Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“How the heck do you know where you’re going?” I step forward tentatively after stumbling over a root.
He chuckles. “Lived here my whole life, know all the secret places.”
“Secret, huh?”
“I promise it’s not far.” He reaches for my hand and knots our fingers together. “Come on.”
As we ascend the path, I start to relax, trusting that John knows what he’s doing. After a solid ten-minute hike, the trail leads to an outlook where you can see the entire valley below. We seem to be the only souls around, save for the deer scooting out of our path and birds chirping in the underbrush.
He leads me to a patch of grass near a gigantic boulder and spreads a blanket out, setting the rest of the supplies nearby.
I inhale the mountain air as I take in the view. “It’s peaceful here.”
“I think so,” John replies as he sits and pats the space beside him.
We open the water bottles and devour a couple of granola bars as we discuss the classes we skipped and the homework we’ll have to make up, both of us agreeing it’s worth it. “I still have to get home before my grandpa gets home from the docks.”
“No worries. We won’t stay long.”
We fall into a comfortable silence, and though I was hot and clammy just five minutes before, it feels cooler under the shade of the trees. I shiver when a chill travels over my bare legs.
Lifting the second blanket, John wraps it around our shoulders. “Strange how it can feel nippy up here. We can leave if you want.”
“No, I like it here…with you,” I admit. I’ve been getting braver telling John how I feel, whereas he’s more of an open book.
“Me too.” John absently trails a hand across my thigh, and my stomach tingles in anticipation, the thought of fitting our mouths together out here with no one around making my head swim.
As if reading my thoughts, John shifts closer, and when our gazes meet, I can see the question in his eyes. Want to make out again? Little does he know, I want to do more, think about it at night in bed, but I’ve been too chicken to make the first move or even bring it up.
But as John angles his head and stares into my eyes, then down to my lips, I know we’re on the same page. At the very least, he wants to kiss me too. “Micah? Do you…?”
Feeling bold, I flick my tongue against John’s bottom lip. I’ve learned plenty of tricks from our hours-long make-out sessions. John groans and digs his fingers into my waist, tugging me closer. That action alone is enough to make my dick hard.
When his lips part, I crush my mouth to his, desperate to kiss him again, to explore his mouth with my tongue. John seems just as eager as he urges me to straddle him. This is a new position, one I like because now we’re super close, chest to chest, groin to groin.
I groan as John tangles his fingers in my hair and deepens the kiss.
“Oh my God, J…this feels so good.” Now it’s my turn to cup his face and drag his lips to mine. Our mouths stay joined until they feel bruised, but I couldn’t stop kissing him if I tried. As the light bathes us through the canopy of trees, I feel heated again, and not only from the sun.
I can feel John’s hardness like a wooden post through his shorts. The fabric separating us creates just the right amount of friction, but after a few minutes more, it feels too raw and like it’s not enough. Keeping in mind we’re outdoors and only hidden by trees and a blanket, I find the courage to brush my fingers against John’s zipper.
He hissed through his teeth. “That feels good. Do it again.”
So I do, rubbing him through the material as he squirms and groans. Hand on his button, I ask, “Is this okay?”
“Please.” John adjusts the blanket higher around our shoulders and devours my mouth again. His tongue probes deep as he rocks his hips toward my hands, letting me know just how much he wants me to touch him.
I unbutton and unzip John’s shorts with shaky fingers, then lower his briefs until his cock protrudes. Even in the shadow of the blanket, I can’t stop staring at how thick and full his shaft is.
John’s voice is hesitant when he asks, “Is something wrong?”
“No…I just never…”
“We can stop.”
When he tries to scoot back, I grip his shoulder. “I don’t want to. Unless you do.”
“No, I…I want you to touch me. So fucking much.”
“Me too.” Feeling emboldened, I encircle his shaft and stroke upward. I hear John’s breath hitch.
“Feels good. Have you ever done this before?”
“No, have you?”
“Not like this.” His eyes soften. “Not with you.”