The Getaway (A D/d Romance)

Sara sighed and cuddled closer into his strong, broad chest. They were silent for a while as the stillness of the night settled around them, the only sounds the gentle bumping of the boat against the pier and the occasional hooting of an owl.

"Can you believe it's been a year?" Sara murmured.

"Oooh, careful, that's it," he said, adjusting her a bit. His erection throbbed hot and hard against her thigh as they talked.

"Yes, that reminds me . . ."

He reached over and took the little box wrapped in blue paper, and handed it to her.

"This is for you."

Sara broke into a very deep smile, and her eyes glinted mischievously at him.

"What is it?" she said, taking it from him.

"Just something I got for you . . ."

She took her time unwrapping it, while he gazed intently at her.

"Oh!" she gasped, when she opened up the velvet case.

"You like it?" John whispered.

She held up the delicate gold necklace from which a tiny diamond pendant glittered. It was exactly the kind of thing she would like.

"I love it," she whispered, with her lips close to his.

"I wanted to get you something you could wear anytime . . . and only we would know . . . "

"Do you like thinking of that?"

"Fuck yes," he breathed.

"Put it on me."

She turned around and held up her hair. His fingers fumbled with the clasp until he got it to latch. She turned back around so he could see. He brushed back her hair, and she touched the diamond, right over her breasts, as she gazed into his eyes.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

"I'm thinking about the drive home, last year."

"Oh?"

Sara began to peel off the top of her dress as she talked.

"Mom was sitting in the front seat, and I was lying down in the back."

John's breathing became slow and deep as he watched her pull up her bra, and her breasts sprang into view. They were so perfect, so full and lush, her rosy pink nipples jutting out rock hard in the cool night air.

Sara whispered, "I watched you drive, knowing that I still had your cum inside me."

"Oh, fuck," John gasped, "Oh, baby . . ."

Sara licked her fingers, and ran them over the tips of her nipples. She cupped her breasts together, offering them to him, like a gift, as the diamond glinted between them.

"I came again, right there in the back seat," she whispered. "Looking at your hands, your shoulders, the back of your neck, remembering the things you said . . . and she was right there, oblivious."

"Jesus . . ." John moaned.

Sara touched the gold necklace, then leaned in to kiss him.

"It's so perfect. Thank you for thinking of this, and taking us here."

John slid his hands to her waist, cupping her hips, his hands resting in the small of her back, and drew her closer. As he thought of how he was going to fuck her, all weekend, and waves of desire and lust so easy and perfect and natural streamed through his body, he could barely fathom his life, who he had been, without her, before this.

He leaned forward, and his mouth closed around one of her stiff, aching nipples. "When did you first notice it?" he murmured.

"What?" Sara gasped.

"When did you first think of me—of us?"

"In the car ride, with Mom in the front seat, on the way up last year."

"Really?"

"Well—sort of. Not exactly. But I was thinking of sex."

"And that naturally made you think of me?"

Sara laughed. "Nooooo . . . at least, not yet . . . "

"You were so quiet in the car. I thought you were mad at me."

"No, not at all. I was just enjoying how beautiful it was up here. I was looking out the window, imagining coming here with a lover, and how perfect that would be."

"So what, I just happened to be the man with a car?" John said.

Sara laughed again. "No, no, it was already on my mind . . . without knowing it exactly . . . the second I saw you at the house that day."

"Oh, so it was earlier?"

"Yes," Sara said, as she took his face in her hands. "You know . . . I think it was just moving out, and being on my own. It happened without me realizing it. All our little lunches and meetings . . . It allowed me to see you."

"And what did you see?" he asked.

"You," she said, leaning in to kiss him. "Everything. Without knowing it, I knew . . . "

"Knew what?" he said,

"You're why I was so unhappy. Because you were the one I wanted, and couldn't have. But . . . without knowing that I knew. Does that make sense? At least . . . not yet."

"Yes, sweetheart, it makes perfect sense. But you did find yourself thinking about 'a lover.'"

"I can't believe we haven't talked about this before."

"Does it bother you?"

"No! I want to know . . . when did you think of me? Was it in the car, too?"

"Noooooo. No, no, no, no, no. That's a difficult question . . ."

"Tell me," she said, snuggling deeper into his chest.

"Why don't I save that for later . . .? Don't you want to come inside?" His fingers lightly stroked the backs of her thighs.

From the lake, Sara heard some large creature make a "plunk'ing" sound as it dove under the surface. The trees around them rustled in the wind. She was suddenly intensely aware of his hard cock, resting against the crack of her ass. John watched her face, seeing the flushed excitement and hearing the catch of her breath.

He scooped her up and carried her inside and upstairs into the master bedroom, where large windows were wide open to the night sky. On the bedside table was a bouquet of red roses.

