The incoming text notification buzzes in my back pocket. I pull it out, unlock, and scan the screen.
“Meet me? 20 minutes? Our spot?”
I bite my lip. It’s a terrible time. I’m working on a file for an early morning meeting and I really ought to get it wrapped up now, not two hours from now.
I hesitate a moment, still pondering. The phone buzzes again in my hand with a second message.
“Please baby. I need you.”
Well, that does it. My soft spot. Any combination of the words “baby” and “need” and I’m a goner.
I keep telling myself I’m going to stop doing this, but he knows how to push my buttons. And who am I kidding? I love having my buttons pushed by him.
I close my laptop, run my fingers through my hair, and pull on my boots. I pause at the door, keys already in my hand, and shout back into the apartment to my roommate.
“I’m going to run to the grocery store for a few things,” I say. “Want anything?”
“Naw, I’m good.”
“Cool, see you later,” I say. The door clicks behind me before the words even make it all the way out of my mouth.
It would have been a pain in the ass had she said yes – an extra stop on my route back home. But I’m in the clear, and I get into my car and out the driveway as quickly as I can.
“What are you doing?” I say under my breath as I back up. “Last time was supposed to be THE last time, remember?”
I sigh. Now I’m talking to myself. This is going downhill, I think to myself.
“All right. Last time. For real. Definitely the last time. This is so bad. So bad.”
I turn on the radio to stop myself from that thought process and merge on to the highway.
Ten minutes later, I move back off the highway, travel north through an industrial park then finally pull into a residential area beyond. The neighborhood here is newer, the houses still a little sparse with a few empty lots in between still awaiting the builders.
I turn left, right, left again until I’m at the edge of the development, and park in the light of a single street lamp on the gravel shoulder. To my right, undeveloped forest; to my left, a row of brand new houses. Only two or three are inhabited, by the looks of them. ‘For Sale’ signs sit outside two of the darkened homes and those with lights on inside have their curtains drawn.
No one can see me, I remind myself. I grab my phone and send a quick text: “Just parked. See you soon.”
I hop out of the car, the cool night air tickling at the back of my neck, and walk along the gravel edge until I find the spot where a small path emerges from the woods.
I imagine, once upon a time, that this area was farmland, and the path connected two properties separated by this dense patch of pine trees and brush. With development crowding in on both sides now, this last remaining bit of forest is still big enough to disappear in, but small enough that even at its centre, I can see the passing light of a car on an adjacent road, or hear a dog barking at a nearby house.
For a moment, I see my own shadow stretching out ahead of me as I enter the path, but in a few seconds, the street light is blocked by the trees. Not only do I have no shadow now, but it’s dark enough that I can barely see my own feet as my eyes slowly adjust.
I risk turning on the light of my phone and direct it downward, so I won’t take a wrong step. As I look back up, I strain into the darkness ahead, trying to differentiate between the darker shade of nearby trees and the slightly lighter darkness of further ones to see if I can catch any movement between them. But... nothing.
I put my phone up and glance at the screen. No response yet. As I point it back down to my feet and look at the path ahead of me, I finally spot what I’m looking for: a small pinpoint of light bobbing back and forth, coming towards me.
It’s him.
He’s parked on the far side of the woods, coming from the opposite direction as me. This is “our spot” and thinking of the things we’ve done in here I feel myself begin to get excited.
Of course, last time wasn’t the last time. How could it possibly be? This dark place, this safely shadowed space, where no one can see us – how could I want to be anywhere else but here?
I stop walking, and let him come to me. The light gets closer, and closer, and closer, until he's a half dozen paces away. The light shuts off and I can see just the shape of him. A dark shadow.
Then it’s just by guessing that he finds me in the dark, his hands stretched out until they take hold of my arms, and his head tucks in at my neck. I hear him inhale deeply.
“Oh fuck, baby,” he says. “I fucking missed you. I missed you so much.”
He grips me hard, pulling me in tightly against him. His hands rove down my back to grab my butt cheeks, squeezing hard, lifting slightly so I’m on my tiptoes to keep balance.
“Come here,” he says, grabbing my hand and flipping his small flashlight back on.
We leave the path, moving sideways into the forest. He moves left and right, circling around huge cedar trunks, ducking under low branches, until we come to a small clearing. There’s a little more light here, the trees thinned out enough that the moonlight above reflects on our faces.
