir is still asleep. She rolls to her hands and knees awkwardly, forced to keep his cock in her mouth the whole time, and - still sucking him - shakes his shoulder urgently.

"Wha - hm! Oh, no you don't," Jamir says groggily as he wakes. Gilia tries to pull off his cock, but he's faster than she expected and seizes her hair, holding her in place even as she spits his cock out. It bobs a hairsbreadth from her lips, rigid and eager. "What are you doing, wench? Will you leave me so unsatisfied?" he hisses.

"I have better things to do," Gilia hisses back.

"Mmm, no, I rather doubt that," Jamir drawls. Seeing her eyes cut toward the firepit beyond the tent walls, he chuckles. "Oho. Don't want them to know the price you paid for a warm bed, eh? Well, I'll keep your little secret...if you help me take care of this not-so-little problem, eh?"

Gilia glares at him. "Asshole."

Jamir shrugs, unrepentant. "Or I could always tell them. Your choice..."

Gilia bites her lip, then growls in frustration and bends down again. Jamir chuckles as he seizes her hair, running his free hand over her ass. "Good girl. I'd try to keep it quiet, if I were you..."