A Book and His Cover Day 1

Shadow and sun repeating in ebbing waves through the dark tinted glass, I stared at the conifer trees and the distant mountains so freshly new to me. Tan cooled leather seating under me, the luxury of the late model Escalade surrounding me. Each time we stopped for a battery charge, its glowing shimmer radiating from the glossy obsidian paint reminded me of how fucking hot it was in the desert. I was glad for the great chill of some engineer's perfection when they designed the vehicle's air conditioning system.

I'd been the short straw of my two girlfriends, selected to sit in the third-row seat with him. He was a guy I'd not spend a moment gazing at were it any other time or place. He was a short straw too of his two guy friends. My besties didn't want to leave me out of a spring break camping trip to the Grand Canyon for our senior year at university. Naturally, with their boyfriends, we were a triple, so the guys had to bring their "buddy" to balance it out.

I was taking one for the team. I'd never had to do that before. Ever. He was a large guy. When I say large, I mean he looked like he'd never taken a break from a buffet. He looked like a young Santa Claus if I were generous. Still, those eyes behind now dark tinted glasses. His complexion of faded freckles and sun-bleached strawberry blond hair cut short to just below his earlobes. They weren't so bad after I thought about it awhile. And he was my height, taller than both my friends, but not as tall as the Greek gods that their boyfriends were. Where they were masculinely chiseled, he was a softer sort, with more curve than angle. The worst I could say about him was he was obese. That was what struck me as his worst attribute.

I know my mother told me to never judge a book by its cover, but it was too easy, too tempting. Even with my sullen, sour pretense of a smile, he warmly smiled back, then looked away at the landscape. Catching glimpses of his sidelong eyes slipping like gossamer upon my flesh, I didn't feel the disgust I thought I wanted to, rather a shyness crashing down upon me. He made me feel self-conscious in a way no one had. Not that I wasn't being leered at by boys in high school always wanting to fuck me because I was, and still am, not lacking in natural beauty. No, he made me feel appreciated, worshiped even, and seen as the real me inside, not my exterior features, my pretenses. How does anyone do that? He did. That was all that mattered.

"We're about an hour away from the South Rim entrance. It will be another hour to the primitive campsite we picked out."

Trey, the group leader, always had his way when we-no they-when they got together. He ever made it sound commanding when he spoke and so much a grand leader. At least his voice resonated with a baritone that charmed anyone who could hear him, except me. He always struck me as a pompous ass.

But what about the guy sitting in the rearmost with me? He was a quiet talker, polite and reflective, taking moments to consider his responses. He didn't chatter upon me endlessly with beguiling words. Few words were the truth. There was such warm silence for the duration of our drive from Los Angeles. His body language was relaxed and friendly, respectful toward me.

His legs were parted to be comfortable, shoulders at ease, with arms resting upon the windowsill and the armrest between us. Though the seat belt strained to contain his presence, his clothing still seemed loose and liberating the curvy nature of his being. His aura was contemplative and a thinker of things. Lacking resonance of a manly male, the voice he owned as gentle as fine silk, yet still authoritative like a professor's tone. But was that only his cover? Was there something else about him still to know?

I had to ask a sharp question if but to know what tortures we had yet to come. The outdoors frightened me. Get me to a shoe store or a fashion boutique, even a quality product makeup counter. Insects were bothers, but wild animals, those sent chills up and down my spine.

"Why are we going to a campsite rather than one of the hotels nearby?"

I grimaced. It was sharply laid, yes, enough even for the quiet guy to tilt his head to look at me.

Claire, with those glacier blue eyes framed with bleached blonde strands unleashed from behind the three-hundred dollar plus sunglasses, sent daggers at me when she turned to face me from the front passenger seat. Pursed lips and grinding jaw muscles let me know she held back a fury by a thread. Trey's massaging touch upon her shoulder tempered her anger. I heard the whispered shouts. She growled at him. His firm voice followed. Their words were muddled, but the energy remained.

"The lodges and hotels are filled during this time of year on the South Rim as it's warmer than the north, the warmer than normal weather is holding, and the off-season is now almost as busy as the summer and holiday seasons used to be. The primitive sites are available, and I have the spot my family uses for our regular camp-outs. It's going to be so beautiful when we watch sunsets."

His friend Bret had to pipe in his little bit, wanting to prop up his best bud.

"We get to be in a place where we can do just about anything we want. Park rangers this time of year will be focused on maintaining the order in the more populated areas. As long as we're careful, we can enjoy some nice drink, some great Mary J, and do a little daylight, open-air fu-"

Bree slugged his shoulder, cutting off his nasty dig. To me, it was a dig. The four of them could have all the enjoyment they wanted. I had to pretend to like this guy enough not to make things uncomfortable. But I will not give a mercy fuck. Never. He seemed nice enough, I suppose, but he wasn't my type. He was an overeating lard-no, Alana, don't do that. You may not like him in that way, but don't be like that. Maybe he'll be at least someone to talk to. Goddess knows you need to have a conversation with someone else than those four.

Soft words from a voice I didn't recognize. No, yes, I did. It was him. He was leaning over, so hot fingers gracing the back of my air conditioning cold hand, making my hair stand on sweet end, such an electric hum he gave me.

"It will be rough camping, but the views will be gorgeous like they said. And you'll have me to provide context as a somewhat knowledgeable guide. I recall all the details from my geology courses. It will be worth it."

Assurance. And the hope of something nice. I could manage that, even if I still hate the outdoors. I won't do a mercy fuck, though. That's my line. I can let him be a friendly guide, nothing beyond that.

The closer we became to the Grand Canyon park entrance, the more charming and open he became to talking. Most of what he said seemed so confusing, though he tried to simplify it as best he could. Millions of years of history in so many layers of golden and rosy hues, yet more. Trees so verdant and telling of the higher elevations.

Still so quiet though, a soul guarded about himself. Perhaps his cover remained closed to me? Why? I was an international business major. I knew how to read body language from my study abroad junior year, and work with my father's worldwide construction corporation and observe some of its negotiations. There was something more inside. I had to know what it was. Maybe he'd let me in?

Goddess bless him, Zander. His friends called him Zanman, but he had an air of maturity about him they were unaware of. Or perhaps it was on purpose? Zander. It was a beautiful name, and it suited him.

Now, if he could only help me accept nature, make it suited to me that I'd love to see. Perhaps he had that power?

Distraction was another of his abilities. The comfortable cadence of his words across his tongue, betwixt his lips that bespelled me such that until we were started on the hiking trailhead leading to our eventual camp site, I forgot that we'd parked the car and loaded up our gear. And he was a sweetheart. He was helping me reload my backpack correctly and adjust it for the rough hike ahead. Traveling Europe on breaks was nothing. This trail was full-on work.

Then it was so stunning.

"Wow! That river looks so beautiful down there! I'm going to take a pic-"

I must have gone too close to the edge—the crumbling beneath my feet. I knew I was going to fall down, down, down to my death.

A firm gripping hand around my bicep, the strength of a goddess, I thought, pulling me back toward safety. Swirled around, I faced-Zander. Zander was pulling me close, hugging me tight, asking me if I was okay. Too frightened for words, I could only nod my head.

The other four showed relief on their faces, then their sour words about almost dying, to be more careful. Not him. Not Zander. He lifted my chin with his gentle fingers, firm, calm words.

"Be careful next time you want to take a picture. How about if you want a great photo, you ask me to get it for you? I have the gear to capture great ones, and you will avoid getting too close to an edge again."

A big, heated, broad smile. Too good not to savor. For the first time, so close up, I saw his stubble, dark coppery tone forming more than five o'clock shadow, less than a beard and mustache. Would it be soft? Would it be rough? What would it feel like grazing my skin? Quite a confusion was distracting me after a near-death experience.

"I-I-I-I'd like that. A lot."

What the hell was that, Alana? Was he that, all of that? He saved your life. And he's quite endowed with strength. He's more than he appears, hon. Not a muscle boy, but stronger than he looks. He also agreed to take photos for you. At least you didn't lose your Samsung Galaxy S55 in the near fall. Maybe I'll take some pictures of him too? He's my hero, a genuine hero.

I felt a tingling ebbing down into my belly, holding low, lower, ever lower down to between my thighs, deeply centered within me. I tried biting my lip without him seeing. I knew he had. And my flushing cheeks. Probably my peaking nipples as well. Damn the tan tee-shirt and rejecting a bra for that sheer swimsuit! But really, was it all that bad? Letting my fear fed arousal be displayed before him?

No sympathy fucks, though. What? I said fucks. Plural. When exactly did I accept giving one to him, let alone more? Forget about them. Don't dwell. Watch where you're going on the trail and worry about them later.

Maybe be okay with him watching your ass as he follows behind? Could you catch him looking? What would you think if he did? Eye rolling, yeah, lots of eye-rolling while considering that, yet he won't see it behind your sunglasses. Back to letting him see your ass sashay a bit, that's okay, right? Yeah, it was okay.

Why was all of this feeling so much more desirable? He's not my type, not a heart-breaking handsome man. Not from the circles my family runs in. Not a future doctor or lawyer. All that I knew, some from that they told me. But does any of that truly matter right now? It's just a week in the wilderness with a friendly person who is a guy. It doesn't have to be an existential crisis for Goddess’ sake.

A photo here, a photo there, his camera was clicking away for me, for him too. So I had some fun, enjoyed some company, saw him light up when he saw my delight over the photos. I touched the back of his hands, guiding his camera so I could take another look. So much heat in that flesh of his, so comfortable, so chaste. But why did that touch make me want to squeeze my thighs together hard while I stood there beside him? It was only about photos, wasn't it? Wasn't it?

