He’d asked her what she wanted for her anniversary. She was touched he had bothered to enquire, but still annoyed that he felt the need to ask. After so much time, she longed for him to be able to read her, to pluck the fervid desires from her mind and make them flesh.
In her free time, she found a measure of solace in written erotica, in allowing herself to be drawn along by the lustful prose of others. She loved to feel her senses coming alive as her eyes flowed over the lines of text, her nerves tingling with the intensity of imagined lovemaking.
She was a woman who yearned for adventure, for a wonderfully dramatic rending of normality’s mundane cloak. She wanted to feel breathless with passion, to feel her heart pounding with wanton excitement. She wanted to be consumed with desire.
She came home one brilliant afternoon and found him sitting at her laptop. She tried to recall if she’d wiped the browser’s history record after her last session online. She didn’t fully understand why she felt the compulsion to cover her tracks. After all, she was an adult, and her tastes were confined to the more literary aspects of the erotica genre. Even so, she still felt compelled to keep her predilections to herself.
“Hello,” she said to him from the doorway.
He turned around quickly, but she couldn’t tell from his face if it was a guilty reaction or simply one of pleasant surprise.
“Hello,” he answered. His eyes seemed more open than usual. It made him look younger.
“What are you up to?” She tried to keep the question casual, wondering if she’d been finally discovered.
“I’m trying to figure out what to get you for your anniversary.”
“Oh.” She tried to think of something to say. This sudden demonstration of autonomous thoughtfulness caught her off guard. “Have you managed to come up with something?”
He smiled, a little slyly. “I think so.”
She waited for him to say more. When he didn’t, she had to ask. “Are you going to tell me?”
“Where would the surprise be if I told you?”
She couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen him look so mischievous. It intrigued her. More than that, it quickened her pulse.
“And when do I get my surprise?”
“Next Wednesday afternoon.” He closed the laptop’s lid and got up from the chair. “Make sure that you’re free.”
After he’d gone, she opened the laptop back up and checked through the browser’s history. Her most recent visits were still there, along with his. Had he been checking up on her? When she viewed the sites he’d visited, she found he’d been looking at online stores that sold camping and hiking supplies, and websites that gave details of parks and nature trails.
What the hell?
On Wednesday afternoon, she came home from a morning’s shopping and found several wrapped parcels arranged on the centre of their made bed. She recognised the desperately-trying-to-be-neat wrapping style as his. She opened the parcels and found a pair of Timberland leather hiking boots, and North Face walking trousers and a matching shirt, both in shades of khaki.
The handwritten note said: Be wearing these when I come home for you.
She stripped and showered, then put the clothes on, adding a white cotton brassiere and panties and a thick pair of socks to her ensemble. She was impressed that he’d got her sizes right. Even though the boots were brand new, they fitted as comfortably as anything she’d ever put on her feet.
At one o’clock, she heard his 4×4 pulling into the driveway. She met him at the front door, and found him similarly attired for the outdoors. He wore the same sly smile he had the day she’d found him at the computer.
“Let’s go,” he said exuberantly.
“That’s part of the surprise.”
They headed north out of the city. Soon, they’d traded the suburbs for the open countryside. She stared out of the window, enjoying the way that the rolling, sun-kissed vista complemented her growing curiosity about their destination.
Eventually, he turned the 4×4 onto a side road that wound its way through ever more dense woodland, until he finally braked to a halt in a small clearing. There were no other cars, no other signs of humanity.
He stopped the engine and got out. When she followed, all that she could hear were the call of birds overhead and the gentle breeze rustling ten thousand trees.
“What now?” she asked.
The sly smile reappeared on his face. “Now we take a walk.”
He walked around to the rear of the 4×4, retrieved a small rucksack and hoisted it onto his back. He locked the vehicle with a press of his thumb on the key fob and set off through the trees.
She followed for him in near-silence for more than forty minutes, her curiosity gradually assuaged by her irritation. It was a hot day, and the beads of perspiration had long since begun to bloom in her cleavage and between her shoulder blades and across the base of her spine. She rubbed at the back of her neck where the collar of her new shirt raked her skin. It was years since they’d hiked seriously, and her calves and her thighs were beginning to ache from their passage along the uneven pathway.
“How much further?” she asked, trying not to gasp too much.
“Not much,” he said, sounding annoyingly fresh.
A sound was growing somewhere ahead. It was the sound of rushing water, and it quickly became a muted roar. The path they were on began sloping downwards. She felt the air growing cooler as they descended, and through the trees she could see myriad flickering pinpricks of brilliant light.
Suddenly, the trees gave way to a wide pool of clear water. There was a waterfall off to their right, pouring down over the smooth rocks at its base. The unexpected beauty took her by surprise, and she stood in silence, marvelling at the splendour.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“Join me for a swim?”
She stared at him. “Are you joking? We don’t have any swimwear.”
He looked around. “See anybody who’s likely to complain?” He kicked off his boots and began unbuttoning his shirt.
“And how are we supposed to dry ourselves?”
He nodded to his rucksack. “We’ve got towels. Or we can just lie in the sun and let it dry us.”
He was already down to his shorts. He peeled them off without ceremony and then stepped into the water. The glimpse of his heavy cock hanging between his thighs sent a flood of warmth through her loins.
“It’s cold,” he said as he turned back to look at her. “But it feels wonderful after all the heat.”
