“Ahh, young love.” Birch sighed, leaning into his mate, staring unashamedly at Deborah and Marcus.
Marcus released Deborah and pulled her into a languid embrace, floating by his side. She rested her head into him and the two couples looked at each other and smiled contentedly. And while her heart began to slow into a steady rhythm again, Deborah felt real peace for the first time in longer than she could remember.
Chapter 8
“How did you know you’d be able to survive out here?” Deborah handed Hazel some dry twigs to add to the fire that had almost gone out while they’d been bathing. Hazel gently fanned the embers with a hand-woven mat and took a while to respond.
“We didn’t,” she said, regarding Deborah with a slight apprehension, as if she was unsure of what she was about to say. “When you need to survive, you will.”
She turned back to the fire with something unsaid hanging in the air. Deborah took it as a warning not to pry into the reason for the older couple’s exile.
“So, what do you think we’ll have for dinner?” Deborah said, breezily changing the subject as she crouched down beside Hazel and blew on the tiny flickering flames.
“Oh God, hopefully not bloody squirrel again.”
They laughed together, Hazel obviously pleased that Deborah had so readily understood the shorthand of their communication.
The crack of a twig put the women on full alert and Hazel pushed Deborah behind her in an act of protection. Deborah was touched and annoyed at the same time. Being tiny meant everyone felt the need to protect her, and it could become tiresome having to prove her strength and worldliness over and over again. But she decided this was no time to be indignant as muffled voices came from behind the surrounding foliage. Hazel pulled her in tighter and she could feel the rise and fall of her ribcage beneath the kaftan. At last Birch and Marcus broke through the greenery, Marcus beaming with pride at the two fluffy-tailed squirrels that hung limply from his outstretched hand, Birch looking tight-jawed and grim.
“Fucking hell, watch your step,” Birch hissed. “That’s the seventh branch you’ve cracked.”
The lecture did nothing to dim Marcus’s delight at presenting his quarry.
“Look what I’ve brought you,” he said, holding out the squirrels for Deborah, who winced and crept backward.
“You two better toughen up.” Birch stalked off to his dwelling, leaving Hazel to explain his turn in mood.
“He’s a highly strung guy,” she said, taking the carcasses from Marcus. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing personal. He’ll be fine in a minute or two.”
Marcus obviously couldn’t care less about Birch’s mood and grabbed Deborah, kissing her hard and deep, still exhilarated by his first kill.
“Ah, Deborah—” He reached in and roughly groped her breast. “—this is the life for me, I’m telling you. I’ve never felt so alive before, out here with nature. It’s all here for us. This can be ours.”
Deborah felt self-conscious and nervous of Marcus somehow and rolled her eyes, looking over to Hazel. “Can you believe it? Two little rodents and he thinks he’s the greatest huntsman who ever lived.”
Marcus seemed to take it in good spirits and pulled her up to kiss her again. He was high as a kite, and stiff. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in tight just to make sure she felt him. She felt him all right, but she felt the eyes of Hazel staring at her too.
“Let’s go somewhere,” Deborah whispered with her head turned away from the crouching woman.
“You’re on.” He lifted her, accidentally pulling up her skirt and exposing her buttocks to their audience. “See you at dinner time,” he said loudly, winking at Hazel, who smiled knowingly back.
As she was carried off toward their makeshift hut at the other side of the clearing, Deborah watched Hazel make her way to her own dwelling and into the arms of Birch, who stood naked and hard in the doorway. The sight brought back the memory of the whipping and the delicate touch of Hazel tweaking her nipple in the river. Deborah was suddenly wet, and it took her by surprise.
“Hello, what have we got here?” Marcus growled as his fingers sneaked up under her ass. He lowered her to the floor of their new home, taking full advantage of her vulnerable state, and slid his middle finger into her. “You’re fucking soaking.” The musk of his excitement and sweat that lingered after the hunt came off him in waves, making her giddy. “What have you been up to while I was gone, hmm?”
Deborah was about to protest her innocence but the thought seemed to be turning him on.
