I had noticed the first time that Robin had sensitive breasts, and I wanted to explore that as much as I could. She had already pulled off her field jacket, so I lifted her warm shirt and undershirt, pushing them up over the tops of her breasts. They were a wonderful C cup that I’d always thought were perfect, and they fit my hand perfectly. Her sports bra actually fastened in the front, a feature I took advantage of to free them to my hands, softly pinching her nipples as soon as they were visible.
Robin started crying out, mewling sounds of total arousal that spoke straight to my cock, which was aching inside my pants. My belt was loose but the pants were still up, our hips grinding against each other through the fabric. “Oh fuck, Wes, yes!” she cried when I pulled her down into my hungry mouth, licking and sucking on her right nipple. “Make me come!”
I kept sucking, letting Robin grind herself on top of me until she stiffened, her sharp cry of climax echoing across the lake. If there was anyone in the area, they would have heard us for sure. When she came down, Robin grinned at me and got off of my hips. My disappointment lasted only seconds, though, as she unbuttoned her pants and pulled them down enough for her ass to come into view, which she promptly turned around and wiggled at me. “Well, cowboy, you going to ride or not?”
Robin was almost as tight as she was our first time in the plane, which wasn’t helped by the fact that her thighs were somewhat pinned together from her pants still being partially on. I eased into her as slowly as I could, holding myself in as tight a control as possible given the circumstances. My hands went to her waist, and I started thrusting in and out. Each stroke was like heaven to me, a rippling soft vise that massaged my cock from head to base with every stroke. “Robin . . . ”
I just didn’t have the words, not without sounding nasty or obscene, which I didn’t want to do with her. Instead, I let go of her waist to slide my right hand up to her breast again, tweaking her nipple. She pushed back into me, and I almost lost it right then, it felt so damn good. I’ve always loved Robin’s hips, and the sight of my cock disappearing into her from behind was so erotic that I felt my mind slipping, losing control.
“Harder,” she moaned, and I responded, my hips speeding up while my fingers pinched harder and were joined by my left hand over her other nipple. The movements lifted her upper body up some, which I promptly pressed back down into the pine needle carpet of the forest, hammering her harder and harder. I couldn’t stop myself, my cock needed a release so desperately. Besides, she was loving it, her wails coming more and more loudly with every slap of my hips against hers, and I felt myself reaching the tipping point.
I’ve never understood the pleasure some guys get from riding that edge of orgasm, trying to delay the moment. I mean, the edge is painful in my experience, where your nerves are lit up to the point of overload, and it seems like even the wind rustling through your hair is both pleasure and pain. Finding myself on the precipice, I thrust one last time, my cock shooting deep within her. I could hear myself growling, my fingers tightening maybe painfully on Robin’s breasts and nipples, but she kept moaning in pleasure as I emptied myself into her.
When it was over, I knew she was still on the edge, so I rolled us both to the side, my right hand dropping between her legs to rub her clit while I kept my cock inside her. Between my left hand on her breast, my right on her clit and my cock still twitching inside, she came again quickly, this time her voice failing her as she stared out at the lake, stunned, with her mouth open.
Chapter 7
Robin
Wes damn near drove me into a sexual unconsciousness, and it was lunch time before I could really move again. Still, the rest allowed both of us to recover and rehydrate, and to eat some lunch. After a day and a half of walking and a couple of amazing orgasms, I was happy to take the two hours off.
While I rested by lounging against my upturned backpack, Wes hunted along the shoreline. When he came back with a handful of what looked like tiny clams, he was grinning. “We’re in business now!” he said, before freezing, his eyes widened in fright.
Before I could ask him what the hell he was looking at, Wes moved faster than I have ever seen someone move before, his hand a blur to his hip before I heard the snick sound of his knife blade burying itself in the dirt near my head. I rolled to the side, scared out of my wits, and was on my feet before I knew it. “What the fuck!”
Wes covered the distance between us in four big steps, kneeling down almost exactly where I had been laying, and pulling his knife out of the ground in order to plunge it down again. He pulled his knife out of the ground and wiped the blade on his pants leg before sheathing it again. I stood mute as he reached down and picked up what I first thought was a long piece of rope, or maybe a tree branch, except that it hung limp. It wasn’t until my eyes traveled down the thing that I saw the pattern of scales on the back and realized Wes was holding the body of a snake, one that was at least as thick as my wrist through the body.