Emma
Holy shit, is this really happening?
That’s the question flying past my lips. Because, fucking shit, this does not feel real. Not the snow outside, not the warm cabin and the gently crackling fire.
Nothing about this feels real.
It’s like I’m surrounded by a beautiful, angelic light as I try to catch my breath and recover from those waves of orgasm that turned my world—or what I thought was my world—upside down.
Dylan’s lying there, on the rug, so confident in his space. This is a world he seems to know so well—not just this cabin, but this whole new world of intense, sensual wonders.
And yet he’s just lying there, like what just happened is no big deal.
I can’t keep my eyes off him lying there so casually, like he isn’t some kind of miracle worker who just showed me the light of the heavens on a freaking bearskin rug in front of the fireplace.
“Are you a magician?” I ask.
Dylan laughs.
“I never thought of it that way, but I know a few tricks, some sleight of hand.”
With that, Dylan caresses my thigh, so close to my pussy, which is still reeling from that explosion of joy and lust.
That bright orgasmic light is still wrapped around me.
I want to hold onto this moment; I don’t know when I’ll ever come like that again. Something so deeply amazing can’t happen that often...can it?
“You know what, Dylan? I think you’re a magician. A mountain magician, and you’ve had years to learn all those tricks. I don’t think I could ever catch up.”
Dylan looks at the fire and shakes his head.
“This isn’t some David Blaine shit. It comes more naturally than you might realize.”
I listen to the crackling of the fire and relish the aroma of the cabin. For the first time, I notice details like the earthen scent of the wooden floors, the clean but wild and natural smell of the rug, and the virile musk coming from Dylan.
It’s like I can almost smell his lust radiating from his body. We’re close to each other physically...but it’s not close enough.
I feel like it could never be close enough, but I’d really like to try.
As if having read my mind, Dylan moves toward me and kisses the top of my head before pressing his lips down on my own.
“Show me another trick,” I gently tell this burly mountain magician, whose arm is now resting over me with his palm flat on the rug.
Why do I suddenly feel like pushing him over and showing him a trick?
“A trick of my own,” I add.
“Okay, let’s not call it a trick anymore.”
“Oh.” I giggle when I realize what he means. “I agree.”
“I can start to show you the ropes, so to speak.”
I stare at the fabric of the rug and consider what he could mean.
“It’s a figure of speech,” Dylan he says.
I huff, but I refrain from rolling my eyes. Instead, I lay one hand down on his rippling upper arm and caress the smooth skin and the cement-hard muscles underneath.
I close my eyes and lose myself in the feel of his biceps and triceps, in all the wondrous subtleties of his muscles. It’s like a raised-relief map of some fantastical realm that also happens to be super fucking sexy.
Dylan’s stroking my hair gently. I’m terrified to think what my hair must look like right now. I’m removed from my usual regime of conditioners and my usual shampoo at this point.
Dylan seems to be enjoying it though, moving his hand from my hair and running it down to my shoulder and then to my chest.
The tingling around my nipples steadily grows into full, eager excitement. Dylan keeps his hand around my breasts before moving it slowly back up towards my hair.
I grip his arm tight.
“Okay, where do I begin?” I ask. “I want to learn to be a mountain magician, just like you. Maybe you’ll feel the same magic I felt.”
“I felt magic, too. I’ll tell you a magician’s secret. When you do it right, we’ll both feel it.”
“I don’t know if I can handle that much magic right now,” I say, but I think I could go for a lot more of that magic, and soon.
I almost feel like I don’t need any guidance at this point, that I could just fucking go to town...
However, I know all too well that there aren’t any towns around here. So, in this cabin, it’s time for me to ask Dylan the Big Question.
“Where do I begin?”
Dylan doesn’t answer—at least not at first. I look at him on the rug and study his bare chest and delicious chocolate eyes.
I slowly let my eyes roam up and down his Adonis-like form, covered in wild, untamed hair. His body is the ideal form that manhood is based on. It should be in a fucking museum.
My pussy tingles again. I’m almost back to where I was a few minutes ago, during that magic moment when Dylan’s lips were close to...well, my own.
He finally answers my question with a simple nod in the direction of his chest—but it’s not his chest that he means.
I’ve been focusing on the Renaissance sculpture of the upper half of Dylan’s body that I almost forget what I’ve been craving for a while now.
There it is—bulging and throbbing with what I know is desire.
It looks so big, but I’m not complaining. It’s so fucking big that I want it so fucking bad and nothing else will do.
