It was the summer of 1979...
The air was dry and thin, carrying the scent of pine from the distant mountains into the restaurant kitchen where I worked. At eighteen, I was the youngest line cook at the seafood chain restaurant in Aurora, earning just enough to maintain my pride and my beloved '72 Porsche 914.
The kitchen was chaos during the dinner rush—a symphony of sizzling pans, shouted orders, and the percussive chop of knives against cutting boards. I moved with practiced efficiency, plating seafood with a precision that had already caught the executive chef's eye. But on this particular evening, it wasn't the chef who was watching me.
"Order up for table seven," a voice called, musical and slightly teasing.
I turned to see Lisa, a 24-year-old waitress who had been working at the restaurant for about a month. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a practical ponytail, but a few strands had escaped to frame a face that stopped my breath every time I saw it.
"Table seven," she repeated, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Or are you too busy being an artist to feed my customers?"
I felt heat rise to my face that had nothing to do with the kitchen's temperature. "Coming right up," I managed, sliding the perfectly arranged plate across the pass.
Her fingers brushed mine as she took it, a touch that sent electricity up my arm. "A bunch of us are heading to Red Rocks after work," she said casually. "You should come."
I'd heard about these after-work gatherings—mostly older staff letting off steam after long shifts. I'd never been invited before.
"I'll think about it," I said, trying to sound nonchalant.
Her laugh told me I'd failed. "Sure you will, chef. Nine o'clock, parking lot."
The rest of my shift passed in a blur. At nine, freshly showered and changed into clean jeans and a button-down, I stood uncertainly in the darkened parking lot. Just as I was convincing myself I'd misunderstood, a van pulled up, music spilling from its open windows.
"Get in, rookie!" someone called from inside.
The drive to Red Rocks was a cacophony of laughter and overlapping conversations, the van filled with cigarette smoke and the residual smell of seafood that clung to all of us no matter how much we scrubbed. I found myself wedged between the door and Lisa, acutely aware of her thigh pressed against mine every time the van took a turn.
"First time at Red Rocks?" she asked, her voice close to my ear.
I nodded. "First time anywhere, really. I usually just go home after work."
She studied me in the dim light. "You're different from the other line cooks. Most of them are all talk, you know? You're... quieter. More focused."
"Is that a good thing?"
Her smile was answer enough. "I guess we'll find out."
Red Rocks Amphitheater was hauntingly beautiful at night, the massive red sandstone formations silhouetted against the star-filled sky. Our group spread out across the empty seats, passing around bottles and joints. I declined both, still too aware of Lisa's presence beside me to risk further loosening my already tenuous grip on composure.
Gradually, people drifted off in pairs or small groups, exploring the venue or finding secluded spots among the rocks. Soon, Lisa and I found ourselves relatively alone at the back of the amphitheater.
"Want to see something amazing?" she asked, standing and offering her hand.
I took it, marveling at how small and warm it felt in mine. She led me up a narrow path that wound behind the main seating area. We emerged on a flat outcropping with a view that stole what little breath the altitude had left me. Denver spread out below us, a sparkling grid of lights stretching to the horizon.
"Worth the climb?" She was watching my face, seeming genuinely interested in my reaction.
"Absolutely," I said, meaning it.
She moved to stand at the edge, gazing out at the view. I hesitated only briefly before stepping behind her, cautiously placing my hands on her waist. She leaned back against me immediately, as if she'd been waiting for this moment.
"I've been watching you," she confessed, her voice soft. "The way you work. So intense, so precise. I wondered if you'd be like that with everything."
My cock twitched at the implication, growing thick and heavy in my jeans as I lowered my head to press a tentative kiss against her neck. She made a low, approving sound and tilted her head, giving me better access.
"Keep going," she whispered.
I didn’t need more encouragement. I pressed slow, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of her neck, one hand sliding forward across her flat stomach, the other rising to gently cup her breast over her shirt. Her breath hitched, her body pressing back into mine, her ass grinding against the hard bulge in my jeans.
She turned in my arms suddenly, her lips crashing against mine, hot and hungry. Her tongue slipped into my mouth and I groaned, pulling her closer, my cock now aching with need. My hands roamed—cupping her ass, exploring the curve of her back, pressing her tighter against me.
"Not here," she murmured, breaking the kiss with a sly smile. "Tomorrow night. The drive-in theater is showing The Godfather. Pick me up at eight."
