Sex on the Mount

Being married and spending "quality" time with someone who isn't your spouse involves creativity and organization. Booking a room through Priceline isn't always practical (or cost-effective, for that matter) when you want to be together at least once a week. Unfortunately, Drake and I have yet to find somewhere that charges by the hour--although you would think such a place would exist in a metropolitan area with an estimated 5.5 million people.

There are other options.

I decided to ditch work yesterday. Of course my first thought was whether Drake would be able to get away. His workday is flexible, so I knew the odds were favorable. I shot him an email and I was pleasantly surprised to receive a quick reply. He confessed that when he read I had taken the day off, he got a hard-on.

We live in a county with a vast park system. So many parks with very few visitors to be expected on a cool and dreary Wednesday. Drake was going to be at a meeting in a city north of me, so we agreed to meet halfway--in the parking lot at the foot of Mount Seneca--at 3pm.

I arrived on time; he sent me a text message saying he was running a few minutes late. When he finally pulled up in his SUV and I got in, I got the usual rush I get when I see him. The anticipation. The knowledge that soon he'd be driving himself into me hard and deep.

But first, the pleasantries. We kissed and he told me about his meeting. Good prospects. I mentioned some ridiculous thing one of my kids had done. He reached over and began rubbing his hand up and down my arm. We kissed again. Longer, deeper, more passionately.

We wound our way up the mountain. We chose a secluded overlook with an empty parking lot. He backed the SUV into the farthest spot in the lot and lifted the back. We both climbed in and as the back closed with a beep-beep, I was amused at how hot I got whenever I heard the sound of the back of his SUV opening and closing.

Drake and I have a complicated relationship. It started out as a Dominant/submissive relationship, but we ended up becoming such good friends that sometimes the D/s isn't as strong as it should be. I love the control he exerts over me when we have sex, but that power just doesn't seem to stretch beyond sex.

The hatch of the SUV had barely shut before he was pushing me onto my back and yanking off my pants and panties. He quickly stripped down to nothing and commanded me to suck on his cock. After a few sucks and strokes, he pulled me onto my knees and had me straddle him. I began to thrust myself against him and each deep penetration made me cry out. I love the cross between pain and pure lust.

We varied our positions until we found it most comfortable for me to be on my back. He began thrusting inside me. First with my legs spread, then together. He pinched, twisted, and slapped my tits. I was extremely wet and a few times he slid right out of me.

"You're MY slut. You're MY whore. You like that I own you, don't you? You like being USED and FUCKED!" He fixed his piercing blue eyes on me and gave me a semi-crazed smile. "When I don't FUCK you enough, you stray and you want to FUCK other men!!"

He yanked my arms over my head and held me down by my wrists with one of his large hands. He turned into another person when we fucked. I remember the time he wrapped his hand around my throat and nearly choked me...and it wasn't out of lust, it had been out of anger. I had no doubt that although he was truly a pacifist by nature, he could easily kill me with one small squeeze of his hand.

He pulled out of me, got on his knees, and ordered me to play with my clit. I began rubbing my clit while he watched and continued to stroke his cock. He told me how much he loved to masturbate in front of me...and watch me masturbate. I came quickly and a second later he roughly pulled my head toward his cock and I took it in my mouth, feeling the cum run smoothly down the back of my throat. I licked off the few drops that remained on the head.

We got back into our clothes and went for a walk through the forest, stopping at a picnic bench to talk. I am always amazed at the sexual intensity--the borderline craziness--he exhibits that tempers down to just your average guy talking about leaving for a conference in a few weeks.

I love being used and fucked.