He turned back to the centre of the pool and dived forward, submerging himself beneath the water. She tracked his passage easily through the clear water, her eyes fixed upon his flexing buttocks as he did his clumsy breaststroke. He burst through the surface again ten yards from where he’d disappeared.
“Aren’t you coming in?” he gasped.
She began to undress. She folded her clothes into a neat pile and placed them atop his rucksack. She hesitated as she reached behind herself for the brassiere’s clip.
“Chicken!” he laughed.
She unclipped her bra, and then bent over as she removed her panties in a fluid stroke. She dropped her lingerie atop the rest of her clothes. She glanced down at her nakedness; her nipples were already hard, her skin prickling into gooseflesh in anticipation of the cold water.
She stepped into pool. The chill was intense, but after the heat of the walk, it felt wonderfully invigorating. She walked gingerly across the rocky bottom until she was immersed waist-deep, and then she dived forward, arrowing herself through the crystal water. She felt the rush of her hot blood coursing through her veins, heard the thud of her heart beating with her exertions. She exploded back into the air, drawing the fresh oxygen deep inside her. Her hair hung down over her face, and she ducked her head back under so that she could sweep it away.
Suddenly, his lips were on hers, hard and insistent. He kissed her with a passion she hadn’t felt in him for months, years. His hands came up to her breasts, cupping their marbled flesh with his palms. He pressed his loins against hers, and despite the water’s chill she could feel his cock stiffening against her thigh.
“What are you doing?” she gasped as her mouth slid away from his.
“I’m kissing you.”
“Why?” The question sounded stupid as soon as she uttered it.
“Because I want to fuck you.”
She looked at him with bewilderment. He was a man who rarely said “Fuck” in any situation, even anger. Sometimes, on those rare occasions when his mind burned with a lust capable of competing with hers, he would tell her that he wanted to screw her; most of the time, he would say that he wanted to make love to her. He was the first man who had ever said such a thing to her, and the first time he spoke the words, she’d thought she was going to swoon with happiness. But after nearly two decades of hearing him say it, she was afraid that she might start yawning.
“Say it again,” she said in a low voice that was close to trembling.
“I want to fuck you,” he said. He looked back over his shoulder at the cascading falls. “I want to fuck you there, underneath the waterfall.”
“What if someone comes here and sees us?” she said , her voice little more than a whisper now.
“Let them come. Let them see us. I don’t care.”
He kissed her again, a little more tenderly but no less passionately. His hands still cupped her breasts, but now his fingers explored her aching nipples. She sighed into his mouth and then plunged her tongue over his. His erection, bobbing gently in the water, brushed against her mound and she ground herself back against its hardness.
“Oh, please fuck me,” she cried softly into his ear. His hands slipped down her back and onto her buttocks, and her teeth bit gently into his earlobe as he lifted her up and began carrying her towards the falling water, his eager cock nuzzling at the hidden warmth of her sex.
The water was deeper at the plunge pool, and so he put her down so they could swim beneath the falls. The roar and the power of water swallowed them. He pulled her to him beneath the cascade, kissed her hot and hard once more, his knowing hands all over her body. He lifted her up again, and one of his hands slipped between her thighs, opening her to a chill that made her shiver deliciously. Suddenly, his cockhead was between her labia, pressing its way inside her sex. The fluid ease with which he normally entered her was missing, but she didn’t give a damn. She just wanted to feel him inside her, filling her.
“Oh fuck!” she cried as he entered her to the hilt, her voice obliterated by the plunging water. He kissed her as he began to thrust into her. It was as much pain as pleasure to begin with, but it was still beautiful. She ground herself back against his thrusts, desperate to share her heat with every last inch of him.
He turned her so that her back was to the waterfall, and she felt herself being lowered onto one of the many rocks at its base. She shuddered as she felt its hard, smooth chill against her buttocks. She wrapped her arms about his neck and pulled him to back her.
“Fuck me! Oh, fuck me hard!”
And so he fucked her as hard as he ever had. Harder. She could feel her orgasm rushing at her from a thousand miles away, could feel the ground trembling as it hurtled towards her, could feel the air brushed aside by its advance. And then it was on her, inside her, exploding its way out of her, and she screamed her pleasure into the torrent washing over them both. Eyes closed, she felt his body stiffen, felt the heat of his seed flooding her sex.
They stayed there for a few minutes, but with the fire of their lust extinguished, the cold force of the water was no longer so easy to bear. They swam back out from beneath the falls and headed over to where they had abandoned their clothes. She imagined his seed oozing from her sex, sinking through the clear water, becoming a part of this secret pool for all time.
Back to nature.
Panting, they sprawled themselves on the soft grass and lay looking up at the azure sky, relishing the sun’s warm breath on their bodies.
“Thank you,” she said after a few minutes.
He chuckled. “You shouldn’t thank me. You should be thanking whoever wrote that story.”
She looked over at him carefully. “What story?”
“The one about the man who ties his lover to a tree in the middle of a rain shower and then fucks her.”
“You know about that?”
“I do now.”
She reached out and stroked his fingertips along his bicep. “You don’t mind?”
He turned to look at her. “Why should I mind? Whoever wrote it gave me the inspiration for one of the most exciting things I’ve ever done.”
She struggled to keep the smile off her face. “So what now?”
“We let the sun warm us back up, and then I’m going to fuck you again.”
She shivered. “And then?”
“We go home.”
She looked up at the sky, trying desperately not to be disappointed.
He rolled over towards her, his mouth curving slyly once more. “And I find out what other stories you like to read.”