My face is surrounded by a flurry of frosty bubbles when I’m pulled back under. A moment after I slam into a tree branch. I curl my body around it and I cling to it like I’m a damned marsupial. I’m filled with nothing but relief when I realize it’s not a branch, it’s Mitchell’s arm.
Mitch yanks me from the water and pulls me onto the shore. My head throbs and spins, my stomach twists. I turn to the side and cough up a foul mix of vomit and dirty water. I gasp wildly for air, every inhale is a new painful sensation. My lungs feel like they’re packed full of alcohol. At least I’m breathing air
, I think, just as I’m overcome with another coughing fit.
He curses, his hands feel like fire against my chilled skin. Frantically, he checks my arms, ribs, stomach, legs. Feeling and touching all over with fiery fingertips.
“Stop.” I hiss at him.
He laughs, loud and deep. “I’m checking to see that you’re okay.”
“I’m fine,” I croak.
He prods at me again as I close my eyes and shiver when the wind blows. A moment later I’m in the air as he moves me away from the water’s edge.
“I need to leave you here for a minute.” His voice echoes in my head with a mechanical ping. “You’re freezing, I need to get a fire going. Stay put.”
I try to laugh at the panic in his voice and his senseless order for me to stay. My breath comes out as a waspy gust of air, instead. He lowers my head to the ground and kisses my forehead before his jogs away, his footsteps fading in the distance.
Feeling weak, I lay still as my breathing becomes more steady. I can now sense smooth pebbles underneath me. I force my eyes to open and see nothing but blurry grey with green in the distance. My head hurts too much to process anything else. Cringing against another onslaught of pain, I drift off to sleep.
My body is shaken awake. Any effort to speak is useless, my mouth feels like sandpaper. I try to look around, the stiffness in my neck halts the effort.
“Can you move at all? You need to try.”
I flinch in pain as I stretch my fingers, they’re taken over by a sickening pins and needles sensation.
“Pain is good,” he says.
I want to laugh again. I disagree, pain is not good.
A fire crackles to life in front of me. “It means you’re alive. I need to get you out of those clothes.”
While I do agree it means I’m alive, I do not agree I need to get out of my clothes. Not too long ago I entertained the idea of being naked with him, but freezing cold and sprawled out on a pebbly creek bed isn’t what I had I mind.
I protest, as much as possible, while he lifts me by my shoulders and quickly slips my top off. “Hush, with the wind blowing you’ll get sick.”
As his scorching hot fingers make their way to the snap of my pants I clench my eyes closed. My body jiggles as he rolls my wet clothes down. Inch by inch. I have never been so turned on and exasperated at the same time. Beads of sweat feel like drops of candle-wax on my skin.
He stands quickly and I hear him strip his own wet clothing off. Water splashes on my calves as he tosses the soaked garments aside. He’s going to lay with me, in his underwear.
I try to turn away from him. “No, don’t.”
“Quit fighting it,” he snarks at me as he lays down, cuddling up to me.
I groan out loud which makes him laugh. A moment later I worry if he took that groan the wrong way. His body is warm, though, and my embarrassment fades as he gently slips his arm under my head. His other hand wraps around my waist, carefully poised midway between my breasts and my panties. He pulls me close to him.
The rise and fall of his chest against my back as he breaths is comforting. I’m trapped between his warmth and the hot, crackling fire. Somehow, regardless of my raging libido and my inability to feel my toes, I fall asleep.
When I wake the fire has died down, but the heat pouring off the remaining logs is intense. My muscles are tight and I’m sore all over as I try to move. I hiss with pain.
“Hey, Babe,” he says, soft and sweet as he pokes at the fire with a stick.
I freeze. That ‘Babe’ was different than all the other times he’s said ‘Babe’ to me. I look at him out of the corner of my eye. “Hi.” Even my cheeks hurt when I smile.
“You need to sit up and move around.” He stands and busies himself with our clothes that are spread out on the ground. “They’re almost dry.” Slivers of sunlight dance over his skin as the wind blows. “You were asleep for a long time, but you warmed up so you’ll be okay. I caught a few fish, they’re cooking, should be ready soon. You’ll need the protein.”