Those moments felt eternal in my mind, throughout my body, and they made me forget how sweaty I was, how hot it felt doing the hike. Yet it was too much, even with the lovely distractions. My yoga and jogging didn't come close, nor did my workouts with that sadist of an exercise trainer. I strained to breathe enough. The altitude. It was the altitude. It was my pack.

My friends, so-called friends, and their guys seemed to advance faster and farther than I could keep up. Fuckers. I'm going to be lost in the wild, and a bear will eat me. Maybe a mountain lion? What exactly was out here to eat me?

"Don't worry about them, Alana. I know the trail markers and the site number. We have a map too. Let them rush ahead. They probably want to get to the site so they can get drunk or high as a reward."

"So, how much longer before I have to surrender and say I can't anymore?"

"You can do this. We take our time, and we will do this. It's not about the speed. It's about the memories we make along the way."

Wow. That's a pleasant way to reframe this struggle. Maybe exhibiting more sashay might be a suitable reward if my body can even do it any longer.

"I need to rest a bit. Can we do that?"

Sitting down on an outcrop atop the rim, it looked so lovely. The wilderness I feared looked so attractive now. Drinking from one of several water bottles, I felt so distracted. My feet, something was touching my feet.

He was. His hands were messing with my boots, fingers upon my ankles. What? Why? My gaze looked aghast. I think judging from his surprised look, eyes wide in the shadow, his lenses now mostly clear, a wry smile, he halted his hands, pulling them back.

"We haven't checked your boots and socks at all during the hike. If the boots are too loose, they'll cause blisters and can also harm your ankles from lack of proper support. If your socks are wet from sweat, they can also cause blisters from them slipping inside your boots."

"Oh. Okay. I didn't know that. I thought... never mind."

I gazed across the vista before us, embarrassed about the matter. He was thoughtful, caring. I didn't know that much about anything outdoors. He seemed to be so… let him do what he needed to do. Kicking slowly, playfully, I smirked back at him. Danging them near his spread hands, I had to be cute.

"You can play with my feet if you like. I'm not that uptight."

That devious smile that spread across his face, Goddess, I bit my lip prouder than before. My heart skipped, realizing he might not be so chaste as I thought he was. Nothing wrong with a little wordplay between adults, right? Right?

Slipping my boots off like a seduction of another kind was different. His eyes watched mine with intensity, a cunning smile matched with them. I was alone with this man, this Zander, and I had to admit to myself that the mystery was instead... interesting. I thought I knew him, but this sensual side, even if it were a matter of boots and socks, it was a pleasant surprise. I don't want a Boy Scout. Okay, maybe a bit of Boy Scout. Some mystery, too. Mix in some intimate playfulness. Goddess, I'm wanting, so wanting. I want something more, but I can't. I can't give a sympathy-it wouldn't be a sympathy. No, it would be something more, more, more honest.

Let him take care of your feet first, Alana. Let him do what he likes with them, then think about what more could be.

"I'll grab some dry socks from your pack, and I'll check your feet out just to be certain they're in excellent condition."

"I bet you say that to all the girls."

"Hmm. Suppose there were any previous girls to say it to, perhaps. I can honestly say you're the first girl I've ever said it to."

"Really?"

Did I just say that? What will he think? Will he think I'm... I don't know what.

"I've honestly been focused on my degree more than interpersonal relationships. I'm an engineering student with a green design emphasis on commercial buildings. It's dry stuff, really, and I'm an overachiever type with lots of math and science involved."

"I didn't know that about you."

"Heh. I know my friends Trey and Bret aren't that good about introducing me. I'm their hard course tutor for a bedroom in the condominium building Trey’s dad owns. It’s Samuel Harrison. Bret’s dad, let’s see, Thomas Parrish makes sure Bret keeps his BMW maintained. They’re calling the condo regularly."

"Oh. I thought their names were familiar. They might be the same Harrisons and Parrishes that my parents know."

Touching. Zander’s touch undressing me, the wool blend socks slipped off my feet like silky lingerie from my breasts. Heart skipping as I devoured a breath in surprise. How did he make that feel so good? So good, I wanted more of it? They're socks, for Goddess’ sake, not my panties.

Oh, my panties. No panties today. The bottom of my bikini made of cloth so sheer it's like nothing at all. Maybe he could slip my shorts off to check for proper care? Perhaps some intensive attention? A lick here, a finger there, all of that to make certain I'm okay to continue. To continue what, Alana? To hike or to fuck? Or both? I think... some of both. Yeah, some of both.

An internal headshake and the thoughts were gone. Sex with him wouldn't be right. Even if we flirt, it wouldn't be right. He's a sweet guy. I don't want to be that girl who has a brief time of fucking then leaves. I did enough of that, transitory fucking, so much of that in Europe. It was fine then. We both knew each time what it was. He doesn't seem the type to be that way. No, I won't do that to him. Hard pass on a sympathy fuck too. I won't be that kind of cold, heartless bitch. Bree and Claire did their share of that at parties just for giggles. Not with the upper-class guys and gals of the circles we ran in. It was reserved for playtimes when they just needed to get off, and the person had a cock, was within arm's reach, and weren't of a "respectable" family.

Still. Still, his touch feels perfect upon my skin. Fingers were examining my flesh, tickling my toes, my instep, that so sensitive area on my ankles. I'm mostly sure it's not on purpose. His eyes, though, that smile on his face, he's so puckish. So fiendishly sweet.

"You have the start of a couple of blisters, so I'm putting what's called moleskin over them so that the areas heal and they won't have more friction. If I don't do it, they'll form some awful pain for you. We're too far in the backcountry for you to have them form."

The was only one thing I could say. "Thank you." Honestly said words with sincerity on top.

Socks slipped on, boots adjusted, and snugly tied. So orderly. So sinfully done, too. Maybe he has a bit of a foot fetish? Or he likes to be a playful, naughty boy. Let him be naughty, even if I can't give him something more than making out. I can do that, make out with him. Give him a sexy blowjob, going down on him so slow and deep. I'll swallow him, I know I will, every drop. That's not a sympathy fuck. It's just what's customary for a light date. Yeah. Yes. I can do that.

"We need to push on fast to arrive before sunset. Once the golden hour after sunset evaporates, we're sunk if we're not at camp. It's dangerous enough to hike these trails in daylight, lethal after dark."

"Okay. I'll try to keep up."

"No, you lead the way, dear. I'm your safety if something goes wrong. I have to have you in front to do that."

He had a point. And I had a lovely ass to make it worth being the safety. And a pussy so aching for use. Maybe fucking would be okay? Maybe have an agreement to make this week’s days and nights full of beautiful memories? Agree that this will be a special gift we give to each other?

Focus on the trail, Alana, focus on the trail. One step in front of the other. Dream about the details of something sinful once we arrive.

A couple of hours more. We arrived a few hours before sunset. Seeing the four others not yet drunk, not yet high. But they looked a little skewed in their attire. Fucking. They had some fucking. Would that have been before or after they put up the tents? Not my circus, not my monkeys. Time to rest and set up our part of the camp.

Zander's pack appeared endless as one thing, then another boiled over the top opening and down around his cross-legged seating. Curiosity fueled my mind, my body to sit upon the smoothed rock he sat upon. My pack was slower to empty, watching him was more intriguing, then I saw he had two tents.

One was a misshapen football? A fluffy cylinder? Whatever that one was, it was small. The other was more substantive. We had two small tents already standing. Oh, right. A tent for each of the two couples. That left me with no tent. Did he bring a tent for me? And one for him? Aww. Yeah, I understand. I get it.

Though sleeping together wouldn't necessitate "sleeping together." However, I thought about negotiating an agreement with him-being with him wouldn't be a bad thing. Except for my friends and his would be right asses about it. Who gives a fuck about it? About any of it? It would be between him and me. It was a matter for him and me.

He erected the first tent, a dome-like an Inuit igloo of cloth and flexible rods. That was funny, him and me working together.

I loved the taunt as I struggle to figure out the system.

"You need to slip the rods into the tunnel flaps to hold each one rigid, or the entire tent stays like a fabric crepe."

I wasn't letting that one slide. Snarky words volleyed back.

"Well, silly bear, you're the engineer. Can't you manage a job site?"

I don't know if the raspberry was too much. I knew my braid of chestnut hair was slapping my cheeks as I shook my head, exaggerating the mock insult. An inflatable pillow bopped me on the nose seemed like a logical retaliation. Fair enough.

I couldn't stop laughing, even with the other two couples looking back and forth between us and each other, like we were alien beings. Perhaps they thought we'd be doing something different from having fun? Fuck them. I'd not had fun like this since I was in high school. Some fun, at least.

Yes, high school. That was the worst period of my life. Being pretty and rich was a double dose of fucking pain. I didn't want the pressure of being so popular. I only wanted to do well in school so I could get to university. Dating was like an arranged marriage for me. There were affluent classmates, the prominent lawyers’ and doctors’ sons. I despised all of them. Everyone wanted something from me. Hell, even my supposed best friends were shallow bitches, just like their families. My mother, she wasn't from well off roots. She kept me focused on what mattered, what was important in life and reminded me to have a friendly pillow fight now and again.

What was Zander's high school life like? What made him choose engineering? Why did he say, "if there were any previous girls?" I want to know about him. I hope I get to know a lot about him. Even if it is only a week, I want to know him. Would I be the first girl he's done anything with? No, that's ridiculous.

But if I'm the first for a few things in his life, it would be nice. As much as I love my sexy times, I miss being the first for experiences with someone. Maybe. Just maybe.

"This dome tent is yours, so you have plenty of room and privacy. I've got a two-person sausage tent that's cozy, especially with me in it."