The next evening, I arrived at her apartment with butterflies in my stomach and the top down on my Porsche. The night was warm, the kind of perfect Colorado summer evening that seemed designed for new beginnings.
Lisa emerged from her building wearing cut-off jeans that showcased her long, tanned legs and a white tank top that clung to every curve. My mouth went dry at the sight of her.
"Nice car," she said, sliding into the passenger seat with a grace that suggested she was used to admiring glances. "Your parents buy it for you?"
It was a fair question—not many eighteen-year-olds drove Porsches, even older models. "No, I saved up. Been working since I was fourteen."
She looked impressed, running her hand along the dashboard. "A man with ambition. I like that."
The drive-in was crowded, but I found a spot near the back, away from the main cluster of cars. We settled in as the opening credits began to roll, but it was clear neither of us was particularly interested in the film.
Halfway through, Lisa's hand crept across the seat and rested on my thigh. I tensed slightly at first, but she just smiled.
"You're so tense," she murmured, her voice low and dripping with intent. "Relax. I don't bite... unless you want me to."
She leaned closer and her hand slid higher, finding the bulge in my jeans and rubbing it slowly, sensually. I could feel myself swelling under her palm, my cock stiffening instantly at her touch. She unzipped me with one smooth motion, reached inside, and wrapped her fingers around my cock.
She stroked me with confidence—tight, slow, steady—her eyes on my face as she read every twitch and sigh. Then she bent her head down and took me into her mouth.
The feeling of her lips sliding over the head of my cock was enough to make me gasp. Her mouth was hot and wet, her tongue flicking and swirling as she took me deeper, sucking with firm, steady rhythm. She moaned softly around me, and the vibration of it made my hips jump.
I reached out, sliding my hand between her legs. Her shorts were already soaked. I rubbed her pussy through the denim, feeling the heat and wetness grow with every stroke of my fingers. I slipped underneath her shorts to find bare pussy as she neglected to wear any panties. Going commando like I do. She pressed her hips into my hand as she sucked me harder, her mouth a perfect rhythm of pleasure.
My fingers slipped beneath the frayed edge of her cut-off 501s, the button-fly parting with teasing ease. I slid my hand under her thigh, feeling the heat of her bare skin, and found her wet and ready—already pulsing around my touch.
My fingertips brushed over her slick folds, teasing gently as she gasped and shifted her hips, opening more for me. Each button of her fly had given way with a soft pop, her short cut-offs now gaping just enough for me to slide deeper. I circled her clit with slow precision, then slipped two fingers inside, curling just right, just how she liked it.
She moaned low in her throat, biting her lip, hips rocking against my hand with growing urgency. I kept my pace steady, fingers stroking her sweet spot while my thumb worked tight little circles over her swollen clit. Her breath quickened, legs trembling slightly as her thighs clamped around my wrist.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered, voice ragged.
I didn’t.
She arched hard, pressing down into my hand as a shudder tore through her—hot and deep and overwhelming. Her cry was muffled against my neck as she came, wet and pulsing around my fingers, hips jerking in waves before finally going still, breath heaving, body flushed and sated.
She turned her attention back to my throbbing member. Her pace only quickened, her lips sealing tight as she took me all the way down, her tongue massaging the underside of my shaft as my orgasm crashed over me. I came in hot, pulsing waves, groaning her name as she swallowed everything.
When she finally pulled away, she gave me one last flick of her tongue, then sat up and sipped her drink like nothing had happened—cool, collected, completely satisfied.
"Tomorrow," she said, her voice sultry and commanding. "My place. I get off at three."
The next day stretched on forever. When my shift finally ended, I tore through my cleanup, raced through a shower, soaping up my cock getting hard and ready thinking about Lisa’s sweet pussy...and sped across town like a man on fire.
Lisa opened the door wearing a tight white bodysuit that looked sprayed onto her body. Her nipples were clearly visible beneath the thin fabric, and the smooth line between her thighs showed she wasn’t wearing a thing underneath.
She didn’t say a word—just grabbed my hand and led me straight to the bedroom.
As soon as the door closed, she stripped in one fluid motion, peeling the bodysuit down and off until she was completely naked, her pussy already glistening with arousal.
“Strip,” she said.
I obeyed, yanking off my clothes, my cock standing hard and ready by the time I reached the bed.
