Adventurous Me

by Deanndra Hall

  “Come on. It’s not that bad.” I’m stumbling and tripping over roots and branches and all kinds of crap. I’m not much of an outdoor girl, and this is freaking me out a little.

  We’ve been hiking for about an hour when I hear him say, “Aw, yeah! This is the place!” When I come out of the tree line, I gasp.

  We’re on a bluff above a huge lake. I might’ve hated the hike, but the view is breathtaking. The water is blue and the sky is too, filled with fluffy little clouds. Everywhere there’s green, the trees, the grass, the edges of the water where the algae and stuff grows. It’s gorgeous, and we’re up in the air about eighty feet. “So what are we doing here, Sir?” I ask, unable to understand why we’d hike all the way out here just to look at a lake.

  What the hell is wrong with me? I must be a special kind of stupid. I realize that when he tells me what to do.

  “Take off everything. Then go and stand against that tree and look at me.” He points to a tree that looks kind of, I don’t know, rough? Scratchy? I undress and stand with my back against it. It’s even scratchier than it appears, and its surface digs into my skin in an oddly exciting kind of way.

  Once I undress and turn toward him, I’m rewarded with my own version of the greatest show on earth. He unbuckles his belt, then unbuttons his jeans and unzips them. Once they’re undone, he pulls them down about twelve inches, then reaches up for the waistband of his boxer briefs. He pulls them down to meet the jeans, and his cock is free and pointing straight at me. It’s glorious out there in the sun, a shiny little drop crowning its tip, and I want to lick it so badly that I can hardly stand it. He walks toward me, his hand wrapped around his shaft as he pumps it in a slow stroking rhythm, tormenting me.

  “Sir, I . . .”

  “Want it, Vännan? It’s waiting for you. Will you suck it here? In the wide open? It wants your mouth on it, little one.”

  “Yes, Sir. I want to suck it, Sir. Please?” I can’t believe I’m begging, but it’s so beautiful that I think I’ll die if it’s not somewhere in my body pretty soon.

  “Come over here and kneel. Take it in.” I practically run to him and drop to my knees in front of the cock I’ve grown to enjoy worshipping. I run my tongue up and down its length, then suck his balls before using my tongue again, and the rocks and sticks and leaves under my knees only add to the wildness I feel taking hold of me. He groans and wraps his fingers in my hair, and I know he’s getting ready to slam down into my throat. But this time I’m wrong.

  “Love my cock, Vännan. Love it with your lips, with your tongue. Make love to my cock, sweet baby. I want to feel you enjoying it.” When my mouth goes down over its length he groans, and the sound pushes me across the line and into bliss.

  I suck and lick, take it down deep, then suck and lick again, over and over. He’s standing very still, and I wrap my arms around his thighs, then run them up and onto his ass, and he moans out, “God, those beautiful lips. They’re swollen and blood red. Oh, baby, love my dick. It loves your mouth.” His head is thrown back, eyes closed and face raised to the sun, and he’s gorgeous, every inch of him. I take it very slow. I want it to last, for him to enjoy it as long as possible, and he seems to want the same thing.

  I work on it for a long, long time, and watch as I suck it over and over and it gets bigger and harder and darker. I can feel the blood vessels in its length pulsing on my tongue. He’s still standing rigid as a statue, letting me take him in and out of my lips, my teeth raking the head occasionally, and then he says, “Vännan, I want to come so I can fuck you. I know you want it too. Make me come, baby. Make me cry out.”

  I double my efforts, then start to actually stroke my throat down onto his shaft, the velvet head of his dick striking the soft back of my palate and wringing juices from my cunt with every slam. I go faster and deeper, then add a twisting motion at the base of his shaft with my hand, and he groans deep in his throat. With that, I feel it get more rigid and thick and my mouth is full of his seed, hot and bitter and creamy. I drink it all down as he cries out, “Oh, fuck! Oh my god, oh my god, ahhhhhhh.” Hands in my hair, he holds my face down on his length, the bulbous head stuck down my throat, and I can’t breathe but I don’t care. I need him in me, anywhere I can get him.