"Oh. Okay. Sure. The dome one will have lots of room for me."

Keeping the sadness out of my voice, wanting to sound appreciative and upbeat, none of it was happening. Even my smile was a mix of forced and socially cordial. How could I sound needy, though? In front of them, my sometimes snarky friends, his wealthy friends? I don't want to deal with their asshole natures.

Pretending. I was great at that when I needed to be. Today, for now, I need to keep up appearances. Until he and I are alone, I'll need to do it. How long will that be? When can we be alone again? Time to wait for a moment to present itself.

Fresh food. Tonight it is fresh food, but the rest of the time, freeze-dried delights. Lugging a fridge out here wasn't happening, so fresh brats, potato salad, baked beans it was. They wanted their soft drinks with vodka. Zander declined. Tempted to imbibe, I waffled inside, then thought better of getting even a buzz.

There were better things to savor than drugs. Like orgasms. Fucking hard and deep to get those orgasms. Hmm. Let him watch, make him watch as I cum for him. With him? Maybe. Maybe so.

Sunset was nearing, but I wanted to watch it away from them. I wanted a quiet moment with Zander, even if it was the sun slipping below the horizon that we shared and nothing more.

In those distracted moments after an early dinner, I saw no Zander, nowhere. Concerned for such a long minute, he came down from the path higher up with something in his hand, camera around his neck, a collapsed tripod slung upon his back. Short shiny twigs stuck up along the way from which he came. It was a puzzle, and he wore a broad smile as he beamed at me.

"So, what's got you smirking like a canary eating feline?"

My mind fixed upon him. The others were having fun without me. It suited me to be alone if it meant more time with him.

Slipping his equipment off, with a mischievous smirk glowing at me, words of explanation escaped his kissable lips.

"I laid out markers to the next camping site up the trail so we can safely walk back after dark."

Fuck kissable lips. I wanted to taste them hard upon mine. Would this be a sneaky, makeout plan? It could be innocent too. So hard to tell with him and his confusing body language. His body, though. He was a chunky guy. Am I back to that about him? He's not tight and trim. He might hurt me if he laid atop me to smother me with kissing. Smother? Really, Alana? You want some hotness from him, and you're worried about being suffocated? Fuck. There are ways to get what you want. Think about that.

I leaned back, smirking, an eyebrow raised, both arms behind me to stretch. I gave him a teasing eyeful without care. His eyes dipped a bit, though they floated up to fix upon my face seconds later. Coy was the play, for now.

"So, you laid out your breadcrumbs. Why would we need them? What exactly? Do tell."

"I want to show you the sunset."

"But we can see it from here."

"The place uptrail has an even better vantage point of the canyon below and the flowing cuts of the walls. You'll love it. Really."

"Hmm."

"I promise it will be worth it."

"I'm sold."

"Good. I'm glad you are."

Standing up, brushing the dirt from my legs and ass, I saw him gather his pack and the sleeping bags, the ground pads, and some snacks. So? So it could be possible there would be something hot. Or clean sunset watching. I hoped for the former.

This time he led the way, given the trail angled away from the edge by a wide margin. Still, it was a climb for several minutes. Coming out of the trees and brush, I saw the vista he mentioned. Such a surprise to me, I stood dumbfounded, drinking it in.

"That's not even the most beautiful angle. I picked the best spot a little farther up."

My voice couldn’t contain the excitement. It was like a child during Christmas gift unwrapping.

"Even better than this? I have to see it!"

A chuckle from deep within him warmed my heart, teased my pussy. My head or that special spot betwixt my thighs. Which one would guide me? Could it possibly be both?

Flora clearing away to leave a sweeping, grand, breath-stealing view, I saw what he meant. The wide point jutted out to put on display the wonders of this perfect world. Forget being eaten by predators. It was view enough to make me forget what I hated so much about nature. It was a view sufficient for me to let myself be vulnerable to his whims. Mercy fuck? No. It wouldn't be that. It would be a whole-hearted fuck by the light of the setting sun.

"I already scouted the area, and this spot right here is the best to set up a little camp to enjoy the natural wonders."

"Did you already photograph it?"

"Most of it. There's still more to come."

His fingers flashed over the tripod and long lensed camera. Such loving fingertips upon their forms. Jealous. That's what I raced through my mind. Jealous feelings of being potentially snubbed.

"Will you be focused on your camera?"

I had to ask. He he appeared clueless with that angelic smile on his face. I had no desire to have his attentions divided by an inanimate object.

"Once I set up the equipment, I can use my smartphone to control it while we sit and watch the golden show."

"You can control your camera from your phone? Really?"

"Yeah. It's a nice design feature for this Canon digital, though, to be honest, I'd love to take some photos of you first."

Of me? I'm not that photogenic. Was I? I know I'm no model, and this isn't a social media pic he's going to do. But he thinks me worthy of a photo by his hand. Go with it, Alana.

"Sure, go ahead. I'm not that interesting, though."

"You're very photogenic. The way the light plays across your face and hair right now is perfect. Even your smile and eyes make the scene."

"Okay, okay, you little butter upper, take your pics."

Giggles. He made me have a burst of giggles, like a girl in high school during sleepovers. This time, though, I had a fire in my core and stiff peaks for nipples this time. That made me wonder something.

"Am I your first muse?"

"You're the first person I've photographed that wasn't a course or student news website assignment. You're the first model I've wanted to photograph for the pure joy of it."

"So, there's been others you've wanted to?"

"I take landscape and nature photographs as my focus. You're the first person I've wanted to photograph outside required work."

"I'm glad to be your first."

"You should be. You're the first girl I've met whose energy flows so freely without a pretentious framework."

"Is that a fine arts phrase? Without a pretentious framework?"

Was it a backhanded compliment?

"What I mean is that you're you all-natural. There's no desire to be someone you aren't. I see all of you naturally."

"Wow. I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything, Alana. You only need to be you."

A moment to let his word sink in. That's all there was before his instructions to pose for him. Those directions weren't what I expected—nothing like doing vain instants to post. I was entirely his muse, positioned for art. I saw the photos as he moved our modeling session forward. They were art shots, real art shots. He made me beautiful in ways I'd never seen before.

The closer sunset came, the quicker he took photos until it seemed to be the wonder hour for him to stop with me and to be with the sun. Who can compete with a star, a glowing orb of power and light? I guess for what seemed like hours of focus. I competed with his preferences to do nature, to do a sunset. No one had done that before. He made me feel like I was the center of someone's world.

How did he weave such magic over me? He wasn't my type. He wasn't someone I'd even notice more than a glance. I felt an attraction now. I saw him and his spirit through his actions. He made me giddy. He made me... horny. Yeah. He made me horny. I was so going to fuck him if this line of delight continued. It was a certainty.

Ground pads and sleeping bags laid down. We sat side by side as he showed me the app on his phone, watched him remotely control his camera. His scent was a blend of coffee and cinnamon. The heat was radiating outward, caressing my skin. All became a swirling blur.

Then the sunset began. Slow dipping light set afire the horizon as it did the same to the canyon walls. Walls already ocher shades, and others made like an eternal setting below the horizon, dug deep into the ground. The splendor was more than enough to win me over.

Waiting for him to make a move, Goddess, I felt the giddy nervousness building. There would still be light enough after the setting for us to play and return to camp. Setting. Setting. It was setting down until the afterglow was all that remained.

He didn't touch me like I thought he would. His fingers caressed only the back of my hand. That was all. Hurt and confusion replaced my upbeat thoughts. Until he pointed out the rising moon and the appearing stars. So there was more to it than the sunset—a fuller seduction than I even considered.

"I love the stars, the entire night sky, to be honest. I grew up in Montana on a ranch, a small one. Small by Montana standards, at least."

He broke the silence so gently, such a whisper he gave upon the shell of my ear. So he was a cowboy? He was a manly man of a man, just not hewn and forged in his forms like the archetypes and fictional ones. I never considered such a kind of man like that. Yeah, he was growing on me, surprising me every moment more we spent together. I didn't need to rush. I didn't want to rush any longer. I wanted to be with him, staying in the current moment.

"It must be nice to see the sky all the time. I don't get to see much in L.A."

"I know. It feels so alone there, lacking my friends the stars and the planets."

"Thank you for sharing this with me. It's so nice."

"Ah, my dear, there's more, so much more. The night is early and freshly born."

I couldn't see his face easily in the twilight, though I thought there was a poetic gossamer there. He wore it so easily. No one had been this way with me before, this romantic.

Really? Romantic? Did I even know what that was? I knew the kitsch of the movies and books. I didn't know about the real thing. No grand gestures or banquets. Simple, sweet moments, so small and bite-sized. Yes. Nibble brief instants that touch one deep inside. It made more feel even hornier than before—all of it.

He leaned back, stretching himself, and laid upon the sleeping bag like a pensive man, no longer a guy alone. He had manly thoughts flowing from him, more profound reflections. Such boys and girls, I'd been with both before, even in Europe. He made this the best-date-that-wasn't-a-date ever. Interesting how the lack of pressure felt, sitting so squarely below my breasts with their mountain peaks like those I saw in the distance and above my pussy so aroused, making a river torrent matching the rushing rapids in the deep canyon below. Fiery furnace, that's what dwelled in my belly, burning heat rising and falling along an inferno column, keeping me ready and needy.

"You can lay back and watch the heavens with me if you'd like. I promise I don't bite. Well, unless you ask me to."

That humor of his, it made me smile. Just enough flirt to be funny. Just enough warmth to charm. How could I refuse his invitation?

