A Risy Breeding on the Trail

The run is more strenuous than you expected. You're struggling to keep up, but he's just plowing forward ahead of you on the trail, fast, confident, in control. There's a burning in your calves and quads, and your tongue is completely dry as your lungs wheeze labored air past it.

"Babe, hold on, wait--" you say, hunching over, grabbing your knees, gasping.

He laughs, breaking pace. "What, tired already? And I thought you were the one who did track in college."

You glare back at him, still sucking in oxygen like there isn't enough in the entire state park for the both of you. It's like he's barely broken a sweat. What the hell?

"Sprinting," you manage to get out, "Not long-distance." You sit down on the trunk of an enormous fallen redwood tree on the side of the trail.

He pulls the tube of his Camelbak off the hook and offers it to you. You grab the silicone tip and shove it into your mouth, guzzling the water voraciously as it hisses and gargles through the line.

"Mmm, I like the way you suck on that," he says. You drop the tube and throw it back at him, rolling your eyes.

"You would say something like that when I'm literally dying here."

He chuckles, a smug smirk on his face. "Always the drama queen."

You wipe the sweat from your face and take in the scenery. The air is cool and crisp and refreshing here amidst the redwoods. You can finally start to feel it wicking away the beads of perspiration. All around you is damp, packed earth on the trail blanketed with pine needles and fir cones. There's a bird chirping somewhere nearby, its calls piercing through the muffled backdrop of a waterfall's roar somewhere in the distance--

You notice his eyes are glued to your chest.

"What, why are you staring at me like that?"

"God, I fucking love it when you get all sweaty."

Warmth flushes over your face. Part of you wants to melt into the ground, part of you erupts into self-consciousness. Surely, your makeup is already messed up (and why did you even put it on in the first place? You knew you'd be running) and your hair must be frizzy in this humidity now even though it's in a pony, and you must already smell like shit even though you doubled up on deodorant, and it's just a sports bra and shorts, you're not even done up, and you're gross and have sweat lines and why can't you ever just turn off your mind and take a compliment, God, why? You shift your posture and cock your head at him.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

There's something about him, something about the firmness of his voice and the directness of his tone that awakens a kind of primal feminine ferocity in you. His eyes look over you, up and down. There's a salacious glint in that gaze, a devilish lust simmering beneath the surface. You can't take how he's looking at you, it'll only lead to one place...

"Don't... do that." Your eyes flicker to the ground, to his bare chest, to his muscled arms, to his dick beneath those loose running shorts (wouldn't it be nice if it got hard?), then back to the ground.

"Do what, tell my girlfriend how hot she is?"

That masculine aggression. Always so forward. A kind of bubbling giddiness rises in your stomach. You can't help but smile. The boy likes you, and it's the best feeling in the world.

"You're cute," you say, standing up and pecking him on the lips. "Okay, I think I've recovered. We can get going again." You turn to continue down the trail, but he puts his hands on your waist and pulls you back.

"I mean it, you know."

When he presses his lips against you this time, it's different, more intense, more sensual and deliberate. You soften completely. You can't help it. You're paralyzed to resist. You place a hand on his beating heart as his fingers traipse their way down your sides to grab your ass. Your lips are slippery over his as you kiss him back. When he grazes his tongue over your lower lip, it sends shock waves through you. There's something comforting and stimulating in his presence, a grounding kind of aura that makes you feel safe and secure and like everything will be okay so long as he is there to protect you and lead you and direct you and give you--

Panic jolts you out of the reverie. You pull back and look around paranoidly.

"Come on, Damien, we're in public, I--"

"I don't care." He pulls you back in, presses his body against yours, locking you in the embrace. You can feel him growing hard against you, and you can't help but like that in spite of yourself. "I want you," he growls with hot breath, nibbling on your ear. It tingles and raises goosebumps all over you as he continues to coo in your ear: "You know what? Fuck it. Let's do it. Right here. Right now."