She climbed on top, her thighs straddling me wide. She reached down, wrapped her fingers around my cock, and rubbed it against her wet slit. Her juices coated me instantly, and she groaned as she guided the tip to her entrance.
She sank down on me slowly, taking every inch inside her hot, tight pussy. Her walls gripped me like a velvet vice, pulsing with arousal as she settled into my lap, fully impaled.
“Fuck,” I gasped, my hands grabbing her ass as she began to ride me.
She moved with confidence, rolling her hips and grinding down hard, her wetness making filthy sounds with every thrust. I cupped her breasts, squeezing her nipples between my fingers, watching them bounce as she fucked me harder.
Her pussy clenched around my cock, spasming as her orgasm hit. She cried out, grinding down, her body shaking above mine.
I flipped her onto her back, her legs flying open, and drove my cock back into her slick, swollen pussy. I pounded into her with sharp, deep strokes, our bodies slapping together, sweat pouring off us.
She wrapped her legs around me, pulling me deeper, her nails raking down my back as she came again—louder this time, breathless and wild.
When I finally came, I buried myself inside her and let go, my cock throbbing as I emptied myself into her in hot, heavy spurts.
We collapsed in a sticky, panting heap.
I traced my fingers over her breast, and when I brushed her nipple, her whole body jerked. She arched off the bed and gasped as another orgasm rocked through her, catching her completely by surprise.
"That's never happened before," she said when she could speak. “Either someone taught you very well, or you’re some kind of genius.”
I smiled, cock still twitching. “Maybe I just have the right inspiration.
The following weekend, Lisa suggested a hike in the Rockies. I borrowed my roommate's 66 Ford van van, and we drove into the mountains, the air growing cooler and fresher with each mile of elevation gained.
We found a secluded spot off the main trail, a small clearing surrounded by aspen trees, their leaves shimmering silver-green in the dappled sunlight. Lisa spread a blanket on the ground and began to unbutton her sundress.
"Someone might see," I cautioned, glancing around nervously.
She just smiled, letting the dress slip off her shoulders and fall to her feet. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
"That's part of the excitement, isn’t it? The possibility?"
The thrill of it hit me hard—being out in the open, the warm sun on her bare skin, the risk of discovery. Her body was perfect: golden skin, tight nipples, and a pussy that already glistened with need. The raw desire in her eyes erased every trace of hesitation.
I dropped to my knees between her legs, the soft blanket cushioning us as I undid my jeans with shaking hands. My cock sprang free, already rock-hard as I leaned in to kiss her inner thighs, breathing in the scent of her arousal.
She opened her legs wider, fingers parting her lips, exposing her swollen, wet pussy. I dove in, licking from bottom to top, swirling my tongue around her clit, savoring the way she gasped and arched beneath me.
"Yes, just like that," she moaned, her hands in my hair, grinding her hips against my mouth.
I slid two fingers inside her while my tongue worked her clit in tight, fast circles. She was soaking wet, her pussy pulsing around my fingers as I slid them into her with slow, deep strokes, curling them against her sweet spot.
Her orgasm ripped through her, loud and sudden, her thighs clamping around my head as she cried out into the trees.
Before she could come down, I was on top of her, guiding my slick, throbbing cock into her tight, dripping cunt. She was so wet I slid in to the hilt in one thrust, and she gasped loudly, grabbing my ass and pulling me deeper.
I fucked her with steady, powerful strokes, our bodies moving in rhythm as the sun filtered through the trees. The sound of birds in the distance mixed with the wet, slapping rhythm of skin on skin. Her nails scratched down my back, leaving marks, her eyes locked on mine, wild and wanting.
She wrapped her legs around me, urging me deeper, faster. Her pussy clenched around my cock like a vice, milking me with each stroke.
"God, I’m going to cum," she whispered, biting her lip.
"Cum for me, Lisa," I growled, slamming into her.
Her body convulsed beneath me, and I felt her pussy squeeze tight as her orgasm took her. That was all I needed—I buried myself deep inside her and let go, pumping thick, hot ropes of cum into her as she moaned my name.
