Smoky Pines, Wild Hearts (L)

23 hours ago

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The rain hammered against the canvas of our tent, a relentless percussion that matched the insistent throb in my core. Ben, snoring softly beside me, was a mountain of muscle and heat, his presence radiating through the thin fabric. It had been a long, arduous drive up the Smokies, but the seclusion, the scent of pine and damp earth, and the sheer anticipation of this night had made every bump and turn worthwhile. Tennessee, my Tennessee, held a primal pull, a feeling of belonging that ran deeper than any city streets or familiar faces. This weekend, nestled deep within the wilderness, felt like coming home, both to the mountains and to the man who shared my soul.

We’d chosen a spot just off a seldom-used logging trail, a small clearing beside a gurgling creek. The air hung thick with humidity, and the mosquitoes were already out in force, but Ben’s bug spray had done its job, leaving us relatively unscathed. We’d arrived just before dusk, setting up camp with practiced efficiency, unloading the necessities from his truck: the tent, the sleeping bags, a cooler overflowing with beer and wine, and a hefty supply of firewood. The thought of a crackling fire, casting dancing shadows on the trees, felt utterly decadent.

As the last sliver of sun disappeared behind the peaks, we gathered wood, splitting it with a small axe, the rhythmic thud a comforting soundtrack to the gathering darkness. We cracked open a six-pack of Crown Royal, the amber liquid glinting in the lantern light, and settled down with glasses of wine, the conversation flowing easily between us. It wasn't long before the whiskey loosened our tongues and our inhibitions, the familiar comfort of each other a potent aphrodisiac.

“Remember that time we skinny-dipped in the creek when we were kids?” Ben chuckled, swirling his drink. “Momma nearly had a heart attack when she found us.”

I laughed, remembering the mortifying embarrassment, the thrill of rebellion, and the undeniable joy of feeling the cool water rush over my skin. It was a memory etched in my mind, a small but significant part of our shared history.

“Yeah, and you always got away with it,” I replied, my voice husky with drink. “You were always the reckless one.”

“Well, someone had to be,” he retorted, a playful glint in his eyes. “Besides, you were always a little shy.”

The teasing went on, escalating as the night wore on, the heat building within us, fueled by alcohol and unspoken desires. Ben shifted closer, his arm wrapping around me, pulling me into his embrace. The scent of his sweat mingled with the pine and damp earth, a potent combination that sent shivers down my spine.

“You know,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear, “this is exactly what I needed.”

“Me too,” I whispered, my heart pounding in my chest. The intimacy, the shared moments, the simple pleasure of being together in this remote wilderness, felt like a revelation.

As the fire crackled and popped, casting flickering shadows on the tent walls, Ben began to explore my body with a gentle touch, tracing the curves of my hips, my breasts, my stomach. His fingers lingered on my nipples, teasing and tormenting, igniting a fire within me. I moaned softly, my body arching in anticipation.

“You’re looking good,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire. “Very good.”

He moved lower, cupping my chest in his hands, pulling me closer until our bodies were pressed together. His hand found the strap of my bra, pulling it loose, exposing my breasts to his gaze. I shivered, both from the cold and the pleasure.

“Wanna take that off?” he asked, his eyes locked on mine.

“Maybe,” I replied, my voice barely a breath.

With a quick, decisive movement, he unzipped my shirt, revealing my wet, glistening skin. He then reached for my bra, pulling it off and tossing it aside. I stood there, exposed and vulnerable, yet strangely liberated.

Ben leaned in, his lips brushing against my skin as he kissed my breast. The touch was electrifying, sending a surge of heat through my body. He pulled back slightly, his eyes filled with lust.

“Let’s get this party started,” he whispered, his voice low and suggestive.

He began to grind against me, his movements becoming more insistent, more demanding. My body responded instinctively, arching and twisting as we moved closer and closer. I cried out in pleasure as he took hold of my wetness, pulling it down my chest.

“Oh, God,” I gasped, my breath coming in ragged bursts. “You’re so good.”

He continued to pleasure me, his hands exploring every inch of my body, pushing me to the edge of ecstasy. My legs bucked uncontrollably, my hips swaying in time with the pounding of my heart. I moaned and cried out, lost in the intoxicating sensations.

As my body reached its peak, I let out a primal scream, my muscles clenching and releasing in waves of pleasure. Ben held me tight, savoring the moment, before finally releasing his grip.

“You’re a bad girl, aren’t you?” he whispered, a triumphant glint in his eyes.

“Just a little,” I replied, my voice still breathless.

We lay there for a while, catching our breath and basking in the afterglow of our passion. The rain continued to fall, drumming against the tent walls, but we didn't notice. We were too busy enjoying each other's company, lost in the intoxicating world of desire.

The next morning, we awoke tangled in the sleeping bags, covered in sweat and tangled in blankets. The air inside the tent was thick with the scent of arousal and pine needles. Ben smiled at me, his eyes full of affection.

“Well, that was a good night,” he said. “Let’s pack up and head home.”

As we dismantled the camp, I couldn’t help but smile. This trip to the Smokies had been more than just a weekend getaway. It had been a reminder of the deep connection we shared, a celebration of our love, and a testament to the primal desires that still burned within us. And as we drove away, leaving the mountains behind, I knew that this was just the beginning of our adventures together. Tennessee would always be our home, but the wilderness, and the heat it offered, would always hold a special place in our hearts.

 

 

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