I don’t stop. I can’t, not now, not when we’re so close. I keep sucking at him, even when his hands still in my hair.
“Fuck, Pau…” I don’t know if he hears them yet, if he notices. I don’t care. I tighten my lips and yank him against me, one last thrust, burying him deep in my throat. That does it. He loses control and comes, growling with the force of it, his hands pressing my face flat against his body. I swallow every drop of his cum, the delicious, white-hot liquid tasting better than I could have imagined.
I forget about the voices, forget about everything, because I finally made him come for me. I lean back, start to lick his cock clean, when we hear them again, accompanied by the crack of twigs and the crunch of leaves now.
Someone is here.
We freeze, me still on my knees, his ass still bared to the world, and lock eyes, as the voices round the bend near…
Before I have time to react or come up with a plan, Josh grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet. He bends down to yank his jeans up, clasps them hastily, and we spin around trying to figure out which direction the voices are coming from.
“… Really great idea, getting everyone together,” someone is saying.
I don’t recognize the voice, an older woman. At least it’s not our parents, I have time to think. Then someone else replies.
“I just can’t believe how long it’s been.”
Shit. Mr. Johnson.
He can’t see us. Him and whoever he’s with. If they spot us here, the state we’re in, my hair a mess, and Josh still red-faced, breathing hard, they’ll know. They’ll mention it to someone, probably our parents…
“Come on,” Josh hisses, pulling me away, in the opposite direction.
We run silently, dodging any leaves that look particularly crunchy, until we reach the trunk of a pine tree. I glance at Josh with a furrowed brow, questioning. But he’s already pulling himself onto the lowest branch.
“Climb,” he says.
I hesitate. It’s been years since I’ve done this. The last time I climbed a tree was with him, in fact. A pine tree similar to this one probably—there’s a whole copse of them near the cabin that we used to scale all the time. But I remember the general idea, and Mr. Johnson and his lady friend are rounding the bend, so I pull myself into the tree.
We climb out of sight behind some thicker branches, high overhead. From here, we can’t see the ground or Mr. Johnson and his friend, which means they can’t see us either. But we do hear them, as they settle down in the clearing where we just were, chatting carelessly. Clearly they mean to stick around for a while.
I glance at Josh, eyes wide, trying to express my distress. What are we going to do? We’re stuck in this tree.
Josh grins back at me, and I don’t trust the smirk on his face.
Sure enough, a second later, he leans over to spread my legs. I cling to the branch I’m on, next to his. It’s wide enough to support me easily, but not wide enough that I can afford to lose my balance.
Unfortunately, that’s probably going to get hard, since Josh is pushing my skirt up around my hips.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
The voices in the clearing pause. “Did you hear something?” Mr. Johnson asks, and I inwardly curse myself and clamp my mouth shut.
“No,” the lady answers after a minute. “Must be the wind.”
So I can’t talk. Which means Josh can’t answer me. He seems to enjoy that. He winks at me, then bends his head between my legs again. He catches my panties in his teeth and inches them down my legs. My breath catches, and I twist a little under him. But he won’t be denied.
He grabs my waist with one hand, his other holding himself in the tree, and swings to a slightly lower branch, so he’s standing in front of me, and his face is level with my now-bare crotch.
He runs his tongue from my knee up to the crease where my leg meets my hip, making me shiver and arch my back. The tree branch shivers with me, but Mr. Johnson and his friend seem to dismiss that as more wind, and keep right on talking.
I arch my back, teeth gritted to keep any possible sound I might make trapped within, as Josh lets his tongue explore me. He licks across my smooth mound, then along my pussy lips, carefully keeping from touching my clit or from delving any deeper between my lips, into my slit. His tongue is hot and wet against my skin, and when he leans back to blow lightly on the spots he just licked, I can’t help a faint gasp, the cool air stark and sudden.
He doesn’t let me cool off for long. He leans back in and licks from my ass all the way up to the edge of my entrance, tasting my slit, the juices that have already dripped from my pussy. I’m already wet from sucking his cock, from the white-hot desire I felt when he fucked my face.
He pushes his tongue inside my pussy slowly, carefully. Licks along each of my walls in turn, back and sides and front. My lips part in a silent moan when he hits my G-spot, and he circles against it for a moment, tongue pushing hard on it, making a climax start to build inside my belly. I dig one hand into his hair, my other still wrapped around the tree branch.
Below, Mr. Johnson and his friend continue to chat, oblivious. I clamp my whole mouth shut, desperate to stay silent. It’s hard, nearly impossible with him eating me out the way he is, like he’s hungry for me, loving every second. He licks hard, fast, pushing his tongue as deep inside my pussy as he can.
Just when I think I’m going to lose it, he pulls his tongue out, replaces it with two fingers, and keeps fucking me with those while he runs the flat of his tongue over my clit. I’m so close to the brink already that it doesn’t take me long to reach it. He keeps up the pressure, licking my clit and fingering my G-spot, curling his fingers inside me so they drag along my wall, filling me, making my pussy ache.
He circles his tongue over my clit, keeps it moving in that circle, zeroing in on my sweet spot. That does it. My whole body shakes as I hit the wall, the orgasm sweeping through me like a tidal wave. He pulls his fingers out of me to steady me on the branch, his arm wrapped around my ass, fingers digging into my thigh as he pins me in place. He keeps his tongue on my clit though, licking me hard as the final spasms die away and leave me breathless and panting in their wake.
Below, Mr. Johnson and his friend begin to meander away, still chatting, but their voices growing softer now as their feet crunch across leaves in the distance. We wait until the sounds fade away altogether, and then Josh slides back into the branch across from me and pulls my face to his for a deep kiss. I can taste myself on his tongue, as I’m sure he must be able to taste himself on mine. We pull apart only an inch, rest our foreheads together and gaze into one another’s eyes.
“Our little secret?” he whispers.
My chest aches. “Of course,” I reply. But the truth, the terrifying truth, which I’m just starting to realize, is that I want more than that.
I don’t want to be his secret. I want to be with him for real.