Yesterday, 08:10 PM
Chapter-2
I woke on the morning of the fourth day with the decision already settled in my chest like a stone. We were supposed to pack up and drive home. The cooler was half empty, the ice melted to water, the last of the steaks eaten the night before. Sarah moved around the fire pit in her usual quiet way, pouring coffee, stretching her arms over her head so the cropped hoodie rode up and showed the soft strip of her stomach. Jake sat on the log opposite, poking the embers with a stick, his shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest. Neither of them looked at me when I crawled out of the tent.
I cleared my throat. “What if we stay two more nights?”
Sarah’s hand paused on the coffee pot. Jake’s stick stopped moving. The only sound was the river and a woodpecker somewhere high in the pines.
“We only brought enough food for three days,” Sarah said carefully.
“We’ve got rice, beans, the last of the whiskey. I can fish. Jake can too. It’s not like we’re going to starve.”
Jake looked at me over the rim of his mug. Something flickered in his eyes—surprise, then a quick, almost hungry calculation. “You sure, man? Work?”
“Fuck work. I already told them I might stretch it. Signal’s dead out here anyway.”
Sarah studied my face for a long moment. I kept it neutral, the same easy smile I’d worn for twelve years of marriage. Inside, my pulse was hammering. I needed to see more. I needed to know how far she would go when she thought the only eyes on her belonged to the man she was fucking behind my back.
“Okay,” she said at last, soft. “Two more nights.”
Jake grinned, wide and loose. “Hell yes.”
We spent the morning pretending everything was normal. I took the fishing rod down to the deeper pool and actually caught two decent trout. Sarah rinsed clothes in the shallows. Jake chopped more wood than we needed, shirt off, sweat shining on his shoulders and the long muscles of his back. Every time Sarah glanced at him I felt the same twist low in my gut—jealousy sharp enough to cut, and under it a darker heat that made my cock thicken against my thigh.
Lunch was quiet. Trout grilled over the fire, a little salt, the last of the butter. Sarah sat close enough that her knee brushed mine, but her attention kept drifting to Jake. When he reached for the water bottle their fingers touched and stayed touching a second too long. She didn’t pull away. Neither did he.
Afternoon heat settled heavy under the trees. Sarah announced she was going to nap. Jake said he’d check the lines again. I stayed by the fire, cleaning the fish bones into the coals, listening.
They didn’t even wait twenty minutes this time.
I heard the soft rustle of the tent flap, then the low murmur of voices. I circled around the back the same way I had the day before, crouched in the shadow of the rain fly, and looked through the gap.
Sarah was already on her back, hoodie pushed up, breasts bare. Jake had one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking hard enough that her back arched off the sleeping bags. His hand was between her legs, two fingers working in and out of her with wet, filthy sounds. She was soaked—I could hear it from outside. Her legs were spread wide, one heel digging into the small of his back.
“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he muttered against her skin. “Been thinking about this all morning?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “God, yes. I need it.”
He stripped out of his shorts. His cock was already hard, thick, the head shiny. He didn’t tease her this time. He lined up and pushed in with one long, smooth thrust that made her cry out. Her hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging in. He started fucking her immediately—deep, steady strokes that filled the tent with the wet slap of skin.
I watched every inch of him disappear into her. The way her pussy stretched around his shaft. The way her mouth fell open. The soft, broken sounds she made every time he bottomed out. She never made those sounds with me anymore. Not like this—hungry, almost desperate.
He fucked her through one orgasm, then another, never slowing down. When she came the second time her whole body locked up, thighs shaking, a long moan torn out of her throat. He pulled out while she was still trembling, flipped her onto her hands and knees, and slammed back in from behind. The new angle made her drop to her elbows, ass high, face pressed into the sleeping bag. He gripped her hips hard and pounded her. The sound was brutal—wet, rhythmic, the crack of his hips against her ass.
“Harder,” she begged. “Please—fuck me harder—”
He gave it to her. One hand fisted in her hair, pulling her head back so her spine arched. The other reached under and rubbed her clit in tight circles. She came again, harder, a choked scream muffled by the fabric. He didn’t stop. He kept fucking her through it until she was shaking and oversensitive and still pushing back for more.
