Thorns rip my stockings. Branches claw my silk blouse. André ditched me an hour ago at the forest edge. ‘Walk straight, two hours to the inn,’ he smirked. Dressed for the club—tiny skirt, high heels, open top—I’m a fool in this jungle. My own fantasy. Last night’s wine loosened my tongue. Told him I dream of being lost, hunted, pussy throbbing at the thought. He made it real. Now sweat drips down my cleavage. Buttons popped. I knot the blouse under my tits, belly bare. Cracks behind me. Him? Or beasts? Heat builds between my thighs. Prey vibe electrifies me. I lick my fingers, salty from my flood. ‘Come taste if you dare!’ I yell. River blocks my path. Murky, weed-choked hell. No way back. Strip skirt, shredded stockings. Just blouse, white cotton panties. Heart pounds. I know he’s watching. Striptease for the shadow. Ice water bites my toes. Vase sucks my feet. Up to knees, thighs. Licks my ass, teases my swollen lips. Midway. Slip. Scream. Under. Gasp up, soaked. Blouse transparent—lace bra, dark areolas, hard nipples on show. Panties cling, bush exposed. Skirt floats away. Fuck it. No retreat. Shore’s a sunlit clearing. Strip wet rags. Twist them out. Naked. Lie back in tall grass. Sun kisses my skin. Hidden now. Fuck you, André. Hands roam. Pinch nipples. Slide to slick folds. Fingers plunge. Moan rises. Power surges. This is me. Unleashed.
‘Eh… Ma’am?’ Jolt up. Arm over tits—barely covers heavy globes. Other hand, fingers glossy, on clenched thighs. Silhouette backlit. Young, slim. How? André must’ve seen. Where is he? Voice soft. ‘Turn around!’ He does. Fast. Relief. Kid’s flustered. I dress slow. Wet blouse molds to curves, nipples poke. No call for rescue. He should’ve come. ‘Why interrupt my nap?’ ‘Heard moans. Thought you needed help.’ Laughter erupts. Shared. Sits cross-legged. Rubicund cheeks. Vacation kid. Half my age—35, prime. Tell him everything. Fantasy game. His eyes dart. Scared of jealous husband. Hand on his thigh. Calms him. Slides to crotch. Hard. Perfect. Unzip. Grip long, slim cock. Rock-hard. Trembles. Smile to shadows. ‘André, watch this.’ Head down. Mouth engulfs. Suck deep. Balls slap chin. Ass up, cheeks high like suns. He groans. Close. Pull off. Cum blasts—face, tits. Hot ropes. We laugh. Roll. Kiss fierce.
The Mutation
Shirt off. Naked glory. Guide his hands. Breasts. Belly. Thighs. Bush dripping dew. Fingers probe hot core. Deeper. Twist clit. Buck wild. Gush floods. Scream— for release, for him to hear. Tongue dives in. Laps nectar. Eyes snap open. Volcano erupts. Hips thrash. Squirt arcs. Never so hard. He stares, awed. Hour of bliss. He gives tee—covers to ass. No panties. Pussy bare, tingling. Stroll to inn. Lobby stares. Family gawks. Man’s eyes devour thighs, tits, points. Kid sees ass, wet slit. Reception boy drools. André calls from bar. With Robert. ‘Fun walk?’ ‘You know.’ ‘Nah, been here two hours chatting.’ Robert nods. Hand snakes thigh. Fury boils. Pushed away. Tears sting. Dump wet clothes on him. Flee. Ass flashes to guests. Room. Rage. Suitcases. Then—skirt on balcony. Drying. Heat floods cunt. He was there! Saw all! Cum drips. Rip tee. Naked on bed. Wait. Love him. Next fantasy calls. Secret fuels my power.