by Liz K. Lorde
“I’ve seen her a few times, but I’m not sure if Boss has.”
Emma nods.
“Dylan,” she starts and stops again.
I hold my finger over her mouth. Then I lean forward and press my lips against hers. At first I’m gentle, but soon I’m driven by an insatiable hunger and I want more. My tongue forces entry into her mouth and reaches down to her tonsils.
Emma doesn’t push me away but returns my kiss.
Possessed, we cling to each other and kiss as if this is the last time we’re ever going to fucking kiss.
When I pull back, I’m breathing hard and fast. Without looking down, I know there’s a massive bulge in my pants. I can feel my cock pulsing and trying to burst through material.
Emma is about as turned on as me. Through her flimsy camouflage material, I can see her hard nipples.
A howl has us move apart.
“What the fuck?”
Boss is headed back toward us. He’s thrown his head back and howling as if he’s in pain.
“He wants our permission,” says Emma.
The big bear hovers at the bottom of the veranda.
“Well, let’s give it to him.” I take Emma by the hand. We walk down the stairs.
Boss stands there, hovering and unsure.
“Hey, buddy.” I ruffle the fur on the back of his neck. “It’s time, my friend. Time you go and hang out with your own kind.”
The bear licks my face and Emma giggles.
“Go, Boss.” She now tells him and gives him a hug. “I’m pleased I came back on the day you left. I hope you’ll be happy with this gorgeous girl waiting for you in the woods.”
As if these were the words he’s been waiting for, Boss turns and gallops off.
“I’m going to miss ya, buddy.” I wave after him.
Is this a fucking tear rolling down my cheek? Fucking can’t be, it’s only a fucking bear.
“You ok?”
Emma takes my hand and looks me in the eyes.
I nod. There’s a huge lump in my throat.
My eyes move away from the disappearing bear and fix on Emma. Fuck, she looks hot. She’s dressed in green camouflage tights and matching top. Her hair is tied up, and she’s wearing no make-up.
“You look good,” I start and shake my head. “What am I saying? You look amazing.”
She laughs and wraps her arms around me.
“I thought I could start a new clothing brand. Something along the lines of Mountain Girl Range.”
I shake my head.
Before we take the steps back up the veranda, I stop and look back into the woods. The two bears are gone.
“He’ll be alright,” Emma assures me, and I nod.
Of course he’ll be alright, but I’m still going to miss him. I’d never thought I’d get attached to a fucking bear. And what about you?” I ask and open the door to my rebuilt cabin.
Emma hesitates.
“I…I,” she stutters, and I lift her up to carry her inside.
“Would you like a tour of the new cabin?”
“Built by you?”
I nod. “Boss helped.”
I shut the door and lower her to the ground.
Her hands rest on my back. Mine find her shirt and pull it up over her head.
“How about we christen the new place?” I murmur as I lean in to kiss her.
Emma
I’m giggling at nothing. I think it’s because I’m happy.
And get this: Dylan’s giggling, too. For this specimen of rugged masculinity to be snickering away like a schoolgirl on a sugar rush, he must be really happy.
“I feel like we’ve done this a million times already,” I say between chortles as we climb the stairs together.
“Done what?”
“Just…this. This whole routine—walking up the stairs, walking into the bedroom…”
“But, this is our first time doing any of that.” Dylan lets loose with a deep guffaw. “I’ve barely done any of that at this place.”
“I know.” I look down at the floor—it’s pine flooring, of course—and blush slightly as we reach the top of the stairs.
I stop walking, and so does Dylan. He lays a brawny, gentle hand on my shoulder, and I’m instantly tingly—not just where Dylan’s touching me, but all over.
I miss this feeling. It’s like slipping into my favorite sweater on the first chilly day of autumn.
Only this is way fucking better, because I’m looking at those chocolate eyes, and they’re gazing back at me with endless adoration, and I’m seriously about to liquefy right into the softwood floor.
