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Lucy
Soft moans pullme off the path, curiosity luring me toward the sound, toward the couple hidden among the trees. The crunching of leaves under my feet causes my footsteps to slow as I inch closer. There’s a woman lying on a huge rock, her head thrown back and legs spread wide, her full breasts rising and falling. A man’s head moves between her thighs. The sound of suckling echoes around me.
Her hand twines in his hair, her moans growing louder, more urgent. My stomach flutters in response, and warmth spreads across my body. My nipples pebble and my own breasts feel heavier under my crop top. Moisture pools between my thighs, and my hand wanders there before I even realize what’s happening. I run my fingers across my thigh, under the flowy skirt, over my panties, my eyes focused on the man’s head between her thighs. He slowly licks up her slit then back down, over and over again, before focusing on the bud at the top. My fingers find my own bundles of nerves, my legs starting to twitch, warmth spreading from my stomach through my entire body.
No one else has ever touched me here, let alone kissed, licked, or sucked my sensitive flesh. But I’m suddenly desperate for it.
There’s something so very enticing and erotic about secretly watching them—watching the sensual dance of nature’s most natural act. The act of coming together, two bodies primed and flush, becoming one.
My cheeks heat when I imagine a man between my legs, doing these things to my body. It’s like the world opened, offering me a sign. This weekend is perfect. You’ve waited long enough. Take what you want.
I slide a finger under the seam of my panties and run it through the wetness there. My breath hitches in my throat. So close. I am so close to losing myself right here, right now. It’s not the first time I’ve touched myself, but this feels different, better, my orgasm building quickly. Biting my lip, I dip a finger inside my wet pussy, pretending Weston is between my legs licking and savoring every drip of my pussy, my fingers pumping in and out of me.
Goosebumps form on my skin, an eerie feeling washing over me. I freeze up with fear, my gaze darting across the forest.
Weston.
His intense stare is locked on me, his chest quickly rising and falling. He’d been watching me touch myself. The thought should horrify me, but my blood only grows hotter.
He takes a step toward me, his foot cracking a branch underneath, breaking my trance. Time stands still as I glance back at the couple and the man lifts his head. The birds quit chirping. My heart no longer beats in my chest. My lungs are unable to pump air.
It's no stranger at all. The man is Malcom. And the girl... Elisa.
I stare in horror, unable to move. I don’t know what’s more shocking, the fact that he’s cheating on me, or the fact that he’s...
Elisa grabs his face and pulls him in for a kiss, her hands fumbling with his jeans. She frees his cock and guides it to her entrance.
Seeing him thrust into her finally releases me from whatever was keeping me immobile, and I run.
Branches cut into my skin, thorny bushes threatening to trip and impale me with each stumbling stretch of my legs. It doesn’t matter, I’m desperate to get away as quickly as possible. If I can just get back to the campsite...
No.Home.
I need to go home.
How could I be so stupid? So blind? I honestly planned to have sex with him this weekend, fully intended to give him the most sacred piece of myself. The thoughts crash through my mind like waves against a rocky shore, each one barreling into me harder and faster than the last. I slow and gulp down mouthfuls of air, trying to build a damn against the thoughts, rock after rock stacked against the overwhelming waves.
Fuck Malcom.
Oops, looks like someone beat you to that.
Prick.
Yes. He indeed knows how to use his prick.
My chest feels tight, tears streaming down my face. I swipe my hand across my face, drying the moisture. Malcom isn’t worth it. And I’m not sad.
I’m fucking furious.
The crunch of branches behind me tells me I’ve got company. It may be the cowardly thing to do, but I don’t give him the chance to catch up, the burning inferno of rage propelling me even faster. I don’t want to hear a single word out of Malcom’s mouth.
By the time my feet stop moving, I have no clue where I am. At some point, I took a left instead of going right and back toward the campsite. A creeping dread washes over me when I realize my phone is back in the tent. I’m lost with no way to call for help.
Clouds are moving in, the sun that was shining bright and warm now muted, the gray sky peeking through the canopy of the trees. It will be dark soon.
My anger quickly subsides at the thought, forced to make room for the anxiety now rippling through me. There’s no tracking my way back. The densely packed underbrush would make it impossible. There’s not a single visible footprint.
With no better option, I choose a direction and start the slow trek across the forest. Every snap of a twig has my pulse racing, my eyes scanning for any indication that I’m going the right way. Thoughts of giant bears and wild boar fill my mind.