When he finally came it was with a low groan, buried deep, hips stuttering as he filled her. He stayed there a long moment, pulsing, then pulled out slow. A thick trickle of his cum followed, sliding down the inside of her thigh. She collapsed forward, breathing hard, hair stuck to her face with sweat.
I stayed frozen outside, cock aching, hand pressed hard against the front of my jeans to keep from making a sound. They cleaned up with a shirt, kissed, murmured things I couldn’t quite catch. Then Jake slipped out the front of the tent and headed toward the river like nothing had happened. Sarah stayed inside a few more minutes before emerging, cheeks flushed, hoodie back in place.
She smiled at me when she saw me by the fire. “Catch anything else?”
“Not yet,” I said. My voice sounded almost normal.
The rest of the afternoon was a slow torture of glances and almost-touches. Sarah sat close to Jake while we played cards. Her bare foot brushed his calf under the makeshift table. When she leaned forward to play a card her breasts pressed against the thin fabric of the hoodie, nipples clearly visible. Jake’s eyes dropped there more than once. She didn’t cover up.
By the time the sun started to drop behind the ridge the air between them was electric. I felt it like a living thing. My cock had been half-hard for hours.
After dinner—rice and the last of the beans—Sarah stretched and said she was going to turn in early. Jake waited a polite five minutes, then stood and said he was going to take a walk. I waited until their footsteps faded toward the tent, then followed the long way around, heart hammering, and took up my position at the back again.
They were already naked.
Jake was on his back. Sarah was straddling him, sinking down onto his cock with a long, low moan. She started riding him immediately—slow, deep rolls of her hips that made her breasts bounce. His hands gripped her ass, spreading her open, guiding her. The wet sound of her pussy taking him filled the small space.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned. “Ride me. Just like that.”
She did. She leaned forward, hands on his chest, and worked herself on him with increasing urgency. Her ass flexed with every downward stroke. I could see everything—the way her pussy stretched around him, the slick shine of her juices on his shaft, the tight pink pucker of her asshole just above where they were joined. She came quickly, grinding down hard, a broken cry spilling out of her. He held her through it, then rolled them without pulling out so she was on her back again.
Round two was harder. He hooked her legs over his shoulders and drove into her with long, punishing thrusts. The sleeping bags shifted under them. Her breasts bounced with every impact. She clawed at his back, leaving red marks, begging him not to stop. He fucked her through another orgasm, then pulled out, flipped her onto her stomach, and pushed back into her from behind while she was still shaking.
This time he didn’t stay in her pussy.
I watched him spit on her asshole, rub it in with his thumb, then press the thick head of his cock against that tight ring. Sarah tensed, then forced herself to relax the way she had the day before. He pushed in slow, inch by inch, until he was buried in her ass. She made a sound I’d never heard from her—half pain, half pure filthy pleasure—and pushed back against him.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Take it. Take all of it.”
He fucked her ass with deep, steady strokes, one hand under her rubbing her clit, the other braced beside her head. She came again with him inside her ass, body locking up, a long continuous moan that she didn’t even try to muffle. He kept going, using her, until he finally buried himself to the hilt and came with a low groan, filling her ass the same way he’d filled her pussy earlier.
They rested only a few minutes. Then he was hard again—younger than me, more recovery—and she was reaching for him, guiding him back between her legs. Round three was slower, almost tender at first, then building again until he was pounding her into the sleeping bags and she was coming with her face buried in the fabric to keep from screaming. Round four started with her on top again, riding him reverse so I could see everything—the way her ass bounced, the stretch of her pussy around his thick cock, the wet mess of his earlier cum still leaking out of her. She came twice more before he finally finished inside her a fourth time, collapsing under her with a satisfied groan.
Four rounds. She had never let me have her more than once in a single night in years. Sometimes not even that. And here she was, taking my best friend’s cock four separate times, coming on him, letting him fill her pussy and her ass, begging for more.
I staggered back to the fire pit before they finished cleaning up, cock so hard it hurt, mind reeling. When they eventually emerged—Sarah first, then Jake a few minutes later—they acted like nothing had happened. Sarah made more coffee. Jake stoked the fire. I sat between them and drank whiskey until the bottle was empty, every nerve in my body screaming.