He glances at me quickly but turns away before I can read his expression. Anchoring my hand to the ground I slowly sit up. Mitch hands me a bottle of water. “Drink.”
As I drain the last bit of my water he tosses my shirt to me, it lands on my lap with a soft ruffling sound. I crinkle my nose against the stench of dried creek water. For a moment, I consider going without it.
“Your pants are still-” He freezes mid motion, hand still gripping the waistband.
He doesn’t need to finish the sentence, though. I know what he was going to say: wet.
It accurately describes how I am, now. My panties are soaked and it’s not from the water. To add, my nipples are rubbing painfully against the fabric of my bra; one item of clothing I desperately wish to do without. My ass, though, hasn’t forgotten that there’s a sharp pain stabbing into it when I shift. I consider how twisted I am for being such a one-track mind after swallowing my weight in foul creek water.
Birds flit away from the nearby tree line as he noisily shoves items back into the rucksack. He doesn’t look at me, but his jaw is clenched tight. “Are you feeling better? You-” Scowling, he stumbles over his words. “I mean, do you-”
I can’t imagine what’s going on in his mind, but I know what’s going on in mine. I could care less that I almost drowned. Wrapping my fingers around his hard, stiff cock to stroke him until he cums plays in my head like a porn flick.
A dirty, nasty porn flick with Mitch and me in the woods.
As the scene plays out with vivid detail I realize that I have no desire to let another chance with Mitch slip by. I can’t. My mind circles around: ‘What if I died, he would never know how I feel about him.’
Sizzling wood scatters across the shoreline as he kicks the fire apart.
“Can you walk?” he asks as he stands in the middle of the scorched circle, tamping out embers with his boots.
Weak kneed and shaky, I get up slowly. I’m not too bad off, considering. I quickly run my fingers under the trim of my panties, the elastic is digging into my skin with a sting. Then slink my arms into my shirt, unhook my bra, and snake the straps down my arms. Of all the uncomfortable garments, the bra takes the cake. Warily, I glance up to see if I was discrete enough. The pale, slack jawed look on Mitch’s face tells me I wasn’t.
He looks away and hands me my jeans without making eye contact. The task of slipping my pants on is quite difficult. Sitting down to put them on doesn’t occur to me. Instead, I stand and try to flamingo my way in. I lose my balance as I try to lift my left leg. When I finally get that leg through, I topple over. For the second time today, Mitch catches me in his arms. I lean into him, my hands still gripping the damp fabric mid-thigh.
He swallows loudly as he runs his fingers down my arm. My heart is pumping so hard I can hear it in my ears. When he wraps his hands around the fabric in my hand and helps me pull them on I feel like an idiot. I’ve misread his signals, again.
Just as I pull the zipper up I feel Mitch’s warm mouth on my neck and one firm hand gripping my hip. I’m caught off guard and it takes me a moment to sink into the feel of him. After a moment I drift with the sensation of his lips on my sweat dampened neck. His moaning whimper charges my skin, my heart beat drums in my chest.
I wrap my arms around his neck and shoulders. Marveling at how solid he is underneath my hands.
My adrenaline spikes, overpowering my tired feet and shaky knees. I become aware of every detail around me and I drink it in with sharpened senses - The sunlight scattering across the ground in dancing pools. A soft breeze blowing, the gurgle of the stream nearby. Smoke wafting in the air from a lone, charred branch. His heated breath on my skin as he slides his lips along my throat, across my shoulder, and to my ear. Intoxicating. I’m lost in the sensation, I don’t want it to end.
He moans in my ear as he slips one leg between my thighs. He whispers against my neck, so soft I can’t hear his words. All I can feel are his hands as they skim down my back, leaving sensitive trails as he goes. His fingernails graze my skin as he slowly lifts the hem of my shirt. This time, I need it.
He draws the shirt off of my up stretched arms. As it falls to the ground his mouth meets mine in a sweet, tentative kiss. I slide my hands down to his arms, running my thumbs along the meat of his muscles. He slows the kiss and pulls away until the flesh of his lips barely touch mine.
