Leigh's Awakening, Vol 1 - The Hike

As Fritz and I returned to camp, the sun dipped low, painting the forest floor in long strokes of gold and shadow. The evening air carried a gentle bite, the last breath of winter whispering through the trees. Leigh and Laura had pulled on sweatshirts as the chill set in ... practical, but still a quiet disappointment. The memory of their sun-warmed breasts lingered like a phantom taste on the tongue, impossible to forget.

Dinner was simple, but laughter came easily. The four of us sat around the fire, bathed in amber light, trading stories and teasing each other in that easy, intimate way that only comes when you’re miles from anyone who might judge. The flames crackled, sending sparks skyward just as the clouds began to gather.

A sudden fork of lightning split the sky, and thunder rolled overhead like a warning. The wind surged. In an instant, the temperature dropped, and the first drops of rain began to fall, soft at first, then insistent.

We scattered.

Leigh and I made it to our tent just as the downpour hit in earnest. We zipped the flap shut behind us, sealing out the storm and sealing us in together. Inside, it was close and dark, the sound of rain drumming steadily on the canvas roof like a heartbeat. Our breath mingled in the dim space, warm and sweet with the scent of woodsmoke and adrenaline. Leigh shook out her braided hair, damp tendrils clinging to her cheekbones, and straddled my hips with a quiet, catlike grace.

“You were really something today,” I murmured, my voice a low hum between us.

She gave me a look, half-smile, half-challenge. “You think that was something? That was just the beginning.”

Her fingers rested lightly on my chest, her weight pressing down just enough to remind me she was in control, for now. Her green eyes shimmered with mischief, and her breath came slow, deliberate. There was tension coiled beneath her skin, hunger, playfulness, as if she was about to reveal a secret.

As Leigh began to tell me about how she masturbated in front of the young scouts, her voice grew breathier, and her eyes darkened with desire. By the time her story ended, Leigh was practically panting, her chest heaving with anticipation. I reached up beneath her sweatshirt, fingers grazing the soft skin at her waist, then higher. The curve of her ribs, the warmth of her body ... each touch drew a deeper breath from her. My hands found familiar terrain, and I began to pinch her nipples, rolling them between my fingers, she let her eyes flutter closed, her lips parting ever so slightly as she responded to my touch.

Thunder cracked again, louder this time, but the only storm I noticed was between us. Her lips met mine, soft at first, then demanding. Her kiss tasted of campfire smoke and something far sweeter: control willingly given, just for this moment. And as the storm raged outside, inside the tent, a different kind of heat rose steadily, relentlessly, between us.

Her fingers traced slow, teasing circles on my chest, then slid lower, exploring with unhurried intent. There was a confidence to her movements, a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and exactly how to make her partner want it too.

“Lie back,” she whispered, her voice velvety and commanding.

Her hands roamed over my body, unbuttoning my shorts and pulling out my already hard cock. She slid down and took me into her mouth, her lips stretching wide to accommodate my girth. What followed wasn’t a race toward climax but a slow-burning game of control and surrender. Leigh was a master at deep-throating, her skills honed by practice and a natural talent for pleasing. Her mouth explored me with the reverence of someone learning a map by memory. Every sigh she pulled from me seemed to feed her determination. She slid her mouth up and down my shaft, her tongue swirling around the sensitive head, sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body. And just when the pressure built to a trembling brink—she stopped. Smiling.

“Not yet,” she whispered against my shaft. “I’m not done playing.”

She slid off me and rose to her knees, peeling her sweatshirt over her head. In the dim lantern light her silhouette glowed, half goddess, half wild thing. Then, with that same sly grin, she turned toward the tent flap and murmured, “I want to run.”

“What?”

She pulled her shorts down over her boots in one smooth motion. “Through the trees. In the rain. Like Jane. You coming, Tarzan?”

She didn’t wait for my answer. The tent flap lifted, and she stepped into the night, bare skin gleaming with rain, black braid swinging behind her like a challenge. I sat there stunned for a second, the cold air already rushing in to chase away the heat she’d left behind. Then I stood, stripped, and followed.

The downpour hit like a baptism, washing away everything but sensation. I could see the lantern in Fritz and Laura’s tent, their silhouettes moving within. Fritz was on his back, and Laura was straddling him, her tits bouncing as she rode him with slow, steady movements. The sight was a tantalizing tease, but Leigh was my focus, my prize Leigh danced ahead of me through the trees, a flash of motion, laughter echoing through the dark. I chased her, heart pounding, body thrumming with adrenaline and desire.