“What does it feel like?” I whisper, lust coiling in my belly.
“See for yourself. Really, knock yourself out. I’m here, and there’s no hurry.”
I don’t know if I could even put my hand around that giant dick, yet I go with my first instinct—to grab it around the bottom part, near his balls.
I hear Dylan make a small noise in his throat.
“So, that’s a good noise?” I ask.
“Yes,” Dylan lets out.
“Okay, how do I...you know...do what you did?” I ask him. “Is it just, like, taking it right in my mouth? Or like an ice cream cone, or what?” I suddenly feel like an idiot, but I’m too eager to care.
“Like an ice cream cone...huh, I’ve pretty much forgotten that stuff even exists. Alright, start with your tongue. Remember, there’s no hurry.”
I move my head closer to his giant dick. I lick my lips, trying to make sure my tongue is as wet as, well, my pussy has gotten again.
I lick the top of Dylan’s cock like it’s ice cream. He makes another little noise.
“Okay,” Dylan says, “good start, but look at it this way: It’s a hot day, somewhere far away from Vermont—maybe somewhere in the Caribbean, on a beautiful beach. The ice cream’s already starting to melt, and it’s running down the cone. You don’t want it all over your hands, so start at the bottom. Get all of it at the bottom, then slowly make sure you get all of it. Work your way up.”
“I used to get pinot noir ice cream at this place in Gramercy Park,” I mention out of nowhere. “That’s a more appropriate metaphor—wine ice cream. You want to get a nice buzz, so you don’t want any of it to go to waste.”
I start with little licks, using just the tip of my tongue.
“Okay, good.” Dylan’s breathing heavier than I think I’ve ever heard him, making me feel like I just turned the heat on in his body somewhere. “Remember, you want to get all of that, so just the tip of your tongue isn’t enough.”
I press the surface of my tongue against the bottom of Dylan’s giant cock. I lick upwards slightly, just enough to get that imaginary wine ice cream running to the bottom.
“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Dylan says, “fuck fucking ice cream, now you’re doing mountain magic.”
I keep slowly moving my tongue in that direction. I don’t really taste much, mostly I smell that masculine odor that I now associate with Dylan—musky yet clean and a bit piney.
I’m realizing that his scent drives me fucking crazy, especially right now with my tongue pressed against a giant cock, moving slowly upwards.
I don’t stop. I can’t. I lick all the way to the fucking top and then I fucking start over again.
Dylan moans, and I suddenly feel like I’m in a weird dream. I’m so comfortable and excited around this giant dick. I don’t have much experience with cocks, but I feel like this one is the best one to start with.
“Okay,” Dylan says, “try taking it between your lips, into your mouth. Remember, there’s no hurry.”
He says that, but I feel like I’m in a bit of a hurry to bring this to the next level. I move my head, taking his cock in slowly.
“That’s right,” Dylan says, “this is fucking magic. You’re a fucking natural...”
He trails off, and I have a feeling he’s unable to give me much more guidance.
I also realize I’m feeling a bit of the magic, too. My fingers are lightly rubbing my cunt, moving in a circular motion around my slippery, wet pussy lips.
I continue to move my tongue around Dylan’s cock as it goes slowly into my mouth. I take as much of it as I can before moving back up, almost letting the entire thing out, except for the tip.
I move back down. Dylan slams this palm against the rug. I repeat the process a few times before I feel a bit of a twitching movement, like the start of an earthquake around Dylan’s cock.
It seems like it’s time to get out of the way, so I push myself up. Globs of pearly, white come spout out like a geyser—not just once, but again and again, each eruption coming out forcefully and traveling further than I can see.
Dylan moans, and I realize I’m moaning, too—and still playing with my pussy.
The magic runs through me again as another climax begins. This time, I come, too, currents of pleasure rolling through me.
Dylan’s head falls onto the rug with such force that I can hear the wood underneath it shudder and creak. He goes limp, breathing heavily.
After that last orgasm, my appetite has only grown stronger. There’s no fucking way I’m done. Not yet.
I look at Dylan who’s on his back. I hope he doesn’t think we’re fucking done, either. I feel insatiable, like a mountain lion with her eyes locked upon her prey.
The fire rising within me is drawing from a bottomless well of desire. I’ve never felt anything like this, but I know exactly what this feeling means.
If there’s a moment I’ve been waiting for, then that moment is at hand. I’m ready to give myself—and my virginity—to Dylan.
The fire in me rages, and I just hope Dylan is willing to take it.