Having found a good rhythm, I moved my hand away from her waist and delivered a short, sharp smack to the cheek of her arse. Once again she hissed at ...he intake and purred as she exhaled but this time I noticed all of her other moans immediately afterwards were heightened. So I tried it again. And again and again and again. One hand kept her pinned down, one hand worked on leaving a red imprint on her arse and my cock kept pounding her tight, wet pussy. She was absolutely loving this and wasn't. It’s a strange, alien feeling. Her limbs move as if they were part of someone else’s body, but she can still feel all of her strong muscles reacting to another’s commands. She feels herself turn, open the door, and get out of the vehicle. She sees that she is in some kind of underground parking garage. All of the other parked cars she can see look to be expensive sports models. Maybe I’m somewhere in the financial district? The residential buildings there all have underground parking garages. She closed the laptop and got up to clean her dishes. Maybe a movie, she thought and thumbed through the few she had on hand before flopping onto the couch without having chosen one. She felt restless she didn’t even have a decent book to read, she could download one online but she liked the feel and smell of a book in her hands. Maybe she could go shopping. She had a wallet full of cards she had barely used and a bank account big enough to splurge more than a little. She looked around her. That is why we had flown across the country, then rented a car, stopped at a camping store I had frequented in years past, and drove to the base of this mountain, only to hike halfway up its impressive stature before making camp for the night. That is why I had subjected her to the cool nighttime mountain air, the not-nearly-as-good-as-home beef stew prepared upon a small backpacking stove, the need to purify the water procured from a small mountain stream, the need to raise a bear bag before.
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