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“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He swallows. “I need to get the salt and pepper from our supplies.”
He kneels down to grab the seasoning for the fish. It’s simple, but my dad told me that he prefers freshly caught mountain trout to any meal from a fancy restaurant.
That’s why we’re out here. It’s supposed to be my eighteenth birthday celebration, but really it’s an excuse for my dad to run away from his life as a corporate big shot and go fishing in the woods. He’s constantly surrounded by people at work, so he loves to hear the sounds of nature when nobody’s near him.
We work in silence for a moment, side by side next to the small campfire. I’m wrapping the sweet potatoes completely in foil so I can put them at the edges of the campfire. Technically, the sweet potatoes are supposed to cook in the ashes, but my dad has never been patient enough to wait to do them separately.
“I think that it’s okay now.” Lincoln stands up. The fish are on a spit, roasting above the fire. The smell of cooking fish and burning wood fills the little clearing where we have our tents.
“Now we wait.” The campfire isn’t that big or that hot, so it’ll slowly cook everything. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
“What do you want to do while we wait? Play cards?” Lincoln looks at me like I’m the little girl he taught to play Go Fish.
“I’m going to take a nap.” I smile at him and go into my tent. I open my jeans. I can’t make a sound, but being so close to my crush is killing me. I don’t really date. No high school boy could ever compare to Lincoln.
His scent mingled with the smell of our campfire turned me on. To be honest, his scent would turn me on without the fire.
I put my hand on my most sensitive spot and closed my eyes.
“On your hands and knees.”
I hesitate.
“I’m not going to ask you twice.” His voice is soft, but the tone doesn’t leave room for resistance.
I bend over the log that we pulled next to the campfire. I can feel the hard wood under my soft stomach. My hands are in the dirt.
I can feel his hands under me, unbuttoning my pants, unzipping them, and pulling them and my underwear down. The wind touches me between my thighs, a gentle caress that makes me a little cold. I shiver.
His huge hand settles on one soft ass cheek.
“I’ve been watching this ass swing while we’ve been hiking all day.” Without warning, his hand comes down to strike me.
I cry out, startled and in a little pain. The pain mingles with pleasure as he softly strokes me where he just hit me.
“You like that.” A finger is testing me, pushing inside of me. I’m soaking wet.
Then he’s sliding my wetness up to travel to my back door.
“Oh! Please don’t!” I yelp. “Don’t touch me there.”
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, his voice like black magic. “Relax, baby.”
“Okay.”
I take a deep breath and relax as his finger explores my back hole. Then he’s pushing the tip of one finger inside of me. I don’t know if I like it. I moan as he stimulates places inside of me that I didn’t even know existed.
A climax hits me like a semi-truck going 20 over the speed limit. No warning, but my body is soaring from the impact.
I open my eyes and hope I didn’t make too much noise while I touched myself. I hunt for my makeup remover wipes to clean off my hand, which smells like me now. I ball up the wipe and shove it into my trash bag. I hope my dad never knows what I did. If he ever knew that I fantasized about his best friend putting a finger up my ass, he’d probably check me into an insane asylum or something.
Cold Water
Lincoln
Camilla is in her tent taking a nap while her dad is out, which means that I have a rare moment to myself. I take a look at the food that’s cooking. If it turns into a raging bonfire, Camilla will notice. Or she’ll be asleep and all of our gear will go up in smoke.
