Sonja’s heart sped with anticipation, pulse pounding in her ears. She wasn’t sure whether it was Kaj’s declaration, his tall, broad-shouldered proximity, or the approaching jump causing the erratic rhythm.
They stepped out onto the platform as one, ready and willing to throw themselves into the vast ravine below.
Sonja closed her eyes and took a deep breath, filling her lungs with his sexy-ass musk, all the appropriate sexual metaphors and innuendoes shuddering through her brain. Her pussy muscles clenched as they jumped off the bridge clamped in each other’s arms, tight as two dogs fucking.
Before she could get out a full-bodied scream—there was something so much more dangerous and out-of-control about falling upside down, suspended by the ankles—they splashed into the water headfirst, to their breasts and chest.
The quintessential bungee jump, she’d been told.
Like she wasn’t wet enough already.
They reached the top of the bridge several minutes later.
Everything that needed to be said had been said on the way down, body language taking over like a mothah now as he caught her by a hand and led her back to his tent, about fifty yards away from the bridge, on the edge of the impressive Angeles National Forest.
The sun had already dipped low on the horizon, leaving a salmon-hued trail across the sky, and Sonja had a moment to admire the view before Kaj guided her inside his tent ahead of him and zipped the flap closed behind him.
“I suppose now I have to put out, since you paid for this extremely death-defying package,” Sonja teased, trying to take the edge off when she knew there was no possible way she could until she had his dick firmly nestled inside her hot, wet depths, gloving him until he cried, ¡Ay, Mamí! “Don’t you think I’ve paid enough already in three near heart attacks?”
“Not nearly enough.” He chuckled, and approached her carrying two big white terry towels. He handed one to her, then peeled off his soggy T-shirt and leisurely began drying his hair with the other, dark eyes traveling the length of her five-foot-four frame, lingering on her titties and making her nipples stand at attention more than the cool dip in the lake had. “At least not yet, anyway,” he murmured.
She’d worn a white T-shirt and no bra, small enough to get away with it, but generous enough—and now wet enough—to draw horny-dog attention to her erect brown nipples beneath.
Palm-sized, she thought, then reconsidered when she looked at his big mahogany hands clutching the towel and imagined them swallowing her titties.
Sonja followed his lead, slowly drying her hair as she returned the favor and
gave his lean-muscled, six-foot-one physique the once-over.
She licked her lips and Kaj dropped his towel, closed the couple of feet separating them to retrieve hers. She gladly relinquished it, watched him discard it with his.
Sonja reached for the hard bulge in his jeans, fondled, then firmly cupped him.
Kaj stood still, staring at her with his sloe-eyed gaze, biting his bottom lip as if to hold back a groan. “I’ve been waiting to tear that pussy up since I met you.”
“When you put it that way…” She expertly unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans in short order. Young or old, things never changed and she was well acquainted with the steps to the horizontal Lambada, hadn’t forgotten como hacerlo.
Sonja pulled his jeans down his lean hips, and he reached out to pull her T-shirt up and off before haphazardly tossing it over his shoulder.
He bent his head to suckle one of her already moist, extremely sensitized titties and she arched her back, feeding it to him with one hand while she massaged her jeans-clad cunt with the other. Wet heat pooled in her thong as he licked, bit, rolled, and sucked her nipples until they glistened and pebbled.
“I want to taste you,” Kaj whispered against her skin, stepping back to impatiently toe off his sneakers and peel off his jeans and boxer briefs.
Sonja quickly stripped, too, faced him in only her black lace thong, daring him to come get what was underneath.
She knew she looked good, tantalizing, and knew her body was “tight” for an almost forty-year-old.
But would someone fifteen years her junior think so?
She only needed to look down at the hard cock jutting at her—at least nine inches, long and thick, just the way she liked—to get her answer.
She had a flash of herself calling Carlos “Zeus” at the sight of his godlike hard-ons, pointed at her like a compass needle at North, and giggled.
Kaj frowned. “Something funny?”
“Not at all,” Sonja said, stepping into his arms and caressing his hard pecs, rushing to reassure him. “I was just thinking how much I want to devour you.”
“You’ll have to wait, baby.”