That night in our tent she reached for me again. I let her. She stroked me, then climbed on top and sank down. She was loose and slick and still full of him—I could feel the difference, the easy way she took me after being stretched by someone thicker. I fucked up into her hard, thinking about the four rounds, about the way she’d begged him, about the look on her face when he pushed into her ass. She came quietly. I followed a minute later, spilling inside her while the images looped behind my eyes.
She fell asleep fast. I lay awake until dawn.
The fifth day dawned clear and warmer. We decided to hike down to the bigger swimming hole farther along the river—the one with the deep pool and the flat rocks for sunning. Sarah packed a small bag with towels and the last of the soap. Jake carried the water bottles. I followed, watching the way her ass moved in the thin leggings, the way Jake’s eyes kept dropping to it when he thought I wasn’t looking.
The swimming hole was perfect—clear green water, a small waterfall at one end, smooth granite shelves around the edges. We stripped down to whatever we had. Sarah peeled off the leggings and hoodie and stood there in just her black bikini for a moment before untying the top and bottom and tossing them on a rock. Completely naked. Jake did the same, shucking his shorts without hesitation. I hesitated a second longer, then followed, leaving my own shorts on the rock.
The water was cold enough to make us all gasp. We swam, floated, rinsed the sweat and dust of five days off our skin. Sarah swam close to Jake more than once, laughing when he splashed her, letting her body brush his under the water. I stayed a little apart, watching.
At one point she swam over to the waterfall and stood under the spray, head tilted back, water streaming over her breasts and down her stomach. Jake swam up behind her. From where I floated I could see his hands settle on her hips under the surface. She didn’t pull away. She leaned back into him slightly. His hips shifted forward. Her mouth opened on a soft sound that the waterfall almost covered.
They were fucking.
Right there, with me twenty feet away, acting like nothing was happening. I could see the subtle movement of his hips under the water, the way her hands came up to brace against the rock face, the way her eyes fluttered half-closed. He was inside her—I was certain of it. The rhythm was slow, careful, but unmistakable. Anal, I realized after a minute. The angle, the way she tensed and then forced herself to relax, the particular way her shoulders lifted with each careful thrust. He was fucking her ass underwater while the three of us were supposedly just showering and swimming together.
They kept it up for several long minutes. Sarah’s face stayed carefully neutral whenever she glanced in my direction, but her breathing was too quick, her nipples tight even in the cold water. Jake’s expression was pure concentration mixed with filthy satisfaction. When he finally finished I saw the way his body locked against hers for a few seconds, the subtle pulse of his hips. Then he pulled back, casual, and swam a few strokes away like he’d just been rinsing off.
Sarah stayed under the waterfall a little longer, water streaming over her, before she turned and swam toward me with a bright, easy smile.
“Water feels amazing, doesn’t it?” she said.
“Yeah,” I answered. My voice was rough. “Amazing.”
We stayed at the swimming hole another hour. I watched them for any further contact, but they kept it to glances and the occasional “accidental” brush of skin. By the time we hiked back to camp the sun was dropping and the air had cooled.
That night the tension was thicker than ever. We ate the last of the rice and beans in near silence. Sarah sat close to Jake on the log. Her bare thigh pressed against his. When she reached for the whiskey their hands touched and lingered. I drank more than I should have, cock already hard just from the memory of the underwater fucking.
After the fire burned low Sarah stretched and said she was turning in. Jake waited the same polite interval, then stood. I followed again, heart slamming against my ribs, and took up my position at the back of the tent.
They were already on the sleeping bags. Jake was sitting back against his rolled-up clothes. Sarah was on her knees between his legs, completely naked, her hands on his thighs. His cock was hard and thick, standing up against his stomach. She looked at it for a long moment, then leaned down and took the head into her mouth.
I almost made a sound.
She had given me blowjobs before—rare, careful, never for long. She had never, not once in twelve years, taken me all the way or swallowed. She always pulled off and finished me with her hand. Now she was sinking down on Jake’s cock like she’d been waiting to do it for days. Her lips stretched around him. She took him deeper than I’d ever seen her take anyone, tongue working, cheeks hollowing as she sucked. One hand stroked what she couldn’t fit; the other cupped his balls.
