“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
“Maybe so. Do you want to talk about it?”
“Talk about what?”
“How you’re not wearing a wedding ring.”
I looked up at him, confused. “What are you saying? I’m not old enough for you to assume I’m married. That’s a strange assumption.”
“It’s not an assumption. I heard you were, that’s all.”
“Oh, you heard? Are you hearing voices? Is the wind speaking to you?”
“It is.”
“What’s it saying?”
“It’s saying we should zip up the flap and get under the covers.”
“Hmm. It wouldn’t be wise to argue with the wind. Best do as it says.”I lay on my side, his arm around my waist, pressing me tightly against him. My leg slipped between his. I felt his member stiffen. I snuggled in closer still, and his erection pressed against my hip.
“Are you comfortable?” he asked.
“Mmm. Warm and comfy.”
He rubbed my shoulder and arm, then ran his hand from my shoulder down my back, slowing as it passed firmly over my backside. He spread out his fingers and clawed at my hip like a kneading cat. He spread his thighs apart and lifted my leg slightly, his hips meeting the movement with a gentle push. He leaned his head back, a look on his face somewhere between pleasure and pain.
I put my lips to his jaw somewhere between a kiss and a nibble. “Are you all right? Comfortable.”
“Yes,” he said. “It’s just”—he shifted— “slightly.…”
I kissed him on the cheek and slid my hand down his chest to his belt buckle. “I know.” I unfastened his belt, unbuttoned his pants, and undid the zipper, the rotation of his hips helping me maneuver.
A faint murmur escaped his mouth. I slid my hand under his boxers. His stiff member poked out from the top of his boxers.
“Ah.” He exhaled in relief. “That feels so much better.”
I chuckled. “You shouldn’t wear such tight pants.”
“They’re not tight,” he said. “It’s just.…” He was right; his pants weren’t exactly tight. But they were too small, too restrictive for his large cock.
I kissed him on the neck. “You poor guy. Your cock is too big for your pants.”
He laughed. “Yeah, just my luck.”
I pulled the collar of his shirt down and kissed him on the chest. “More like, just my luck.”
I ran one hand up and down the length of his shaft; my other hand ran across his rock-hard chest in like motion. My lips brushed against his chiseled pecs, touching him lightly with the tip of my tongue.
He quivered. His breathing became heavy, and his hips rocked and bucked in sync with my strokes. He grabbed my shoulder, my neck, the back of my head, clutching wildly as if he were falling and desperately trying to hold on for dear life. The wind beat loudly against our tent. It wasn’t soft or subtle; it was wild, aggressive, bordering on dangerous.
“Best do as the wind says,” I murmured.
My fingers stiffened as they explored the cuts and curves of his muscular chest, digging and clawing at him, my cadence spurred by the angry wind whipping at our tent.
He worked on my pants' buttons—too slowly for my mood—so I helped him. I pulled down my pants, though they stuck at my knees, then I pulled his down to mid-thigh.
He took me by the waist and turned me over so that my back lay against him. He kissed me on the shoulder, pressed his teeth against my skin then kissed me again. His hard cock slipped between my legs; the tip brushed against my wet pussy.
He slid his arm around me and pinned me tightly against him. His hand reached across my chest to stroke the top of my breast while his other hand explored my hips, legs, and crotch with firm strokes.
I ran my fingers up and down the length of his shaft.
He murmured and planted a kiss on the back of my head.
I guided him into me, just the tip, as he held me firmly against him in a position that wouldn’t allow for me to slide him all the way in. Still, I gyrated and shifted, trying to take in more and more of his cock. I attempted to move onto my side to give him better entry, but he resisted, and he gripped me tighter still.
I let out a plaintive whimper mimicked by the loud whistling wind outside our tent.
He let go of my shoulder and grabbed me by the waist with both hands. He lifted me. I seized the opportunity of increased mobility to pull my pants down to my ankles and then kicked them free.
I guided his cock up and down my wet pudenda, taking the tip inside me while my fingers stroked his length and his balls. As I did so, he put his hand to my back, forcing me to sit upright. He then brought me down, entering me with a thrust from his bucking pelvis.