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She laughed, and I took her hand, pulling her into the kitchen. We put together a backpack full of food, enough for days, though we'd only have one night. There was no telling how hungry I'd be, though, so better safe than sorry.
The walk was long but idyllic. Since we'd be staying overnight, we took our time, stopping at Gram's huge orchard and picking as many apples as we could carry, keeping one out to eat as we walked. I took a big bite, the sound of it echoing through the trees.
We grinned at each other as I passed it to her. She took a bite and handed it back.
Watching her eat did things to me. Base, primal things. By the time we ate to the core, I was throbbing hard and ready to burst.
I took off my backpack, dragged her to the ground, and started kissing her.
"You taste like apples," I told her, smiling into her mouth.
She smiled back. "Well, gee, I wonder why."
"I'll never be able to taste one again without thinking of you. It's impossible. You do this on purpose, don't you? You leave your mark on everything. You love that I'm this obsessed with you."
She laughed and laughed. "Well, yes. Of course I do. If I was this obsessed on my own it would be pretty damned depressing."
I smiled and kissed her again, then forced myself to climb off her. "Not far to go," I told her. "If you can control yourself for a few more miles we just may make it."
She mock glared at me. "Look who's talking." Her eyes shot down to my crotch. "It can't be Mr. Walking Erection calling me out today, can it?"
I couldn't stop laughing for a solid five minutes, and she couldn't stop smiling.
On we walked.
I meant to make it good for her. To be tender, that first time more than any other. I meant to go soft and slow. I had my mind made up on the matter. Making it good for her was the priority, because I knew that regardless of the pace or the tone, it was sure as hell going to be great for me.
I had so many notions on how it was going to be, how it had to be. I'd done so much planning, even down to hard physical labor, thought out every detail to make it memorable for her, to make it perfect.
The first thing was the location. I'd found the perfect place, private and remote. I'd cleaned it out, brought fresh linens, every necessity I could think of.
I'd added a new lock and a thick bolt across the door, both of which fit the key around her neck.
I let her do the honors, my adoring eyes on her smiling face all the while.
The cabin was just right, I saw by her reaction when we walked in the door. She was delighted, moved, touched almost to tears.
It really wasn't anything fancy. It was instead something thoughtful, which I knew meant much more to her.
"It's ours," I told her softly. "Our first home together. Of course it won't be our last."
"It's perfect," she said, throwing herself at me.
Fuck. Triggered. The moment our bodies touched in that intimate place, it was like a bottle-rocket shooting off. I couldn't have stopped if I'd wanted to. And I didn't. Oh Lord, I didn't.
We started kissing, passionate, open-mouthed, tongues delving as we peeled each other's clothes off, piece by piece.
Everything was going right according to plan up until the moment my dick decided it'd had enough.
I knew I should've jerked off first.
I was on top of her, naked, condom on, a prayer away from being inside of her, still determined to do things right. I was just starting to breach her, my tip barely in, when it happened. It wasn't that I didn't want to take it nice and easy, but I could not stop myself after that. I just snapped, lost complete control of my body, thrusting, rutting, sucking on her tongue, and jackhammering in and out of her like I'd never have another chance at it.
And worse even than that, I didn't last thirty seconds.
Still, it was the best thirty seconds of my life. Spectacular. Magnificent. Perfection.
"Jesus," I panted into her face when I could finally speak. "I didn't mean to do that. I wanted to go slower the first time."