  When he pulls me off he points, “Over there on that rock. On your back. I want to fuck you for the whole world to see.” Once I’m in place, he kneels beside the huge slab and buries his face in my slit, his tongue raking here and there, making me squeal and writhe.

  Once he’s pretty sure I’m crazed, he sinks his swollen shaft into me and I scream out, “Oh, god, Sir, fuck me! I need your cock, Sir!” He proceeds to do just that, ramming me over and over as we couple there, enjoying each other in the sunlight and breeze.

  I hear a sound and look up to see a group of hikers, three men, watching us from the trail. I try to tell Master, but he’s engrossed. Then he surprises me – apparently he’d already noticed them. “If you want to gawk,” he pants out, “get on out here and watch me fuck her.”

  To my surprise, two of them turn away, but one walks right out and watches Clint fuck me there in the open air. Once he’s become bold, the other two follow suit. I look up at Clint, mortified, but he looks down into my eyes and says, “Vännan, the only man here who’s any of your concern is me. If you’re pleasing me, that’s all that matters.”

  “Are you pleased, Sir?” I smile up at him.

  He smiles back down at me. Finally! “Yes, Vännan. I’m very, very pleased. Your pussy feels so incredible, and I love the fact that we’re being watched.” The only thing going through my mind is I made him smile! That’s my biggest accomplishment of the day.

  The guys continue to watch until we both come, and then he finger fucks me until I squirt. They seem to enjoy that, then they head back onto the trail. One of them is polite enough to call back, “Thanks for the show!” Clint starts to laugh, and then I do too.

  “I have to ask, Sir, did you set that up too?” I’m pretty sure he did.

  To my surprise, he says, “No. I’ve been here hundreds of times and I’ve never seen another soul here. Wouldn’t you know?” He pulls me up off the rock, sits down on it, and holds me in his lap. “Did you enjoy this, Vännan?”

  “Very much, Sir. I’m not much of an outdoors girl, but this was, well, over-the-top sexy. I love the feel of the sun and breeze on my bare skin.”

  “I love the look of the sun on your bare skin! And I enjoyed knowing that someone else watched me satisfy you. Ready to go back?”

  Even though I don’t really want it to end, I say, “I guess so.” I lay my head over on his shoulder and he surprises me by kissing my cheek.

  “Come on. I saw a place that has ice cream on our way. Want some?” he asks, setting me down and standing beside me.

  “Only if I can rub it on your cock and lick it off, Sir,” I grin.

  He grins back. “I’m sure we can work something out!”

  Not only do I rub it on his cock and lick it off, he drips it onto my cunt and does some licking of his own. We do it in the car like a couple of horny teenagers, and we giggle and laugh the whole time. When we’re done we’re a sticky mess, but we’ve had fun.

  When we get back to the house, I put my hand on his where it rests on the steering wheel before he can get out. “Sir, I just want you to know that I had a lot of fun today. Thanks for showing me a good time.”

  He leans over and kisses my forehead. “You know, I had fun too, the most fun I’ve had in a long, long time.” Then he comes around to open my car door and we go in the house, where I’m pretty sure he’ll fuck me all night long.

  At least I’m hoping so.

  The bliss is short-lived. On Saturday afternoon apparently I commit another faux pas. When he comes into the living room to watch the ballgame, I’m kneeling on the floor in my spot. The first words out of his mouth are, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  My eyes go round. “What, Sir? I don’t know . . .”
>
  “Your hair. Why did you do that?”

  I just pulled it up into a ponytail after I washed it. I thought it would be nice, since it didn’t appear we were going anywhere, and it would keep it out of the way. “Uh, Sir, I . . .”

  “I thought you understood that it belongs to me. I don’t want it tied up. I like it down. Go back there, take it down, brush it out, and get back out here. Pronto.” I take off at a run, or as much of one as I can manage in heels, and do as he says. Then I come back out and drop back into my spot. I thought that settled it.

  It did not.

