Wicked Ride (12 page)

By taking it from others.

“You okay?” Logan
asks, and I noticed he’s come to his elbows, his eyes laced
with a bit of worry over my contemplative mood.

“Sure,” I say with a
tremulous smile. “Was just thinking the other times…
they weren’t good.”

“Oh,” he says, tone
flat.

But I hurry to clarify. “Except
last night. Last night was very, very good.”

He smiles at me. It’s
a smile I’ve never seen from him before. Completely open
without one thing hidden in his meaning, fully reaching his eyes and
causing two beautiful dimples to appear on his face. It’s a
smile that tells me he’s very happy I enjoyed what I did to him
last night.

“I’d like a repeat,”
he says with a low rumble of need.

I give him a sexy smile before I
turn and bend over him. Putting my hand around the base of his dick,
I squeeze tight and descend over the mushroom-tipped head, noticing
it is leaking clear fluid from the top just before it touches my
tongue. Logan lets out a loud sigh of relief, but then his hand goes
to my head. He pulls my hair back away from my face and mutters,
“Want to see your
mouth on me.”

I pull up on him, tighten my lips
on the head, and cut my eyes sideways to him. He’s
watching me in fascination, his eyes glowing more green than anything
with gold flecks sparkling. I go down on him and he groans, his hand
tightening in my hair to hold it back so he doesn’t miss a
thing.

Because I want him to feel as
good as I did, I set a moderate pace as I bob up and down, flattening
my tongue on the underside of his dick and alternately pumping him
with my hand. Logan doesn’t
say anything, but his breathing becomes labored and harsh. Every few
strokes, I’ll catch a glimpse of his face, which is etched with
full-blown lust and pleasure.

This makes me happy, that I’m
making him feel so good, so I double my efforts and really go to town
on him, sometimes going a little too exuberantly and causing myself
to almost gag. I’m so into what I’m doing it takes me a
moment to realize he’s pulling on my hair and saying, “Hold
up, Auralie,” in a rough voice.

I pull off him, involuntarily
dabbing at the corners of my mouth where a bit of saliva
has pooled. His face is stormy, and he looks a bit angry.

“Did I do something wrong?”
I ask hesitantly, a feeling of gray despair starting to overcome me.

“Fuck no,” he says
harshly as his hand loosens in my hair. “You’re doing
that a little too good, and I’m not going to last.”

“Oh,” I say in wonder
that I had the power to bring this vibrant and highly experienced man
to completion so soon.

“Do me a favor?” he
asks with a soft smile, his hand now stroking my hair. “Use
just your hands on me, okay?”

“My hands?” I ask,
dumbfounded.

“Just your hands,” he
affirms. “You can use your fingers too… if you’re
feeling really adventurous.”

My fingers?

Where would I put my—?

Oh.
My
fingers
.

My eyes slide down to his cock.
Logan spreads his legs a little, giving me a better picture of what
lays beyond.

A quiver of excitement flutters
through me. I slide my fingertips over his balls, down past them to
the area just behind.

“My fingers, huh?” I
ask, my eyes gleaming with the challenge.

Logan swallows hard and nods.
With a voice so roughened by desire, he practically croaks. “Yeah…
your fingers.”

“I can do that,” I
tell him wickedly, and I have to wonder… if Logan and I were
to actually have real sex with penetration, how could it ever be more
thrilling than this right here?

I probably wouldn’t
survive it.

Logan

It’s
been an utterly perfect morning and I’ve only been awake a few
minutes, but it’s perfect because Auralie is spooned into my
body.

It only complements the utterly
perfect night I’d
had with her, the sweet, virginal temptress who sucks dick like a
sexual goddess.

And yes…
she ultimately ended up sucking my dick again, but only after she’d
gotten me off with her hand and fingers alone. While she’s
clearly inexperienced, she is not without adventure. She let me talk
her through the mechanics of massaging my prostate with her finger
while she jacked me off. I came so hard, my jizz actually hit at the
base of my collarbone it’d shot so far up my body, and I roared
like a fucking grizzly bear.

We both got cleaned up. I took a
piss. Then we dozed after she settled into my arms.

