He watched her fall asleep under his fingertips, a slight dew of sweat still visible on her back and flanks. Despite the fact that he'd spent himself thoroughly inside her, had fucked her with abandon, he was already beginning to feel his groin begin to stir. But it wouldn't do to race to another bout of lovemaking. They had all weekend, with literally nothing to do but get to know each other. To stimulate each other. And enthrall each other.
He let himself fall into that drowsy state between wakefulness and sleep, where his thoughts could float into the ether, none needing his attention, all open for introspection. She was sound asleep, just inches from him. Her mouth parted slightly, he could see her even white teeth inside. Her hair had fallen over her face, but he stayed the urge to sweep it away, lest he wake her. She slept on her side, slightly scrunched up, her hands pillowed beneath her chin. Her arms hid one breast but left the other uncovered. Her nipples, hard and prominent during much of the day, had finally softened, settling down. He'd noticed from the very first that her nipples would harden at a moment's notice, like the proverbial teenage boy whose cock would harden with the slightest breeze. The areolas surrounding them were wide and dark, and he instinctively licked his lips, seized suddenly by the urge to put his mouth to them. Later, he admonished himself.
Later still he would have to return to his survey of her, for her long, lithe legs were curled up against her, hiding her heaven's gate from his inquisitive gaze. He seized a thought tumbling through his mind, of his head thrust deep between her legs, his lips capturing her clit, and his tongue probing deep inside her. Later, he again admonished himself, even as his cock began to rise at the thought. But if all it took was the thought to get him to stir so easily, what would reality do to him? The idea was a pleasant one. A good point to leave off his imaginings.
Stealthily he rolled off the bed, careful not to wake her. The clock read 3:17. Was that the correct time? He hadn't reset the clocks. But if she had, it was correct, probably to the second. She was often that precise. It was bright in the room, shafts of sunlight streaming through the windows. When was the last time he had made love with the windows open? Not that they had a choice here. There were no curtains. And no one to look in on them. And if someone had crouched there, at the top of the hill, and spied on them? Well, he really didn't care. He could only hope that the spy would've cum as ferociously as he had.
Grabbing his clothes he dressed swiftly and silently. He'd spotted a fire pit out in the middle of the small basin, a small open space amongst the canopy of trees. Although there was no wood left in the stack, his friend had said there'd be plenty of dead wood on the ground, once you left the immediate area. His plan was to head out and gather some wood, and maybe they could have a fire that night, watch the stars, and see where that led them. He stared at her again, and again had to steel himself from waking her with a kiss and a touch. Later. Instead he pulled the cabin instructions from his pocket, wrote a note on the back, and then left the cabin, closing the door softly behind him.
She stirred, confused a little, then slowly grinned as she recognized her surroundings. The pine panel walls. The high ceiling beams. The very, very comfortable queen bed. She stretched, then checked. She was naked. He hadn't covered her. That would've been tender. But, and her smile grew, he hadn't been tender. She flipped over, face up, and splayed her arms and legs wide, the sunshine slanting in and painting her bare skin. She could stay here like this. Wait for him like this. And see if he would take her like this.
He would. Without a word or a question. She was sure of it now. In letting him in, he'd let her in. His needs weren't so obscured anymore. His wants were plain to her. And it was up to her to decide if he would get whatever he wants. She still had some control. While he was enthralled by her, she wasn't by him, at least not as much. Thrilled by him, surely. But not enthralled. Not so far. That thought sobered her. Was she holding back still? Being too careful? This weekend was supposed to be about letting go, about not worrying about the other person, about – how did he put it? – 'breaking free of expectations and marital concerns.' A fancy way of saying they should forget about their spouses and just have fun. And here she was, already planning a path to keep her from getting in too deep.
Could she really let it all go, reveal herself fully? She was afraid. If she did, she might get in too deep, and a return to their separate worlds might be too painful. She wasn't as able as he to delineate this, to think of this as a tryst, not an affair. She'd never confess it, of course, never to no one. But even using the word "confess" gave insight into her feelings.
On the other hand, would she lie awake, years from now, and wish she'd been more adventurous? Would she wonder what might've happened if only she'd sought less control, was more willing to go with the flow?
Or she could tread a middle path. Focus more on the sensuality. Give of herself bodily, while reserving a part of her emotional self. Give in to her passions. Walk on the wild side. She grinned wickedly. And see just how many times she could make him cry out in ecstasy.
Where was he? Apparently not returning very soon. She shrugged against the sheets. Too late to take advantage of the free gift of her body, naked and spread open and waiting for him. His loss! She stood up, started to get dressed but stopped with only her panties on. No need for other clothes, not out here. She'd feel uncomfortable walking around completely naked. She wasn't a nudist, per se. But topless? She liked to walk around topless at home, with the feeling of freedom it always gave her. And where better to feel free than here?
What better time than now to explore the cabin? She found his note on the kitchen counter. 'Gone to get some firewood. Back in an hour.' There was no time on it. Typical. She glanced at the clock. Three thirty-four. What time had they started to make love? She couldn't remember that, but the other images that flashed through her mind made her nipples begin to harden. Man, she had it bad!
She started with the bed, first straightening the sheets and comforter, then changing her mind and folding them partially back, as if to welcome him on his return. Next, the trunk. She knelt before it, pulling the heavy clasp up and propping the top open. The key to the kingdom was back in its place in a small pocket sewn into the lining. Alongside, she found three other keys, each tucked into their respective pockets. More keys to more kingdoms? She'd find out soon enough.
Inside the chest were three sets of sheets for the bed, an extra blanket, and buried beneath all that was a small, rectangular wooden box, about the size of a shoebox. Locked. Private stuff. And, she determined after a minute's try, not unlockable by any of the keys to the kingdom. She felt slightly guilty that she'd tried, but knew that this kind of little mystery would gnaw at her the whole time. Better to know than to wonder.
After packing the stuff back in the trunk, and wondering why anyone would need four sets of sheets, she turned her attention to the rest of the room. She found nothing under the bed. In fact, it was completely clean of any dust or dirt, just like the rest of the cabin. Owned by a person after her own heart, evidently.
