Authors: Beth Kery
“Care for a swim?” Everett asked.
Joy gave him a dubious glance. “Is this a popular spot?”
“I’ve never seen anyone here. Even Rill and Katie don’t know about it.”
“You’re keeping it a secret?” she asked, amused.
He shrugged. “It’s my private place. I come here to think sometimes.” He whipped off the ugly polo shirt, revealing his ripped, sweat-glistening torso as casually as he might flick at a fly. He kicked off his shoes, stripped off his socks and jerked down his shorts and boxer-briefs with as much ritual or thought.
“You coming?” he asked her when he finally stood there nude and more glorious than the rising sun.
“I’m just going to stretch a little to cool off,” she said breathlessly.
He nodded and headed toward the lake, shoving aside some tall grass with his hand, heedless when it snapped back behind him, brushing his ass. Joy just stood there for a second, breathing hard, watching him with her mouth gaping open, a sense of unreality clouding her consciousness. How could he possibly be so sublimely beautiful and seem about as aware of it as the air he breathed? If there were a trace of disingenuousness in his actions, a hint of contrivance, it’d be one thing. But instead, he was all easy male grace and quick intelligence, good-natured humor interspersed with sudden, dark, smoldering sexuality. He was just . . .
Everett.
She blinked, rising out of her trance at the loud splashing sound of his body hitting the water. She did a few stretches and wandered over to a sycamore, using the minimal cover of the low-hanging branches while she carefully took off her clothes and set them on a flat rock. Unlike Everett, whose lack of self-consciousness was epic, she felt extremely exposed walking in the tall grass completely nude. Luckily, he wasn’t there to watch her ungainly progress; he was swimming toward the middle of the lake.
The water was pleasantly cool when she stepped into the shallows, her feet encountering smooth stones and silt. She dove in when she reached thigh level, delighting in the cold rush of water over her heated body. She swam a ways, and when she surfaced, Everett’s head poked out of the water ten feet in front of her.
“It’s nice,” she said, returning his grin and pushing her short, streaming hair off her forehead.
“I thought you might protest,” he said, floating closer to her, both of them treading water.
“To the skinny-dipping?”
“No. To swimming in a lake with a bunch of fish and worms and mud and stuff. There’s no such thing as fish and mud repellent.”
She laughed. “Don’t make me into a priss just because I don’t want to be bitten by mosquitoes.”
He came near enough that she could see the water droplets on his eyelashes and the green and blue dots of pigment in his irises. His hand brushed along her side in a liquid glide. She shivered at his touch.
“Actually,” she said breathlessly, “my father used to take us camping. I’m used to roughing it a little,” she said.
“And did you like it? Camping?”
“More than my mother,” Joy said, laughing at a memory. “She never slept when we went camping. Never. She was too scared to in the tent. She was convinced we were going to be murdered in our sleep by a mad axman or something.”
His smile widened. “Well, those mad axmen need to work, too. They’d be in the unemployment line if it weren’t for clueless campers.” She chuckled and touched his shoulder, drawing herself closer. His legs tangled for a moment with hers as they tread water.
“Was your mother an artist?” he asked.
“I thought so, even if she didn’t.” She saw his eyebrows quirk up in a query. “She was a claims adjuster, but she was always a natural at drawing. Never had any formal education, but it was uncanny the way she could capture a fleeting expression on a person’s face.”
“Ah,” he said, his hands touching the back of her rib cage. He brought her closer and brushed his chest against the tips of her breasts. His small smile made her think the action was completely intentional. “So you get the talent from her.”
“I think so.” She was having trouble catching her breath. Her nipples pressed fleetingly against his lower chest again. He pulled her gently in his hold, and their bodies came into contact, her right thigh curving over his hip, his cock sliding ever so briefly against her lower belly. He felt deliciously full. She bit her lip and forced her attention back to the topic of conversation. “I probably got it from my mother and from Seth’s and Dad’s mom. Grandma did beautiful pottery and watercolors.”
“You prefer oils, don’t you?” he asked.
Her breath caught when he touched her left breast with his right hand. He fondled her as they both continued to tread water. It felt wonderful; the water was cold and soft, and Everett was warm and hard.
“Yes,” she replied distractedly.