Jake’s head fell back against the tent wall. “Fuck, Sarah… just like that…”
She moaned around him, the vibration making his hips twitch. She started bobbing in earnest—slow at first, then faster, taking more of him each time until her nose almost brushed his stomach. Spit ran down his shaft. The wet, filthy sounds of her sucking filled the tent. She pulled off just long enough to lick a long stripe up the underside, then took him back in and kept going.
“I’m close,” he warned after several minutes, voice strained.
She didn’t pull away. She sank down as far as she could, throat working, and stayed there while he came. I watched his cock pulse between her lips, watched her throat move as she swallowed every pulse. She kept sucking gently through it, milking him, until he was finished and soft enough that she could pull off with a soft wet sound. A thin strand of spit and cum connected her lower lip to the head of his cock for a second before it broke.
She sat back on her heels, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and smiled up at him—soft, almost shy, and completely filthy.
“I’ve wanted to do that since the first night,” she said quietly.
Jake laughed, breathless. “Jesus Christ.”
They stayed like that a little longer—kissing, his hands roaming over her breasts and between her legs, her fingers stroking him back to hardness. Then he laid her down and fucked her one more time, slow and deep, before they finally cleaned up and settled into a tangled sleep.
I staggered back to the fire pit and sat there in the dark until the last of the embers died. My cock was so hard it hurt. My mind kept replaying the image of her lips stretched around him, the way her throat worked as she swallowed, the soft satisfied look on her face afterward. Something she had never done for me. Something I had never thought she would do for anyone.
When I finally crawled into our tent she was already asleep, or pretending to be. I lay on my side facing away from her, staring at the nylon wall, listening to the river and the soft sound of her breathing.
Two more nights. We had already stayed two more nights. Tomorrow we would pack up for real and drive home. I didn’t know how I was going to look her in the eye across the breakfast table or sit next to Jake in the truck without the images playing on a loop behind my eyes—her riding him four times in one night, taking him in the ass under the waterfall while I floated a few yards away, swallowing every drop of his cum like she’d been starving for it.
But some dark, hungry part of me already knew the truth.
I wasn’t ready for it to be over.
I wanted to see what else she would give him when she thought I wasn’t watching.
And I wasn’t sure I ever would be.
I woke on the morning of the fourth day with the decision already settled in my chest like a stone. We were supposed to pack up and drive home. The cooler was half empty, the ice melted to water, the last of the steaks eaten the night before. Sarah moved around the fire pit in her usual quiet way, pouring coffee, stretching her arms over her head so the cropped hoodie rode up and showed the soft strip of her stomach. Jake sat on the log opposite, poking the embers with a stick, his shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest. Neither of them looked at me when I crawled out of the tent.
I cleared my throat. “What if we stay two more nights?”
Sarah’s hand paused on the coffee pot. Jake’s stick stopped moving. The only sound was the river and a woodpecker somewhere high in the pines.
“We only brought enough food for three days,” Sarah said carefully.
“We’ve got rice, beans, the last of the whiskey. I can fish. Jake can too. It’s not like we’re going to starve.”
Jake looked at me over the rim of his mug. Something flickered in his eyes—surprise, then a quick, almost hungry calculation. “You sure, man? Work?”
“Fuck work. I already told them I might stretch it. Signal’s dead out here anyway.”
Sarah studied my face for a long moment. I kept it neutral, the same easy smile I’d worn for twelve years of marriage. Inside, my pulse was hammering. I needed to see more. I needed to know how far she would go when she thought the only eyes on her belonged to the man she was fucking behind my back.
“Okay,” she said at last, soft. “Two more nights.”
Jake grinned, wide and loose. “Hell yes.”
We spent the morning pretending everything was normal. I took the fishing rod down to the deeper pool and actually caught two decent trout. Sarah rinsed clothes in the shallows. Jake chopped more wood than we needed, shirt off, sweat shining on his shoulders and the long muscles of his back. Every time Sarah glanced at him I felt the same twist low in my gut—jealousy sharp enough to cut, and under it a darker heat that made my cock thicken against my thigh.
Lunch was quiet. Trout grilled over the fire, a little salt, the last of the butter. Sarah sat close enough that her knee brushed mine, but her attention kept drifting to Jake. When he reached for the water bottle their fingers touched and stayed touching a second too long. She didn’t pull away. Neither did he.
