The Campground was a fishing pond in the woods behind her house. It was probably about 2 or 3 acres in size, and had a dock that went about halfway ou.... On one bank of it was a cleared out area for camping, it had space for a tent or 5 and a fire pit. All of us "neighborhood k**s"(we lived out in the country) would hang out here in the summer and fall. So, on this particular day we went back there, no different then normal. We were laying on the dock just talking, somehow we started talking. A few quick, deep pumps and a gentle squeeze, and without thinking or control, I launched a hot load into her. Without standing up, she turned her head to look at me sideways with a mischievous grin and said, "oh, you shouldn't have done that. Now you have to be punished."As she stood up, Laura tipped the chair backwards so I was now laying on my back. Kait came over, squatted her cum filled pussy down to my face and said "now clean up the mess you made." She filled my mouth with her wet gash. " Mental asylums. That always had a sinister ring to it." I agree, but the original idea was very liberal and progressive: to provide a place of peace and safety – after all that's what 'asylum' really means - for people with mental illness. The problem was that it was too easy to just tidy people away and forget about them." And this is... ?" Yes, this is an old country asylum."I chuckle. So have the original lunatics gone and been replaced with modern ones, I wonder? Looking at Corinne,. While traveling through the city, she had seen it written here and there. Painted on walls, etched into park benches, carved into the bark of trees–that same word appeared again and again. At the time, she had dismissed it as simple graffiti, an intentional or accidental misspelling of the city’s name. It was a rather peculiar misspelling, though, especially since it occurred repeatedly. What can it mean? she wondered. Is it a code? An individual, maybe? She was at the counter.