“Exclusively?” He must have noticed her dazed expression as she focused on his fingertips circling her nipple, because he clarified. “You never use any other medium?”
“Well . . . sure, I like charcoal, and of course I use various things when I’m helping Seth with body art or makeup—”
She gasped when he lightly pinched her nipple. Everett brushed his long body against her, making his growing erection obvious.
“I just had this brilliant idea,” he murmured next to her right ear.
“And does this idea possibly involve something that might get us arrested if we get caught?” she asked softly.
“What I’m thinking of might be illegal in a couple states,” he mused as he shaped her breast to his palm and the head of his cock batted against her hip, “but I’m pretty sure we’ll be okay here.”
“Oh, well as long as you have all the legalities worked out.”
His smile was the clincher. Joy didn’t hesitate to follow him when he tilted his chin toward shore. She’d seriously reconsidered the allures of outdoor loving, however, by the time they climbed out of the water and she’d followed Everett through the prickly, itchy tall grass on muddy feet. She shivered despite the heat of the day when the breeze struck her wet skin. It was uncomfortable enough almost to distract her attention away from the sight of Everett walking in front of her nude, sunlight and shadow flickering across his strong back and golden buttocks.
Almost.
They walked beneath the shade of the sycamore tree where she’d placed her clothes. She started when Everett abruptly slapped the side of his ass. She looked at him, stunned, when he turned around.
“Mosquito,” he said.
She snorted with laughter. “I thought you were trying to turn me on.”
“Did it work?” He slapped at his elbow this time. Joy shifted on her filthy feet uncomfortably.
“Well, not really. Everett, let’s go. This isn’t . . . sexy,” she mumbled, her avid gaze on his long, strong legs and cock belying her words. He didn’t look quite as full as he’d felt while they were in the water, but as always, he was a sight to see, whether erect or not. She’d rather cavort with him in a nice, clean, bugless bed, but she had to admit, there was something erotic about seeing him naked in the woods.
“No?” he asked, his narrowed gaze on her wet, pebbled skin. Her nipples were stiff—from the breeze, she’d thought, until something shifted in her awareness as she stared at Everett, and he at her.
“Well . . . maybe,” she whispered. She walked toward him, dropping her arms from where she’d wrapped them protectively around her breasts. She put her hands on his shoulders, and he put his arms around her waist. A shudder went through her when he brought her against him. Their skin slid together. He was wet and hard and warm. He felt wonderful.
“I don’t know . . . how we can manage . . . anything without getting . . . filthy,” she told him between kisses below his nipples and across his ribs.
He cradled her jaw in his hand and lifted her chin. “All the better.”
He covered her mouth with his. His mouth felt hot and liquid—a delicious contrast to her chilled body. His cock swelled against her belly, and her sex answered with a rush of warmth. She moaned and pressed harder against him, twisting her torso slightly, dragging her nipples against his ribs. He responded by becoming the clear aggressor in their kiss, bowing her back against his forearm, leaning down over her and staking his claim with his agile tongue.
Perhaps sixty seconds had passed since she’d voiced her doubts about wilderness sex. Now she was arching against him, her skin prickly and feverish, her body softened, supple, eager to be possessed. He opened a hand over one of her buttocks, squeezing the flesh lightly, his fingers tracing the crack. Something about the size of his hand in comparison to her body, the teasing, playful way he touched her, caused another rush of liquid heat through her pussy. His cock lurched between them. He molded the flesh harder, shaping her to his palm. He swatted her.
She jumped in his arms and broke their kiss abruptly.
“Mosquito,” he murmured, his eyes sultry.
“Liar.”
“Okay. I’ve wanted to spank your ass ever since I first laid eyes on it; how’s that for the truth?” he asked, his mouth twitching. He continued to look at her as his hand lowered between her legs. Her breath caught when he dipped the tip of a finger into her slit. Again, she felt his cock move.
“Well, isn’t this a nice surprise?” he murmured. He removed his hand and quickly brought it around to the front of her.
“Ohhh,” she muttered when he thrust his forefinger into her again. He watched her face while he slowly finger-fucked her. After a moment, the sound of him moving in wet flesh reached her ears. He grunted in satisfaction. Her cheeks flushed with heat, and she bit her lower lip.
