0 comments/ 23828 views/ 4 favorites Lookout By: El Amor Brujo Do I believe in soulmates? You bet I do, and if you're destined to meet yours you will, no matter what mountains may be placed in your path. In the case of Evan and me, there was just one mountain and it was an isolated peak of 7200 feet in northwestern Montana. It was called Wolf Mountain and there was a lookout tower on top of it, a fourteen by fourteen foot box perched on stilts above a barren rocky summit, below which stretched sloping meadows of beargrass and dwarf huckleberry interrupted by granite outcrops and talus fields. A stone thrown from the tower would find the first scrubby trees of timberline, but real forest started lower, at around 6,000 feet. The tower had windows all around and they afforded a spectacular view: to the southeast lay the Mission Mountains, still wearing snow on their north faces; beyond the Missions marched the main chain of the Rockies, taller and snowier, bearing the Continental Divide north into Canada; northwest the Selkirk and Purcell Ranges in the Idaho Panhandle also faded away into distant British Columbia, while to the southwest and west reared the Bitteroot and Cabinet Mountains, respectively. In all of this wild expanse the only signs of human activity were a few distant clearcuts and a little pastureland. All else was mountains and forest, as far as the eye could see. I was the fire lookout on Wolf Mountain and it was my job to periodically gaze at this magnificence throughout the day. If I saw any smoke or lightning strikes I radioed the dispatcher at the District Ranger Station and reported the location. Aside from this duty my time was my own. I'd been on the tower for six weeks, since early July, and in that time I'd not seen a single human being, save two visits from the packer, who'd brought fresh supplies. I was desperately lonely and horny as a goat. My name, by the way, is Janet. I was a forestry major about to start my senior year at Iowa State. Iowa doesn't have much in the way of forests so a lot of students there look for summer jobs in the West where they can experience the real thing. The previous three summers I'd planted trees, fought fires and cruised timber, all for the U.S. Forest Service. The work was tough, the company rough and predominantly male. When the chance came to spend this summer as a fire lookout I jumped at it. Having just gotten out of a relationship with a brilliant, attractive and domineering engineering student, I was really looking forward to some solitude in which to recuperate, ponder and catch up on my music and artwork. My body had other ideas. Working summers for the Forest Service may not do much for the mind but it can do wonders for the body. The nearest water was a spring and shallow tarn about a half mile and 800 vertical feet below the summit. The daily hike back to the lookout packing five gallons of water on my back had given me legs of iron and buns of steel. At five feet nine and maybe a hundred and forty pounds I was no fashion model, but the only fat on me was right where it did the most good. Actually, that tanned and curvaceous bod was doing nobody any good, unless you counted the pikas. When I'd wander out into meadows to pick berries, clad only in my hiking boots, they'd stare lustfully at me and whistle. Lascivious little lagomorphs. At the beginning of August I'd had a wonderful dream. Normally my dreams are pretty inconsequential and soon forgotten, but I'll never forget this one. I was in an airport gift shop and a friend was introducing me to a man. He had strong features and eyes you never wanted to look away from. Instead of shaking hands we embraced, and with the embrace all barriers came down and our souls merged. He threw back his head and laughed in exultation, a hearty, earthy laugh. I awoke exalted, feeling that I'd never known love until that moment. I was certain that the dream was precognitive, that at any moment this man would step into my life and we'd live happily ever after. Now, after three weeks of continued isolation I wasn't so sure. After all, I could hardly have picked a worse location for meeting new people, let alone the love of my life. Besides, maybe my dream figure wasn't a real person; maybe I was meeting the male side of myself – what did Jung call it? – my animus. Or was he a disembodied spirit, maybe some kind of angel. But would an angel bringing God's love be so sexy and down-to-earth? Angels weren't supposed to be sexy, were they? Every time I'd think about his eyes, and his embrace, my nipples would grow erect and I'd feel moisture between my thighs. I wanted to maintain a sense of purity about the experience but my body, as I've already noted, has a mind of its own. By eleven o'clock on August twenty-third my thermometer read seventy degrees. In Missoula the temperature would already be in the nineties. Yesterday the high there had been one hundred and three, while Wolf Mountain had topped out at eighty-one. No more perfect summer weather exists than that which is found in the northern Rockies at 7000 feet. The radio came to life: This is your updated fire weather forecast for August twentieth: Three weather systems are approaching the northern Rocky Mountains and are expected to converge over the area tonight bringing thunderstorms, high winds and locally heavy rains. A