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Wow, what an exhausting day this has been.  And yet I am still overly verbose.  Regardless, I promised Part 2, and thus I deliver Part 2.  It may not have actually been quite as sexy as I’m making it out to be, but damn if this wasn’t good.  Sorry for the length, but I DID shorten it by cutting out the rest of the story at the end.  I’ll try really hard to keep it down in the future.

Now, if you will excuse me… I need a fucking cigarette after writing this one down.

Author’s Note: VERY NOT SAFE FOR WORK OR KIDS OR ANYONE OFFENDED BY SEX AND FOUL LANGUAGE YOU’VE BEEN WARNED DON’T COME GRIPING TO ME IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT GO READ SOMETHING FAMILY FRIENDLY AND WATCH ABC.

Author’s Other Note: I’ve been waiting to drop that alliteration in the second paragraph since I started writing this.

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I know I must look horribly confused, because Rosalyn is laughing at me as she stands up.  “Hope your hike wasn’t too difficult!”

“Umm, not really,” I say as I approach the tent.  The tone of my voice is making me begin to laugh at myself as well.  “What the hell are you doing out here, with a tent, in a non-designated camping area, Ranger Rosalyn?”

“Oh it’s okay, this used to be a camp site for hikers doing multiple days,” she responds as though it were common knowledge.  “I come here sometimes on my off days, if the weather’s nice enough.  I can only stand park housing for so long.”  She tosses her book into the tent and draws out a thermos, which I gratefully accept.  “Figured I’d come out today and see if you wanted company on the hike.”

I fall into the grass beside the tent and sniff the contents.  “Oh… real coffee.  I could kiss you.”

“Say that now, just wait ’til you try it,” she teases, producing a mug from the tent and sitting beside me.

I fill the cup for her and drink mine from the thermos lid, and we savor our coffee in silence as I brood on the situation.  I don’t know exactly how long Rosalyn has been out here, but given that I could have arrived early and found nothing at the “IF YOU ARE TIRED” waypoint, it’s been long enough to make sure she didn’t miss me.  She’s wearing lightweight hiking wool and trail shoes, so she seems serious about hitting the trail with me. But that seems like an awfully convoluted way to join someone on a romp through the forest.  I glance her way, weighing my odds.

“You know, this is an awfully convoluted way to join someone on a romp through the forest,” I repeat out loud.

She shrugs.  “Maybe I wanted to surprise you.”

Fuck it.  I roll the dice.

I turn my head to face Rosalyn.  She notices me looking and turns to meet my gaze.  We hold that stare for a moment.  Two moments.  Long enough to make most people feel uncomfortable.  It’s a trick I learned a long time ago to determine if a girl is interested in you.  Not much of a sex trick, really, as you can use it on just about anyone to gauge their feelings for you.  Hold their gaze without saying anything.  Normal, well-adjusted people don’t hold a gaze unless they’re very comfortable with the person they’re looking at.  It’s particularly true with potential sex partners.  If the person isn’t interested at all, she’ll maybe look at you for a second or two, then avert her eyes.  If they hold your gaze for more than a few seconds, they’re interested.

Ten seconds in, and Rosalyn doesn’t look away at all.

I gently take the cup out of her hands.  She doesn’t resist.  I set them aside and face her on my knees, taking her hands and pulling her up into the same kneeling position.  I pull her body against mine, still holding her gaze, breaking it only long enough to pull her shirt over her head.  A trim, well-kept outdoor body, the faintest hint of abdominal muscles under tight skin, small but perky breasts under a simple sports bra.  I would remove it, but she’s one step ahead of me and pulls it off in one smooth motion.  I quickly follow suit, and she presses against me again.  Christ she feels good, her nipples hardening in the chill air, her body heat warming my now exposed chest.  I trace my thumb along her jawline, our faces an inch apart, eyes still locked.

Then I ask, bluntly, “So, you got a sleeping bag or what, it’s fucking freezing out here.”

Rosalyn laughs so loud I swear every animal in a five mile radius probably jumps out of its skin.  My question shattered the romantic tension of the moment, but that’s precisely what I wanted.  Rosalyn is an intense woman at times, and that laugh was all she needed to let herself go.  She grabs my shoulders and bodily flings me toward the open tent (damn she’s strong!), and I fall onto a very thin, simple bedroll.  She practically pounces on me, not going for my mouth, but my neck and collar, kissing and nibbling and goddamn biting me hard enough to make me yelp.  We frantically tug at each other’s pants, but our arms are tangled.  She growls and moves off of me, almost glaring at me as she tugs her pants down to her knees.  I notice that she doesn’t shave–this is somehow fitting–but I get distracted as she tries pulling the pants off over her shoes and falls over onto me.  I’ve already removed mine (shoes also–I’m a professional here), and she tumbles over onto my groin, her shoulder jamming into my crotch.