Adrenaline attacks you. The prospect is wild, audacious, unhinged, really. A crazy risky thing.

"What, you're serious? Right now? What about all the people we passed back there?"

That only seems to fan the flames in his eyes.

"Let's see if we can finish before they get here... or... maybe we'll just let them watch."

You laugh in stunned incredulity. Can you actually do it? Is this actually going to happen? Something about it is enticing and invigorating and oh so erotically taboo. There's a kind of ephemeral charge that builds in the atmosphere between you. You look around. The forest is flat in all directions, no place for privacy in sight.

He squeezes your ass more, massaging his fingertips into you. There's a glowing warmth spreading in your chest and a tingling in your crotch, and for some reason you don't want him to stop. He slides a finger up your back, tracing your spine over the residual sweat, sending electrifying shivers radiating out to your limbs as it gets closer to your chest. Then he slides it over and cups your breast.

"We don't even have any condoms--"

Your own involuntary moan cuts you off when he rubs your nipple over the fabric. Waves of sensitive pleasure echo from the location. Is your pussy really already wet? God, you're not that much of a slut, are you? Are you really going to let him fuck you out here in the open? And completely unprotected?

"I want to feel what it's like inside you. The real you, no barriers."

(do it. have his baby)

You don't know what comes over you. You can't help yourself, maybe it's the thrill of potentially getting caught or the fact that you're in nature and something seems right about it or maybe it's just that you're ovulating and crazy horny and not thinking straight. Does there even have to be a reason? You want him. It's true. You want him inside of you. You drop your hand and grope his cock over the bulging shorts. He's so fucking hard.

"Fuck it."

A feral passion takes over as you grope at each others' bodies. You both know what's going to happen now, seemingly reading each others' minds. You pull down his shorts. His cock springs up. It's twitching with bloodflow, already slightly oozing precum. You stroke it as he lifts up your sports bra and starts sucking on your tits, God that feels good to have his tongue circling around and around your nipple. You can't take it anymore, and apparently neither can he.

He grabs your hips, twists you around, and bends you over the redwood trunk. Yes, you love it when he takes charge, takes control, takes you on this ravenous adventure. Your heart is pounding, thudding in your chest, pulsing like a drum in your ears at the thought that at any moment, someone could find you. You want this, though, you want to give into him. You want to be fucked out here in the open in nature. The rush is all-consuming, undeniable, and scary as all hell. But you're loving it.

You brace your arms against the the log. He jerks down your Spandex shorts, and they fall at your ankles. Your wet cunt is exposed to the air, creaming with grool in feverish anticipation. He slides his fingers over your clit. You let out a little yelp at the sensitivity, but he grabs your mouth to silence you. God, you love it when he dominates you. That's right, take control of your woman like a man should. Then you feel it, the glans of his cock rubbing over your slit at the entrance. You moan and lean your ass back at him.

"God, you're such a tease, just put it in already--huuuhhh" you gasp at the sudden penetration. You're so wet that his whole shaft just slides right in. He lets out a low grunt. He's so deep inside, you can feel it in your womb, the tip of his manhood pressed right up against your cervix.

(imagine his sperm impregnating your egg)

He grabs your ponytail and a fistfull of ass. God, yes, take it all. You submit your body to him completely as he begins to thrust. At this angle, his cock grazes right across your G-spot. The warm friction is just so goddamn good, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, he takes you. The gliding between your flesh, raw and unprotected, builds rising waves of unadulterated pleasure.

The rhythmic pumping accelerates, and the power of his thrusts continually knocks your forearms against the tree bark. It's hard with a kind of furry splinteriness, but you don't care. In fact, it makes it even hotter. This is what sex is supposed to be, isn't it? Real, primal, animalistic. You know it deep down, even if you'd never tell it to anyone. You like that he's taking you like this in the open. You're supposed to be all strong and independent, but all that melts to blissful submission when he's in control. You completely lose yourself.