“Have you been naughty? Has that bad woman been sticking her long fingers up inside you? Hmm?”
His body undulated against hers; his flesh was burning up with desire and he bit into her ravenously while holding her arms above her head. She gasped as he reached around the floor, grabbing a piece of vine rope left over from building the structure and lashed it around her wrists, tying her to the central trunk that was the basis of their house. Grabbing the shirt that her chest strained against, he ripped it open, ravishing her breasts with searing kisses, suckling, biting, and fucking her tits and nipples with his whole mouth. Deborah’s body buzzed with sensations and her pussy juice dribbled out, smearing her labia, thighs, and ass with her own wanton desire.
“Marcus, I need your cock. I need it inside me, I need to be fucked, Marcus, please.” She was begging wretchedly, and she flinched in delight as she saw his expression darken.
In all the times they’d made love, she’d never felt such a feral need for his cock. Her pussy was so racked with sensitivity she knew she would come again and again around him as he pulled and tugged against the walls of her cunt, stretching and opening, lubricating her until she was fully impaled. If only he would sink his pulsing rod into her.
“Marcus, fuck me now,” she commanded through gritted teeth, and tipped her pelvis up to meet the tip of his steel-hard cock.
He looked at her again with that lascivious stare and leaned into her neck. “No,” he whispered menacingly. “And do not say another word.” He smoothed her hair off her sweat-misted face and snaked kisses all the way down her abdomen.
“No, not that,” Deborah pleaded again. She didn’t want to come in his mouth; she wanted the fullness that only his cock could bring.
He lifted his head abruptly and slapped her hard on the side of her thigh, just near the crease of her ass. “I said, do not say another word.”
The sound of the slap had shocked her more than the sting, and as the heat began to spread over her flesh, she smiled to herself. Another wave of pure wanton desire surged through her pussy and clit, spilling more of her juices out. He slapped her once more then forced her legs together as he yanked her skirt off roughly. Deborah’s pussy was clenching and peaking now and she was getting angry with the frustration.
Marcus flung her skirt to the side and grabbed her inner thighs, parting them until she thought she’d split. He stared at her swollen, clutching pussy for a moment, feasting on the wet hole with his eyes as Deborah watched him. He gave her a brief, warm smile then dived onto her, opening her thick lips with his greedy tongue, lapping with the full length of it all the way down to the rosebud of her ass and back up, melting her with sensation.
She concentrated hard as he teased her straining bud, swirling the tip of his tongue around it, lifting the tiny hood and circling it until she was in a frenzy, bucking and twisting away from him. She wanted more; she wanted, needed him inside her. In answer to her silent pleading, he stilled her hips and slid two of his thick, strong fingers inside her slippery depths. She sighed, her eyelids fluttering and rolling as she arched her back, lifting her cunt higher for his oral attentions. He began to thrust in time with his tonguing, fingering her hard and fast, pushing her to the brink of orgasm.
She held her breath to embrace to moment of stillness before the crashing came, but he stopped and pulled his face and fingers away. Fury flashed through her and she lifted her head to shout at him. Kneeling between her
legs, he smiled with his finger pressed to his lips, commanding her to keep quiet. He took the digits he’d just been fucking her with deep into his mouth, sucking off her want, before tearing off his own clothes and casting them aside. His body rippled with pure testosterone, and Deborah thought she heard herself actually yelp at the sight of his hard cock.
“Now I’m going to fuck you.” He flipped her over, twisting her bindings and forcing her face into the ground.
Her breasts pressed into the earth, and she grinned so hard that she thought her jaw would seize. Gripping her firmly by the hips, he lifted her pelvis and opened her ass cheeks as she spread her thighs for him, scraping her knees into the ground. Her pussy was aching with anticipation and she clenched tight, waiting for the invasion. It came. He plunged his cock deep into her, stretching and shocking her surprised, twitching cunt. She felt his heat all the way up inside and he held there for a moment, letting her relax and soften, then he pulled out to the very tip and slid in again, jamming himself right into the fleshy pillows of her ass. His balls smacked gently against her open lips, brushing her clit, and she squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth.
