“And then, I need to get back to the lodge,” she murmured.
I kissed her foot again then hopped off the mattress. “Give me ten minutes to set it up. In the meantime,” I nodded to the rucksack, “you can put on a mask and anything else you want. Just not my orange jumper. I’ll need it, I’m sure. And whatever you put on, I don’t expect it to stay in one piece.”
We had over a dozen viewers for the foot and leg massage. After about twenty minutes, half of them got impatient -
“Take her!”
“Turn her over and fuck her in the ass!”
“Reverse cowgirl! I want to see those tits bounce.”
All great suggestions, but I wasn’t in any rush. Let them leave the live stream. Who needs ‘em?
I could tell Greta was enjoying the long, firm strokes up her legs from her ankles up to her groin. I’d apply slow pressure with my fingers then my palms until I felt her muscles relax and heard soft murmurs escape her parted lips like breaths. Then I’d squeeze and knead, complimenting my efforts with traces from my lips and my tongue. When I reached her groin, she bucked her hips, inviting me to taste her wet snatch. Not just yet, Greta. I’m going to take my time with you.
The viewers of the live stream weren’t the only ones getting impatient. Greta rocked from side to side. Her hands found my head and tried to guide me back up to her crotch.
I slid my hand under her ass and turned her over. Then I ran stiff fingers from the small of her back up to and around her shoulders. She purred like a cat.
I put my mouth to her neck and kissed her possessively. Yeah, you’re mine and I’m going to take you like I want and for as long as I want.
She spread her legs and bucked her hips, bringing her fine ass to rub against my crotch. I had to pull off my boxers before my erection ripped a hole in them.
I ran my fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp, while my cock rubbed against her ass then against the small of her back.
“Are you ready for me?” I asked.
She answered in a contented murmur.
I slid two fingers down her wet labia then slipped them inside. Yeah, she’s ready for me.
Chimes rang out from all the viewers sending their instructions. I didn’t even look at them. I’ve been thinking about nothing but her all day. I’m going to do what I want and how I want.
I laid my body against hers, kissed her on the cheek then I turned her head so that I could taste her lips. I took her lower lip in my mouth and ran my tongue along it while, with my free hand, I slipped the tip of my cock into her wet snatch.
She bucked her hips to take more of me, but I put a firm hand on her ass and pushed her back down. Patience, babe.
I ran my mouth down the length of her back, bit her ass - I couldn’t resist - then I flipped her over, spread out her legs, and sank my mouth into her waiting pussy, lapping it up greedily.
14
Greta
It was well after midnight when I finally left Jake’s studio—The Gingerbread Love Shack, I’d dubbed it. I was so relaxed and satiated, I had to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other or risk floating away into wisps of myself that would frolic with the clouds above.
I was mindful not to make the same mistake I’d made the previous night and end up lost in the middle of nowhere. I pulled up a handful of woodland stars from the roadside and began plucking off the petals. No ‘He loves me; he loves me not’ this time. I didn’t need a flower to give me the answer to that query. Instead, I alternated between ‘Jake the devil’ and ‘Jake the angel’, leaving a trail of pinkish-white petals along the side of the road in case my dreaming mind led me anywhere but back to the lodge.
Again, I couldn’t wait to share my exploits with Bonita. I’d failed to get a hold of her during the day. I’d have to make a better effort tomorrow. My exploits might not be able to rival Bonita’s seven lovers, but Jake had proven capable of embodying several personas. That was close—at least as close to seven lovers as I would ever get.
When I spotted the lodge up ahead, I tossed the remaining woodland stars to the side of the road. My heartbeat sped up as I neared the lodge’s front doors. I could only hope that Betty’s lamb stew had knocked Hans into a deep sleep.
Maybe he wouldn’t notice that I’d been gone as long as I had. Wishful thinking—but since I’d met Jake, wishful thinking was the way my mind was operating. And it was quite a pleasant change, to say the least.