Afterglow
Copyright© 2025 by Eric Ross
Chapter 12: The Summit
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 12: The Summit - They met in an alley: wild, reckless, unforgettable. Ginger never meant to fall for Coco’s chaos. Coco never meant to fall for anyone at all. But between stolen nights, whispered dares, and the kind of heat that burns through skin and bone, something unruly grew — something more dangerous than lust. This is not a story about taming a wild thing. It’s a story about becoming wild enough to stay.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Mult Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Humor Tear Jerker BDSM Light Bond Spanking Group Sex Anal Sex Cream Pie Massage Masturbation Oral Sex Sex Toys Squirting Voyeurism Big Breasts Hairy Public Sex
A year since that alley—a full circle of Coco stitching herself into my heart—and I was hers, body and soul. New Zealand’s South Island beckoned, my hiking obsession pulling us to Fiordland’s raw beauty, a trip to mark our bond. The trail carved through mist-shrouded peaks, beech trees dripping with moss, their gnarled roots slick underfoot, the air thick with fern and damp earth. We hiked all day, my boots crunching gravel, her silver-threaded mane bouncing beneath a cap, her tanned cheeks flushed with exertion.
“Fuck, Ginger, this is paradise,” she said, pausing at a lookout—Milford Sound’s fjords shimmering below, cliffs slicing into dark water, a distant storm rumbling like a lover’s growl.
“Better with you,” I said, pulling her close, her heat cutting through the chill. She grinned, eyes soft—trust and love glowing there, a year’s worth—and my chest swelled, tight with it.
The cabin emerged as dusk fell—a weathered wooden shack tucked in a clearing, its tin roof drumming with light rain, a stone chimney puffing smoke into the twilight. Inside was a warm cocoon: plank floors softened with woven rugs, a double bed piled with wool blankets, a potbelly stove crackling, its glow dancing on the walls, a window framing the shadowed forest.
Coco kicked off her boots, stretching in leggings and a tank, her curves a siren’s call—breasts pressing the fabric, hips swaying as she flopped onto the bed. “Perfect,” she sighed, then sat up, eyes glinting with mischief and something deeper.
“A year, huh? Feels like forever—and I wouldn’t change it.”
“Best forever,” I said, shedding my jacket, joining her, my freckled hand finding hers. “You’re my everything, Coco—love you more than I can say.”
I kissed her, slow and deep, her lips yielding, tasting of trail dust and her—minty, sweet, a flavor I’d crave always. She pulled back, smiling, vulnerability in her gaze.
“I trust you—completely,” she whispered, fingers tracing my jaw. “Falling so hard it scares me, Ginger. Tonight ... I’m ready. My popo—let’s try it.”
I paused, meeting her eyes.
“I want this,” she whispered again, quieter now. “But it scares me. That’s why I’m giving it to you.”
My heart slammed. A year’s journey to this moment—her trust, her love—and I swallowed hard, awed.
“Coco,” I rasped, “I’ll make it perfect. You’re my everything.”
She grinned, peeling off her tank—breasts spilling free, nipples crinkling in the stove’s heat—and tugged at my shirt.
“Tease me first,” she purred. “Make me beg.”
I stripped—shirt, shorts, my red bush wild, cock thickening at the sight of her.
“Shower,” I said, nodding to the tiny bathroom. Steam curled from a rusty pipe.