Still not fully awake, nor fully naked, this was happening; he was taking direct action to show me how interested he really was, I didn’t care to stop him, or to finish undressing. What took him so long to shatter the window between us, and why did he change his mind at this moment? Yes, I was extremely curious to understand his motivation, but not so much to stop and ask him. I chose, instead, to just let him do whatever he wanted.
He rolled me onto my back, lifted my knees, and positioned my body exactly where he wanted it. I could see the outline of his head and shoulders against the stars through the top of his tent, and even on his knees, he towered over me. He pressed his body down upon my thighs and thread the needle perfectly. No hands required, in total darkness. I was in awe, both with his skill and his motion, which forced a rush of air out of my lungs, less like a breath and more as if I emerged from underwater.
I wrapped my ankles around his legs and felt the warmth of his skin against mine, as well as the cool air seeping into the tent to chill my upper body, my face, and toes. The contrast in temperature was as nearly dramatic as the sudden change in his desire. Whatever got into him, I felt ecstatic he decided to let it out. I fell asleep sensing his lack of interest and his well-guarded self-restraint. Now he unleashed himself and I was shocked and delighted by the alteration.
He grasped my arms just above the elbows, preventing me from reaching out to touch him. Undoubtedly, my hands would have been cold on his skin as they were already tingling in the night’s coolness. Perhaps he would have objected to the chilling sensation, but I could not even lift my wrists as his weight transferred through his chest, his shoulders, his arms, his hands, against my limbs. I could only feel the soft lining of my sleeping bag beneath my fingers, and in a moment, I clenched its material into my fists in response to the force of his body inside me. There was no touching or caressing, just plenty of pounding, and I closed my eyes to focus on its rhythm, enjoying the moments of clean, easy breaths, countered with the driving force he exerted. I heard the nylon tent swaying against its supports, almost as a giggling spectator. I, too, was giddy that he decided to take action, and this was indeed the action I hoped it would be.
I tried to listen to his breathing, but it was difficult as I almost forced myself to concentrate on my own as well, and it reminded me entirely of his efforts chopping wood. He’d lift himself up, swing down with all his strength, and exhaled upon exertion against the logs. I watched him from a distance, and again as I helped load the trailer, but now to be watching him at the source of impact, I could feel the power I witnessed from the sidelines. How similarly he exhibited his strength and how fulfilling it felt to be accepting it throughout me.
As his speed and force increased, he finally released my right arm. Instead, he reached up and grabbed as much loose hair as he could fit in his hand, digging his fingers against my scalp. He so barely, softly, touched my hair when we stood near the creek, and perhaps it tempted him subtly, begging him unknowingly to return for more. He cupped my head in his hand, still tangled with my hair, and used its position and pressure to accentuate the movement of his hips into me.
I reached up and touched his arm, and I could feel how tightly his muscles were contracting and working in unison in harnessing his strength. I slid my hand softly along his shoulder, bending against the curve of his neck and finally grazing against the soft stubble of his chin and cheek. I wanted to touch him more than our mere handshakes, and now that I could, my fingers sent tingles through me as I finally savored the opportunity to caress his face.
NEXT: Ghost Stories – Part 45