A rushed pounce I expected, his gentlemanly way made the sleeping bag feel more like an innocent bed shared for friendly comfort, except for the inviting heat of his body next to mine. He was fire incarnate, pure, delightful fire on this chilly night. Sidling up against him nonchalantly as best I could, he felt so welcome. No predator. No horny boy. A man with honor and manners. Yes.

A man who made me want to fuck him so hard he passed out. Maybe until he made me pass out? Make me scream his name all night long? Make him fill me up with all of him. Forget a monster cock. Forget to worry about length and girth. I wanted him inside, touching me under the stars with his entire form, thrusting in and out. Slow, deep penetration too. Spreading myself wide for him, yes. I want to. I need to. I desire to have him claim me like the hot alphas of my erotica, but more real, more tangible. I have the dreams, the fantasies, but I want the actual from him. He's imperfectly perfect. I'm not falling for him, no, that's much too soon. I'm craving him. Yes, that's the truth.

Closer. Closer against him, I wiggle. He was slipping his arm under my head. Yeah, we forgot the pillow. He did it on purpose. Or so I tell myself. Those muscles, though. His bicep is so thick, yet so soft against me. I know it's powerful. How else could he save me earlier?

Lost, so lost in the twinkling jewels above me, so much darkness filled with such total, perfect beauty. I know why he loves and misses the stars. I know the taste of nature with him. I want to taste him. Now. So now.

"I'm enjoying this time with you, Alana. I never thought I'd have these moments with someone, especially not with someone I'd just met today."

"I lo-like them a great deal too."

A soft, dark purr switched on from somewhere deep within him. He was seduction now, a seduction I wanted immediately.

"I knew you'd like them if given a chance to see their beauty firsthand. I get that you're not a camper or even a hiker. But I thought you might be open to trying this, all of this."

"I am. I very much am."

"I also need to tell you some things, but I don't want to break the magic of these moments."

"Okay."

What could he have to say that would seem so ominous? The twist of uncertainty and fear didn't douse the need for those things only he could provide me tonight. Could I handle this uncertainty? What could I do but that? I still want what I hope he would give.

"I need to explain, so you understand what makes me who I am now, my weirdness and all."

Turning toward him, laying a comforting arm upon his chest, I drank in his calming scent. I could do this. I can.

"I had a bad, horrible time in middle and high school with people. Well, girls specifically just bad. I've always been a hard-working nerd. I was the kid who everyone wanted to copy. Copy as in having my homework and test answers copied. I was only popular for what I could give, not for who I was."

Goddess, I knew that feeling exactly. To be only as popular as what I could provide that others wanted. When I wouldn't give it, fuck what assholes people were. What more was there with those years not so long ago?

"They played with me, more like toyed with me, like cats with catnip mice. They were teasing me with insincere flirts. Seventh grade was when it started. At first, I thought it was real for the first few times. At first. It wasn't long before I knew what it all was. Ploys to make me do things for them, help them with their classes not because they wanted to learn, just get me to do their work to keep them from failing."

"I'm sorry they did that to you. That's all so cruel."

Leaning more into him, I began an honest embrace, resting my head upon his chest. I needed to be real as real could be. I needed to fuck, yeah, but I wanted him to know how true I wanted to be with him for him, not for what he could do for me.

"Thank you. I-I-I-I need to get it out of my head with someone."

"I'm glad you feel like you can open up to me about it."

That hot palm was grazing the small of my back, those fingers touching my hip. He has a talent for making me need him more each moment longer that we're together. Such a small thing feeds my desires as nothing has before. The tranquility of his presence. The way he makes me his world so quickly. Those stupid bitches were so unworthy. Fuck them!

"The thing is that, that they made me doubt my self-worth, made me feel like I had no value other than that thing they wanted. I went to school dances, even prom, alone. I think I had sympathy dances a few times. Maybe a girl who was tired of sitting and wanted to dance with anyone for a change. I don't know any of this for certain. I only know what my body told me."

"Those girls were horrible to you. You know you have worth outside what people want from you."

Watching his head laid back, tilting back farther in the faint starlight, he seemed to gaze a million light-years away. Looking up high like him, I wanted to see what he saw. It felt so lonely there, up there in the sky, so vast and overwhelming. How does he see it? What does it mean to him? I wanted to know so much, though I was afraid to ask. I did not understand how to put my thoughts into words. My mouth dried, my tongue felt too large, my lips sealed shut. One choice remained to me-listen, let him tell me in his way, his time.

"I grew up in rural Montana. Rural. That's an oxymoron, given how wide open the state is. Even the cities feel so small in such a large land, rich in nature. I'm an only child, so most of the time, I was my own playmate because I had difficulty making friends. Fortunately, I had a very vivid, creative imagination, so I created my fictional worlds to live in. One of them was, still is, a desire to be an explorer who finds new worlds to build new colonies upon."

Grazing my fingers upon his side, down his hip, and back again, I thought about what being an only child would be like. It had to be better than dealing with two older sisters and two younger brothers. The fabric of his jeans felt well worn under my fingertips. I could see him hiking as a child so full of curiosity, seeking fresh adventures.

And here I was, that child, so in awe of him. What more would he reveal?

"Since I couldn't do that, reality coming into play, for now, I became a builder on this planet. I started out doing hand drawn drafting, then computer adding drafting and design. I worked up to architecture classes in high school, building homes, subdivisions, boring things. Then I found a discipline I had a passion for, perpetual green integration design."

My dad commented on that only two weeks ago. He thought it was rubbish. I wanted to hear more. So a whisper into that small void between us.

"Tell me about it. I want to know what makes you passionate."

Laying my thigh upon his, snuggling into him, that stubble rubbing my cheek as I tried to become one with him as innocently as I could, I whispered again.

"Tell me more."

"Wow. Um. Okay. I don't have many people ask to know more. After they hear the name, they change the subject. Anyway, it's moving beyond just doing traditional green design-integrating alternative energy, recycling, recycled materials, and things like that while doing ‘greenwashing.’ That’s trying to make things look more environmentally friendly than they are. This paradigm reaches out to embracing wholeheartedly, seeing the needs and requirements of a society decades out, and planning for continuous improvement while rejecting planned obsolescence and single-use mindsets."

A long, long pause held suspense within my mind. Was Zander collecting his thoughts again? Was he changing the subject? What? Listen. I heard the tiny voice within me. She said, listen. Listen and let him show you what you need to know. Observe.

"I hope I will land a suitable position with a major firm that embraces these ideals. I'm ahead of the current industrial sentiment. I set up a backup strategy for standard commercial architecture coursework. I have two portfolios, one for each path."

More pausing, waiting, wondering. Yes, and I listened to his heartbeat in those quiet spaces he left between his thoughts. Was it my turn to share? Did he have more to share? The uncertainty made me think I might be bold enough to act on an impulse.

"It sounds like you've thought out your possibilities. I'm a little less clear about my future."

"Oh? In what way?"

Telling him means he'll know who I am. Who my family is. What my social level is. He'll reject me for it all before I explain that I'm more than that.

"I, uh, was offered a position with my father's company once I graduate. It's-it's-it's complicated, and I don't want you to think poorly of me for-"

He pulled me into him, that arm turned from pillow to embrace maker. He didn't make a move to kiss me, not yet. Our lips, though, so close, so very, very close. My heart threatened to burst from my chest from the excitement and terror I had that close to someone I wanted to taste but might not have.

"Family businesses are complicated matters. The ranch my family owns is rough. Both of my parents have to have full-time jobs off of it to help support things through the bad times. Beef prices reflect one thing to the consumer, but not the price ranchers earn for their part. They expected me to earn a degree in something that would help the ranch and return home to continue the-the, I guest the family legacy."

"I can understand that pressure. My parents wanted one of three things from my siblings and me-become a doctor, lawyer, or become corporate business trained. My eldest sister Sara became a prominent neurosurgeon. My younger sister Anita became a driven corporate lawyer. And..."

"You're the corporate business powerhouse?"

"I'm an international business major with an emphasis in European Union corporate cultures from my junior year study abroad program. My father wants me to add Pacific Rim knowledge to my repertoires so I can be more 'well rounded' per his words."

Low purring laughs floated on the air. I couldn't tell if it was in judgment or if he found the demands humorous. I hoped for the latter, touching him closer, fingertips sliding upon his muscular thigh thinly contained by his jeans. Please let him understand how vulnerable I feel right now, sharing my worries.

"What do you want to do? What are your passions?"

"I don't know. I never stopped to think about those things. I was wrapped up in the expectations for me."

"Perhaps I have the easier time of the two of us. No one expects great things from me. I'm a full-ride scholarship student from modest means with such small dreams regarding what I want to do with my life."

Sadness. I felt sadness from the lack of belief in himself, scattered tears gathering in my eyes. I refused to accept his view.

"What you want to do is change the world with your skills. There's nothing of greater importance than that desire."

"Have you thought about changing the world? Changing yourself to be the change you wish to see in the world? I've tried to be that change. It feels so useless when you have revolutionary ideas, and those in power refuse to see their merit and value."

I had nothing. Utterly nothing to respond with. He had me. I'd never thought about changing the world around me. I was a party girl, a social player. I cared more about trends and who was who in the circles my family ran in. I was the farthest from a changer of things. Concern about appearances and reputations. Let it out, Alana. Let him know who you are, so he knows now before you try to go farther with him. Salvage what you can of the night.

"I need to tell you something because I'm afraid that if you don't know now, I'm going to fuck things up later if you find out some other way. I'm Alana Stanton. My father is the CEO and founder of Stanton International, an international major project construction firm, among other items done in our subsidiaries."

"I see."

Those words, nothing more. So quiet now, not even the dancing of a breeze across the canyon any longer. Laying back again, staring up into the now starlit sky, I thought a million things about what I should have done sooner, could have, should have said differently. Who am I compared with someone who earned their way into a prestigious, very selective university when I entered based on legacy and name more than grades and test scores? There was nothing more to it. Own it, Alana, own your actions.