It'll be your dirty little secret. For just the two of you. There's no point in denying your base urges. It's only natural, and no one is here to judge you out in the wild. That's just how it is. The strong male claims the fertile female, and new life is formed. Nature makes no apologies. And neither will you for how your man is claiming you--

Laughing in the distance knocks you back to reality. Panic sinks venomous epinephrine into your veins and jolts your mind to a hyper-vigilant focus. People are catching up to you on the trail. You need to finish quickly. He must have heard it, too, for now he fucks you even harder, desperately, with the bestial intensity of a lurid madman. You try to keep your voice down, but the cascading pleasure mixed with the roughness and the risk and the sounds of your genitals slapping together--it's all just too overwhelming.

He pounds you, hard, so hard against the log. You can tell he's also trying to suppress his grunts, but he, too is growing louder. You're truly in it now, it's now or never, the two of you in a frenzied dance of crazed, desperate hedonisms of the flesh. The voices are growing louder. Any second now, those strangers could turn the corner in the trail and see you both there fucking like wild animals in heat. Because that's exactly who you are, and that's exactly what you're doing.

"Babe, we're gonna get caught," you groan, "Just cum in me already. Cum inside me, give it to me. I want it."

That must have awoken something in him. He releases your hair, and your head whiplashes forward onto your arms. He grabs both hips with deadly strong grips and rails even harder. You've never let him do it before, but now you want that cum inside you. You deserve that cum. You've earned it. You want nothing more than to receive his load and be filled to the brim.

He explodes in you, finally releasing his virility in a protracted groan. The feeling of his manhood pulsing deep within your womb, filling you up with seed, making you complete as a woman, drives you over the cliff of pleasure into an ocean of ecstatic insanity. Electric fireworks of dopamine detonate in your skull. Your pussy convulses in orgasmic contractions, and you shudder over him as he's inseminating you. He's given you his sperm, and you accept it, and you love the fact that he's finally claimed you as his woman, now and forever.

Time seems to stand still for a moment as he holds you there, the full length of his shaft still inside you. You're fulfilling your role in its truest and purest and most innocent form, and there's a kind of joyful peace and reassurance about it. Even now, as you're on the verge of being caught in the real world, amidst the risk and the panic and the fear of it all, you can't bring yourself to pull away from him just yet. You can't help but feeling like in this heat, you've ascended to some ethereal plane of existence, fulfilling some spiritual and primordial rite, the union of male and female, a sacred, ancient bonding that reveals some truth of reality. You are a fertility goddess incarnate, a channel of the divine feminine, a force capable of creating new life.

But another burst of conversation from around the corner--much closer this time--shatters the bliss. He pulls out, and you scramble, pulling your sports bra back down over your tits and grabbing your shorts. His seed is overflowing out of you and dripping down your thighs, but you seal it back in with the shorts. He pulls his own up just as the people turn the corner, but he's still hard, and it's an obvious tent in the fabric. He wheels around and sits on the log next to you, hunching over to hide it, pretending to fiddle with his shoes.

Thick lingering pheromones of raw sex and body odor hang in the air like a cloud around your profusely sweating bodies. You're both still panting as the hikers approach you. It's a young couple. The woman is pregnant, and the man is pushing a stroller with a young child. A fun, casual stroll. You smile at them and exchange pleasantries and ogle at the baby, all the while knowing that just seconds earlier, the man sitting next to you--that man you know you love now and want to spend the rest of your life with--possibly just gave you one yourself. And you're glowing at the thought of it.

The second they're out of sight, you reach down and touch yourself, feeling his seed still clinging to your pussy and seeping through the fabric of your crotch. Maybe that seed has planted itself within you. Maybe it'll grow and blossom into a beautiful new life. The thought of your belly and breasts swelling into the ultimate expression of femininity is immensely arousing. You look over to him, and there's a deep connection realized between the two of you without a word.

You both know what future lies ahead of you. You both know your destiny.

It's to give into nature and breed.