He put her down, and Sara watched, amused, as he lit some candles.

"What? If we're going to do this, we should do it properly, don't you think?" he said.

"By all means," Sara murmured. "And I love it, except . . . "

"What?" said John, disappointed, wondering if he'd forgotten something.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pushing her whole body against his. "Well . . ."

His hands slid to her sides; he gazed down at her pink lips, sharply defined, which echoed the thrust of her hard nipples.

"What?" John repeated, as he pushed against her belly. Sara could feel every detail of his cock—the thick, long shaft and ridged head, the heat and pressure of his balls, and she pushed back against him.

"We're not supposed to be in love. . . "

"Oh, right . . ." he grinned. "That . . ."

"It's wrong."

"Mmmm hmmmm . . . he said, pushing harder, bending his knees and grinding up into her through her dress.

"Can you believe how stupid I was, how blind?" John said, quietly, as he nuzzled Sara's neck.

"I don't blame you. We both were."

"Do you know, it never occurred to me, not once?"

"Really? Not even a little?"

"Hell, no. We were just 'getting to know each other,' that's all."

"Yes, except . . . you kept finding reasons to take me out to lunch."

"Yes," he laughed. "I couldn't help myself."

"There was one time . . . I wanted to text you, just to say 'good night,' and I didn't."

"Probably a good idea."

"That would have been . . . weird."

"Well, come to think of it, there was one thing. Just one. Your mother asked about you one day. You know, just, 'I wonder how Sara's doing.' And I didn't say a word. I kept our relationship secret from her."

"And why would you if it was—"

"Completely innocent? Yes. That's why it's hard to say, exactly . . . when I 'knew.' On some level, much longer than I was aware of. But of course, everything changed last summer."

"Yes, it did," she said, impatiently, "Please . . . let's get in the shower."

"Of course, darling. Come—"

John took her hand and led Sara into the large bath, where she quickly shed the rest of her clothes.

"Hurry," Sara whispered, as she helped him tug off his shirt and step out of his jeans. She let out a gasp when he freed his beautiful, hard cock, so swollen it curved up in a thick arc from his groin.

"I've missed you so much. . . " she said, curled up into his neck. Sara snaked her hand gently around his hardness, lightly touching, running her soft fingers up and down, as if touching it for the first time. For once, they were not in a hurry, and she took her time. Her fingers slid down to his balls, gently cupping, feeling, exploring every inch, enjoying seeing him tense up and the little hiss he made through his teeth.

"Feel this," she whispered. She took his hand and brought it to her pussy, and smiled when she saw his reaction. She slithered against him, rubbing against his hand, wanting him to feel how wet he made her.

"Oh . . . ok. . .," John said, pulling her away slightly. "I think we should . . . come here . . . ok, that's better. . . "

He got behind her in the hot, driving shower, holding her firmly by the waist. Sara bent over a bit, widening her legs, so he could slip his cock between her legs. The head jutted up through her thighs, the swollen shaft pressing tightly against her clit. She wiggled to fit her ass snugly into his hips until they were meshed tightly together.

"There. How's that?"

"Mmmmmm . . ."

He lathered up his hands and began to bathe her entire body, starting down at her feet and working his way up. Sara bent over, resting her hands against the shower stall, letting him see, giving herself to him. He pumped his cock slowly between her slippery thighs, raking against her clit, until she moaned.

"Oh, it's too soon . . . you're going to make me come."

John stilled his movements, just letting himself throb hot and hard while she reached down to jerk him, gently, with her soapy hands. He traced her smooth thighs and the wide, beautiful curves of her hips while she played with his cock, running his hands over her slick cheeks. She moaned, and he shushed her.

"You know what I'm thinking about? I'm thinking about that hike. The hike from hell," he murmured.

Sara laughed.

"Did you know how sexy you looked? Did you do that on purpose?"

"Do what?" Sara said, as she wriggled against him.

"Oh . . . I don't know. Your ass, in those skimpy little shorts, ahead of me the whole way. . ."

"It was just a pair of shorts."

"You wore them for me."

"No . . ."

"Yes, you did. To torment me. I was trying so hard not to look, but . . . oh fuck," John gasped, looking at her perfect, tight ass in front of him, and remembering the vision of her long tanned legs, climbing, squeezing, flexing, as they scaled the mountainside.

"You had on a pair of pink . . . something, panties, thong, I don't know what it was . . . flashing pink at me, you have no idea what that did to me . . . "

"But everyone else was there."

"I was well aware of that. And you knew it, too. You knew what you were doing."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I was boiling hard. Terrified everyone would know why."

John grabbed her hips, tighter, spreading her wider, bending her over. His hand slipped to her inner thighs, and his hand crept up, higher, but refrained from touching her.

"Trying to get the image of your pussy out of my head. It was impossible . . ."