I woke up a few hours later with
her mouth on my cock, taking what she wanted and being assured I’d
gladly give it. Of course, I shredded her pussy with my tongue after.
I have to admit, my name coming out of her throat as she orgasmed was
very nice indeed.

After that, we slept hard. I only
woke up one more time around three in the morning by a violent
thunderstorm that had rolled through. I listened to the rain pelting
the roof and the rumble of thunder, seeing flashes of lightning, and
I did it all while I held a woman in my arms that I had become
completely obsessed with.

Not once as I laid there did I
think it in any way felt uncomfortable. I couldn’t
quite remember the last time I’d held a woman in my arms, and a
quick inventory of my memories says not once in the last two years.
And prior to that with Donna doesn’t count. Nothing prior to my
life on the road counts anymore.

When my alarm on my phone went
off at six AM, I rolled away from Auralie to shut it off and saw that
I had a text from today’s
fishing charter. It was sent a few hours ago and only said,
Need
to cancel. Will we get refund on deposit?

No, fucknut. You do not get a
refund. I have a business to run.

I quickly send a return text.
No
refund.

I didn’t
expect to get an argument back. My clients today were two clearly
wealthy college boys here on summer vacation. They apparently had
more money than they knew what to do with. When they booked me
yesterday through Teton Ski and Snowboard—which isn’t
just a winter sports store obviously—the owner, Jake Gearhart,
told me they’d been partying when they stumbled in and he
wasn’t quite sure they would even show up.

Again, it didn’t
matter. That was the purpose of a non-refundable fifty-percent
deposit on the trip. In my line of business, you couldn’t just
reschedule a missed charter at the drop of a dime. I don’t make
a lot of money doing this. After Jake takes a small commission for
booking the trip, I’m lucky if I clear a hundred bucks on each
four-hour trip. I also pack snacks and water for my customers, as
well as supply the tackle, which is not inexpensive. During the high
season, I can do two trips a day. So on a good week, I can make about
twelve-hundred, which is good bank. The problem is you have
cancellations either from dicks like these guys or weather, and in a
bad week, I could make as little as three hundred. Still, it’s
more than enough for my solitary existence living in a camping
trailer, so I don’t go without.

So while it sucked losing out on
the dough, there was an upside in that I was free today. I had a
beautiful woman, who intrigued me greatly and made me feel absolutely
amazing to be near her, right beside me and at my disposal. Besides,
at least I have an afternoon trip scheduled. Jake told me these were
two really wealthy men and would be tipping well.

Putting my phone aside, I roll
back over and bring my arm over Auralie’s waist, pressing in
tight to her backside and bringing my mouth to her shoulder where I
kiss it.

“Auralie,” I whisper,
and she snuggles into me tighter.

“Auralie,” I whisper
again. Dragging my hand down her stomach, right to her mound, I press
a finger just above where her clit lays nestled in her warm flesh.

Her hips gyrate against me, and
my cock starts getting hard.

“What?” she mumbles
sleepily.

I move my mouth to her ear,
bringing my hand back up to lay flat on her stomach. She sighs in
frustration. Smiling, I tell her, “Get
up. I’m going to take you fishing.”

***

It’s
so much fun watching Auralie fish, and she’s a fucking natural
at it too. I spent a few minutes on the bank with her going over
casting techniques, and then loaded her into the boat. I made sure
she slathered on sun block because I didn’t want to see her
pale skin reddened by anything but the palm of my hand, and I gave
her a fishing hat I had in one of the storage bins. It flared out
wide and had a strap she could tighten under her chin.

Then I set us off down the river,
watching as she was able to catch fish after fish with just a natural
affinity for when to pull up on the rod tip at the moment the trout
was breaking the surface of the water to grab the dry fly that
floated there. It really is all about timing and instinct. She had a
natural intuition about it all that made me proud.

By mid-morning, I pulled the boat
over to the far bank that had a fairly well shaded patch of thick
grass. I pulled out some bottled water and some convenience store
muffins I bought after we picked the boat up from the campsite.
Auralie’s greatly intrigued that I live in a camper, and she
tried to pepper me with questions as to what it was like. I answered
them as best I could, but there wasn’t much to it really. It’s
just… a humble life and I’m satisfied with it.