Lifting. Lifted toward him, his body pulling me close, so close. The heat of his breath pulsed across my cheek. Those lips of his found the shell of my ear. My fate would come soon enough.

"Names are only words, and words are nothing without actions. Actions define who we are. Those actions are choices we make. My choice tonight is to be with you to show you something different from what you know and see what you do with it."

"Did you know who I was before now?"

"Yes."

"Why did you do all of this when you knew who I was and the things I do?"

"Why did you agree to come with me when you knew who I wasn't?

"I saw, I felt something I'd never experienced when you saved me from falling."

"I noticed how you responded to my words and actions."

"So... what do we do with this-this, just this here between us?"

Pressure and pleasure laid lightly upon my neck once, twice, thrice. Electricity played across my body, racing waves of delight long delayed. Finally, a taste of what I'd hungered for. Then nothing, all stilled again. Such confusion.

"I-I-I liked that a lot."

"Slowly. Slowly tonight. I have layers, call them walls that exist between the world and my most sacred space. For each is a drawbridge that allows you to continue to the next one. If you want to continue, say green. If you don't, say red. You can stop at any time, for any reason. You're in control."

A game? What kind? Risk. Reward. More? Yes. Green. Definitely green.

"I want to play. I want more. Green."

"I have my weirdness, my idiosyncrasies from traumas in my life, some short term, some long term. Do you wish to continue?"

"Green."

Falling leaves of kisses upon my neck, down my collarbone, under my chin, a flowing river of tenderness that climbed the other side, stopping for a moment. A slight nip. Pulsing pleasure rippled throughout me. Whispering a plea.

"Green."

"I have things that trigger me, my memories, my emotions, that make me react, not respond. I have impulses that I'm working to manage so that I can master them, deal with them properly."

"Green."

Fingers intertwining with mine, pulled closer to his lips, affectionate kisses planted as seeds upon them, slowly, carefully. He blazed a trail with lips so fond of my flesh, my palm tickled at the touch. My wrist tingled with energy as attentive kisses focused upon it for several moments, then pausing. Heat rose within my belly, the center between my thighs thrumming, need increasing in intensity. So seduction an inch of me at a time? More, please.

"Green."

"One trauma was sexual abuse at age five by a fourteen-year-old girl, the daughter of a family friend. It marks me still, but I work on overcoming it."

Shuddering at the thought someone would hurt him like that, I fought the urges to recoil from it. Layers. Each layer must be a matter of trust and acceptance for him, what we build up between us. It frightened me. I accepted it despite the struggle.

"Green."

One wrist, then the other, carpets of kisses down my forearm, the crook of my elbow, stopping at my tee-shirt cuff, then down again, up the other arm, down, repeated for a time so heavenly I became lost within it. So slow, so thoughtful, so wanted. Want. That was a word so light. Need. Must have. Yes. I. Must. Have. Him. He teased me this far, for so long today, I wanted to cum. By now, I would have with any partner before. Okay, maybe I'd cum in the past with a partner, perhaps not. Tonight, I had to. I needed it so terribly, like a fever burning me from the inside out.

"G-green."

"I had physical and emotional abuse from my grandfather, my uncle, and my aunt, that was ongoing. I seek to avoid conflict and avoid things that feel like conflict, no matter how nonthreatening they may be. I'm socially shy and self-isolate out of fear of rejection."

"Green."

Guiding my body upward, sitting with legs folded under me, he moved behind, kneeling, tugging at my clothes. He slipped the hem of my tee-shirt from the waist of my shorts, fingers gliding across my flesh, lifting it off of me with even, slow speed. I didn't object, the cool air pleasant upon my bared skin. Fingertips were tracing the curves of my belly, feeling his embrace meeting over my stomach. So ashamed I was about my body. I felt ashamed of my curves; I thought I was too fat. I flaunt my body and hate it too. Not here, not now, not with him. His embrace, a loving hug soothing me, calms my fears. The expected pause as he stills his body for far too long. It came too soon for my ever-growing hunger.

"Green."

"I write stories about being with a partner because I'm too afraid to trust they won't hurt me. I'm so afraid right now. I don't know if I can continue, but I will if you permit me. I want to act upon my fantasies."

"Green, so green."

Strings untied, sheer fabric of my bikini top slipping down my breasts, away to the side. Loose hair pulled aside with one hand, tilting my neck to expose me to his whim. My breathing quickened, too: ardent kisses worked their way along the line of my pulse, trailed by nips of my flesh. Another hand traced fingertips around my torso, so close to my breasts. My nipples hardened peaks for far too long tonight. Yet no relief for my ardor. That most sensitive part of my flesh there upon my chest, he avoids, though strokes ever closer graze the outermost curves. He bends me forward.

Hands upon the softness of the sleeping bag, my back straight, he leans above me, kissing my skin languidly, laying out trails, crisscrossing them, circling them, making me shiver upon every chastely twisted kiss. Pressure, pushing me down until my face graces the flannel lining, his still clothed thighs parted in front of me while he leans over me, tracing the stubble of his cheeks across the line between my nakedness and short's waist.

I expect a stop, a pause anew by now. Hands grab my hips instead, rubbing my clothed curves, gripping them firmly over the thin, so thin denim cloth. I never thought about the thickness until this moment. It was all but the last barrier between my hidden flesh and his attentions. I lifted my hips to meet his palms, claiming me, those fingers slipped down between the cleft of my buttocks, so near liberation, down my thighs massaging, then running fingernails upon the fabric. He must know my arousal by now, the running wetness between my legs. Perhaps that was why he lingered long with fingertips rubbing my inner thighs short of my need.

It stopped then. A heartbeat. Another. I was lost in the temptations, unable to think clearly. Was it a pause too long? No, I had to tell him my need for his exquisite attention.

"Green"

"I write stories about certain needs different from the typical romance. What I want most isn't for just anyone. To reach there, I have more layers than we shall explore tonight. You will still be cared for, Alana. I want to give you the sweetest I can give before I offer you the tangy and tart. With each layer more, you're reaching your well-earned, well-deserved release."

"Gr-gr-green"

I was panting my choice, so exhilarating. Those words, poetic, too sweet perhaps? No, they were playful, romantic. Overdone? Too purple? Kind of. He gives them to me so lightly laid, though. What more could I say, but more?

A finger under my chin, lifting my face upward, pausing my lips between his thighs. His center had its scent of hunger, his hunger. Sweet arousal a breath away from my face. A fistful of my hair, so chestnut shade, his control was pressing my face against him there. I lapped him upon that cloth, too thick a layer for my taste. I wanted to take him inside my mouth, to the back of my throat. Yeah, I wanted that, but it wasn't to be. He lifted my head by hair alone. It rose until our faces were a breath apart, his fist still tight upon my tresses. It was a lull, our eyes gazing into the other under the starshine. There we were again, at the drawbridge. There was but one choice I liked, as always. And only one response floating from my lips.

"Green."

"Outside of these moments here, I feel stripped of control, afraid, because of my triggers and anxiety. Doing this here with you now, I feel safe. Total control is what I need for a time to find my mental stillness, tranquility. It soothes me. At the same time, I cannot take what I want. I can only humbly receive what you freely offer to me. I only have the power over you that you give me. You will always have the final say."

"Green, of course, green.”

Those erotic romances. I know such flavors. This is better. No asshole alpha was flashing cash, throwing around power. He's the softer alpha I didn't think I wanted. Those hot fantasies I drooled over were such finger slipping, one-handed reading. This is more. This is taking time and care, offering, accepting. No demands. Only requests. Yes, this.

Liberating my hair from that forceful grip, his hands guided me backward until I laid gazing skyward again. An instant, then the sound of laces loosening. One boot. Two boots. One sock. Two socks. All slipping smoothly from my feet, kisses dancing across the tops, dancing around my ankles, seeking lines up my calves, my thighs, denied more by my pant legs. Only a few inches, though. Only a few inches more to go to touch my sweetness. Denied that gift. Those wonderful lips of his trailed down my other thigh, down, down, down in such perfect kisses until my foot was worshiped. Another round, particular focus upon the back of my ankles with that stubble, the backs of my knees, those inches short of my pussy.

Writhing atop the sleeping bag, I wanted to do more than moan and receive teasing, yet it was total perfection. Reaching out to touch him, he firmly placed my wrists upon the flannel.

"You have to wait, Alana. No touching, not yet. If you try again, I'll tie your hands. Do you understand?"

"Green... I want to touch you so much."

"I know. But for now, you must be patient. I want to give you much more."

My button. My zipper. That thin cloth. Sliding down my thighs so much like silk upon silk in my mind. Then the silk of kisses, making me jump with each new attention. My legs made to spread for him. I had no reservations. There was no need for them. I gifted myself to him. So close, so far, near to cumming I thought. How far was he, then? Who would last longer? Me. I knew I could. I knew I would. No matter what he did to me.

What he did to me. Yeah, all that he did. Hips prepared to receive him. Cunt ready to fuck. Me so needy to cum. Just fuck me, Zander, have me, use me. Let my body sate your need, fill me with your cock, cum inside me, please. There's no sympathy fucking, no, there can't be, never a thought of it again. I want him. Really, really want him.

Goddess, I had to tempt his threat. I had to touch him, fuck the consequences. I wanted to feel his flesh upon my fingers, dragging my nails down his back as he rammed home so deep into me, shoving me across the sleeping bag with each hard thrust. Fantasies, all of him, having me, taking me how he wants, for however long he wants.