Afternoon heat settled heavy under the trees. Sarah announced she was going to nap. Jake said he’d check the lines again. I stayed by the fire, cleaning the fish bones into the coals, listening.
They didn’t even wait twenty minutes this time.
I heard the soft rustle of the tent flap, then the low murmur of voices. I circled around the back the same way I had the day before, crouched in the shadow of the rain fly, and looked through the gap.
Sarah was already on her back, hoodie pushed up, breasts bare. Jake had one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking hard enough that her back arched off the sleeping bags. His hand was between her legs, two fingers working in and out of her with wet, filthy sounds. She was soaked—I could hear it from outside. Her legs were spread wide, one heel digging into the small of his back.
“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he muttered against her skin. “Been thinking about this all morning?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “God, yes. I need it.”
He stripped out of his shorts. His cock was already hard, thick, the head shiny. He didn’t tease her this time. He lined up and pushed in with one long, smooth thrust that made her cry out. Her hands flew to his shoulders, nails digging in. He started fucking her immediately—deep, steady strokes that filled the tent with the wet slap of skin.
I watched every inch of him disappear into her. The way her pussy stretched around his shaft. The way her mouth fell open. The soft, broken sounds she made every time he bottomed out. She never made those sounds with me anymore. Not like this—hungry, almost desperate.
He fucked her through one orgasm, then another, never slowing down. When she came the second time her whole body locked up, thighs shaking, a long moan torn out of her throat. He pulled out while she was still trembling, flipped her onto her hands and knees, and slammed back in from behind. The new angle made her drop to her elbows, ass high, face pressed into the sleeping bag. He gripped her hips hard and pounded her. The sound was brutal—wet, rhythmic, the crack of his hips against her ass.
“Harder,” she begged. “Please—fuck me harder—”
He gave it to her. One hand fisted in her hair, pulling her head back so her spine arched. The other reached under and rubbed her clit in tight circles. She came again, harder, a choked scream muffled by the fabric. He didn’t stop. He kept fucking her through it until she was shaking and oversensitive and still pushing back for more.
When he finally came it was with a low groan, buried deep, hips stuttering as he filled her. He stayed there a long moment, pulsing, then pulled out slow. A thick trickle of his cum followed, sliding down the inside of her thigh. She collapsed forward, breathing hard, hair stuck to her face with sweat.
I stayed frozen outside, cock aching, hand pressed hard against the front of my jeans to keep from making a sound. They cleaned up with a shirt, kissed, murmured things I couldn’t quite catch. Then Jake slipped out the front of the tent and headed toward the river like nothing had happened. Sarah stayed inside a few more minutes before emerging, cheeks flushed, hoodie back in place.
She smiled at me when she saw me by the fire. “Catch anything else?”
“Not yet,” I said. My voice sounded almost normal.
The rest of the afternoon was a slow torture of glances and almost-touches. Sarah sat close to Jake while we played cards. Her bare foot brushed his calf under the makeshift table. When she leaned forward to play a card her breasts pressed against the thin fabric of the hoodie, nipples clearly visible. Jake’s eyes dropped there more than once. She didn’t cover up.
By the time the sun started to drop behind the ridge the air between them was electric. I felt it like a living thing. My cock had been half-hard for hours.
After dinner—rice and the last of the beans—Sarah stretched and said she was going to turn in early. Jake waited a polite five minutes, then stood and said he was going to take a walk. I waited until their footsteps faded toward the tent, then followed the long way around, heart hammering, and took up my position at the back again.
They were already naked.
Jake was on his back. Sarah was straddling him, sinking down onto his cock with a long, low moan. She started riding him immediately—slow, deep rolls of her hips that made her breasts bounce. His hands gripped her ass, spreading her open, guiding her. The wet sound of her pussy taking him filled the small space.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned. “Ride me. Just like that.”
She did. She leaned forward, hands on his chest, and worked herself on him with increasing urgency. Her ass flexed with every downward stroke. I could see everything—the way her pussy stretched around him, the slick shine of her juices on his shaft, the tight pink pucker of her asshole just above where they were joined. She came quickly, grinding down hard, a broken cry spilling out of her. He held her through it, then rolled them without pulling out so she was on her back again.