strong cold front will be dropping down from Canada and meeting a Pacific system which is presently bringing rain to the northern Cascades. These two systems will combine with the flow of monsoonal moisture already in place to produce strong thunderstorms, high winds and locally heavy rain. With the passage of the cold front after midnight the rain should turn to snow at elevations over 7000 feet. Accumulations of one foot or more could occur on the higher peaks. Temperatures tomorrow... I turned down the volume and absorbed the news. The fire season was about to end, and with it my summer job. I was ready to come down. My hoped-for period of reflection and regrouping had turned into long days of lonely yearning, and I had no more answers to life's questions than I'd had in June, only more questions. Out of habit I scanned the surrounding territory for plumes of smoke. Nothing on the ridge to the east where I'd reported several lightning strikes the night before last. Not that it mattered. By tomorrow there wouldn't be a fire burning anywhere in the Northern Region; fire crews would be packing to go home and so would I. My musings were distracted by a flash of movement several hundred yards down the ridge to the east, where the trail to the lookout emerged from the trees. Was it another bear? I'd seen one in just that spot two days ago, a big cinnamon-colored sow with two cubs. No, this was a human! I grabbed the binoculars. A man in shorts and tee shirt leapt into view. He had a daypack on his back and seemed to still have a spring in his stride after a steep four-mile climb from the trailhead. I couldn't quite make out his features at this distance, but what I could see looked pretty good. Hell, Quasimodo would have looked good to me at this point. I was finally getting a visitor! Oh damn! The place was a sty! I scurried frantically around the cabin picking up clothes, books, my neglected art supplies. Actually, there wasn't that much to pick up; I hadn't brought a lot of stuff, knowing that there wasn't room for it. I laid my violin case on the alidade. At least I'd washed the dishes. Yikes, I wasn't wearing a bra! I dug into my bag of clothing and fished out the only one I'd brought, a lacy flesh-colored item. No, dammit! I hadn't worn a bra all summer and I wasn't about to start now! My tee shirt was a little on the thin side but it would have to do. My shorts would have to do as well, even though there was a big huckleberry stain on the butt. Hard to avoid if you sit down to pick berries. I took another look out the window. He was nowhere to be seen! The trail was empty! Where. . . "Anybody home?" called a voice from directly beneath my feet. I ran out the door and leaned over the railing of the catwalk. I still couldn't see anybody. "Come on up. You're a fast walker! Would you like some tea or lemonade? Of course you would, after that hike." "I don't want to intrude. I didn't realize this tower was manned. I just came up to see the view." "Well you'd better come up and see it. You're my first visitor all summer and I'm not going to let you escape yet!" "I don't think I want to escape. I'll be right up." I heard his footsteps as he started up the stairs. A moment later he stepped onto the catwalk. He was dusty and streaked with sweat. He was maybe half a head taller than I was. He smiled, looking at me. He was gorgeous. "The scenery up here is even more beautiful than I'd imagined," he said, looking into my eyes. I felt a major blush developing beneath my tan. "Those peaks over there are in Glacier Park. You picked a good day to come up. It's supposed to storm tonight. What made you decide to climb Wolf Mountain? Nobody ever comes up here. No lakes, no fishing. I'm Janet, by the way." I knew I was babbling. I couldn't stop. My loneliness had made me as garrulous as a barfly. Actually, that was probably a good thing. Normally I'm rather shy around strangers and on the few occasions when I'd been introduced to really attractive men I'd been absolutely tongue-tied and no doubt came across as cold and distant. "I'm Evan," he said. We didn't shake hands. We didn't embrace either. Rats. Nothing like my dream. Those eyes, though- Brad Pitt would have swapped on the spot. "I was on my way to Glacier this morning, but when I saw this mountain from the highway, with the lookout on top, I thought maybe I should climb it; I'd never been to a lookout. Just then I saw a sign for Wolf Mountain and decided it was fate. I followed the road to the trailhead and here I am." He paused. "So were you pretty lonely up here all summer with no visitors?" "Yeah. I thought I'd enjoy it. I needed some space. But I got over that in a hurry. I guess I'm not cut out to be a hermit - or a nun. Come on in. I can make iced tea or lemonade, and there's huckleberry pie. Have you had huckleberry pie? Are you from the Northwest?" "No to both questions. I'm living in Salt Lake City right now, but I'm originally from Pennsylvania." Good. Probably not a Mormon. Mormonism or born-again Christianity wouldn't mesh well with my own rather vague pantheism... Oh brother! I'd known him three minutes and here I was planning our future together! I realized with a shock that I also fully intended to jump his bones. And there was no time to lose. He followed me inside. "Would you care for lemonade? It's not fresh, but