After I drop the weighted anchor,
I help Auralie to jump down, noting proudly she is not worried about
getting her tennis shoes wet. I spread a blanket on the grass and we
sit down in the shade, watching other boaters as they float by. Some
are drift boats like mine with guides teaching tourists how to fish,
and others are just lazy tubers floating down in groups while
drinking beer. While the Snake River does have portions that have
Class IV and V rapids, this section of the river is slow with only a
few gurgling riffles that do nothing more than sway the boat.

“It’s so beautiful
here,” Auralie says as she sits cross-legged and picks at a
blade of grass near the edge of the blanket. “It almost doesn’t
seem real.”

“I know,” I tell her
in agreement. “I’ve been here a year. Sometimes, I’ll
be on the river and I’ll come around a bend. I’ll see a
butte I’ve seen hundreds of times before, and it still takes my
breath away.”

“Are you happy here?”
she asks, and I sense that her question has a deeper meaning. It’s
not been hard for her to figure out that I’m solitary and
private. She knows I have no relationship with my parents and my
friendships with people revolve around a sex club.

“I’m happier here
than anywhere I’ve been in the past two years,” I tell
her carefully, happy to give her a truth.

“Happier than where you
were prior to two years ago?” she inquires, and I feel myself
shutting down. But I don’t want to retreat from her.

Not wholly.

But I don’t
want to give more of myself to her either.

So I use a tactic that worked
well last night.

I redirect.

“I’d be very happy
right now if you did me a favor,” I murmur as my eyes cut out
briefly to a drift boat with three occupants going by. It’s
being guided by Cash Holstead, one of the few local guides here. I
know everyone on this river, and most of us are not native to
Wyoming. The main reason I came here and how I was easily able to get
a job as a fishing guide, which is just not something you can do
without experience, is because I worked at Yellowstone all four years
I did undergrad. I learned how to fish in the summers, and my father
and I would come out for hunting trips in the winter. I had plenty of
transferrable skills to be able to get work in this area. While I was
probably competent to take a hunting trip out in the non-fishing
months, I preferred to make money either taking on bartending jobs or
sometimes guided-snowmobile trips.

“What favor do you want?”
Auralie asks me naively, as she surely missed the heat in my tone.

“Put your hand down your
pants… get yourself off while I watch,” I tell her with
a challenging grin.

“What?” she exclaims
and sits up straight. “No.”

Mission accomplished. She forgot
all about her very personal question to me, and the thought of
watching her finger herself is thrilling, especially out here in the
open.

“Yes,” I insist.
“Come on. Live a little.”

Auralie narrows her eyes at me
before she flat out busts me. “You’re
deflecting a personal question, Logan. Not very nice.”

And yeah…
that does make me feel guilty that I can’t give her what she
wants. I should admit defeat and tell her she’s right. I should
be a gentleman and change the subject.

But fuck…
now I really want to see her get herself off. I love watching my shy
little virgin come out of her shell and experience the ultimate high
of sexual pleasure.

So I compromise. “I’ll
answer your question if you promise to get yourself off out here…
right now… so I can watch.”

Auralie rolls her eyes. “We’re
out in the open, Logan.”

“Not really,” I point
out. “We’re in a little alcove. People on the river can’t
see us until they’re exactly parallel. Most of them floating by
haven’t even looked over this way.”

She looks to her right and her
brows furrow when she realizes I am correct; she can’t
even see the river to her right because of trees and bushes that jut
out past us from the alcove we’re in.

“And we’ll switch
positions,” I tell her. “I’ll put myself between
you and the river.”

“You’ll answer my
question?” she asks for clarification.

“Yes.”

Her eyes dart to the right again
before moving back down to the left, possibly taking note that the
current is swift and people are moving past us at a good clip. She is
probably also recalling that not many boats or tubes have gone by in
the last half hour. Maybe only four total, so there are many minutes
in between where there’s
complete privacy.