His mouth opens, but words hang in his throat with a chocked rasp. Wind flutters his hair as his head drops to the curve of my shoulder. His fingertips lightly touch the flesh of my sides.
“Do you want this?” he asks, his voice tight.
I clutch his shirt and pull him to me, needing to feel his mouth on mine. We shift from tentative kisses to deep, desperate need. I’m surrounded by his heat as it works under my skin. Touching me with greedy hands, he paws at the flesh of my back, spurring on my thirst for him.
I’m nothing but a buttery, hot mess in his hands when he slides his palms to my breasts and skims my stiff buds. It’s almost too much. My lungs rebel with a stinging, sour pain. The internal struggle for breath leaves me floating. I break the kiss, gasping for air but wanting more, needing his mouth and hands on me.
“I’m sorry.” he murmurs as he kneels. “We shouldn't be doing this.” he chides in a low, alluring tone before bringing his lips to the round of my breast.
I smile lazily at his concern. This is the Mitch I’ve come to adore so much: sweet and caring. His eyes glint in the sunlight as he licks a long, hot line over the peak of one nipple while rolling the other between his fingers.
“Fuuuck.” I purr when he does it again. His eyes stay locked on mine and my concern for breath vanishes. I thrust my hips forward and grind against him. “Take it off.” I order as I pull feverishly at his shirt.
“Yes Ma’am.” He smirks, his southern lilt makes my slick pussy ache. Like a good country boy he does as he’s told and hastily peels the shirt from his body. I run my hands along the newly exposed planes of his chest. He’s firm, but not excessively built. Lean and mean.
I slide my hands down his taut stomach and then slip two fingers into his belt loop. “All of it.” When he freezes, I worry that I’ve gone too far. If he doesn’t want to have sex I’ve overstepped my boundaries.
When I open my mouth to rescind he swallows my words with another kiss. His tongue runs along my lips, tickling my sensitive skin. “You want this?” he asks against the flesh of my neck.
He steps away, toes his boots off, undoes the snap of his jeans, and draws down the zipper. My eyes are fixed on the enticing sight as he shoves his jeans and boxers down from his hips. His cock springs free, impossibly hard. He kicks off his jeans. Tall, bold, and naked in front of me, his rough skin glints in the light. Everything about him is delicious: the dip on his hips to the curls of chest hair. I catch the enticing sight of pre-cum gathering at the tip of his cock.
I step to him, wanting to wrap my greedy hand around his hard length. He grips my wrists. “You need to tell me if you really want this.”
I growl with need. “God, yes.”
Mitch drops to his knees, his hands gripping the band of my jeans. In his hurry to undo my pants the button breaks off, pinging as it bounces on the rocky ground. The teeth of my zipper pull apart as he yanks and tugs at the fabric. Gripping his shoulders with my hands, he shoves my jeans and panties down to my ankles. Hot, sticky wetness trails down the inside of my thighs.
“Christ, Mitch,” I groan.
His breath saws through his lungs as he picks up one foot and then the other, sliding my clothes off. He doesn’t stop to look at me or ask questions as he slips one hand between my legs, stroking the slickness of my thighs.
Nose to my pussy, he presses against my legs, silently telling me to step them apart. He works his fingers into my slit, kneading the flesh of my ass with his other hand. Glancing up at me, he laps at my clit with the wide, rough flat of his tongue. It’s so much more intense this way, all of me feels assaulted by him. I tighten my grip as he rocks my body with his efforts.
He works his fingers into me, fast and deep. Stroking me inside, muscle spasms race down to my feet. He rolls his eyes as he twists his wrist and licks at my clit, groaning as he tastes me. I’m thrown, my mind is lost.
I feel my orgasm come on with blinding intensity. My pussy clenches tightly around his fingers as he works them. I don’t have enough thought to say anything, just inane babble and lustful sounds.
He holds tightly to my legs, stroking me with his fingers as aftershocks spark through me. I run my fingers through his hair while my breathing steadies.
He kisses the flesh of my stomach. “You okay?”
I smiles lazily and open my eyes to look at him. “Mmm hmm.”
Laughing, he stands and kisses me sweetly. Tasting me on his lips and tongue is erotic. He’s been on
me in ways I only dreamed of. I close my eyes and run my hands through his hair, deepening the kiss. I squeal as he lifts me into the air, cradling me to his chest.