the mix is pretty good. And I've got ice. Go ahead and sit on the bed, it's the best seat in the house." He sat down. Oh shit! I'd left my bra on the bed! He was practically sitting on it! Oh well. I got the ice cubes out of the little propane refrigerator and started to measure the lemonade mix. My back was to him but I could see his reflection in a little mirror propped on the counter. I couldn't stop looking at him, even to make lemonade. He'd noticed the bra. He cast a couple of sidelong glances at it and then quickly fingered the tag. "It's a 38C," I said without turning around. "The label's faded and kind of hard to read." He was immediately mortified, but managed a rueful grin. "Busted," he said. I laughed. "Was that a bad pun?" "Is there any other kind?" He was really cute when he blushed. "God, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-" "Oh hush! I shouldn't have left it out. Anyway, I'll forgive you on three conditions: first, you can help me carry water up from the spring; second, you have to stay for dinner." "I can happily agree to those conditions. What about number three?" "I'll think of something," I replied. Yes! That bra had bought me some time, unless I sent him fleeing prematurely down the mountain by being too forward. Not my usual problem. Part of me was standing back and admiring my unprecedented chutzpah. I gave him his lemonade. "Can I see your fiddle?" he asked. "Sure." I opened the case and handed him the instrument. He examined it from all angles. "Looks German. It's in pretty good shape. Maybe a hundred years old?" "I guess. It was my grandmother's. She gave it to me when I was eleven. How do you know about violins?" "It's what I do. I majored in violin performance at Temple for two years before I decided I'd rather make them. I've been going to violin-making school in Salt Lake City. I'll graduate next spring, or at least I hope to." "Evan, that is so totally cool. Listen to me, I'm talking like a fourteen-year-old. Will you play something? Please?" "You can't sound like a fourteen-year-old unless you misuse 'like' at least twice in every sentence. You only said it once and you used it correctly. And yes, I'd be happy to play if you don't mind some rustiness." I gave him the bow and shoulder rest. He stood up and launched into a soulful, bluesy rendition of Summertime. I was immediately enraptured. By the time he finished I was nearly in tears. "Evan...I'm overwhelmed. Ask me for anything." He smiled. "I'll think of something," he quoted. "Which reminds me," I said, "you owe me a trip to the water hole. We should probably get started. But I want to ask you, could you teach me to get that kind of sound on my violin?" "I could try. If you have a strong concept of the sound you want and are determined enough, you should be able to do it. But maybe we should start your lessons at a later date." I liked the sound of that, especially the part about a later date. I wanted lots of later dates, but I decided for once to keep my mouth shut. We strapped the empty plastic water containers onto packframes and started down the steep, narrow trail to the spring, occasionally stopping to pick and eat huckleberries. The day was still warm and sunny, but off to the west the sky had a steely cast, and in the east thunderheads were piling up over the Rockies. And I was planning on generating some electricity of my own when we got to the waterhole. "This is fantastic!" exclaimed Evan when we arrived. The spring seeped out of the base of a rocky outcrop, flowed over a miniature waterfall framed by ferns and moss, and trickled into a small pond, about forty feet across and maybe four feet deep in the middle. "Do you swim in here?" "Every day," I replied, "at least if it's sunny. If it's cloudy the water stays too cold. I'm not your polar bear type." I set the five-gallon containers to catch the water as it went over the little falls, then started to remove my boots and socks. Evan was eyeing me speculatively, perhaps with a little alarm. "I generally wear my clothes when I go in. That way I can wash my clothes and me at the same time." I began to wade. "Come on in, if you're so inclined. I brought soap," I said, flourishing a bar. I was pleased to see him start to follow me into the pool; I wanted to seduce a clean, sweet-smelling man, not a grimy, stinky one. I know some people prefer it otherwise, but not me. A dirty mind in a clean body, that's my motto. When I got waist-deep I began to wash. I soaped and rinsed my face and then laved my pits, working the lather into my tee shirt. Next I started working on my shorts, taking extra time with the huckleberry stain. Hopeless. Behind me Evan was watching circumspectly, but with interest. I unfastened my shorts but left them around my waist. I reached between my legs and soaped my crotch and panties. Then I zipped back up, turned around and tossed the soap to Evan. "Your turn!" I called, and dove in and swam underwater across the pond. When I neared the shore I came up for air and turned to watch Evan as he bathed. I didn't bother to be circumspect. He followed my lead and soaped over and under his clothes. I wanted to help, but held my peace. His body was lean and muscular. I wondered how he kept it that way. He was less bulgy than a bodybuilder, but bulkier than a distance runner and with more definition than