Again, harder, faster, she implored, the words silent in her chest. He obliged, fucking her hard and fast, coaxing a rising deep within her womb. She was thrashing about on her restraints now as her sodden, spasming cunt gushed around him, shuddering in what felt like a thousand shattering orgasms. He kept pounding another then another wave of pleasure into her until, at last, the surge and spurt of his own climax slowed his pace. He held her still and high until they both stopped twitching and panting, then he flopped on top of her, reaching up to untie her. She rolled over into his embrace as their sweat and dreams mingled and they drifted off to sleep in their new home.
They were woken about half an hour later by the aroma of their dinner being cooked on the open fire. Familiar and unfamiliar scents filled their senses and Deborah’s stomach growled.
“I’m starving.” She snuggled into Marcus’s chest and entwined his fingers in her own. His hands felt slightly roughened and she smiled. “We’ll make a huntsman of you yet, my love,” she crooned quietly, and he ruffled her hair. She looked carefully at his newly scuffed flesh and winced when she found a large splinter embedded in one of his fingers. “That looks sore. We should get it out before it gets infected.”
“I hadn’t even noticed it.” He smiled affectionately at her as he sat up and looked at the wound. “See, that’s how manly I am. Grrrrr!” Flexing his muscles to show Deborah his prowess, he leaned in and kissed her nose before dragging on his clothes and leaving to get some food.
When Deborah was dressed and freshened up, she joined them at the fire. Birch was tending to Marcus’s splinter with a knife that looked far too big for the job and Deborah lurched to his aid.
“You’re blocking the light,” Birch chastised her, and she meekly moved behind him to watch the operation from there.
It was a really big splinter and Birch was having trouble releasing it. He put the knife down and raised Marcus’s hand to his mouth, sucking the foreign body, trying to soften the skin. Deborah blushed, shocked at how the sight turned her on. Imagining Birch suckling the finger as Marcus had just sucked her in their tent not an hour before, Deborah gave herself a mental slap as warmth filled her pussy again. She was turning into a sexually feral wild thing.
“There, that should do it.” Birch resumed picking at the splinter with his knife. At last, the long, dark invader slithered out and he lifted it into the light to show everyone. “Would you look at that? It’s the biggest one I’ve seen. You’re lucky we got that out, mate, could have gone septic quickly.” He passed it to Marcus and got up to stir the pot. “At least we’ll know what to call you now,” he said.
“What?”
“Well, it’s got to be Thorn, hasn’t it?”
Marcus and Deborah looked at each other, trying to stifle their laughter. “Thorn it is!” She giggled.
They all settled down on mossy rocks and logs around the fire to eat their very first meal together. Pride beamed over Marcus’s face as a charred squirrel on a stick was thrust his way. Deborah winced as he proudly passed it on to her. Under his excited stare, she tentatively nibbled at the meat, bracing herself. She was genuinely amazed as the rich, gamey flavor played happily on her taste buds and didn’t end with a need to retch.
“This is really good,” she said, suddenly aware of sounding far too surprised. “I mean, I know you’re a good cook and all, I just…”
Marcus gave her a stern look of warning; she didn’t want to cast aspersions on his manhood.
“Well, it’s— I’ve never eaten squirrel before.”
Marcus threw his head back in laughter and the older couple joined in. Deborah thought maybe the meat had been a joke and they were about to produce a chicken casserole or something, but his shoulders slowed their heaving and he took a great, ripping bite of his own squirrel kebab.
“Hey, it really isn’t that bad.” He smiled at her and ruffled her hair. She couldn’t help hoping it wasn’t the hand he’d been holding the squirrel with.
After cups of nettle tea sweetened with honey, the conversation slowing to murmurs, Deborah felt she could finally relax in the flickering glow of the campfire. She’d been worried someone might start singing or dancing, things that, when forced upon her, made her squirm, but happily they all stayed seated.