  He disappears and comes back with a pair of nipple clamps in his hand. “Stand in front of me and arch your back. Put your arms behind you and grab each elbow with the opposite hand.” When I do, my boobs stick out and my nipples are front and center. He twists and sucks one until it’s hard, then puts the clamp on it, and repeats with the other. Once they’re on, he starts to turn a little screw device on them and they get tighter and tighter until tears are running down my cheeks. Then he grabs the chain and pulls me across the room.

  When we get to the front door, I wonder if he’s going to lead me out onto the porch naked, but he doesn’t. Instead, he twists a loop into the chain and pulls it down, looping it over the doorknob. “You’ll stay there until I tell you that you can move. And keep your arms behind your back.”

  It takes about fifteen seconds for the position to get uncomfortable, and less than two minutes for it to become unbearable. It wouldn’t be so bad if I could use my hands to brace myself, but I can’t; they’re still behind me. It’s becoming hard to stay upright on the heels when I’m bent over so far, but I know if I fall the clamps will probably rip my nipples right off.

  He watches the first inning. Then the second inning. I can’t believe I’d still be standing by the end of the third inning, but I am. Halfway through the fourth I’m beginning to think I won’t be able to stand it another minute when he says, “Unloop the chain from the door and come over here.” I do as he says and totter to him, still somewhat bent over and tears streaming down my face.

  “Here we go,” he says and pulls off the first clamp. The agony makes me lightheaded. I’m panting and screaming when he pulls off the second one, and I stumble and almost fall from the pain, but he catches me. “Now you can kneel.” That’s all he says, and he goes back to watching the game as though nothing has happened.

  I look down at my nipples. They’re purple and swollen, and they have little ridges in them where the clamps were. I desperately want him to suck on them, lick them, make them feel better, but he just keeps watching TV. At the end of the fifth inning he asks, “Still hurting?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I whine.

  “You can reach them with your mouth, can’t you?” he asks.

  I nod. “Yes, they’re big enough that I can, Sir.”

  “Suck and lick them yourself. And do it so erotically that I can’t watch TV for watching you.”

  I start. At first I’m just flicking at them with my tongue, but then I start to actually suck them. They sag just enough that I can bring them up and capture them between my lips – hey, gravity is not my friend, okay? At first, he’s paying absolutely no attention to me. As I suck one, I lick it, and I moan a little.

  That gets his attention, and he unzips his jeans, pulls his briefs down under his balls, and starts to stroke his cock. I want to suck it so bad that I can’t stand it, but he hasn’t told me that I can, so I keep it up with my nipples. After a little while I draw them down, then roll and pinch them with my thumb and fingers. I pull on them individually a couple of times, then at the same time, then go back to sucking them, and I watch him start to stroke faster. A little groan escapes his lips and he rubs his palm around the suede-soft head of his dick, then goes back to stroking. I’m getting hot and wet watching him, and he’s getting hot and hard watching me, and we’re driving ourselves crazy watching each other. I take a chance.

  “Sir, I’d love to suck your cock.”

  “I’m sure you would, but I want you to watch me pleasure myself instead. Does it arouse you to see me do this?”

  “Yes, Sir. It’s very, very hot.” I pause, then I say, “You’re very, very hot, Sir.”

  “Thank you, Vännan. You’re pretty damn hot yourself. Bring those tits over here, baby.” I crawl in between his legs and lean in, and he squeezes my breasts together and slips his cock between them. In a matter of seconds he’s tit-fucking me like crazy and I’m still playing with my nipples. Watching me makes him frantic and he’s thrusting like crazy. He cries out, “Oh, god, Trish, oh, fuck!” and shoots cum up under my chin, where it runs down all over my chest. When he stops panting, he looks down at my chest and smiles, then runs his finger through his cream and sticks it in my mouth. I give his finger a hard suck and he repeats the action, watching me with sparkling eyes while I suck his finger over and over until I’ve taken in almost all of his cum. “You’d lick it off your chest if you could reach it, wouldn’t you, Vännan?”

  “Yes, Sir, I would,” I say, blushing a little and looking away.