My fingers slipped through his hair as his tongue bathes the crease of my hip, down, down, down so close to my drenched entrance. That rumbling purr. The slow walking up my body on his hands and knees over me. The slow, shaking head. That smirk. Yeah. He's going to do something. He won't tie my hands, though. He's not that kind of seductor.

"I told you, little Alana, I would tie your hands if you did this again. I guess you want it sincerely, so as you gave me permission, I receive it happily."

Movement. The rustling sound of things in his backpack. Tinkling of metal on metal, soft slooping of something, then above my head, the soft pounding of something on metal. Metal slipping into the ground. A dropping in y belly, so fast, so confusing. He meant it when he said it. Oh. My. I've been safe up to now, so this is only a layer of play higher than before. But tying my hands. I've never had that done, not even with the kinkiest of partners. Maybe they weren't that kinky?

Soft rope, so delicate upon my skin, wrapping around my wrists. My arms spread apart, yet still loose. I think I want this. I do like this. I want to know where this goes, where this takes us. I want to discover it together.

"I fantasize about rope play, bondage, tying up a partner. Nothing extreme, not in this fantasy for tonight. As I said, this is a sweet taste of how I love control. You can always stop this if you wish.

"I don't want to. Green."

The tapping of more stakes around the edge of the sleeping bag, The slooping of more soft rope. My ankles. My knees. Spread wide and comfortable. Legs bent, made like butterfly wings. So this is where we've come. This kinky path. Is there fucking? I want fucking. I so want fucking. Take me, Zander, take me. Just like this. Take me. Pound my cunt. It's yours, Zander. Have me like a prize. I'm so wet for you. I've been so wet for you today.

One string. Two strings. The final cloth of my attire, my bikini bottom. Drenched with my sopping wetness. I'm leaving a wet spot for him, right there on the sleeping bag, the sign of my need. Flaunt it, Alana. Flaunt your pussy for him. He'll take it soon, make it filled with his cock. That cock you want to taste so much. That cock you want to ram into your mouth until you gag on it. Until it makes your mouth dripping wet with saliva to slicken its path to the back of your throat.

He takes nothing. Teasing. He teases me even more. Lapping around my center, avoiding my needy clitty, avoiding my engorged lips. Touch them. Touch them, please. I need to cum, to cum for you. Take that tongue of yours and fill me with it. Drink me up. Devour me.

Walking lips and tongue up my body, up to my belly, up to my torso, between my breasts. Teasing kisses under my chin, upon my throat. Then it comes, his lips upon mine. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Passionate, needy kisses. I crane my neck up to take him. He taunts me by slipping fast away out of reach. Whimpers. Pleading face. The words I must tell him for him to know my wants.

"Green. Please, green. Totally green."

"I see how you are in these moments. This is what I fantasize about when I dream about being with someone. I dream of making them want until they beg. This is the control I want you to give me each time, if not more. When you do, I will make the gift so much more than you can ever imagine."

Leaning down, lips near to touching again, his breath passion fire, he whispers words that made my heart beat faster than before.

"Alana, you are the book whose covers I wish to open. You have the pages upon which I wish to write my poetry."

Tears. Tears of pleasure. Lust. Desire. I am his book. He writes upon my pages, in these moments, his poetry. Yes. I feel the verses flowing across my skin as electric arcs. The rhythm played out in my pulse. The past is nothing. No one compares to him. No. One. No past lover reached within my soul, as Zander does tonight. I am his. But could he make me more? Could he drive me to the ends of tolerance? Take me past all reason and logic? My body sings for him. I ache to have me end this torment, to fuck me without thought, to be the beast who quenches my fire. Please, please, please. I need you more than anyone before.

"Zander, please, green. Green for mercy. Green to let me cum. Green to use my body to satisfy your every need. Simply green."

"I am not done writing, Alana, my sweet one. I have more to tell you, to reveal. You're so close to my inner sacred spaces. This is only a taste of what dwells inside me. There is darker hunger inside me. I write erotica made of pungent spices. I want to taste them blended upon you. I'm afraid, though. I'm afraid you'll not understand."

He has me to his advantage. This is exquisite torture. I feel light as a feather, floating upon every current, every whim he has. There's no fear. No worry. There's nothing but him, and me, together. Pulsing. Throbbing. The spice of his mind. How much is there beyond this? I can cross this bridge, learn to understand. I can.

Panting words. My voice so edged with fire. I need to know.

"Green. Zander. I'm. Not. Afraid."

Hot, slow breaths upon my nipples, ones such hardened berries because of him. He licks it with care, takes it into his mouth, encircling it with his lips. Back arching. Cunt twitching. Gasping moans. Senses on razor's edge. He was taking me at last. Sucking me within deeper, bathing tongue worshiping upon the temple that is my body. Tears. So many tears. Near liberating release, yet so far away still.

Floating among the stars. My body feels twinkling, glowing with his attention. Where is my place within the sky? What constellation does he make out of me? Where do I shine? I'm there, a shooting star, racing across the heavens, powered by his lover's care. Devour me, all of me.

One nipple, twisted, tugged, pinched. My growling moan turned pleasure cry turned panting. Suckling the other in parallel. Yes. More. Need it. Must have it. Cunt so needy. Panting hard, more twist, more tug, more pinch. Arching back, Bucking upward to meet his body with mine to no avail. Writhing below him, mastering my body, controlling my pleasure. Whimpers turned growls, wave after wave, yes. Yes. Yes. More. Pause, so empty a pause. My lips near to slip the needed words.

His body was flowing down mine, kissing his way down, down, down my belly. Betwixt my thighs. Hungry domination. Sucking in my clit. Stars. I see stars. Stars within my eyes, not of the heavens. Bucking against the ropes, threatening to pull the stakes from the ground, he controls me, liberates the tigress within. Slipping a tongue between my folds, eating me with abandon. Setting my body on edge, too close to freedom, yet holding it back. Fuck me. Fuck me hard. Fuck me deep. Fuck me. Just fuck me.

"Green! Green! Green!"

Crying for more, calling for my gift. Keening for my deliverance from his perfect perversion played across my pussy. Rivers of me slathered upon his tongue, lapping me up, drinking me in. The inferno consumes me, his quenching lacking the power to conquer the flames.

Spreading my folds with bold fingers. Yes. Open me for your use. Eat my bounty. I'm yours. All of me. Consume me completely. Deep tongue flicks, landing at last upon my swollen clit. Languidness of powerful laps like a lion's upon prey. I know I'm his prey. He made me so.

Rising like stair steps up, up, up, he pulls me higher, near the edge of the precipice down which I'll fly upon the whirlwind of release, finally, at last. A pause. One finger, two fingers, three sliding within me, stretching me wide. Fingers were seeking my special nexus, so focused for pleasure, strokes, and taps just within my slick tunnel, waiting for love. His love. His special love. Grinding my hips into his strokes. Growling. Whimpering. Panting. Bucking all of my being into his reach.

There. Right there. All there. Panting faster, harder. Yes. There. Right there. More. Faster. Deeper, Tap. Stroke. Tap. Stroke. Pressing hard against that perfect wall of total pleasure. Oh. My. Goddess. I. Am. Cumming!

Roaring, baring my teeth, feral growls. Fucking his fingers like a bitch in heat. A total whore demanding a fuck. I'm his impressive slut. Only his. For his use alone. Another one is rippling through me as lighting striking, waves of tsunami cum drenching his hand. I cum for him. Hard. Harder. My cunt clamping down around his fingers. Those fingers were pounding me still. Deep, hard, rough. Fucking me without mercy. Yes! Goddess yes! Another. Waves of euphoria. My mind is blank. My body floats. There is only the cumming. So much cumming. I can't stop. He continues. No stopping. Riding another. Clamping him tighter. They're growing higher, faster, harder. Oh. My. Goddess!

Tears. Tears of utter pleasure. Don't stop. Never stop. Pounding me like a fuck hole for his release. No, not his. This is all for me. My gift, his gift to me. Oh. Goddess! Another. No. I can't. So sensitive. So. Much. Cumming. I whimper my surrender. I give him the last inch of my sanity. Every part of me that there is to give. Upon his touch, upon his hand, I flow to mark him as mine. He strokes me to make me his. Make me entirely his. I want no other. Ever. Only him. Only his entire being.

"I. Can't! So. Sensitive. No. More. Still. Cumming! God-dess! Zander, please. Please! No more!"

No stopping. He doesn't stop. He pounds me harder, slipping deeper within me, taunting ever more until I'm incoherent. Panting as an animal. No words. No more words. Crying rivers. So much. So much more than I could dream. So much. So much.

No counting them. I've lost their number. Riding the waves one after another. Riding them hard, higher, ever higher. Then ramping down. Slower, slower, slower slipping within, sliding out. I'm melted upon the flannel. I have no form save a puddle of my former self. Floating. Floating upon the air. Quavering aftershocks. Shivering. Quaking. Pulsing. Slower, ebbing slower. I'm spent. Utterly spent.

Rope turning limp. Each part of me gains freedom. Each corner of my body feels released. No stress. No worries. Nothing but relaxation. Softly slipping rope upon my skin. My body laid together. My legs straightened, arms brought to my sides. Unable to move. Mellow. I'm so mellow. Nothing but tranquility incarnate.

His body laid beside mine, scooping me up, pulling me against him. His heat was warming me. Forehead kisses, slow, delicate, loving. All is love. He loves on me, careful kisses, mindful of my sensitivity to the slightest touch across every part of my being. Arms wrapped around me. Safe. So safe in his arms. Dreamy. All dreamy.

A whisper. My eyes look upon the starshined face of my lover. There is only him and me. Nothing else matters.

