Hot Girls Hike Alone
Changing in a tent is a bag of ass. Actually, most things in a tent are a bag of ass. It seems like there’s going to be plenty of room, until you have to do literally anything.
Ok, almost anything. There are some things that are amazing in a tent. Sex on an air mattress? Chef’s-fucking-kiss. The recoil is magic.
But I needed to go on a run. To get to my running stuff, I had to move two bins of kitchen shit to find my bag – all of which we should have unpacked and left outside.
Then I had to unpack and repack all of the boxes and bins just to find a sports bra.
That in itself didn’t piss me off, it was the chronic shuffling of stuff.
Stuff bothers me, and bins of stuff surrounding me made me feel like the nylon walls were closing in on me.
The good thing was I found two cute nighties, handcuffs and candy panties in the bag that I forgot about last night.
Sigh.
Last night.
We went in the tent early last night so Caleb could rub cortisone on the giant mosquito bites on my ass. And well. Mosquitos weren’t the only thing that liked eating my ass last night.
I smiled as I pulled my things out of the bag and shivered at the flashback. Sex with Caleb was like being on an acid trip, I’d get mental recoil through my entire body on a piece of a memory.
Right now was like that. I held my socks in the tent, terrorized by the memory, breathless from the aftershock echo of his soft tongue tracing the ring of nerves around my ass as he pushed two fingers into my slick pussy.
And later, my hands tied behind my back, gagged on my own panties, I flinched when I heard him spit on his hand, and I moaned low at the pleasure-pain, the hot heat that made my legs give out.
“Make a fist if you want to stop,” he said softly.
I shook my head, hair damp, sweat beaded down my back as my knees sank into the air mattress.
“You want me to keep going, signal yes by nodding,” Caleb said.
I nodded.
“Hard, nod; easy shake your head.”
I nodded, stomach in coils of fear-need-lust.
Caleb moaned in his chest. It was a deep, primal sort of groan. He worked in slow all the way in, and all the way out.
“Jena, you feel so fucking tight,” he said, voice tight. “One more time. Hard?”
I nodded.
“Take it, bitch,” he snarled as he shoved his cock flat to his balls in my ass.
A guttural bark ripped from my throat as he ripped me apart. He smacked my ass and grabbed a fist full of my hair as he growled for me to take it.
And I did.
His aftercare was as sublime as the way he fucked.
I picked up my running belt from the box. It’s not a fanny pack, damn it, it’s a belt. A belt that has pockets for stuff that I wear on my butt when I run.
It’s not a fucking fanny pack.
But I paused and got lost in the limbo of remembering Caleb caring for me after it was over.
I was sore, bleeding a little, shivering and insecure in that way that dirty fucking and hard orgasms leave me.
I can’t explain it, but the dirtier I want it, the cleaner I need the next hour to be.
I’m deeply vulnerable after releasing my inhibitions. Caleb knows. He’s a near-perfect Dom.
He cleaned us up, got me a travel-mug of wine, and helped me outside. He pulled me into his lap on a camping chair and cuddled me like a fucking baby as I sipped the wine. Caleb petted my hair and told me I was a goddess, and I felt like it.
We talked about nothing sexual, save that I was amazing. It was comfortable to come back to earth from that subspace and be a normal couple again.
Camping hasn’t always been my thing but watching the stars in a sky free of lights while the man of my dreams kissed my neck, and crickets created a symphony in the woods around us was pretty great.
I can’t actually remember a more peaceful, contented night between us.
However, the storage in a tent blew ass – and not in the fun way. But everything else was fucking magic.
Caleb and I really liked this park because of its trail system. We were both trail runners. In fact, it was how we met. I had a calf cramp after a race two years ago.
“Let me,” Caleb said as he pulled my shoe off and shoved a sports drink in my hands. “Drink that.”
I hissed as he touched the balled-up muscle. Charley horses were fucking monsters. They leave you rolling on the ground helpless to your agony as the spasms rip through and the muscles bunch.
“Drink it. Now.” Caleb said, thumbs digging into the pained area. I arched off the ground.
I inhaled sharply and took a sip.
“Good girl,” Caleb said softly as my calf loosed under his hands.
Two weeks later he called me a good girl while he fucked my face, and I was pretty much hooked.
I originally didn’t want to live a full time Dom/Sub life, but I did want to ensure that we challenged each other, fed each other’s passions, and explored our fantasies.
Caleb agreed. Turns out living a Dom/Sub life is your own fucking business with your own fucking rules – literally.
We didn’t need collars and signals; we just needed close communication and clear instructions to feed our needs. And they were often dark. Very dark.
