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Well, that needs to be fixed, and soon. “Wanna migrate over to the bed? We can undress and take our time for round two.”
Hrrrusek gives me an eager look. “You think any male in his right mind would say no to that?”
I don’t, actually.
Six
HRRRUSEK
An alarm sounds,and I wake up the next morning with a strand of Chelsea’s hair in my mouth and my hand clamped around one of her large teats. Her body is pressed against mine, her backside cradled against my erect cock, and her bedroom smells like sex and sweat.
It was a keffing fantastic night. I lean in to kiss my female’s shoulder, teasing her nipple. “Morning.”
Chelsea slithers out of my grasp, moving to turn off the alarm. “Come on. We need to shower quickly and head out before the sun rises. That’s the best time for the fish to bite.”
I roll backward on the bed and groan, because I’m not thinking about fish right now. “Or you could come over here and take a seat.” I pat my hip, indicating my hard cock. “And you could ride me instead.”
“Fishiiiiing,” she sings out, heading for the lavatory.
I groan again, because apparently Chelsea is a morning person and I am not. She is in and out of the shower before I even make it out of the bed, and puts on hot tea while I take my turn under the water. As she moved in and out of the bedroom, I saw the scars decorating her body in the morning light. They cover her arms and legs. They cover her back and a great deal of her stomach. She has a burn mark next to one nipple that looks keffing awful. I have a few scars from work accidents, but nothing compared to what she’s been through.
All of hers look like they were inflicted to cause pain, and all of them look poorly healed. I think about what she said to me yesterday. About how she’d lived through some horrible things and now she no longer lived in fear. I didn’t understand it then, but seeing the scars decorating her body? I understand it a little more. She’s choosing not to be afraid any longer, even if it has consequences. How can I be mad at that?
If anything, I’m humbled that she trusts me enough to invite me into her bed.
“Are you coming or not?” Chelsea calls out as I wander out of the shower, rubbing down my thick mane. “I’ve got breakfast packed and some hot tea in an insulated container. I’ve got worms and our fishing poles. I’m just waiting on your slow ass.”
I lower the towel, glaring at her. “My ass is not slow.”
“It is today,” she says cheerfully. “I must have worn you out last night.”
That brings a smile back to my face. “You gave it your best try, but I’ve got more in the tank.”
“Then prove it and get moving,” she urges. “The fishing’s no good when the sun is high.”
I get dressed in my wrinkled uniform, amused at her complaining, and then we set out. To my surprise, we don’t take the air-sled. Instead, she hands me a box with a handle, a backpack to sling over one shoulder, and sets the fishing rods on her shoulder. She holds her hand out, and when I slip mine into hers, we start walking to the stream.
“This way we get to enjoy the early morning sunshine,” she tells me, giving my hand a squeeze.
“Are we supposed to enjoy it or are we supposed to be in bed?”
“You were enjoying it when you were on my doorstep yesterday morning,” she challenges.
“That was necessity.” But I don’t mind walking with her. Itisa pleasant morning, made all the more enjoyable by the company. The conversation between us is easy again, and even though we don’t have a lot of history in common, we never seem to run out of things to say to one another. I’m surprised when we make it to the stream, as the walk took less time than I’d anticipated.
We settle in on rocks at the edge of the stream. It widens in one spot near a cluster of bushes that hang over the muddy slope on the other side, and that, Chelsea says, is our spot.
“Breakfast now?” I ask, my stomach rumbling. I’ve worked up quite an appetite after satisfying her all night long.
She takes the backpack from me, along with the strange case. “If you want to eat now, sure. Do you need me to bait your hook?”
“Bait…my hook? I do not know what those words mean, my beauty, but you look lovely in the morning light.” I appreciate the sight of the sunlight on her long hair, and the way her eyes shine with happiness. I think of the noises she made last night when I was deep inside her, and how her teats bounced wildly with every stroke, and my morning erection threatens to return. “Perhaps we enjoy breakfast and a little fun here in the sunshine.”
“This is fun,” she reassures me, and then pulls a strange, rounded container out of her box. It looks and smells like dirt, and I watch her with curiosity as I unwrap the bread with jam that she brought for our morning meal. Just as I’m about to take a bite, she digs a finger into the dirt and then produces…a worm.
A hideous, slimy worm.
She holds it out to me. “You sure you don’t want to bait your hook?”
