“Are you sure?” Felix asked, his voice barely audible over the bass that seeped through the tent walls.
I nodded, even though my heart hammered against my ribs. “Yes. I want this. I want you.”
His hand found mine in the dark, fingers interlaced. We lay side by side on the thin sleeping mat, the sleeping bag spread out beneath us. The smell of grass and damp earth hung in the air, mixed with the sweet scent of the strawberry wine we’d been drinking. My pulse raced, and I felt a wet warmth spreading between my legs just at the thought of what was about to happen.
“I’ve imagined this so many times,” he whispered. “But I don’t want you to feel pressured.”
I turned onto my side to see his face in the dim light filtering through the tent entrance. “You’re not pressuring me. I want you. I’ve wanted you for a long time. Every night when I lie alone in bed, I think about your hands on my body.”
His breath caught. Then he leaned in and kissed me. Gently at first, just a brush of lips. I kissed him back, letting my tongue glide over his lower lip, tasting the salty skin. He opened his mouth, and suddenly there was more: his hand in my hair, his body close, the heat between us. I pressed against him and felt his cock stir in his pants, a hard pressure against my thigh.
The kiss deepened, became more searching. My tongue met his, and I sucked on his lower lip while my hands roamed over his back. I felt my nipples harden under the thin fabric of my T-shirt, stiff and sensitive. The cool air of the tent brushed over my bare arms, but his touch burned like fire. His hand let go of mine and traveled over my shoulder, down my arm, until it found my hip and pulled me closer. I could taste the faint salt of his skin on my lips, the smell of tent and summer night on him, mixed with the musky scent of his arousal.
“I like your hands,” I breathed against his mouth, when he paused briefly to catch his breath. “Imagine what they’re going to do to me.”
He laughed softly. “My hands?”
“Yes. How they feel. Firm and yet gentle. I want to feel them everywhere.”
He didn’t answer, but let his right hand slide slowly down my side, over the curve of my hip, down my thigh. Under the hem of my shorts, he traced the contour of my leg, his fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake. I shuddered and pressed closer against him, feeling his hard cock press against my wet pussy. A soft moan escaped me, and I bit my lip.
The Touch
His fingers wandered over my T-shirt, brushing over my ribs, the curve of my waist. I felt the roughness of his skin, the slight moisture from the night air, and every inch of touch made me breathe harder. When he lifted the hem and placed his hand on my bare stomach, I flinched, an electric shock that shot straight to my cunt. His palm was warm, and I felt my abdominal muscles twitch under his touch.
“Is everything okay?” he asked, pausing the movement. His eyes searched for mine in the dark.
“Yes. Keep going. Touch me wherever you want.”
His hand slid higher, cupping my breast through the thin fabric of my bra. I moaned softly and arched into his touch, pressing my hard nipple against his palm. He kissed my neck, the spot below my ear that made me shiver every time, and I felt his tongue glide over my skin. I grabbed his T-shirt and pulled it up, my fingers trembling with lust. He sat up, ripped it over his head, and I saw his torso in the half-dark: the narrow shoulders, the flat chest muscles, a fine line of dark hair that disappeared below his navel. His nipples were hard, and I leaned forward to circle one with my tongue while my hand stroked his chest.
“You’re beautiful,” I said, and he laughed softly.
“You can’t see much in the dark.”
“I feel enough. Your skin, your warmth. Your hard cock pressing against me.”
I pulled him down to me, and his lips found mine again. This time more demanding, almost rough. His hand went to my waistband, unbuttoned my shorts. I lifted my hips so he could pull them off me, along with my panties. The air on my naked skin felt cool, but his hand was warm as he reached between my legs. His fingers found my wet slit immediately, and he moaned when he felt how ready I was.
“You’re so wet,” he murmured, his fingers exploring gently. “Your pussy is already soaking wet for me, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I panted. “I want to feel your cock inside me. But first I want your fingers.”
He pushed two fingers into me, slowly, and I felt them spread inside me, my wet cunt pulsing around him. I closed my eyes and focused on the feeling: how he stroked me, hesitantly at first, then more confidently, finding the rhythm that made me breathe faster. My hips moved against his hand, and I felt the pleasure rising inside me, hot and relentless. I reached for his belt, fumbled with the buckle until he helped me. His jeans rustled as he pushed them off, and then he pulled off his boxers too. His cock sprang free, hard and glistening in the faint light, the head red and swollen. Then he lay naked beside me, his erection pressing against my thigh, and I felt a drop of precum fall onto my skin.
“I want to feel you,” I whispered, and let my hand glide over his stomach, lower, until I grasped his hard cock. He hissed softly as my fingers brushed over the wet tip, and I felt him twitch under my touch. “You too,” he gasped, his voice hoarse. “Your hand on my cock drives me crazy.”
I stroked my thumb over the sensitive underside of his glans, and he moaned loudly. I slid my hand up and down, feeling the velvety skin, the hardness beneath, the heat radiating from him. He was so fucking hard, and I couldn’t help but lean forward and lick the tip with my tongue. The salty taste of his precum exploded on my tongue, and I sucked on the head while my hand continued massaging his shaft.
“Fuck,” he panted. “If you keep that up, I’m going to come.”
I let go of him and grinned in the dark. “That’s the idea.”
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