“Can’t we do this more? I want more, I want every day. Not just here, but... you know... everything,” he says.
I shake my head.
“No. You know we can’t.”
“Why. What if I just asked you out for dinner – and we went? Why is that so – “
“No.”
“But I want you.”
“You have me. Here. Right now.”
To drive the point home, and stop this thread of conversation, I let my hand reach out towards him. I flatten my palm against his chest, finding the spot where his nipple is hard under his shirt and rubbing it with the flat of my thumb.
He may know how to push my buttons, but I know how to push his just as well.
His head tips back.
“Fuck, babe... I just... I think we should... Oh god, shit,” he gasps as my other hand reaches to his other nipple, my fingers working both of them at the same time.
Having had partners with very little nipple sensation, the notion of giving him pleasure in such a simple way never gets old. I love doing this, and in a moment, I feel myself tugging up at the spot where his t-shirt is tucked into his jeans so that I can get my hands underneath. His bare skin is silk under my hands; a dusting of hair across his belly and his chest tickles my fingers.
He’s breathing harder now, and I let one hand drop down to the front of his pants.
Rock hard, straining against his zipper. I let my fingers run along the shape of him and hear him gasp again as he pushes his hips forward.
“Were you saying something?” I ask with a tease to my voice.
He can’t even answer.
I love knowing I do this to him. I love knowing that later, he’ll run this moment over in his head again and be so aroused that he’ll have to make himself cum again. I love knowing that he’ll get into bed as soon as he gets home, without a shower, so that the smell of me is still with him when he wakes up.
I kneel down in front of him, not even noticing the prickle of pine needles on the ground below my knees, and unzip his pants.
“Oh god, Jesus, fuck, god, Christ, Jesus, fuck,” he says, the stream of words repeating over and over and over in his excitement.
I hook my fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pull down, the pants going with them until both are to his knees. I run my hands back up both thighs, around his hips and over his ass cheeks, then back to his front. He’s shivering now, though not from the cold, but from the strain.
“I need you,” he says.
Hmm. Button pushing.
“Not yet,” I say.
I take his cock in one hand, and stroke him gently. He moans in his throat, and I feel him get harder and thicker in my hand. My other hand reaches under, cups his balls, and squeezes lightly.
“Fuck!” he barks out.
“Shhhhh,” I reply. “Quiet.”
He looks down at me. I know there’s just enough light for him to see the contours of my face and the swing of my hair as I sway in front of him. I open my mouth slowly, looking up at him the entire time. I let my tongue slip out, again slowly. I lean forward from my waist, so very slowly. And then I let my tongue flick across the head of his cock, tasting the flavor of him. I let my tongue run around the head of his cock, sliding over and over on the underside. When I think he can’t bear it another second, I take him into my mouth and close my lips, sucking him in as deeply as I can.
His hands drop to my head then, fingers all wound up in my hair. I move my hands to his hips, and pull, encouraging him to move, to thrust, to push into my mouth. I can feel my panties pulling tight against my pussy, the wetness of my arousal starting to form. He keeps moving, slow thrusting into my mouth, and I’m suddenly desperate for his cock to be inside me.
I moan, a low deep noise that no doubt vibrates through his cock. The first moan is accidental, but the second I do on purpose, knowing that it will drive him crazy.
It has the exact predicted effect. He pulls his cock out from my mouth, grabs my shoulders, and pulls me up to him.
“I need to fuck you. Now.”
There is no room in his tone for debate.
“The log,” I say, looking to our left.
I know, from earlier visits here – some having been in the heat and bright light of a summer day – that we’re only a few feet from a fallen log that we’ve made good use of before. He knows exactly what I mean, and releases my arms long enough to let me turn toward it and walk a few steps over.
He pulls off his jacket and tosses it over the log. So chivalrous, I want to joke, laying your jacket down so you can get me bent over a log – but I keep it to myself. He’s in a desperate mood, needy. We can joke later. Another time, but not right now.
I get down on my knees and lay my chest over the log. My breasts – still inside my bra, still under my top - flatten against his coat.
I feel him move into position behind me, and his hands stroke down my back.
