Paul woke from his fitful sleep to the smell of smoke and coffee. “What the hell?” He was supposed to be enjoying a long weekend of solitude while Laura went to the city with her friends. Solitude sucked, but even so, he hadn’t invited anyone to join him, not when the only one he wanted here was her.
He shoved his way out of the warm sleeping bag and unzipped the tent, sticking his head outside. The campfire was burning, flames high, and his camping coffee pot sat on a rock nearby, steam spiraling up from the spout.
But there was no sign of a human anywhere. Unless the bears were getting creative, there had to be someone.
He pulled on a pair of sweats and slid into his nearby sneakers, ready to take a walk around the area to figure out what was going on. He turned to zip up the tent, then jolted when soft hands slid around his middle and up his chest, and a set of full breasts pressed against his back. “Laura?”
She laughed softly in his ear, sending shivers of desire straight to his cock. “It better be, sugar, or I’ll have to kill you when you get home.”
He turned in her embrace, thrilling to find his wife naked and standing only inches from him. He ran his hands down her back to her ass and squeezed, then pulled her hard against him. “I was just missing you.”
She rubbed her tits back and forth across his chest, the hard nubs tugging on his chest hairs. “Funny, I was feeling the same way. New York couldn’t do for me what you do.”
She stood on tip toe and kissed him, swirling her tongue around his. He tasted raspberries and coffee and everything that was uniquely her. And he wanted more. He tore his lips from hers, nibbled her jawline and worked his way down her throat. He let go of her ass with one hand, moving it to the front of her and slipped one finger in between her wet folds.
“God, Laura, you’re already ready.” He flicked a thumb across her clit, back and forth, and her small mews of arousal made his cock even harder, his balls tight and throbbing with need. She sought the waistband of his sweats and tugged them down, releasing his erection. Before she could take him in her hands, he knelt and unzipped the tent, pulling her inside and all but throwing her onto the sleeping bag.
“I have to taste you before I go mad.” He pressed a kiss onto her pale abdomen, swirled his tongue on her navel and laughed when she moaned in frustration.
“What’s taking you so long, sugar?” Fingers threaded in his hair and helped guide him to her sweet spot. He dipped his tongue into her hole, pressing it deep, but not as deep as his cock would go in just a few moments. First though, he’d torment her to the edge of madness. He shifted his attention to her clit, flicking the hard tip of his tongue back and forth against the sensitive nub.
He thoroughly moistened an index finger in her cream, pumping it and out of her cunt while sucking on her clit until her moans increased and he knew she was close to coming. Then he pulled out of her pussy and pressed the finger into her ass, still licking the cream off her labia and keeping her right on the edge of an orgasm.
“Damn it, Paul.” Her hands grabbed for him, but he laughed and avoided her grasp.
“You love it, Laura.” Her sphincter relaxed against the intrusion of his finger and he pushed in as far as he could go, finger-fucking her ass and sucking her clit until she whimpered and begged for him to let her go over.
He pulled his finger from her ass and swiveled until his cock hung over her head, waggling an invitation to her hot, wet mouth. Her tongue darted out and licked the tip before her lips closed over the head. He pumped in and out of her mouth, all the while licking and sucking her pussy moaning against her thigh when the orgasm built and his balls tightened. He pulled out of her mouth and turned, flipping her over onto her belly and yanking her ass into the air.
He plunged into her cunt so hard she slid up the sleeping bag. Balanced on one elbow, she reached back and fingered his balls, her hips matching the rhythm he set with this pumping. Flesh slapped against flesh, moans echoed through the tent and his eyes closed as he reached around and pressed against her clit. She cried out and her walls squeezed his cock, convulsing in an orgasm that took him over the edge. He gave a shout and poured his seed into her shuddering as he pumped twice more before letting go of her hips and turning so they spooned together, still connected.
“Thirteen years, and I still can’t get enough of you,” he murmured into her hair, hand stroking her waist before reaching up to cup her breast. “I’m glad you didn’t stay in New York.”
“Two days was all I could stand away from you.” She slid her leg between his and pressed her ass back to keep him inside her. “I love you, sugar.”
“I love you, too, Laura.” He reached around her and pulled the flap of the sleeping bag over the top of them. “I’ll show you how much in an hour or so. For now, I just want to sleep with my wife.”
Laura smiled and closed her eyes. Paul relaxed and closed his, too.
Yeah, solitude sucked. This was so much better.
About the author: Mysti Holiday is the pseudonym of a very busy SAHM who dreams of warm climes and hot bodies. Most people know she writes, but not what she writes about: sexy men and the wanton women who love them. She's married to a wonderful man who happily sacrifices himself for research, and she spends most of her days dreaming of interesting and unusual situations in which to place her characters. But most of all, she's a sucker for a happy ending. Visit her at http://www.menagerieauthors.com or http://www.menagerieauthors.blogspot.com