The Trail Back to Us

The rain had been drumming on the tent for an hour, a steady, insistent rhythm that matched the pulse between my legs. Maya sat across from me, knees drawn to her chest, her damp hair plastered to her temples, and she was looking at me the way she used to—like she was about to say something dangerous. We hadn't spoken in eight months, not since I'd walked out of her apartment with my pride intact and my heart in tatters. Now we were stuck in a two-person tent on a mountain trail, and the air was thick with everything we'd never said.

"Your boots are still wet," she said, nodding at my feet. Her voice was softer than I remembered, rougher around the edges.

"Yours too."

She laughed, a low, breathy sound that hit me in the gut. "We're a mess, aren't we?"

I didn't answer. I just watched her unzip her jacket, slowly, deliberately, like she was giving me time to look away. I didn't. Underneath she wore a thin tank top, no bra, and her nipples were hard from the cold—or something else. She caught my gaze and held it.

"Remember the last time we were in a tent?" she asked, a ghost of a smile on her lips.

"Remember you told me to go to hell?"

"I remember you left before I could take it back."

The rain filled the silence. Then she crawled across the sleeping bag, knees sinking into the fabric, until she was right in front of me. Her hand found my thigh, warm through my jeans.

"I don't want to fight anymore," she whispered. "I just want you. Right now. In this tent. Like we used to."

I was already hard, my dick straining against the denim. I cupped her face, my thumb tracing her jawline, and she leaned into my touch like she'd been starving for it. Her lips met mine—soft, then urgent, her tongue sliding against my own. I tasted rain and mint and her. She moaned into my mouth and swung a leg over my lap, straddling me, her heat pressing against my bulge.

"I missed this," she breathed against my neck. "Missed you."

I grabbed her hips, grinding her down onto me. "I missed your mouth."

She pulled back, a wicked glint in her eyes. "Oh yeah?" She slid off my lap, settling between my legs, and her fingers worked my belt with practiced ease. "Show me what else you missed."

She freed my cock, thick and aching, and wrapped her fingers around the base. She didn't tease, didn't play. She just opened her mouth and took me in—all the way, her lips hitting the root, her throat flexing around the head. I gasped, my hands flying to her hair.

"Fuck, Maya—"

She hummed, the vibration shooting through me, and pulled back just enough to breathe before sinking down again. Her eyes were locked on mine, wet and hungry, and she took me deeper with each pass, her throat opening for me like it was made for it. The sounds were obscene—wet, gagging, desperate—and I felt every inch of her, the tight, hot squeeze of her throat as she swallowed me down.

"That's it," I groaned, my fingers tightening in her hair. "Take it all."

She did. Again and again, her nose brushing my pelvis, tears streaking her cheeks, but she didn't pull away. She held me there, throat locked around my cock, and I felt her moan around me. It was too much. I was close, my balls tightening, but I wanted more. I pulled her off—her lips swollen, a string of spit connecting us—and flipped her onto her back.

"My turn," I said, and I meant it.

I yanked her leggings down, revealing her bare pussy, already glistening. I didn't wait. I buried my face between her legs, my tongue flat against her clit, and she bucked against me with a sharp cry. I licked her slow, then fast, then two fingers inside her, curling, searching, finding the spot that made her scream. Her hands fisted in the sleeping bag, her hips grinding against my mouth.

"Please," she gasped. "Please, I need you inside me."

I rose up, positioning my cock at her entrance, and slid in with one smooth thrust. She was so wet, so tight, and she wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper. We moved together, frantic, the tent fabric rustling around us, the rain our only witness.

"Harder," she begged, her nails raking down my back. "Fuck me harder."

I obliged, slamming into her, the sound of our bodies slapping filling the small space. She was close, I could feel it, the way her walls clenched around me, and I reached down to rub her clit.

"Come for me," I growled. "Come on my cock."

She shattered, crying out my name, her body convulsing beneath me. And I followed, burying myself deep, spilling inside her with a guttural groan.

We collapsed, sweaty and breathless, the rain still falling. She started laughing—a soft, giddy sound—and I couldn't help but join her.

"We're idiots," she said, tracing patterns on my chest.

"Yeah," I agreed, pulling her closer. "But we're here."

CATEGORIES: [Throat Fucking, Tent, Just the Two of Us, Outdoor fucking, Ex-Girlfriend]