“Why does it seem like we’ve done this a million times?” Dylan has a genuine curiosity in his voice and a genuine warmth in his smile.
It’s not the kind of smile I see very often back in Manhattan.
“I don’t know. It just feels…familiar. And comfortable—like something we’ve done a million times, even if this is the first time.”
“Maybe you can see into the future.”
There’s something new in Dylan’s eyes—a sparkle.
I look down again, because I may actually liquefy, and I remember that Dylan already freed me from my top.
The new cabin christening is well underway already. Dylan’s arms surround me in a cozy hug.
“I can maybe see the near future.”
My head is resting on Dylan’s chest as we sway softly, like trees in a gentle breeze.
“Oh? How near? Like the next couple of hours?”
“That sounds about right.”
“Can you tell me what happens?”
“Hmm. I’ll try.” I shut my eyes, pretending to concentrate. “Oh. Oh, my. Psychic visions aren’t usually this explicit.”
“It’s okay, don’t be bashful.”
“Well, okay. I see a guy, I can’t really see his face or anything, but he’s wearing flannel…and now he’s taking it off. Hoo, boy! That is one massive, beautiful cock he’s got…”
“You can’t tell who it is?”
“Well, there’s a woman there. She’s very stylish, and very lucky, from what I can tell.”
“She sounds fucking hot.”
“Hey!” I back away from Dylan, looking up at him with faux-indignation.
“We’re talking about you, right?”
Dylan and I lapse back into our laughing fit, punctuated by a little kiss.
Well, it starts with a little kiss, but that leads to us locking our lips hungrily, our tongues dancing and battling for a hot minute until that tingling returns strongly throughout my bottom half.
“I don’t know that for sure,” I say after our lips finally stop for a rest.
“You don’t know what for sure?”
“I…fuck, I forgot.”
“You’re so fucking hot.”
“I know.” I shrug. “So are you.”
Our lips meet again, refusing to stay apart any longer. Our tongues enjoy the same contentious relationship—wandering, wrestling, flailing around each other’s mouths thoughtlessly.
By the time we stop for another rest, we’re both breathing fast and heavy.
We laugh at nothing again for a second, and then my right hand starts wandering.
I can’t help myself. My eyes are on Dylan’s crotch, and my fingertips are running lightly up and down the crotch of his jeans, roaming teasingly up to his belt buckle and back.
Dylan undoes my bra expertly with one hand as I stare at his crotch with wide-eyed wonder.
I know it’s right there, and that moment when his colossal cock pops straight out from under those layers of fabric is coming. It’s imminent.
Holy shit, the anticipation is driving me insane. I’m about to come just thinking about it. I’m already so far beyond soaking wet, it’s absurd.
“We’re both hot, I guess,” whispers Dylan. “Let’s go to bed.”
“Okay,” I say, distracted by daydreams of that rock-hard duck.
Even after Dylan picks me up agai
n and starts carrying me into the bedroom, I’m still mainly thinking about things soon to come.
As far as I’m concerned, they can’t come soon enough.
The new bedroom is airy and spacious, with few furnishings besides the king-sized bed.
Dylan deposits me gently on the sheets, and I sink slightly into the soft, foam mattress.
Dylan climbs onto the bed next to me and instantly let’s his fingers explore my body.
“What are you thinking about?” Dylan asks while kissing my shoulder, with clear intentions to move down to my left breast.
“Things to come.”
Dylan kisses my breast before lightly stimulating my nipple with his fingertips.
“Not yet,” he responds.
Yeah, I’m still thinking about Dylan’s cock, but as soon as I feel his fingers playing around the waist of my tights I get a tiny, anticipatory wave of ecstatic pleasure.
That focuses me, and I pull down my tights and panties in one fell swoop. Dylan’s fingers stay in the area, moving up and down my left leg slowly, gradually narrowing down the area around my inner leg, then moving in even closer…
I shift my legs away from each other, opening up my thighs and maybe speeding things up a little, since my pussy is now aching for Dylan’s touch.