We lay tangled together on the blanket, the leaves fluttering above us, the air thick with sex and sweat. After a moment, we heard voices on the trail nearby. We scrambled to dress, laughing quietly, but when a couple passed us moments later, their knowing smiles made it clear we hadn’t been as discreet as we had hoped
The air was dry and thin, carrying the scent of pine from the distant mountains into the restaurant kitchen where I worked. At eighteen, I was the youngest line cook at the seafood chain restaurant in Aurora, earning just enough to maintain my pride and my beloved '72 Porsche 914.
The kitchen was chaos during the dinner rush—a symphony of sizzling pans, shouted orders, and the percussive chop of knives against cutting boards. I moved with practiced efficiency, plating seafood with a precision that had already caught the executive chef's eye. But on this particular evening, it wasn't the chef who was watching me.
"Order up for table seven," a voice called, musical and slightly teasing.
I turned to see Lisa, a 24-year-old waitress who had been working at the restaurant for about a month. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a practical ponytail, but a few strands had escaped to frame a face that stopped my breath every time I saw it.
"Table seven," she repeated, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Or are you too busy being an artist to feed my customers?"
I felt heat rise to my face that had nothing to do with the kitchen's temperature. "Coming right up," I managed, sliding the perfectly arranged plate across the pass.
Her fingers brushed mine as she took it, a touch that sent electricity up my arm. "A bunch of us are heading to Red Rocks after work," she said casually. "You should come."
I'd heard about these after-work gatherings—mostly older staff letting off steam after long shifts. I'd never been invited before.
"I'll think about it," I said, trying to sound nonchalant.
Her laugh told me I'd failed. "Sure you will, chef. Nine o'clock, parking lot."
The rest of my shift passed in a blur. At nine, freshly showered and changed into clean jeans and a button-down, I stood uncertainly in the darkened parking lot. Just as I was convincing myself I'd misunderstood, a van pulled up, music spilling from its open windows.
"Get in, rookie!" someone called from inside.
The drive to Red Rocks was a cacophony of laughter and overlapping conversations, the van filled with cigarette smoke and the residual smell of seafood that clung to all of us no matter how much we scrubbed. I found myself wedged between the door and Lisa, acutely aware of her thigh pressed against mine every time the van took a turn.
"First time at Red Rocks?" she asked, her voice close to my ear.
I nodded. "First time anywhere, really. I usually just go home after work."
She studied me in the dim light. "You're different from the other line cooks. Most of them are all talk, you know? You're... quieter. More focused."
"Is that a good thing?"
Her smile was answer enough. "I guess we'll find out."
Red Rocks Amphitheater was hauntingly beautiful at night, the massive red sandstone formations silhouetted against the star-filled sky. Our group spread out across the empty seats, passing around bottles and joints. I declined both, still too aware of Lisa's presence beside me to risk further loosening my already tenuous grip on composure.
Gradually, people drifted off in pairs or small groups, exploring the venue or finding secluded spots among the rocks. Soon, Lisa and I found ourselves relatively alone at the back of the amphitheater.
"Want to see something amazing?" she asked, standing and offering her hand.
I took it, marveling at how small and warm it felt in mine. She led me up a narrow path that wound behind the main seating area. We emerged on a flat outcropping with a view that stole what little breath the altitude had left me. Denver spread out below us, a sparkling grid of lights stretching to the horizon.
"Worth the climb?" She was watching my face, seeming genuinely interested in my reaction.
"Absolutely," I said, meaning it.
She moved to stand at the edge, gazing out at the view. I hesitated only briefly before stepping behind her, cautiously placing my hands on her waist. She leaned back against me immediately, as if she'd been waiting for this moment.
"I've been watching you," she confessed, her voice soft. "The way you work. So intense, so precise. I wondered if you'd be like that with everything."
My cock twitched at the implication, growing thick and heavy in my jeans as I lowered my head to press a tentative kiss against her neck. She made a low, approving sound and tilted her head, giving me better access.
"Keep going," she whispered.
I didn’t need more encouragement. I pressed slow, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of her neck, one hand sliding forward across her flat stomach, the other rising to gently cup her breast over her shirt. Her breath hitched, her body pressing back into mine, her ass grinding against the hard bulge in my jeans.
She turned in my arms suddenly, her lips crashing against mine, hot and hungry. Her tongue slipped into my mouth and I groaned, pulling her closer, my cock now aching with need. My hands roamed—cupping her ass, exploring the curve of her back, pressing her tighter against me.
"Not here," she murmured, breaking the kiss with a sly smile. "Tomorrow night. The drive-in theater is showing The Godfather. Pick me up at eight."