"This is aftercare. You're safe here with me. The endorphin high will come down, perhaps you'll crash, perhaps you glide. I'm here with you to keep you safe. You are my world, Alana. You are my world tonight, tomorrow, for as long as you wish to have me."

"You won't fuck me?"

My voice so soft, questioning, wondering. Why doesn't he take me now? Why hesitate?

"Later. Once you've rested. Your needs come first tonight. You gave yourself to me. I accepted your gift. Tonight is about your needs, not mine."

My needs. All about me. Never before had I such a selfless partner. I wanted to make him cum even more than before. If I could move. My body was jelly within his arms. What could I do? Rest. I could rest. My head against his chest, drinking in his scent of sweat and musk and spice. That I could do.

Waking. I awoke still close within his arms. His heartbeat thumped slow, throbbing pulsing energy spanned his form. casting a glance upon the sky, the stars had turned across the heavens. I didn't know the time. Tonight was timeless. Marked in total surrender of myself to this man. Uncertain. I felt uncertain now. So vulnerable while still naked. I was safe in my nudity. He protected me. His bountiful body warmed me, his touch invigorated me. It was time to repay his attentions.

"I'm ready. I want to be with you. I want to feel you inside me."

Quiet. So quiet. Did he slumber? Was he as exhausted as I had been? Fingertips upon his cheek birthed a smile upon his face. So my lover was ready for his pleasure. Good. Then a note of sadness, those gentle words of doubt.

"I'm not worthy of you. I'm not-I'm not shaped right. I-I-I don't know how to-to be with a woman. I-I-I did something I'm not proud of because I was depressed when I studied abroad. You'll hate me for it."

There was a surprise in my mind. Not worthy? Overweight, yes, but he was a fantastic lover. I didn't care about his body shape. I wanted to be with him. He knows how to please a woman, perhaps from reading? Did he have a terrible experience when he had sex before now? None of it made sense. None of it. What could he have done that was so terrible that he'd think I'd hate him? I had to know.

"You know enough to make me feel so wonderful. How can you say you don't know how to be with a woman? And I don't care about your weight, Zander. I want to be with you for you, not because you look like an athlete."

"I had a depressed spell while abroad, terrible. I had no hope. I felt like less than nothing. I turned twenty-one in Spain. The drinking age is thirteen. There was no rite of passage. Except for something I'd never done. I had sex with a prostitute. My first time was with a prostitute. I'm damaged, and I regret what I did, but I can't-"

Shocked. So shocking. I didn't expect that. But hate him? No. Never. Not for something like that. Sadness. I felt sad that he was so discouraged that he thought so darkly about himself. Then those tears, his tears, falling so fast that I felt the rivers upon my fingertips like torrents.

"You were in a hard place then, that's all. I don't care what happened then. You're here with me now. You're the man who made me feel adored, cherished. There's no need to cry."

"I'm so afraid. This is one of the broken parts that I can't get out of my mind. I feel unlovable. I'm horrible, horrible. I was concerned about your aftercare so much I didn't think about my own."

Pulling him close to me, caressing his hair, kissing his forehead, I had nothing but affection for him within me. Who was I to judge him? I'd been with so many people, some to get off and leave, others because I was drunk or high. I had no place to say I was better than anyone. Reassurance. He needed that. And to know that he was accepted without reservation.

"I've done things I'm not proud of either, sexual things, but they don't define us unless we let them. You told me names are only words, and words are nothing without actions. Actions define who we are. Those actions are choices we make. "

"Yeah. I said that."

"You learned from your past. You chose to be with me, to give me such a wonderful gift tonight. You're an attentive partner. You learned to be that way because of the choices you made. You wrote your fantasies in stories. Tonight you made them a reality. I want to be with you, Zander. You have nothing to be afraid of. I want you. You. No one else. You."

Kisses upon his lips, I laid them down as he had done to me. Wiping away his tears with my fingers, I kissed him as my lover. I kissed him like a woman who wanted to be with but one man. I meant every kiss, every caress, every touch.

Finding his belt, button, and zipper, I gave him freedom, slipped my hand down to his heated center, and felt it growing within my palm. Those groans of pleasure as I touched that most sacred flesh, my body became ready to receive him. My want was too potent to wait as I thought about his care of me. He moved slow. I moved fast.

His boots slipped off with ease in my aggression. Those jeans so smooth couldn't resist my grasp, yanking them down along with his briefs, freeing all of him. That beautiful cock growing in my hand, my thighs spread to take it inside, sitting upon his hips. That shirt went away, tugging it off to expose him fully. This was my time to worship. That rigidness so hot, so engorged, still growing thicker, longer. He was just right, a grower, not a shower. Perfect for me in every way. So welcome as I slickened it against my slit, my wetness bathing the shaft as I stroked him. Those groans were music. Rubbing it against my clitty, softness upon softness, that wonderful delight of pleasing him and me simultaneously. I had to tell him. Let him know I adored his body as he did mine.

"Relax, sweetheart. I'll take care of you. Relax and let me make you feel so special."

"Okay. But one thing-"

He reached for the backpack at the edge of his fingertips. Pulling it closer, his hand sought something—that something he handed to me, his palm grazing mine. The soft metallic square, I knew what it was. So thoughtful. And prepared. Naughty boy. Kinky man.

"You're a Boy Scout. Always prepared. Hmm, I'll slip it on, eventually. For now, I'll tease you as you did me. Your cock is just right for my pussy. That pulsing shaft, the soft cockhead, circumcised, so exposed. I wonder how it would feel to have me stroke it?”

Dipping my fingers within my tunnel, gathering my arousal, I cupped it with my fingertips, slathering it upon that perfect head. Swirling it around, around, around until his hips bucked, lifting me. Such strength in that body. To feel those thrusts of his. Mmm. Soon enough, I'll ride him hard, hard, harder, make him growl with hunger.

Oh. Yeah. I feel the precum. He's ready. Primed for his release. So tempting. I could let him cum inside me, forget the condom. No, not tonight. Save it for another time. Make it a special gift for him. I want him to teach me more about his spice, make my gift part of the pungent play. To give him every part of me, yeah. Let him show me how far it can go.

"Your cock is very near and-"

I tasted him, wetted my fingers with him as it ran out now as a small stream. Salty. Sweet. A blowjob. Tomorrow. I'll give him one tomorrow. Find a place to take him deep into my mouth. Kneel before him. Make him fist my hair. Make him fill my mouth with his fullness. Mmm. I want that snack. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, Alana. Tomorrow.

Tonight, I ride him until he fills me with that load he has ready, that milky gift of cum. I want it. I need it. I must have it deep within me. So tempting. I'm waffling. Cum filling my every inch within? A condom? A condom. Slip it on, slip him in. Fill yourself with his bounty. He's earned your cunt channel several times over.

"-you taste like desire. You have a gift deep down within you. Will you give it to me if I make you feel terrific?"

Moans. Pants. Teasing him was so much fun. Make him whimper? Maybe. Slip him inside. Feel him, all of him. I want him here between my thighs. Oh, when he bit my neck, pinched my nipples. I loved those things. Mmm. I can pinch myself as I ride him, yeah.

There it is, that smooth, slick condom down that throbbing shaft, down to the root of him. So sensual to do it now. I feel connected to him. Not love. Something more primal. That primal need to be with someone. To connect with a special partner. Connect, yes.

Rising. My hips were rising up, up, up. His cockhead pressed against my entrance, finger guiding, holding his shaft perfectly. Slipping inside. He feels just right. Hold him there, deep inside. Give him the pleasure of your heat, Alana. Surround him with your slick cunt channel. That fuckhole, he needs it to cum. Be his whore. Yeah. Be his fucktoy. Be his needy slut. Oh. Goddess. So fucking good, yeah. Ride it, Alana! Ride him hard! Pound that cock!

"Uh, mmm, yeah! So fucking hard!"

"Oh. Oh. Oh! Alana! Mmm!"

"Your cock is mine. Mine to tease. Mine to taunt. I'll blow your mind. Make you beg. Turnabout is fair play!"

Those low growls he makes. His hips were grinding up into mine, coming down, slapping together. My hands steadied upon his belly. So soft. So warm. A cuddle toy to fuck. So twisted, Alana. Such a dirty girl for a naughty boy. Oh. Mmm. Pound him. Ride him. Ride him!

"Keep bucking, Zander. Keep ramming me deeper. I want you to drive that cock into me. Fill me up with that hard, wonderful part of you."

He had me panting. Grinding my hips around his cock, ramming me. I drove him insane with need. Those panting growls. Hands were gripping my hips. Hard. Hard. Harder. Goddess! Oh. I hear it. I hear his catching pants. He's close, getting closer.

"Keep it up. Cum for me, honey. Cum inside me. I'm yours to fill. I want all your cum, every drop."

My fingertips were slipping upon peaked nipples, pinching them hard, twisting them until the pain became a pleasure. I was feeling that changing tempo. His voice was catching more frequently. Closer. Closer. Closer to his release. Hands like claws owning my hips, my ass, possessing my flesh. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah.

"That's it, baby, my pussy is all for you. Pound it! Fuck it! Make me your little bitch! Own me!"

"Alana! Alana! Alana! I'm. Cum. Ming!"

"Goddess! Yes! Cum baby cum! That's it, shoot it deep! Make me yours!"

Panting, panting, panting, his voice became growling roars. Bucking hips became still. My grinding slowed as he whimpered.

"I'm. So. Sensitive. Be. Gentle."

Purring. Loving purring flavored my words as I stopped my grinding, my pulse still quick and throbbing. Such a perfect ride under a starry sky. So very perfect.

"Oh honey, I'm your sweet girl. I want to feel your pulsing cock, that throbbing heat to the last spurt. I want to keep you inside forever."

