He pinched my thigh again, but I bit my lip to stifle my response. I wouldn't cry out.
He unfastened the button on my shorts, and then he was pulling them off, yanking my panties off at the same time. We were on the dirty forest floor, still within sight of the trail.
He paused for a moment, staring down at my pu**y with a smile on his face, and then his head was between my legs. He rushed, licking hard and fast, his tongue urgent and probing. He found my cl*t and pressed down hard with his tongue, bobbing his whole head up and down between my legs to apply pressure. His stubble prickled on my inner thighs, but his tongue was perfect. The sensation was so sudden and intense, all I could do was whimper as I melted back into the leaves and dirt. The trees and sky above me were beautiful, and then I had to close my eyes as he took me swiftly over the edge.
I cried out in ecstasy and grasped at the leaves around me like they were rough bedsheets.
He unzipped his pants, adjusted, and nudged the head of his c**k against my opening. He stroked his warm, thick flesh up and down my slippery crease, past my opening and over my still-sensitive clit, then all the way down to my back door. My pu**y was so wet, and combined with the slickness coming from him, everything moved smoothly.
He his body moved up, on top of me. Looking me in the eyes, he rocked his hips, teasing me with just the tip, sliding in and out of my pu**y.
I put both hands on his ass and pinched, hard. He bit me on my jaw and hung on, his teeth sharp on my skin. Around my flesh, he said, “Kitty play nice?”
I relaxed my hands and stroked them softly up and down his back, over and under his shirt, which was damp with perspiration.
He stopped biting my jaw and kissed me on the lips, nicely.
I moaned into his mouth and kissed him back, relaxing. Still, he kept rocking his hips, just that tip of his popping in and out of me like a lollipop.
His voice low and growling, he said, “What do you want, Sheri?”
“I want you to f**k me, Detective Dunham. Fuck me so hard. I want to have trouble walking tomorrow.”
“Say my name.”
“Dunham.”
He bit my eyebrow ridge, just a nibble. “My other name.”
“Smith.”
The head of his c**k moved in, beyond the opening, massaging me deeper, where I wanted him.
“Smith,” I repeated.
Breathing heavily, he drove into me, all the way. He filled me up and thrust against me, his balls slapping against my soaking-wet butt.
I moaned and squirmed, wanting more, more, more.
He pulled out and pinched my leg until I rolled over, my butt up in the air.
Again, he took a moment to slide the head of his c**k up and down my crevice, sliding between my lips and then over them, brushing over my cl*t and then all the way back to my butt.
Finally, he slid into my pu**y, his c**k as hard as steel. In this position, he had more leverage, and he really pounded into me, our sweating bodies slapping together.
He said something, but I wasn't expecting talking, and asked him to repeat himself.
Panting hard, he said, “I'm going to come all over your pretty shirt, all over your pretty hair.”
“What?”
“I'm going to come in your hair.” He grabbed a lank of my hair and twisted it around one hand, pulling at my scalp.
“No, Smith, not the hair, you sick f**k. You work for me,” I said.
He groaned.
His other hand was between my legs, on my clit, and I was coming again. I cried out, a howl like a wounded animal, and I came with him grunting into me from behind. The orgasm started in my pu**y and blasted out like a shock wave, until I felt it in my scalp, felt that ecstasy in my hair, down the back of my head.
He grunted again, and my pu**y was hot, his liquid spurting inside me.
He yanked again on my hair and I cried out, my moan mingling with his.
When he stopped shuddering, he pulled out and wiped his c**k against the backs of my legs.
I turned to look back at him, saying, “What the hell?”
He slapped my ass, sending a loud crack through the quiet forest.
“Just giving you your money's worth,” he said, already standing and pulling his khaki pants up.
I cursed him out and looked around for some not-too-crunchy leaves to wipe myself off with. He stood there, staring at me curiously, until I swore at him and told him to turn around and give a girl some privacy.
He reached into his pocket, withdrew a cloth handkerchief, and handed it over.
“M'lady,” he said.
I snatched it from his hand.
Still chuckling, he turned around and walked away.
3: Town and Country
I was still picking twigs out of my hair when we arrived in town about an hour later.
To my disappointment, the only places that were of interest to me, a couple of cute clothing boutiques, were just closing up for the day.
Smith approached the gray-haired woman pulling in a rolling rack of clothes.
“Are you the owner?” he asked.
Her eyes narrow with suspicion, she said, “Maybe.”
He pulled his wallet from his pocket and plucked out some bills. “How'd you like to triple your day's sales?”
She laughed and told him to put the money away. “I can stay a bit longer. Just pay for whatever ya like, hun.”
“This is my niece,” he said, putting his arm around my shoulders as we followed the woman into the boutique.
I reached out to shake the woman's hand just as Smith said, “My niece doesn't speak English. Not a word.”
I smiled and nodded.
The woman spoke loudly, enunciating every word, “NICE TO MEET you sweetheart!”
“She takes naps in the woods,” Smith said, twirling one finger around his ear. “Cuckoo.”
I turned my back to them so she wouldn't see me smirking.
“She doesn't have any grown-up clothes,” he said. “I want to take her out for dinner, but she's a disaster, as you can see.”
“We'll fix her up,” the woman said.
I was already doing fine on my own, but she buzzed around the small shop, pulling out fabulous things I would never have noticed if she hadn't held them up.
I tried on an armload of outfits, each thing more appealing than the last. How long had it been since I bought new clothes? My most recent acquisitions had been from the Lost-n-Found box at the laundromat. Paying off student loan debt was a higher priority than pretty things … though pretty things certainly had their appeal. Had my legs always looked so curvy in a skirt?
Smith looked at each outfit and then he chose which pile to put the items in. He said he was paying, so who was I to argue? Besides, apparently, I didn't speak a word of English.