The next evening, I arrived at her apartment with butterflies in my stomach and the top down on my Porsche. The night was warm, the kind of perfect Colorado summer evening that seemed designed for new beginnings.
Lisa emerged from her building wearing cut-off jeans that showcased her long, tanned legs and a white tank top that clung to every curve. My mouth went dry at the sight of her.
"Nice car," she said, sliding into the passenger seat with a grace that suggested she was used to admiring glances. "Your parents buy it for you?"
It was a fair question—not many eighteen-year-olds drove Porsches, even older models. "No, I saved up. Been working since I was fourteen."
She looked impressed, running her hand along the dashboard. "A man with ambition. I like that."
The drive-in was crowded, but I found a spot near the back, away from the main cluster of cars. We settled in as the opening credits began to roll, but it was clear neither of us was particularly interested in the film.
Halfway through, Lisa's hand crept across the seat and rested on my thigh. I tensed slightly at first, but she just smiled.
"You're so tense," she murmured, her voice low and dripping with intent. "Relax. I don't bite... unless you want me to."
She leaned closer and her hand slid higher, finding the bulge in my jeans and rubbing it slowly, sensually. I could feel myself swelling under her palm, my cock stiffening instantly at her touch. She unzipped me with one smooth motion, reached inside, and wrapped her fingers around my cock.
She stroked me with confidence—tight, slow, steady—her eyes on my face as she read every twitch and sigh. Then she bent her head down and took me into her mouth.
The feeling of her lips sliding over the head of my cock was enough to make me gasp. Her mouth was hot and wet, her tongue flicking and swirling as she took me deeper, sucking with firm, steady rhythm. She moaned softly around me, and the vibration of it made my hips jump.
I reached out, sliding my hand between her legs. Her shorts were already soaked. I rubbed her pussy through the denim, feeling the heat and wetness grow with every stroke of my fingers. I slipped underneath her shorts to find bare pussy as she neglected to wear any panties. Going commando like I do. She pressed her hips into my hand as she sucked me harder, her mouth a perfect rhythm of pleasure.
My fingers slipped beneath the frayed edge of her cut-off 501s, the button-fly parting with teasing ease. I slid my hand under her thigh, feeling the heat of her bare skin, and found her wet and ready—already pulsing around my touch.
My fingertips brushed over her slick folds, teasing gently as she gasped and shifted her hips, opening more for me. Each button of her fly had given way with a soft pop, her short cut-offs now gaping just enough for me to slide deeper. I circled her clit with slow precision, then slipped two fingers inside, curling just right, just how she liked it.
She moaned low in her throat, biting her lip, hips rocking against my hand with growing urgency. I kept my pace steady, fingers stroking her sweet spot while my thumb worked tight little circles over her swollen clit. Her breath quickened, legs trembling slightly as her thighs clamped around my wrist.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered, voice ragged.
I didn’t.
She arched hard, pressing down into my hand as a shudder tore through her—hot and deep and overwhelming. Her cry was muffled against my neck as she came, wet and pulsing around my fingers, hips jerking in waves before finally going still, breath heaving, body flushed and sated.
She turned her attention back to my throbbing member. Her pace only quickened, her lips sealing tight as she took me all the way down, her tongue massaging the underside of my shaft as my orgasm crashed over me. I came in hot, pulsing waves, groaning her name as she swallowed everything.
When she finally pulled away, she gave me one last flick of her tongue, then sat up and sipped her drink like nothing had happened—cool, collected, completely satisfied.
"Tomorrow," she said, her voice sultry and commanding. "My place. I get off at three."
The next day stretched on forever. When my shift finally ended, I tore through my cleanup, raced through a shower, soaping up my cock getting hard and ready thinking about Lisa’s sweet pussy...and sped across town like a man on fire.
Lisa opened the door wearing a tight white bodysuit that looked sprayed onto her body. Her nipples were clearly visible beneath the thin fabric, and the smooth line between her thighs showed she wasn’t wearing a thing underneath.
She didn’t say a word—just grabbed my hand and led me straight to the bedroom.
As soon as the door closed, she stripped in one fluid motion, peeling the bodysuit down and off until she was completely naked, her pussy already glistening with arousal.
“Strip,” she said.
I obeyed, yanking off my clothes, my cock standing hard and ready by the time I reached the bed.