I grunt and gasp at the pain, but that is quickly replaced as she grabs my length in one hand and immediately takes so much of me into her mouth that I ram the back of her throat.  She’s not terribly skilled, and her teeth graze me more than once, but I’m so absorbed in the moment that I don’t notice she’s finally maneuvered out of her shoes and pants.  But I do notice when her mouth pivots around my cock and she lays on top of me, straddling my face.  Her hair itches my face and nose, which might otherwise bother me, but not today.  I wrap my arms around her hips to grab her ass, steadying her, and press my tongue firmly against her clit, drawing it slowly but heavily up (down?) the length of her lips.  I feel more than hear her groan around me, and I repeat the motion, steadily lapping at her, every stroke eliciting another vibration as she moans, another downward grind of her hips against my face.  When she begins to rock her hips harder, I focus my attention on her clit, teasing her lips with my fingertip, then sliding it into her to massage the rough but oh-so-sensitive spot inside her.  I thought this would take a while, but I was wrong.  She immediately bucks, chokes, shivers, then releases me from her mouth as she cries out softly, muffling the sound by fucking biting my inner thigh (GODDAMMIT OW).

We hold that position for a moment before she suddenly jerks away from me with a laugh and a cough.  I watch as she slides down my stomach as far as the tent will permit, straddling my stomach now, unable to reach my groin.  I sit up and hoist her off of me, holding her hips in the air as I rise to my knees again, sitting on my heels, knees spread far apart to keep my head low.  I drop her hips down toward me, and she has to practically lay on her stomach to get low enough to align her pelvis with mine.  But the moment she’s found the right position, I press myself against her with my left hand and pull her hips back with my right, driving as deep into her as I can.  I hear her cry out again, the sound muffled now by the bedroll instead of my (likely bleeding) leg, and we fuck, literally and figuratively, like animals.  I pull her head back by her hair, making her gasp and groan.  She slams her body back to almost painfully meet every forward thrust.  She reaches back and tries to grab my arm, scratching and clawing at me, drawing blood (OW NOT FUCKING AGAIN).

We fuck with an intensity I’ve rarely matched before or since, until my body begins to tense and my breath catches.  She must sense this, because she gasps out, “Not in me!”  I barely have time for this to process before I pull back and away from her.  I can’t believe how quickly she turns around, still on her knees and elbows, taking me back into her mouth and not sucking, just rolling her tongue around me as she digs her nails into my chest.  The combination of intense pleasure and incredible pain is too much, and I grab her ponytail, holding her face against me, trying to not choke her but making sure to keep her steady as I explode.  I hear her stop breathing, and her tongue only barely massages the underside of the head as she carries me through my orgasm.  Now I have to pull away, the sensation too much to bear.  I expect her to spit, but instead she starts laughing again, deliriously so, her mouth empty.

“You fucking swallow too,” I say, shocked.

“Of course!  What’s the point if you don’t swallow?”  Rosalyn laughs, and we fall flat onto the bedroll, her head on my chest, beside the scratch marks.  The sharp hiss of sucking air fills the tent.  “Oh man, sorry about that.”  She leans in and begins kissing the scratch marks, surprisingly gentle given her behavior a moment before.

“It’s okay,” I lie.  In reality, I’m suddenly hoping they heal before I go back home to Ashley in a week and a half.  But I only have a moment to consider the implications of returning home with deep scratches down my chest before Rosalyn looks up at me, her eyes practically gleaming as she kisses down the scratch, down my stomach, using my own locked gaze trick against me.

Fuck.  It’s going to be a long fucking night.

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7 Comments

  1. Wow! A bit of wild in the wilderness! Love your detailed descriptions!
    Hope the cuts heal…

    • They did mostly, and well before I went home, thanks to the generous and frequent application of neosporin. The bite on my leg, though, took slightly longer to fix, but given the infrequency with which we have sex, Ashley never saw it. There’s actually a feint scar there now, the outline of two incisors. Permanently marked.

      And that was the day I made a rule: NO MARKS EVER.

      • Teeth are exceptionally sore as well – especially if you’re not into that sort of thing… ; )

      • Can’t say that I am. Light nibbling, sure, but full-on bite the hell out of someone? Nah, not my cup of tea. Not that I would ever tell a woman to stop doing it, mind you. Best to keep your immediate sexual partner happy to keep the sex good.

  2. You do us no favors by shortening your words. I always want more.

    This was rich and gorgeous, Bi, and one of my fantasies I’d long forgotten. Mmm. Thank you.

    • Awww shucks, you’re making me blush. 😉 The hard forest floor and occasional stone make it a real pain at times, but I have to admit, there’s something incredibly erotic about fucking in the great outdoors. Maybe it’s the realization that anyone could stumble along and catch you. Or maybe it’s just the freedom of being unconfined, of doing things in unconventional places. I dunno. Either way, it’s sexy as all getout.

      • I also get off on the naturalness of it. It’s been at least a decade since I fucked in the woods and I can still remember the feel of tree bark on my back.


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