Eventually, she unfurled her numbing legs and beckoned Marcus to bed.
Chapter 9
Over the next few days, Deborah and Marcus began to learn the ways of forest survival. Birch showed them how to trap and kill rabbits, squirrels, and wood pigeons, and Hazel, who was still squeamish about hunting, showed them all the edible flowers and shrubs and how to use them. They all slipped into an easy friendship and Deborah began to feel at home in their foursome.
“We never hear you making love,” Deborah said to Hazel one day when they were taking their morning swim together while the men tidied the camp from breakfast.
“What made you say that?” Hazel stretched out her arm, gliding soap up its length while the sun glanced off her slippery skin.
Deborah instantly regretted blurting out the words. “Well, before we met you properly…” She dipped her head and blushed. She wasn’t sure if Birch had told his wife of the voyeuristic episode. Glancing up, she saw Hazel staring at her intently with mischief playing in her eyes.
“Before you met us,” she said slowly, drawing out her words. “Yes, what?”
“Well, we saw you and Birch, you know…”
“I know what?” Hazel smiled slyly and Deborah knew she wasn’t going to make it easy for her.
“I want Mar—I mean Thorn—to tie me up and fuck me like that.” Deborah blurted out her desires to Hazel when it should have been Marcus she told.
The sight of Hazel’s breasts bobbing in the cool water reminded her of the smell of dirt and come as Marcus had pressed her into the earth as they had watched Birch and Hazel fuck between the trees. Her pussy welled in the dark pool and she spread her feet apart to let the cool water rush in and soothe her. Every night since they’d arrived at the camp, they’d made love roughly but silently in their hut. Once they’d sneaked off and fucked hard against a tree, and Deborah had relished the sharp bark boring into her back, leaving marks. But still she wanted more.
“I want my shrieks of agonized ecstasy to be carried on the wings of the birds off through the forest. I want to soar with the bliss of that moment—that first strike.” She bowed her head in time to witness her submerged nipples harden to frozen little buds. She wanted a mouth upon her.
“Just tell him,” said Hazel simply as she lathered up the soap and moved toward Deborah, passing her the bar and placing a hand under each of her full breasts, lifting them out of the water. Deborah gasped but stayed still, allowing the other woman to explore her voluptuous mounds, kneading and squeezing, teasing her nipples with her thumbs, all the while staring at what s
he was doing.
Hazel was the only person other than Marcus who had felt up her tits. Her whole body was tingling with desperate excitement and she parted her legs further, fighting her guilt with desire. She closed her eyes and swayed to the rhythm of Hazel’s teasing caresses and the wash of water that undulated and steadily flowed around and past them.
“Just tell him that’s what you want,” Hazel cooed again, her voice like a silken asp winding its way into Deborah’s consciousness. Her fingers were kneading up into her armpits. It was a delicious new sensation; the flesh there, all but ignored usually, became deeply sensual and erogenous. The soapy hands worked this forgotten place around and around, and Deborah closed her eyes, feeling hypnotized by touch.
“I can’t. I don’t know how to tell him,” Deborah whispered as Hazel worked back toward her nipples then softly down to her belly and ass, pulling her in until their breasts touched. Deborah opened her eyes and felt shock flood through her. What had just happened? Hazel was now massaging her buttocks, slipping her slender fingers down underneath her and squeezing. The older woman’s eyes were closed and she leaned in, taking Deborah’s lips in hers. Deborah hesitated and Hazel suddenly pulled away.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Hazel looked concerned. “I didn’t realize you were practisers.” Practiser was the term for those who lived in a monogamous relationship. “It’s so rare these days.” She smiled with genuine fascination, washing the soap from Deborah’s breasts in an efficient way that shattered the spell. Deborah was pleased and disappointed at the same time. She had felt like she was cheating, but it had also felt so good. Her pussy still burned with unused desire and her cheeks were hot.
“So how do I tell him?” Deborah was reaching out to Hazel now; she didn’t want their closeness to just evaporate. “I want what you’ve got.”
Taking Flight Page 6