a swimmer. He looked the way God intended a man to look. I really wanted him. Whoa, girl, not yet. Time to stoke the fire a bit. I stood up in the water and walked toward him. The thin shirt had become semi-transparent and was plastered to my breasts. The large, tan aureoles were plainly visible as were my small, hardening nipples. Evan was visibly excited but still trying not to stare. "Looks as though I win the wet tee shirt contest," I said cheerfully. Brazen hussy! "There's no contest," he replied weakly. "Oh, I don't know," I said, walking still closer. "I know lots of women with smaller boobs than you've got." "Hey, those aren't boobs, they're pecs!" he said with mock indignation. "I dunno, they look like boobs to me." I put my hand on his chest and squeezed "They feel like boobs." Evan flexed his chest muscles, which became rock hard under my hand. "Wow! I stand corrected. I certainly can't do that with mine." "Are you sure? Maybe I ought to check. After all, turnabout's fair play." "No!" I exclaimed, knocking his hand away. "Turnabout is definitely not fair play!" Not yet, anyway, I added silently. We shouldered our now weighty packs and trundled back up the trail. Our wet clothing helped provide evaporative cooling, preventing us from getting hot and sweaty again. "Is this what the physicists call 'heavy water?'" asked Evan. "I don't think so. At least when I spilled some on the radio the other day it shorted it out." "And that meant it was..." "Radio-inactive." We appeared to be on the same wavelength. Evan thought for a moment and then asked, "did you know that there's a way to recharge a battery without using electricity?" I sensed a punch line lurking just out of sight. "No, tell me." "You simply pour sodium chloride into each cell of the battery and you'll be back to full charge within minutes. But it's illegal. In fact, you could get up to five years in prison." "On what charge?" "A-saltin' a battery." By the time we reached the tower the exertion and bad jokes had dissipated most of the sexual tension that had been building up since we met, but it quickly redeveloped as we prepared dinner. We chatted freely about everything but sex and our feelings for each other. Also left unmentioned was the likelihood that if he stayed for dinner it would be too dark to hike down afterwards. And the fact that there was only one bed. . . Fresh vegetables were in short supply so we cobbled together a shepherd's pie using mashed potatoes, carrots and leftover lentils. We put it all in a cast iron skillet, which would serve as a casserole dish, and topped it with cheddar cheese. I knew that by the time the propane oven preheated and the pie baked it would be too late for him to leave, even if he bolted his food. I stood unnecessarily close to him as we worked, sometimes brushing thighs and once managing to rub against his arm with my breast. Each time we touched I felt an exquisite electricity. This was something new in my rather limited experience. I think he felt the same charge, because when it happened he looked at me and smiled shyly. For a romantic touch at the dinner table I put a candle in a wine bottle and lit it. Too bad I'd already drunk the wine in July. For dessert I served a whortleberry pie that I'd baked the day before. There was only one piece missing. Evan's eyes opened wide with amazement after his first bite. "This is incredible! I've never tasted anything like it!" "Whortleberries are to huckleberries what huckleberries are to blueberries; much smaller and more piquant." "Every berry is an explosion of flavor. But they're so tiny. How long does it take to pick enough for a pie?" "In this case about two hours, but the picking was exceptionally good. But on a lookout tower time is seldom of the essence." Except today. Lookout He pulled into the parking lot not sure what to expect. She had seemed willing to meet him in this semi-secluded spot in the city but he wasn't sure how willing. He spotted her car on the outskirts of the gravel lot and pulled his truck in beside her. Her wonderful smile told him it was going to be a great day. Kay got out of the car and came around to the passenger side. Will sucked in a deep breath as he saw her. She looked amazing. Her purple summer dress was clinging to her like peach fuzz on a peach. Her shape was stunning. Slender waist- beautifully formed legs- and deep brown Italian eyes. Instantly, Will felt a stirring in his Dockers. They looked around the site and contemplated their next actions. A school bus had pulled in and unloaded the kids at the far end of the lot. The kids headed towards the conservation centre with loud laughs and exuberant pushing and shoving. An older couple that looked like a pair of tree huggers followed the kids with slight frowns. Kay turned and embraced Will with a tight, long embrace. Her warmth flooded over him. She rose on her toes and turned her face up to his. Eyes and lips meeting with enough heat to stir her heart beat to high speed. She felt the bulge in his Dockers and couldn't believe that she stirred him so easily. She parted her lips and felt his tongue probing her mouth. Tongues intertwined in a slow rhythm, Will let his hands press to the small of Kay's back. Her frame was amazing. She was so fit. Her dress did little to disguise the softness of her skin. Will's member hardened as