Dylan takes the hint. His forefinger starts roaming around my wet, throbbing pussy. His touch is delicate, but I immediately start wriggling around on the sheets.
“Oof,”
Just as Dylan turns up the intensity with his finger, he stops abruptly.
“Hey! What the fu…”
Dylan’s tongue on my pussy stops the words dead in my throat.
I can’t stop the moans from escaping me. Dylan’s not teasing this time, drawing out the process or building towards it.
He’s just there, now, where I need him to be.
Dylan does a slightly off-center lick up my lips, and then spirals his tongue around in what is some sort of secret ancient code that’s making me writhe and speak in tongues.
When Dylan slows down to a near-stop, and I fear he’s about to take away his masterful tongue entirely, I grab the back of his head with both my fucking hands as a friendly reminder that I’m still enjoying this.
Again, Dylan gets the hint. His tongue keeps sliding around in all kinds of whirls and eddies, patterns that may or may not have any sort of rhyme or reason, but all scratch the itch of my boundless wanting the way nothing else can.
This time, when Dylan slows down, I slow down with him, and my breathing slows even as my heart speeds with exhilaration.
I’m surrounded by the warm glow as torrents of bliss cascade through me and around me.
I’m still reveling in the heavenly haze of the day’s first orgasm when I spot those chocolate eyes, no longer hard at work between my legs, but resting near me, on the pillow next to where I am.
“So,” Dylan begins. “What are you thinking about now?”
“Things to come, still.”
“Still? After that?”
I twist onto my side to face Dylan, realizing I’ll need to be a bit clearer.
“Things to come, still, out of your jeans.”
“Are you ready for that.” Dylan’s smiling, his answer is immediate.
He knows what he’s doing.
“That massive cock cannot be comfortable so constricted in all that denim. Come on, aren’t you hard?”
“Am I hard?”
Dylan’s incredulous. I’m striking the right chords.
He stands up on the bed, giving me the best seat in the house for the best show in the world—the unveiling of Dylan’s monstrous mountain cock.
If I needed proof that Dylan was actually hard, my vantage point is providing all the proof I need—that bulge is massive.
I don’t say a word about that, though. I just lie back, relax, and wait for the best part of the show.
Dylan starts undoing his belt buckle.
Then he stops.
“Wait a second…”
“Come on, Dylan. Don’t fucking stop now. I’m not waiting a second…”
“Why don’t you come here and see for yourself.”
Some people want all the work done for them, I guess.
I accept the invitation to take matters into my own hands. I jump into action, sending ripples across the mattress as I stand.
Dylan keeps his balance, staying as still and solid as a fucking anchor.
With my first step I almost topple over, but Dylan catches me, and my hands flat on his abs.
Regaining my balance, I let my palms slide to his belt, and I maintain fierce eye contact while undoing his belt buckle.
With that out of the way, I keep my eyes on the prize, running my fingers once more over that protruding bulge.
I undo the top button of Dylan’s jeans easily, and I finally make my way to the zipper.
It’s time to see that fucking cock again.
Dylan
“Take your fucking time,” I say, kind of making fun of myself.
I still remember that first time, when I kept telling Emma not to hurry. Well, this time she’s sure acting like she’s in a hurry, anxiously, almost shaking, fussing with the zipper on my jeans.
Newton’s laws apply to bras and zippers. Whenever you’re in fucking need to get them open quickly, they fucking don’t cooperate.
“Oh, I’ll take my fucking time.” Emma finally gets my fly open with a satisfying zip, and giggles with excitement as she undoes the button. “This is how I take my fucking time.”
Watching Emma’s now steady and assured fingers reach into the waistband of my boxers, I start to honestly consider if it’s medically possible for my dick to get any harder than it already is. It’s been dying to tear out of this flimsy layer of denim since we shared that first kiss outside.