“Do you always get this wet this fast?” he asked.
When it comes to you, yes,
she thought. But she didn’t say that. She felt vulnerable enough standing naked in the forest while Everett finger-fucked her and studied every nuance of her face.
“I don’t know,” she replied.
“Now you’re the liar,” he said, all remnants of playfulness gone from his voice and manner. His expression looked grim as he paused and bent, sliding his left forearm under her right thigh. He lifted so that she stood only on one foot. He slid his arm through her draped leg until her calf was braced on his shoulder. She clutched at him for balance.
“I’ve got you,” he assured her, stabilizing her with his hand at the middle of her back. Now that she was spread with the back of her leg against his chest, her pussy was easy prey. He immediately sank a finger back into her, and then trailed the digit between her labia, stimulating her clit.
She moaned and quaked.
“You’re very wet here, too,” he said, playing with her clit in the juicy pocket between her outer lips. “Does that feel good?”
“God, yes,” she whispered.
“Do you want to come like this?”
Her clit started to burn beneath his finger. She grimaced.
“Joy?”
Why did he have to make her say it?
“Yes,”
she hissed.
He cupped her entire outer sex, the ridge of his finger pressing against her clitoris. His entire arm jerked as he stimulated her. Joy made a croaking sound of surprise. Her hips instinctively bobbed against his hand. It felt unholy good, but his actions were much more aggressive than he’d been with her before—than anyone had been with her. He was jacking her off, his movements unapologetically forceful and succinct. The burn in her clit became untenable. It reached all the way to the soles of her feet and her anus.
“Oh . . . Everett,” she whimpered helplessly, her hips twitching as if he were a puppeteer and she were helpless to resist his hand’s demand. Her ass muscles clenched tight, amplifying the burn.
He slid his middle finger into her slit, still palming her outer sex. He continued jerking his arm, up and down, up and down, until a vein started to pop in his rigid, flexing bicep. Her fingers clutched at his neck as she topped the crest of sensation. She tipped over, shuddering in orgasm.
“Oh . . . no . . . oh, God . . . awww,” she muttered incoherently as he continued to stimulate her just as forcefully while she came. The waves of pleasurable release just kept coming. Every time she thought they’d ease, he jerked his arm, demanding more.
She gave it to him until she was left gasping and sweating, clinging to Everett like she thought there was a risk of drowning in all that sensation. She felt him shift his hips. His penis brushed against her lower belly, leaving a thin trail of pre-ejaculate on her skin. She knew he was testing to see if his cock could take the place of his finger.
He cursed. “You’re too short.”
“You’re too tall,” she corrected.
“I have an idea.”
“Isn’t that what got me here last time?” she asked dryly when he gently removed her calf from his shoulder and she stood again on two feet. For a few seconds, she just stood there dazedly. She realized he’d gone over to his cargo shorts and was hurriedly digging in one of the many pockets. He was in profile to her. His cock protruded from his body at a downward angle between his legs, the thick head reminding her of a fleshy, succulent arrow tip.
Her panting breath stuck in her lungs, her body perking up again in sensual awareness.
He returned, ripping open a condom package. She watched him avidly as he rolled the prophylactic onto his rigid member, his actions precise. Hasty.
“Here,” he said, pointing toward the rock where she’d set her clothes. She glanced at him in surprise, realizing he wanted her to stand on the rock. She frowned and stepped up, wincing when her feet hit a rough ridge.
“Do you want to put your shoes on?” he asked, taking her hand to steady her.
“No . . . I mean, maybe,” she said, flustered as she shifted on her feet, trying to find a smooth place on the rock. It seemed so strange to be discussing the mechanics of being screwed in the forest.
“What exactly did you have in mind?” she asked when he picked up one of her tennis shoes and started loosening the laces.
“Just like what we did there,” he said, tilting his chin toward where she’d just stood on one foot while he’d made her come explosively.
“Everett,” she protested, laughing. He bent over to slide her foot in her shoe. She stared at the length of his muscular back and the tops of his round, muscular ass cheeks. She shoved her filthy foot into her shoe. “I want you to know what I’m sacrificing. I love these tennis shoes.”