his mind anticipated her body in the sunlight. His hand moved to her side and up to the side of her breast, cupped in a soft bra. There was no resistance. Kay melted to his touch, in spite of the passing maintenance truck. Will loved her so much. This deep love was what made her so exciting to him, and also what restrained him from taking her right there in the parking lot. "I need to change if we are going to walk," she said, and without a moment's hesitation, pulled the dress over her head. Reaching into the passenger seat, she pulled out a pair of shorts and slid them on quickly. The tank top she wore under the dress revealed the outline of her bra, and her hardening nipples. Another kiss... this time deeper, slower. Will pressed his tongue into Kay's mouth and felt hers press past his into him. He moved tighter to her and pulled her tight into his body. She knew he was hot for her and wanted to feel his hardness through her shorts. A sense of heat grew in her lower stomach and made its way downward to her womanhood. She wondered if he could sense her wetness. Easing back, he took her hand and they moved towards the conservation center where they could grab a map of the trails. The older couple had disappeared. The kids could be heard responding to the loud voice of the teacher. Passing through the big doors, both of them turned towards the washrooms together. Peeing now would help them relax on their walk and free them to explore other things as they went. As she walked away, he couldn't help staring at her smooth skin and tight ass. She would soon pull down those shorts, and panties and unleash a golden stream into the toilet. He imagined her soft outer lips parting and her fingers softly probing while she sat in her private stall. His member sprang to life even more. He turned into the men's room and chose a stall instead of the urinal. He slowly unzipped his Dockers and wrestled his hard cock free of his shorts. Lately he had discovered that peeing could be a very erotic event and this was no exception. With precum dripping from their parking lot encounter, his cock released the pressure slightly and urine streamed from the swollen tip. He imagined her hands gripping him gently and guided his piss into the bowl. The pulsating member stirring her to feel the warmth of the stream with her finger tips. He imagined her parting her legs and letting him stroke her while she peed. A door opened and brought him back to the moment. He finished, zipped up and washed his hands. Will left the men's room and picked up a map at the service counter. Glancing at the map and the walking traffic he chose a less traveled trail with a lookout over the small river. It seems the older couple had the same idea, but they headed out a little in front and down a side trail. Will took Kay's hand as she approached him and led her to the beginning of the trail he had picked. There were small signs along the trail identifying trees of various sorts. Laughingly they made a pact to kiss at every sign. The voices and echoes of kids faded as they rounded the corner from a long flight of wooden stairs. Just ahead was the cross trail that led to the lookout. Will and Kay stopped and looked at their map. From out of nowhere, the older couple asked if they were lost. "No," Will replied. "We know where we are going." With that Will and Kay turned right and the older couple moved on to the left on the longer trail. As they arrived at the lookout, Will noticed there was a bench and invited Kay to sit. Turning to her, embraced her, and leaned in to kiss her. She had been waiting for this and responded with a low moan. Her heart raced as Will slid his tongue into her mouth. She sucked on it like it was ripe fruit. Swirling, probing tongues stirred their bodies to new levels of warmth. Her outer lips now pulsed with glistening wetness in her shorts. Her hands held his neck and back as his hands began to slowly explore her aching breasts. He slid his hands behind her and under her tank top. Kay let out another low moan. The sunlight broke through the trees that towered over them, and fell on her olive skin. She was amazing. He lifted her tight tank top gently, just enough to rub her bare back. Her breasts were forced upward by the motion. Will turned in front of her and knelt down. Their lips locked in a deep kiss as he leaned into her. Looking around and seeing no one, Will lifted her tank top over her bra and breasts. The bra was a front clasp. He released it, letting her breasts fall into the warmth of the sunlight and into his gaze. He gasped simultaneously with her. Gently he cupped her breasts with their hard nipples and lowered his head to them. He softly kissed each breast as Kay moaned and lifted them to him. First the left with its pulsating heart beat and puckered deep brown aureole. The nipple stiffened and she arched her back as he rolled it between his thumb and fingers. Her hand slid to the front of his Dockers and pressed his hard cock near the tip. A wet spot had developed from the wetness dripping from his straining member. She gathered some of the leaking slippery wetness and raised her finger to her lips. She loved the taste of him. From somewhere behind them, a hint of voices and movement on the lower trail caught their attention. The older couple was coming. Will eased her bra back down over