Page 45 of This Time Around

“Precisely why I wanted to come back here. I have great luck here.” I laugh.

Blake and I spend the next hour setting up our tent, settling all our belongings, and getting the food out of the coolers. It all goes much quicker than last time because tonight we will be sharing a tent. Knowing neither of us would want to cook, I went to the market and made a charcuterie board with a variety of meats, cheeses, crackers, fruits, and relishes. I also grabbed a bottle of apple whisky, some ginger ale and limes, the ingredients for Blake’s favorite drink. I start a fire while Blake mixes us up some drinks, and we settle in on an oversized camping chair for two I splurged on for this very occasion.

“Adult lunchable, whisky and a camping couch, damn I should have been going after old guys all along. Age really does make you wiser,” she laughs, handing me my drink.

“You’re such a brat sometimes,” I tease, taking my drink and pulling her onto my lap.

“Oh, you have no idea just how bratty I can be.” She nips my earlobe with a playful bite.

I hiss and pull her in closer. “Maybe I should remind you what happens when you act this way.”

“Please, remind me. I wouldn’t want to make you mad,” she says in a sardonic tone.

Without warning, I pick her up, and turn her so she is facing the new camping chair and wrap my hand around her throat from behind. “Spread your legs and put your hands on the back of the chair.”

Without question, she does as I say. She leans far over the seat of the chair so her hands sit on the backrest, the position extenuating the curves of her ass in her tight shorts. I had an outfit picked out for her when she got home, my favorite jean shorts, a tank top which shows the perfect amount of cleavage, and a hat. I let her pick the shoes.

I run my hands up her inner right thigh, and then back down the left with my face close enough to smell her arousal. Her breath hitches when my lips press to her skin, little red marks left behind from my beard. Beard rash between her legs is my fucking favorite. I kiss her legs as my arms snake around her body and unbutton her shorts. Methodically, I pull them down and immediately notice a pair of emerald panties, ones I am sure I have never seen before. “What’s this?” I ask, snapping the lacy fabric against her porcelain skin.

She deliberately turns, throwing her hat on the chair and peeling the tank top off over her head. My mouth goes dry when I see a matching bra perfectly cupping each breast, showing her perfect nipples below the lace fabric. I look down at her body, and Blake is pure perfection, like always, but this lingerie set, fuck me, it frames her features perfectly, as if made only for her. The glow of the fire cascades across her skin, accentuating each curve, the emerald green a beautiful contrast to her red hair as it hangs in waves.

“Baby, this is, Fuck!” I kiss every inch of her body, not knowing where to start. “Spread your legs and bend back over so I can appreciate your body in this fucking thing,” I continue, running my hand over my erection in my pants.

“So bossy,” she teases.

“You have no idea just how bossy I can be.”

I continue to kiss her body until I reach the bottom of her ass where her cheeks meet her legs. When I find myself in the perfect viewpoint, I slide her panties to the side, exposing her lips dripping for me, and the puckered hole of her perfect ass. Gently, I run my thumb over the opening and she flinches but doesn’t protest, so I circle it one more time. “One day, this ass will be mine,” I promise as I work my way down to her soaked pussy. “But right now, this needs my attention.”

I slide one finger inside and then add another. The sounds of her arousal mix with the crackle of the fire, creating the most amazing symphony. “Oh, baby, you are so fucking wet.”

“Fuck me Luke. I can’t do foreplay right now. Please, just fuck me,” she begs.

“No. You surprised me with this. I want to enjoy it. Get on your knees,” I demand.

Again, she submits without question. While she makes her way to the ground and gets on her knees, on a blanket I strategically placed before we sat down, I unbuckle my pants and pull them down, my cock springing free. I nudge her lips with the head of my cock, and she opens, sucking me all the way inside. A loud groan immediately leaves my mouth.

She sucks me in and out, simultaneously working my dick with her delicate hands, applying the perfect amount of pressure with each pass. After a few minutes, my attention shifts to one of her hands as it slithers down her body towards her clit. I let her circle it once, just enough to give a little pressure, before I speak. “Enough, B. You will not come on your hand, you will come on my dick. Do you hear me?”

She pulls away. “Luke, I need to come.”

“Then you better suck a little faster, baby, because this conversation is making me lose focus, and the sight of your lips stretched around my dick with fucking lingerie on is making my fucking night.”

She sucks again, picking up the same momentum as before. “Such a good fucking girl, B. So fucking obedient,” I praise, running my hand through her hair.

The sound of her mouth around my cock, the sight of her like this, and the idea of her warm, wet pussy are creating a familiar tug in my balls. Knowing I’m going to come, I abruptly pull out of her mouth, pull her up and turn her around, pushing her shoulders forward so she is bent over the chair. I crash inside her, pumping in and out at a ferocious pace until she is screaming my name. Her words echo in the silence surrounding us, alone in the woods. I feel her pussy clench around me and the sensation creates the same profound fervor within my balls. Before I know it, we are both coming with loud pants and bated breath.

Blake and I took a few minutes to get our wits about us as we came down from our post sex high, but now we are by the fire cuddled under the blanket, enjoying our apple whisky and ginger ales… well, our second, or maybe third.

“Nope, I think this is our fourth,” Blake responds, causing me to realize I was questioning our number of drinks out loud.

“You seem drunk,” I slur.

“You do too. You can’t even remember how many drinks we’ve had.” She giggles as she swirls the contents of her glass.

I lean over and brush the hair from her shoulder so I can kiss her neck and see the strap of her bra peeking out.

“Where did you get this? We need it in every color,” I ask, playing with the strap.