She climbed on top, her thighs straddling me wide. She reached down, wrapped her fingers around my cock, and rubbed it against her wet slit. Her juices coated me instantly, and she groaned as she guided the tip to her entrance.
She sank down on me slowly, taking every inch inside her hot, tight pussy. Her walls gripped me like a velvet vice, pulsing with arousal as she settled into my lap, fully impaled.
“Fuck,” I gasped, my hands grabbing her ass as she began to ride me.
She moved with confidence, rolling her hips and grinding down hard, her wetness making filthy sounds with every thrust. I cupped her breasts, squeezing her nipples between my fingers, watching them bounce as she fucked me harder.
Her pussy clenched around my cock, spasming as her orgasm hit. She cried out, grinding down, her body shaking above mine.
I flipped her onto her back, her legs flying open, and drove my cock back into her slick, swollen pussy. I pounded into her with sharp, deep strokes, our bodies slapping together, sweat pouring off us.
She wrapped her legs around me, pulling me deeper, her nails raking down my back as she came again—louder this time, breathless and wild.
When I finally came, I buried myself inside her and let go, my cock throbbing as I emptied myself into her in hot, heavy spurts.
We collapsed in a sticky, panting heap.
I traced my fingers over her breast, and when I brushed her nipple, her whole body jerked. She arched off the bed and gasped as another orgasm rocked through her, catching her completely by surprise.
"That's never happened before," she said when she could speak. “Either someone taught you very well, or you’re some kind of genius.”
I smiled, cock still twitching. “Maybe I just have the right inspiration.
The following weekend, Lisa suggested a hike in the Rockies. I borrowed my roommate's 66 Ford van van, and we drove into the mountains, the air growing cooler and fresher with each mile of elevation gained.
We found a secluded spot off the main trail, a small clearing surrounded by aspen trees, their leaves shimmering silver-green in the dappled sunlight. Lisa spread a blanket on the ground and began to unbutton her sundress.
"Someone might see," I cautioned, glancing around nervously.
She just smiled, letting the dress slip off her shoulders and fall to her feet. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
"That's part of the excitement, isn’t it? The possibility?"
The thrill of it hit me hard—being out in the open, the warm sun on her bare skin, the risk of discovery. Her body was perfect: golden skin, tight nipples, and a pussy that already glistened with need. The raw desire in her eyes erased every trace of hesitation.
I dropped to my knees between her legs, the soft blanket cushioning us as I undid my jeans with shaking hands. My cock sprang free, already rock-hard as I leaned in to kiss her inner thighs, breathing in the scent of her arousal.
She opened her legs wider, fingers parting her lips, exposing her swollen, wet pussy. I dove in, licking from bottom to top, swirling my tongue around her clit, savoring the way she gasped and arched beneath me.
"Yes, just like that," she moaned, her hands in my hair, grinding her hips against my mouth.
I slid two fingers inside her while my tongue worked her clit in tight, fast circles. She was soaking wet, her pussy pulsing around my fingers as I slid them into her with slow, deep strokes, curling them against her sweet spot.
Her orgasm ripped through her, loud and sudden, her thighs clamping around my head as she cried out into the trees.
Before she could come down, I was on top of her, guiding my slick, throbbing cock into her tight, dripping cunt. She was so wet I slid in to the hilt in one thrust, and she gasped loudly, grabbing my ass and pulling me deeper.
I fucked her with steady, powerful strokes, our bodies moving in rhythm as the sun filtered through the trees. The sound of birds in the distance mixed with the wet, slapping rhythm of skin on skin. Her nails scratched down my back, leaving marks, her eyes locked on mine, wild and wanting.
She wrapped her legs around me, urging me deeper, faster. Her pussy clenched around my cock like a vice, milking me with each stroke.
"God, I’m going to cum," she whispered, biting her lip.
"Cum for me, Lisa," I growled, slamming into her.
Her body convulsed beneath me, and I felt her pussy squeeze tight as her orgasm took her. That was all I needed—I buried myself deep inside her and let go, pumping thick, hot ropes of cum into her as she moaned my name.
We lay tangled together on the blanket, the leaves fluttering above us, the air thick with sex and sweat. After a moment, we heard voices on the trail nearby. We scrambled to dress, laughing quietly, but when a couple passed us moments later, their knowing smiles made it clear we hadn’t been as discreet as we had hoped