Round two was harder. He hooked her legs over his shoulders and drove into her with long, punishing thrusts. The sleeping bags shifted under them. Her breasts bounced with every impact. She clawed at his back, leaving red marks, begging him not to stop. He fucked her through another orgasm, then pulled out, flipped her onto her stomach, and pushed back into her from behind while she was still shaking.
This time he didn’t stay in her pussy.
I watched him spit on her asshole, rub it in with his thumb, then press the thick head of his cock against that tight ring. Sarah tensed, then forced herself to relax the way she had the day before. He pushed in slow, inch by inch, until he was buried in her ass. She made a sound I’d never heard from her—half pain, half pure filthy pleasure—and pushed back against him.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Take it. Take all of it.”
He fucked her ass with deep, steady strokes, one hand under her rubbing her clit, the other braced beside her head. She came again with him inside her ass, body locking up, a long continuous moan that she didn’t even try to muffle. He kept going, using her, until he finally buried himself to the hilt and came with a low groan, filling her ass the same way he’d filled her pussy earlier.
They rested only a few minutes. Then he was hard again—younger than me, more recovery—and she was reaching for him, guiding him back between her legs. Round three was slower, almost tender at first, then building again until he was pounding her into the sleeping bags and she was coming with her face buried in the fabric to keep from screaming. Round four started with her on top again, riding him reverse so I could see everything—the way her ass bounced, the stretch of her pussy around his thick cock, the wet mess of his earlier cum still leaking out of her. She came twice more before he finally finished inside her a fourth time, collapsing under her with a satisfied groan.
Four rounds. She had never let me have her more than once in a single night in years. Sometimes not even that. And here she was, taking my best friend’s cock four separate times, coming on him, letting him fill her pussy and her ass, begging for more.
I staggered back to the fire pit before they finished cleaning up, cock so hard it hurt, mind reeling. When they eventually emerged—Sarah first, then Jake a few minutes later—they acted like nothing had happened. Sarah made more coffee. Jake stoked the fire. I sat between them and drank whiskey until the bottle was empty, every nerve in my body screaming.
That night in our tent she reached for me again. I let her. She stroked me, then climbed on top and sank down. She was loose and slick and still full of him—I could feel the difference, the easy way she took me after being stretched by someone thicker. I fucked up into her hard, thinking about the four rounds, about the way she’d begged him, about the look on her face when he pushed into her ass. She came quietly. I followed a minute later, spilling inside her while the images looped behind my eyes.
She fell asleep fast. I lay awake until dawn.
The fifth day dawned clear and warmer. We decided to hike down to the bigger swimming hole farther along the river—the one with the deep pool and the flat rocks for sunning. Sarah packed a small bag with towels and the last of the soap. Jake carried the water bottles. I followed, watching the way her ass moved in the thin leggings, the way Jake’s eyes kept dropping to it when he thought I wasn’t looking.
The swimming hole was perfect—clear green water, a small waterfall at one end, smooth granite shelves around the edges. We stripped down to whatever we had. Sarah peeled off the leggings and hoodie and stood there in just her black bikini for a moment before untying the top and bottom and tossing them on a rock. Completely naked. Jake did the same, shucking his shorts without hesitation. I hesitated a second longer, then followed, leaving my own shorts on the rock.
The water was cold enough to make us all gasp. We swam, floated, rinsed the sweat and dust of five days off our skin. Sarah swam close to Jake more than once, laughing when he splashed her, letting her body brush his under the water. I stayed a little apart, watching.
At one point she swam over to the waterfall and stood under the spray, head tilted back, water streaming over her breasts and down her stomach. Jake swam up behind her. From where I floated I could see his hands settle on her hips under the surface. She didn’t pull away. She leaned back into him slightly. His hips shifted forward. Her mouth opened on a soft sound that the waterfall almost covered.
They were fucking.
Right there, with me twenty feet away, acting like nothing was happening. I could see the subtle movement of his hips under the water, the way her hands came up to brace against the rock face, the way her eyes fluttered half-closed. He was inside her—I was certain of it. The rhythm was slow, careful, but unmistakable. Anal, I realized after a minute. The angle, the way she tensed and then forced herself to relax, the particular way her shoulders lifted with each careful thrust. He was fucking her ass underwater while the three of us were supposedly just showering and swimming together.