When he gets down to hip level, his warm fingers slip under the waistband of my leggings, pulling them down as far as he can. He pushes my top up towards my shoulders, exposing my lower back and my bare ass. As he leans over and kisses at the bottom of my spine, I get a shiver from the cool air, as well as the sensation of his lips on me.
He kisses further down to the small of my back, and I feel his hands grasp at my ass cheeks, spreading me open as his mouth keeps moving. Warm, hot tongue flicks over my ass, then onto my pussy. As soon as he gets the taste of me on his mouth, he moans and licks harder.
I arch my back, trying to open for him, pushing back onto his face.
“Ohhh, fuck, fuck. FUCK!”
I’m incapable of real words. Just “fuck” over and over again as his tongue laps at my wet pussy, darting in between my lips, flicking up over my ass. Each pass makes me shudder and jolt. Uncontrollable spasms as he continues to lick me.
“So good. Oh, it’s so good. FUCK!”
Again, he licks over my ass, and a delicious shiver goes up my spine. I feel myself clench.
Suddenly, I feel his thumb against me here, rubbing the slick wetness left behind by his tongue. Up and down, and then he pushes his thumb into my tight puckered bud. I gasp. He’s never done this before. It feels so good – achy tight – that I catch myself pushing back against his hand.
“You like that?”
“Yes, fuck, yes….”
“Next time, my cock?”
“Oh... Oh god... Oh my god...” I can’t say yes or no. The idea of it is so exciting that I wish I could ask him to do it right now.
But just then I feel the head of his hard cock push up against my pussy. He rubs the tip of his cock in my slick, wet folds, looking for the right spot. When he finds it, he pushes forward. His thumb is still inside my ass, his cock now stretching my pussy wide.
“Oh... Fuck yes. Fuck YES. Hard. Hard now. Please. Fuck!”
He doesn’t need to be asked again: he starts pumping hard into me, his thumb slipping deeper as his cock thrusts deep into my pussy. His free hand is holding my hip loosely and I feel him let go. Then smack. I realize he’s slapped my butt cheek. He’s never done that either.
“Again,” I moan out.
“God I love doing this with you,” I hear him whisper. Voice ragged, breathing fast.
We carry on like this in the dark, desperately moving against each other. After a time, I feel his hand grip hard at my hip again for a moment. Again, he lifts his hand and smacks, hard, and I feel myself buck against him.
A third smack, and a fourth, and I feel myself cumming hard. He smacks me one more time and then groans, his body shaking as he cums as well, thrusting into me until he finally stills.
His lips come down to kiss my back as he buckles over me.
“Will you please go out for dinner with me,” he asks.
“No.”
“Come on!”
I move away from him, stand up, and pull my clothes back into place. When he stands, I lean into him, kiss his mouth, and smile.
“I can’t. I have a big case right now. I’ll probably be working late.”
“But you’re the boss,” he says.
“Yep. So that means you’ll be working late too. No dinner.”
“Can we get takeout into the boardroom?”
“Are you going to consider it a date?” I ask.
“No,” he says. “Maybe. Yes. Will you?”
“No,” I say, laughing. “I’m not allowed to date my employees, remember?”
I start to walk back towards the path. He smacks my rear end one more time as we go.
“Well,” he says, “maybe you should promote me. And then you won’t be my boss anymore.”
“I own the entire firm. I will always be your boss.”
“Fine. But will you meet me here next week?”
I sigh. “Maybe. No promises.”
“I’ll do that thing with my thumb again,” he says.
We’ve reached the path; time for me to go right and him to go left.
“What thing?” I ask casually.
“You know what thing,” he says laughing.
“Hmm. Maybe.”
“Maybe I can do the thing with my thumb?”
“No, maybe I’ll meet you next week. Let’s see how my staff do with this case. I’m sure hard work will be... rewarded.”
“You’re terrible,” he says laughing.
“Yep.”
He kisses me one more time, his arms tight around me, and leans into my ear.
“Thanks for the fuck, boss. See you tomorrow morning.”
He drops his hands, cups my ass cheeks in his fingers, and squeezes.
“See you in the morning,” I reply.
More by Carson March:
After the Party
The Business Meeting
The First Meeting
Holiday Romp
Meeting Annie
The Not-So-Stranger
Poker Night
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