her soft, round globes and pulled the tank top down. He moved back beside her on the bench and took her hand. She was shaking... not because she was nervous, but because she was so wet she was shaking all over. Her panties were soaked. As the older couple came onto the lookout platform, Will caught a small hint of the aroma of her nectar. Kay was so close to coming... but that would have to wait for another private spot. Perhaps the next lookout deck would be the place. Will and Kay got up and walked down the trail... wondering how long the older couple had been watching. Lookout Point He parked the car at the end of the look out point. From there, they were able to see the reflections of the mountains in the lake. It was a hot day and they were out driving, with the top down and the music blaring. After he turned off the engine, he turned the music back on. Kidd Rock was on with his duet with Sheryl Crow. He turned it up and got out of the car. He walked around to her side and opened her door for her. He assisted her out of the car, led her to the hood and began dancing with her. "Do you bring all your girlfriends up here?" she teased. "Not usually. I tend to only share this with those special to me," he replied. "I'll take that as a compliment, then!" "As you should." He ran his hands over her back as they danced then over her ass. She wore an orange sundress with red and yellow flowers. It was lightweight and cool enough for the summer heat. Because of how small-busted she was, she was able to go without a bra. It was too hot for that. He wore a pair of tan cargo shorts and a light blue polo shirt. He kissed her neck that was easily available since her hair was pulled up. He nibbled on her ear and whispered, "You look great today. And feel even better!" She ran her hands over his chest and untucked his shirt. She needed to feel his body. She loved the feel of his chest; the smooth skin and very little hair but enough to run her fingers through. He kissed her mouth again and could feel the excitement rising in her. She moaned under him and lightly ran her nails over his back. He led her backward to the hood of his Sunfire GT and sat her down. Releasing her for a moment, he took of his shirt, throwing it in the car. He leaned her back on the hood and devoured her mouth again. His hands went down to her thighs, pulling up her dress. He needed to feel her, her skin, her wetness. She wanted him as much as he needed her. Quickly, he pulled aside her panties and thrust his fingers inside her. She moved beneath him, wanting more, wanting faster, wanting harder. It didn't take much of his manipulation for her to come. She had been wanting and waiting for it all day. Waiting for them to be together. Now it was just the two of them and all of nature. Once her heartbeat slowed a bit, she sat up to undo his pants. She needed to feel the rest of him. She wanted to taste him. She pulled his shorts down and started to caress his hard cock. She reached behind to pull him closer and licked his head. She ran her nails over his butt and took in all of him. Thrusting her head into him to simulate what she really wanted. One hand reached between his thighs and rolled his balls between her fingers, lightly squeezing them. She stopped though before he could come. She wanted him to come in her cunt. To feel the power of the two of them coming together. She was wet again and needed him inside her. Pulling away, she stood and removed her dress. It allowed him a moment to touch her bare breasts. He caressed one and bit at the other one. Making her nipples hard, her tits full. Kissing her again, his fingers went between her thighs. She stopped them before they met their goal. Holding his hand, she turned around then placed his hand back on her cunt, showing him what she wanted. One hand played with the target and the other pinched her tits. Kissing her neck he brought her to the brink of serenity but wouldn't allow her to reach it. He pushed her forward over the hood and spread her legs. He was able to place his hard cock into her wet cunt without a problem. He slid in easily and thrust into her. They were both ready for this. He went as deep as he could, pushing them both to the brink. He pulled on her hair, making her cry out but in ecstasy. She wanted him deep inside her, as deep as he could get. He held onto her hips, controlling where she could go, where he could go, delving further into her. He was getting closer to coming and knew she was near the edge as well. He reached around, touching her clit lightly but enough so they were coming at the same time. Melding their orgasms. He thrust into her one last time as their bodies stopped quivering. "Oh, my God, I don't think I can move!" she said. "I don't want you to. I like being like this." When he pulled out of her, it was as though a part of her was suddenly missing. She stood and faced him. Kissed him as though she wanted to do it all over again. She loved kissing him, touching him, being with him. He pulled her closer as well, loving the feelings inside him, both physical and emotional. "I hope you put sunscreen on this morning," he teased. "Otherwise you might have one interesting sunburn to explain." "I did yes, because I was hoping to go to the beach later. Unlike you, I don't have that fine Mediterranean skin tone, so I am always prepared."