  In a flash his hands are on my waist, pushing me down onto the carpet, and he’s in me and pumping like a maniac before I can even brace myself. My legs come up and around his waist, and he squeezes the flesh of my ass in his hands as he drives into me, his palms searing my skin, the ballgame forgotten in his frenzy to take me. “Reach between us and stroke yourself, baby. Make yourself come.” I don’t need to be told twice, and I start stroking my hard little nub and crying out, grinding against him with every thrust of his hips.

  I finally scream out as I convulse, my cunt banging into his pelvis as he continues to slam into me, and he cries out, “Oh, fuck me!” I can’t believe there could still be a drop of cum in him, but it shoots into me and runs back out as he continues to milk himself into me.

  When he drops on top of me, his lips find my ear. “You are without a doubt the most precious, delectable fuck I’ve ever had,” he whispers, nibbling at my earlobe, and I giggle. “Do I do it for you, little one? How do you feel when I fuck you, baby?”

  “Like I can’t get enough. Like you fill me up in ways no one else ever has. Like I don’t want it to end, Sir.” I want to say, Like I’m falling for you, but I don’t.

  “Then we’re on the same page,” he whispers back to me, and I feel something in my chest, something that makes me feel like a fifteen-year-old girl.

  And I like it.

  Chapter 7

  Thursday passes without me getting myself into any of that trouble, you know, the kind that I seem to not know I’m getting into until I’m already there. Clint winds up having to do some work and, bless his heart, he falls asleep with his laptop in his lap, leaning over on the sofa. I wake him so he can go to bed; I just quietly say, “Sir. Sir, please, wake up and go to your bed. You’re going to hurt in the morning if you don’t.” He takes me by the hand and leads me down the hallway to his room. We have sex, a calm, peaceful thing, then he promptly falls asleep. I’m not sure if he wants me there or not, but I’m afraid to get up and leave, so I just stay there with him. The next morning he wakes hard as flint, his head resting on my chest and my arms tight around him, and he seems glad to find that I’m still there. So it goes pretty well, all things considered.

  Friday I’m not so lucky.

  I keep thinking about the date. It seems like there’s something I’ve got to do or somewhere I’ve got to go, but I can’t remember what, and my planner is at home. Around ten that morning, after Clint’s gone to meet with a client, I suddenly remember: I’ve got a doctor’s appointment. Not just any doctor’s appointment, but an appointment with a gynecologist it’s taken me four months to get in to see. I’ve got to be there. And I have no car.

  I try to call Clint, but he doesn’t answer his phone. I’m frantic. By eleven, I don’t know what to do so, since I’m ready to go, I call a cab. I make it there with ten minutes to spare and check in.

  The appointment was at eleven
forty-five. At one o’clock, I’m still waiting. Two o’clock comes and goes, and still nothing. I’m not the only one sitting around either. There’s a whole waiting room full of patients, all sitting there for hours.

  Sometime shortly after three, I get a text from Ron.

  hey y is there a charge on my cc 4 over 2c at fet wearhouse? wtf?

  Clothes for my adventure, dickwad.

  y should i pay for that?

  Maybe because I worked to put you through college, asshat.

  im calling my attorney skanky bitch

  Community property state, ball licker. Suck on that. Now leave me tf alone. That should take care of his questions.

  By four o’clock, I’m beginning to think this appointment isn’t going to happen. At four fifty, they finally call my name. I see the sign on the door that reads “All cell phones turned off past this point,” so I turn mine off. In the exam room I take off my clothes, put on the paper dress, and wait.

  At six ten the doctor finally comes in. She apologizes profusely; she had a baby to deliver and there were complications. By now I’m no longer upset that I’ve had to wait so long. Instead, I’m upset that Clint will be home and I won’t be there, and I don’t know what will happen when I do get there.

  I finally get out of there at six forty-three. I have two missed calls from Clint, and I try to call him, but he doesn’t answer. I made the woman at the window in the doctor’s office sign the receipt saying I was there until six forty so I have proof of where I was. The lights are on when I get to the house, and I gingerly step through the doorway, wondering what manner of hell is about to descend on me.

  Clint is in the kitchen, making something that smells delicious. When I come in, I’m about to cry. He turns and asks, “So where have you been?” He doesn’t seem angry, and I’m relieved.