They kept it up for several long minutes. Sarah’s face stayed carefully neutral whenever she glanced in my direction, but her breathing was too quick, her nipples tight even in the cold water. Jake’s expression was pure concentration mixed with filthy satisfaction. When he finally finished I saw the way his body locked against hers for a few seconds, the subtle pulse of his hips. Then he pulled back, casual, and swam a few strokes away like he’d just been rinsing off.
Sarah stayed under the waterfall a little longer, water streaming over her, before she turned and swam toward me with a bright, easy smile.
“Water feels amazing, doesn’t it?” she said.
“Yeah,” I answered. My voice was rough. “Amazing.”
We stayed at the swimming hole another hour. I watched them for any further contact, but they kept it to glances and the occasional “accidental” brush of skin. By the time we hiked back to camp the sun was dropping and the air had cooled.
That night the tension was thicker than ever. We ate the last of the rice and beans in near silence. Sarah sat close to Jake on the log. Her bare thigh pressed against his. When she reached for the whiskey their hands touched and lingered. I drank more than I should have, cock already hard just from the memory of the underwater fucking.
After the fire burned low Sarah stretched and said she was turning in. Jake waited the same polite interval, then stood. I followed again, heart slamming against my ribs, and took up my position at the back of the tent.
They were already on the sleeping bags. Jake was sitting back against his rolled-up clothes. Sarah was on her knees between his legs, completely naked, her hands on his thighs. His cock was hard and thick, standing up against his stomach. She looked at it for a long moment, then leaned down and took the head into her mouth.
I almost made a sound.
She had given me blowjobs before—rare, careful, never for long. She had never, not once in twelve years, taken me all the way or swallowed. She always pulled off and finished me with her hand. Now she was sinking down on Jake’s cock like she’d been waiting to do it for days. Her lips stretched around him. She took him deeper than I’d ever seen her take anyone, tongue working, cheeks hollowing as she sucked. One hand stroked what she couldn’t fit; the other cupped his balls.
Jake’s head fell back against the tent wall. “Fuck, Sarah… just like that…”
She moaned around him, the vibration making his hips twitch. She started bobbing in earnest—slow at first, then faster, taking more of him each time until her nose almost brushed his stomach. Spit ran down his shaft. The wet, filthy sounds of her sucking filled the tent. She pulled off just long enough to lick a long stripe up the underside, then took him back in and kept going.
“I’m close,” he warned after several minutes, voice strained.
She didn’t pull away. She sank down as far as she could, throat working, and stayed there while he came. I watched his cock pulse between her lips, watched her throat move as she swallowed every pulse. She kept sucking gently through it, milking him, until he was finished and soft enough that she could pull off with a soft wet sound. A thin strand of spit and cum connected her lower lip to the head of his cock for a second before it broke.
She sat back on her heels, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and smiled up at him—soft, almost shy, and completely filthy.
“I’ve wanted to do that since the first night,” she said quietly.
Jake laughed, breathless. “Jesus Christ.”
They stayed like that a little longer—kissing, his hands roaming over her breasts and between her legs, her fingers stroking him back to hardness. Then he laid her down and fucked her one more time, slow and deep, before they finally cleaned up and settled into a tangled sleep.
I staggered back to the fire pit and sat there in the dark until the last of the embers died. My cock was so hard it hurt. My mind kept replaying the image of her lips stretched around him, the way her throat worked as she swallowed, the soft satisfied look on her face afterward. Something she had never done for me. Something I had never thought she would do for anyone.
When I finally crawled into our tent she was already asleep, or pretending to be. I lay on my side facing away from her, staring at the nylon wall, listening to the river and the soft sound of her breathing.
Two more nights. We had already stayed two more nights. Tomorrow we would pack up for real and drive home. I didn’t know how I was going to look her in the eye across the breakfast table or sit next to Jake in the truck without the images playing on a loop behind my eyes—her riding him four times in one night, taking him in the ass under the waterfall while I floated a few yards away, swallowing every drop of his cum like she’d been starving for it.
But some dark, hungry part of me already knew the truth.
I wasn’t ready for it to be over.
I wanted to see what else she would give him when she thought I wasn’t watching.
And I wasn’t sure I ever would be.
![[+]](https://xossipy.com/themes/sharepoint/collapse_collapsed.png)