Tickle the Spark

The tent smelled like rain and crushed pine needles, and I could hear the river rushing somewhere below us in the dark. Lena—the guest who'd been ordering whiskey sours at my bar all summer—was kneeling on my sleeping bag, unzipping her jacket with trembling fingers.

"I've been thinking about this for weeks," she said, her voice low and husky. "Since that night you touched my wrist pouring my drink."

I reached out and traced my fingers up her bare arm, feather-light. She shivered. Hard. Her breath caught in a way that made my cock twitch inside my jeans.

"Like that?" I asked.

"Don't stop." She grabbed my hand and pressed it against her ribs, just under her shirt. "There. Right there."

I brushed my fingertips over the fabric, watching her eyes go dark and unfocused. She bit her lip, a tiny moan escaping her throat. Her whole body seemed to lean into my touch, hungry.

"You're sensitive," I whispered.

"Ticklish," she corrected, and there was something shameless in the way she said it. "I want you to use it. Make me squirm."

I pulled her shirt off over her head. Her tits were perfect, round and full, nipples already hard. I ran one finger down her sternum, slow, barely touching. She gasped and arched her back, gripping my shoulders.

"Fuck, yes."

I traced circles around her navel, watching her stomach jump and twitch under my touch. She laughed—a breathless, broken sound—and her hands flew to my hair, pulling me closer.

"More," she begged.

I lowered my mouth to her ribs, kissing and nipping, letting my tongue flick against the sensitive skin. She writhed beneath me, half-laughing, half-moaning, her hips grinding against my thigh. The tent was suddenly too hot, the air thick with the smell of her sweat and arousal.

"Lena," I murmured against her skin. "You're driving me crazy."

"Good." She pushed me onto my back and straddled me, her pussy pressing against the bulge in my jeans. She was already wet—I could feel the heat through the denim. "Now it's your turn."

She unbuttoned my jeans with practiced ease, her fingers brushing my cock as she pulled them down. I was already hard, precum beading at the tip. She ran her nails lightly up the inside of my thigh, and I jerked, a laugh escaping me.

"Ticklish too?" She grinned, wicked and beautiful.

"Brat."

She leaned down and licked the head of my cock, slow and deliberate, her eyes never leaving mine. I groaned, fisting my hands in the sleeping bag. Then she took me in her mouth, deep and warm, and all coherent thought evaporated.

But she didn't just suck me. She used her fingers, her nails, tracing patterns on my balls, my thighs, the sensitive spot behind my sack. Every light touch sent shivers through me, a strange mix of pleasure and ticklish laughter I couldn't hold back.

"Lena, fuck, if you keep doing that—"

She pulled off with a wet pop. "You'll come? Good. I want you to come in my mouth."

I flipped her onto her back before she could protest. Her legs fell open, and I saw her pussy glistening, swollen and ready. I ran one finger through her folds, and she bucked against my hand.

"Inside me," she whispered. "Now."

I pushed into her slowly, feeling her stretch around me, wet and tight. She moaned, long and low, her nails digging into my shoulders. I started moving, a steady rhythm, but I kept my fingers dancing across her ribs, her hips, the underside of her tits.

She laughed and moaned at the same time, a sound I'd never heard before, raw and desperate. "Oh god, don't stop, don't stop—"

I fucked her harder, my thumb finding her clit, rubbing in circles while my other hand teased her nipples. Her whole body was shaking, trembling, caught between laughter and ecstasy. Her pussy clenched around me, and I felt her come, a wave of heat and tightness that pulled me over the edge with her.

I buried my face in her neck and came, shuddering, her name on my lips.

We lay there, tangled and sweaty, the tent silent except for our breathing. The river still rushed in the dark.

She traced a finger down my chest, light as a whisper. "We still have three more nights."

I caught her hand and kissed her palm. "Then we'd better not waste them."