Leaning forward, laying upon his belly, I laid kisses upon his chest, those hot hands running fingers through my tossed tresses. Breathing slower. Calming his pulse. His firmness ebbed away. Feeling him shrink, it was a sweetness, feeling him to the end. Oh, one more thing to do. Clean up. Yeah, take care of him. Aftercare. He needs that too.

"Relax, Zander. I'll take care of you as you did for me. Just enjoy that glowing feeling. I loved it so much."

The panting relaxed, easing his words, allowing sentences again. Such luscious gratitude, I thought.

"Thank you. That was wonderful. You're my world."

I'm his world. He's my world. I spread his covers to see inside. Perfect imperfections upon the pages, his poetry mine to read. I want to read more. Every page.

Clean up done. Aftercare fun. Snuggling into him, skin upon skin, I sense the connection growing between us. He let me into his sacred space, shared his fears, his challenges. I see into him as he is. Authentic. No social bullshit like trying to impress, to play a role. Unlike the games, my friends and others like to play, the status flaunting, boasting large, shallow personalities. He told me the good and the bad tonight. I go into this with eyes open. Mind open.

Languid kissing tasting of spent pleasure, a journey without a destination, simply being. My aftercare is more than embrace, endless appreciation more like. Laughing. Purring. Losing each of us in the other. Delightful. So wet between my thighs, I finger myself, swirling my clit, so aroused, pressing my body against his, so horny again.

"After we rest again, Alana, as sad as it is, we should go back to the camping site. Our friends will eventually miss us, and sleeping in a tent will help hold in some heat."

My mind, my body rejects that choice. Fingering deeper, faster, rutting my pussy against him, I lay passion upon him to distract. I have to say my thoughts if my body's actions are not enough to dissuade him.

"I don't want to go. I like it here together under the stars. And I'm horny again."

A laugh, so quiet, a whispered purring tone. Kisses tracing the curves of my neck, then nipping, then tender bites. Furious finger fucking filling my pussy, gasping between the self-loving and his markings. Whimpering, wordless pleas to remain unmoved from our spot.

"You'll always be horny around me, dear. It doesn't matter where we are together, I'll make certain you stay ready for my needs."

Panting. So much panting. Wanting to believe those words. I wonder what being aroused all the time would be like? Wanting. I want that. Fingers playing upon my body to stay like I am now. Slippery wet. Hardened nipples. Constant need. Yeah. Wanting. Make me wanting. Wanting for you.

"Promise?"

"I promise.."

He sent me over the edge, falling into pleasure with just those two words.

"Oh. Oh. Mmm. I'm. Cum-cum-cum-ming. For. You. Oh. Goddess!"

Quaking throbs of release, an orgasm like a tidal wave washing over me. Yes. Oh yes. That want. That need. The desire to be his slut. Just for him. To be that girl that's so innocent outside, a dirty whore inside. Still so horny. His horny whore. Yes. I'm his whore. So willingly.

Collapsing. All of me collapsed into him. Those arms wrapped me up, keeping me warm, keeping me safe. So horny still, but so exhausted. Accepting reality, I must. It's all I can do. So needy. So sleepy. Melting into him again, I accept the conflict.

"I do feel anxious, Alana. I'm not sure what our friends will say."

"It's okay. I feel anxious too. Isn't it wonderful, though?"

"How? Why?"

"We blasted through all the social nonsense tonight. We're in uncharted territory."

"I'm nervous about being made fun of because of, you know, that we..."

"We had mind-blowing, totally amazing sex under the stars on a non-date adventure?"

"Because I'm not..."

"Because you're not a self-absorbed asshole rather a wonderful lover? Because you're not exclusively focused on what you can take from someone, instead so attentive and thoughtful to a partner's needs and desires?

"I'm a joke to them. I make it look like I don't mind being used, that's it's okay for them to do what they do. And I don't want them to make fun of you because of me."

"Well, fuck them. Fuck them all. Let them talk shit. They're not part of this partnership."

"So-so we're dating or something? What do we call what-what this is?"

"We're far past anything so simple and shallow, sweetheart. We're connecting at an entirely deeper level, you know?"

"What about social... expectations... aren't there rules we have to follow?"

"The only rules are the ones we make for ourselves. I know it's scary to feel so vulnerable, have things so intensely emotional happen so soon after meeting. You shared very personal things with me after only knowing me for a short time."

"Yeah, I do feel so raw and exposed, still afraid of rejection. I'm so afraid this is a dream, and when I wake up, none of this wonderfulness will have happened."

"It did. It happened because you tried for something special with someone, despite how afraid you were. I feel so blessed to be with someone so authentic and unique."

"There's still more for me to share, more of the things that I'm afraid might make you hate me or throw me away."

"I will not throw you away, Zander. How about this-I'll share my fears and things about myself that make me worry about your rejection? I won't hide anything from you. I'll even answer any question to ask me with the truth, no matter how vulnerable, afraid, or uncomfortable. It makes me feel."

"Do you like me for more than sex?"

"Yes. Yes, I do. No one has made me feel so special and cared about. The truth? I've had sex with so many people. I've fucked many people, Zander. I've lost count. Some I did because I was bored, some because I was on one drug or another. I don't want any more of that way of living, of that life. It sounds so weird, maybe unbelievable, but tonight you changed something inside me so profoundly that I don't want anyone else but you."

"What did I do?"

"You told me that I'm your world, that I'm the book upon whose pages you wish to write your poetry."

"I'm wired differently, Alana. My brain-I blurt out what I feel in those moments. I say the most bizarre things."

"You're the book whose covers I want to spread to read the pages upon which you wrote poetry about yourself.

"Really? Do you mean that? That I'm your special book? Because I love books so much. I've never been told I'm that special."

"You are my book and so much more."

"Feeling things so strongly. It's overwhelming. I make people uncomfortable because I feel so deeply and intensely. I have bipolar. I have intense moments of mania and depression, sometimes at the same time, sometimes flipping between them several times a day. I have mood swings where I'm difficult to be with because of my symptoms. And I have an anxiety disorder. And l have trauma triggers."

"Help me understand what you need, what I can do to help you when you're struggling. Major depressive disorder runs in my family. I know what some of it is like first hand."

"Then you know how much it strains relationships. I'm afraid it will tear us apart before we even start."

"We'll have very rough times sometimes. Maybe you become angry with me. Maybe I become angry with you. Maybe we have fights. Goddess knows I've fought with my parents and siblings because of my depression symptoms."

"Do you take medication, or do you use coping strategies?"

"I use both. For me, it takes both."

"I'm still learning coping skills. The meds, those are still a work in progress."

"It will be okay. We both have brains wired differently."

"I was feeling manic while I was opening my drawbridges and being an erotic seductor. I realize how grandiose and over the top I sounded and acted in retrospect."

"It was wonderful. Even with it was over the top. The symptoms don't always have to be bad."

"You're a very special person, Alana."

"So are you, Zander."

"My first name is really Alekzander. With a ‘K’. My family has Russian roots."

"Do you like the nickname Zander?"

"No, not especially, no. I prefer Alex or Alekzander. Only Trey and Bret like to be jerks. Well, those two and their affluent friends."

"Alex, then. I'll save Alekzander for formal occasions."

"You're sweet. I'm so far from formal. The closest I got to formal was the rented tuxedos for my proms. And I get stressed out about anything socially oriented."

So lost in the night, our after-sex pillowless talk, I didn't notice the stars slipping away, the thin fingers of dawn creeping over the canyon. Neither did Alex for several moments, not until he laid back to rest his shoulder.

"Oh, my Goddess! Alana, we've been up all night! How did that happen?"

"Well, I met this fascinating guy who seduced my clothes off, gave me mind-blowing orgasms, and is so charming with his words, I lost track of time."

"Hmm. I met this wonderful girl who accepts the good, the bad, the weird of me, who became my world, and who enthralls me with her mind."

Slipping my lips upon his, sliding my tongue between his parted lips, I claimed his mouth for a perfect morning arousing kiss. Enthralled. That little poet. My little poet. This wonderful man. So very addictive.

Breaking away to catch his breath, his arms encircling my body, I saw his hazel eyes for the first time, flecked with gold. Those photochromatic lenses in his glasses hid them from me during the bright daylight. So fucking sexy.

"You're eyes are melted chocolate. So lovely in the morning light. You have starry night bedroom eyes."

"You're going to make me so horny I'll have to ride you hard and put you away wet again."

"Promise?"

"Goofball...though I think getting dressed would be a good idea before our shallow friends come looking for us."

Gathering our clothes was interesting. Mine were thrown about the surroundings. His I left in a pile to the side of the sleeping bag. Redressing wasn't as fun as ripping them off, but it was delightful to help each other with our layers. Before the sun rose above the horizon, we were decent. Outwardly. I was now a dirty-minded little whore for him. That good morning kiss of his after I slipped on my tee-shirt, oh my Goddess. It was so pussy wetting, panty drenching, and then some.

He had a lovely idea in the place of fucking. Photographs. Of me backlit by the rising sun, the canyon walls illuminated by the golden light. Of me illuminated by the sun, canyon walls soft-focused as a background. Of us kissing, backlit in the glowing sunlight. Of him embracing me from behind, us gazing toward the sunrise. He transferred them to my phone. And others too that he secretly took of me yesterday. All of them looked so lovely, too much so for social media. Better to be framed.

I looked forward to the walk of shame this morning. No fucks would be given. Well, perhaps some fucks, later in the day, devouring him like a tigress in heat. Mmm. Yeah. That.

---

#20to30yo_female

#20to30yo_male

#feet

#camping

#outdoors

#student

#white_female

#white_male

#classmates

#strangers