Weekends like this helped feed those dark needs.
That was for another time, though. I seriously needed a run.
I was training for an upcoming trail marathon, and Caleb was training for an ultra-marathon in the same series – so we both needed to get moving while it was cool.
I’m not going to lie, I was a little worried about getting my miles in today. The trails were amazing, and the miles were available, but I had some chafed areas from our nighttime excursions.
If you know, you know.
When you have chafed areas, they don’t like sweat.
Caleb called into the tent to check on me.
“Sorry, Sir, I’ve been daydreaming,” I said sweetly.
“You little whore,” he replied. I could hear the smile in his voice. “Stop holding us up. Get moving before I have to tag that sore ass.”
He paused.
“Is it still sore?”
I blushed. It was erotic and embarrassing to talk about this stuff, even with Caleb.
“Yes,” I said softly.
He made that groaning sound in his chest that generally signaled he was turned on.
My vagina had a Pavlovian response to that noise and started to water. Damn!
“Almost ready. Five minutes,” I said.
Caleb unzipped the tent and poked his head in. He grinned and raised an eyebrow.
“Sir.”
He leaned in far enough to kiss me.
“I love you,” he whispered. “Safe word?”
“Mushrooms,” I whispered back. “I love you more.”
He left the tent.
I moved eleventy-thousand things to get a pair of running shorts out of my bag, and then I did a contortionist dance to get dressed.
The tent was roomy, but like I said, it never quite seemed large enough for me to accomplish basic tasks. Like navigating the Machiavellian device used to keep my boobs down while I ran.
Sports bras and I have a love-hate relationship. I was pretty sure I was going to meet my eventual doom with a sports bra. I wiggled it on and went outside.
Caleb had his shirt off for the run. This man was fucking hot. He was ripped. He had a lumberjack-sort of beard thing going on that just made him panty-dropping gorgeous. And his endurance was borderline psychotic. He left me sweaty and screaming the safe word most nights.
That’s not a complaint, I’m fucking bragging.
But Caleb is gifted at basically everything, including running.
The two main trails were a four-mile loop and an eight-mile loop. The longer trail had more rugged terrain, and I wanted to try it tomorrow.
“I want to do the little trail today as a short run,” I said. “You do the big loop, and I’ll go with you tomorrow.”
Caleb shook his head, and his brow furrowed.
“I’ll go with you,” he said.
“Babe, I thought you wanted to do the longer trail,” I said, squatting next to him in a stretch.
“I don’t like the thought of you running here alone,” he said. His green eyes and black hair made me stop mid-stretch as my stomach flopped over.
Fuuuuuck, I had it bad for this guy.
“Honey, I run at home alone all of the time,” I said.
“Yeah, that’s at home,” he replied, standing and stretching his hamstring. “I’ll go with you for this, and I can do the other one later.”
I lunged to the other side, stretching out the other hip.
“It’s a lot,” he said.
I stood. He dropped his leg and I grabbed the front of his shirt and brought his mouth to mine.
He kisses like I’m a ripe piece of fruit, and he has to taste every drop.
He kisses both sets of lips like that.
“OK, I’m four seconds from neither of us running,” I said. I shook my head as he nodded. “No. Listen carefully Caleb, babe, lover, honey, master of my body, you go run your path.”
He opened his mouth and I covered it with my finger.
“What could possibly happen?” I asked innocently. “What? Seriously? Is someone going to grab me by the hair, hold me at knifepoint and force-fuck me two feet from picnicking strangers while you blissfully run past?”
Caleb grew very still. Every muscle in his face tightened.
“Is that what could happen, Babe?” I asked.
He exhaled heavily and something heavy fell from him. I knew he was worried, but he didn’t need to be.
“You don’t make this easy on me, Jena,” he growled pulling me to him by my ponytail.
“Easy is boring,” I said.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
His dick poked me in the thigh. Damn.
I pulled him to me and we backed into the tent for the fastest orgasm I’ve ever had. My shorts were still around my ankles when my body convulsed around his cock.
“You almost forgot your air pod case,” he said, handing it to me as I pulled my pants back on and bucked my hydration vest. His eyes bored into mine and I wanted to go again.
I kissed him lightly, gently. I had the buds in my ears, and I tucked the case in my belt.
It’s not a fanny pack, damn it.
I stopped at the camp bathrooms to clean up and pee – because I ain’t got time for a UTI -- but the bulk of his load was already soaked into my underwear.
I’d feel him every step.
With or without the sting of my ass-chafing getting sweated on.
Have I mentioned I have it bad for this man?