“Put me down!” I laugh. He carries me up the dusty grey slop to a tree nearby.
As he sets my feet on the roots below he kisses me with long, slow and sweet intensity. One hand caresses my waist as he spreads his t-shirt on the lowest branch. In one swift movement he grips my waist, picks me up, plants my ass on the shirt covered limb, and slides between my legs.
“Have you always wanted me?” he questions while running his hand over my soaked pussy.
Teasing my clit softly with his fingers he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me.” His hand strokes me with a heated rhythm.
I thrust forward, trying to increase the friction. “I don’t know.”
He pulls his fingers away, making me groan with dissatisfaction. “Please.”
He buries his face between my breasts. “Please what?”
He stops all movement. “How?”
I’m twisted with annoyance. “Fuck. Mitch, yes.” I slide forward, forcing his fingers inside me. “Fuck me deep with that hard cock. Please. I need you. Please!”
“Yes Ma’am,” he quips as he stands to kiss me with a languid sweet kiss.
I feel the slick tip of his cock as he runs it along my slit, tickling my skin. Desperately, I thrust forward to try to take him in but his hands grab my hips and halt my efforts. As he slowly eases himself into me I’m a quivering mess. My arms shake, my elbows begin to buckle.
“Hold onto me,” he orders.
I do as I’m told and wrap my arms around his shoulders, my hands on his neck. He braces my hips with his hands and glides all the way in with one, smooth, restrained stroke.
“Damn, Nadia, You feel amazing,” he tells me as he ghosts his lips along my cheek.
“So do you.” He does. Christ, does he feel good inside me.
He leans me back and pulls my hips forward, dragging me down onto his hard length. I wrap my legs around his waist and arch my back, letting him drive in deeper. Leaning forward, he takes a swollen bud into my mouth and laves at my flesh greedily.
The many nights I spent pretending that my hands and fingers were his didn’t come close to the sensation of him against me. Inside me. Around me. Rugged and lean, every inch of him flexes as he pumps into me. Having him inside feels like a relief, a reprieve from abstinence. I can finally give in and taste the candy, lick the frosting. I do, with my tongue against his jawline, I taste him: tangy, salty, sexy. You’re mine
, I think as his thrusts make my tits bounce, mine
. Sweat drips from his hairline and splashes onto the flesh of my breast. Mine.
I dig my fingers into the meat of his back. The palms of his hands grip my ass tighter. I’m robbed of breath when he shifts, gives two quick, sharp thrusts, and strikes a tangy spot deep inside my cunt. My body tenses as I cum on his cock with another forceful orgasm. My toes numb, my legs stiffen as it surges through me.
“Holy shit,” I groan with a lust drunken slur.
Arching his back, he leans down and grazes my sweat covered flesh with his lips. His thrusts cause my body to jerk and glide along his parted mouth, he swipes his tongue over me again and again.
He straightens himself - his hands cradling my back, muscles drawn tight, his hips surging forward – and he quickens his pace. He gives me a sweet, sex filled smile as sweat and saliva glisten on his lips. A bead of moisture trails down his chin. I reach out and wipe it away with my thumb. Teasingly, I trail my fingers along his wet lips. He’s mine.
“You’re beautiful,” rolls off his tongue as his pace quickens. His eyes capture mine with an passion I could never have conjured up on my own as he chases his own orgasm. Eyelids widened, cheeks drawn tight, intense pleasure and concentration.
“God, Nadia. Amazing,” he rasps as he thrusts with quick bursts of force, driving deep inside me when he cums.
He slumps forward, his chest pressing against mine, as we both pant for air. His heart races, harsh and strong. I slip my hand over his chest to feel it beat against my palm.
We sprawl together on the tree branch, wrapped in each other. The sounds of the cross timber forest slowly return: the birds chirping as they find their mates, and the bees seeking out nectar from flowers by the stream.
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with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.
<a href="http://www.lushstories.com/stories/straight-sex/tent-and-pegs-chapter-two.aspx">Tent and Pegs - Chapter Two</a>