Outside, where I had to say goodbye to Boss…
Okay, I guess thinking about Boss is going to be like thinking about baseball for me—a tool I can use to calm the fuck down when things get too heated in this new cabin bedroom we’re in the midst of christening.
“Or, we can fucking hurry, it’s all the same to me. But you can just pull that shit down—they’re just my jeans, my shitty fucking clothes.”
Emma’s cheeks are flushed, making her look radiant and ravishing. No foundation that’s ever been on the fucking market could ever hope to compete. Her vast, alluring eyes are open wide with sheer enthusiasm, making them even more vast and alluring than usual.
I keep forgetting how this is all still new to Emma. As I’ve told her, she’s a natural. Also, her excitement is contagious.
Not that it’s not plenty exciting just being with Emma as it is, but seeing her lustily eyeing the exact spot where my dick is soon to emerge—I’ll just say that it doesn’t hurt my already ample excitement.
“Fuck, just get down already!”
Yes, Emma is yelling at my pants, and they do as they’re told. As my stupid jeans and boxer shorts finally acquiesce, my vigorously erect cock flies out and up, finally settling in its natural position of pointing straight up at an almost perfect angle.
I’ve done a pretty fucking good job maintaining my balance standing up on this bed so far, but my weighty cock suddenly shifting its position starts to throw me off. I nearly fall over when Emma abruptly grabs my shaft with both hands, but her tight grip somehow helps me maintain my position.
Emma drops down into a kneel, almost slamming her forehead into me. Before I can even grasp what’s happening, her tongue starts slithering around my shaft, starting around the base but rapidly moving up, down, around, and pretty much every-fucking-where.
It’s a beautiful, blissful chaos.
I’m trying to stay as still as a goddamn gargoyle, but Emma’s genius use of her tongue is leaving me wobbly and in danger of toppling over like a felled oak tree.
I want to leave Emma to her work, and there’s nothing around to grab onto for balance. When Emma begins sliding my dick into
her mouth, the situation becomes critical.
I extend my arms like a fucking tightrope walker. Emma is doing some sort of sorcery with her tongue and her lips, and now it’s like I’m on a surfboard or some shit, listing slightly from one side to the other, but staying upright at all costs.
I don’t even know what Emma’s doing when I finally throw my arms up in the air. I give up on the idea of concentrating on anything except the white-hot, all-encompassing ocean of bodily bliss taking over my consciousness.
“Fuck!” I yell unwittingly as cum gushes out all over the goddamn place.
The climax hits my entire body like a tidal wave, and even after coming I’m still helpless against the weight of it.
Fuck, I’m gonna fall, but I don’t give a shit because that was fucking amazing.
“Timber!” yells Emma as I tumble like a tree onto my left side.
The tidal wave leaves me and I join reality as I lie across the bed. Emma gives me some support by tumbling down right next to me.
“So…” she says.
“So, you are a magician, Emma. A mountain magician.”
“Am I?”
“There’s no other explanation for it.”
“‘Mountain magician.’ Is that even a fucking thing?”
“It is now. And I think you coined that phrase, so…”
“So…”
There’s that fucking fire again. I see it in Emma’s eyes, and I know it’s in mine.
It’s like the more we satisfy each other, the more ravenous we become.
Hey, I’m not complaining.
“So, I want to make you come, Emma. Again.”
“Yes. Do that. And there is a fucking hurry, because I want to come again like right fucking now.”
I kiss Emma’s tits fervently and leave the usual trail of kisses going down to her belly button, and then down further.
“Oooh, hurrrrry,” Emma wails as I get to the top of her lips.
Emma’s certainly in a hurry. Her pussy is as wet as I’ve ever seen it—and that’s saying something.
The sight of her so ready—so aroused that she’s soaking the sheets and the mattress—has my cock right back to being harder than a piece of petrified wood.
I move my lips just close enough to her fully ready clit and labia for her to perceive my presence, and I stay perfectly still as she wails again—wordlessly this time.