Sara leaned over, moaning, and spread wider for him. "Please . . ., " she begged him.

John slipped three fingers into her wet, open slit, pushing up, stroking her clit with his thumb.

"Shhh . . . " he whispered, when he heard her groans of pleasure. He pushed, harder, deeper, into her vagina, angling his palm to reach her G-spot, and pressing up in rhythmic thrusts, right where he knew she liked. Sara wriggled backwards on the hand torturing her, rocking her hips to meet the gentle pressure. John stilled her agitated motions with one firm hand on her back.

"It's ok . . . there you go, shhhh . . ." he whispered. "There you go . . . "

Sara cried out as her first orgasm ripped through her. She grasped the shower bar to keep herself up, while she spasmed and shook in his strong arms.

John kissed up her back, then her neck, pushing aside her hair. He finished lathering every inch of her, caressing her wet, soapy breasts, her nipples, while his cock pushed against her ass.

~*~*~*~

"Oh!"

Sara broke out in peals of laughter as John carried her inside, and tossed her on the bed. He stood above her, taking in her beautiful, tan, squeaky clean body. She smiled, and held out her hand, pulling him down to the bed, and rolled on top of him. His hands slid down to cup her ass.

She gazed into his green eyes, happy to see every last bit of stress gone. She played with his hair, and traced her long fingernails over his lips, drinking him in.

"You're so fucking hot," she said, making him laugh.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. I love your smile."

"Well, it's because of you."

"Hmmmm . . . "

She kissed him, tenderly, and whispered against his lips. "Thank you."

"Mmmmm," John groaned. His hands tightened on her waist.

"So what do you want for making this so perfect?"

"Nothing," he said, brushing back her hair. "You came. That's all I wanted."

"But I didn't get you anything."

"Don't be silly."

"Well, then . . . how about, you just . . . relax. Watch me. Will you do that?"

"Oh, you have no idea how much I would love that . . ." John said.

He settled back on a pillow. The windows were open to a deep, midnight blue sky full of stars, edged with turquoise light. The room was dark except for a few candles, and a scent of lavender blew in from outside.

John could never smell these mountain scents without thinking of her, and the previous summer.

They'd always had a great relationship—easy, playful, and affectionate. But once Sara moved out of the house, it had changed, in an . . . interesting way.

He was surprised, but very happy, when she showed up at the office one day out of the blue, just to talk and catch up. They had a wonderful, long lunch. A few days later, he decided to drop in on her at the gallery. And before long, it became a "thing." They saw each other at least once a week. They never talked about anything serious. They just had a good time. She chatted and made him laugh, he teased her and bitched about his job.

He never once thought of her in an inappropriate way. They were just "reconnecting." He did not see, or admit, until much later, that their long, leisurely lunches had slowly become more and more flirtatious and intimate, or that he had begun to depend on them much more than he should. It snuck up on him, completely unaware.

For all those months, he'd never been simultaneously so happy and so miserable. His relationship with Sara had slowly become the center of his emotional life, his every meeting with her a high. Meanwhile, the rest of his life was falling apart. He couldn't sleep, he became depressed and anxious. When they finally left for Wildwood that summer, he was a mess.

And then, somehow . . . in the pressure of being together constantly, those hikes . . . he was never sure how . . . they found each other one night, on the docks, in the moonlight . . . and he'd kissed her.

Neither of them had any idea what that one kiss would lead to, or what it would reveal about them. Their relationship surprised them more than anyone, and continued to surprise them.

He watched her get on top of him, all tan and blond and golden in the flickering light.

"You are incredible," he whispered.

Sara took his hands and put them on her hips, then leaned back, her knees spread wide. The diamond necklace swayed between her breasts, milky white against her tanned skin, her pink nipples two soft, puffy cones. Her fingertips traced them, lightly across the tips, as she gazed into his eyes. Still watching him, she pushed her breasts together, the creamy flesh swelling into two luscious mounds between her arms.

"Spread your legs," John whispered in a husky voice. "Please. More. . ."

Sara pushed her knees apart, a little wider.

"I'm so wet . . ."

"Show me."

She spread a little wider.

"Ohhhhh god," John breathed. He saw a vision of wet, slick and shiny folds, with little honey colored drops clinging to her blond patch, catching the light. Her drenched pubes curled like little tendrils, dark at the edge, framing her pretty, pink hole. Her clit, stiff and vulnerable, begged for his touch. He reached up and placed his palms on her inner thighs, spreading her wider. Sara moaned and fell backwards, onto her elbows.

"Do you like it?" Sara gasped.

"Very much. Do you like showing me? Letting me see you?"

A jolt shot through his cock as he saw the sensitive lips of her pussy open wide in response, at the sound of his voice. Sara's thighs began to shake under his gaze, knowing he was looking at her. He kissed upwards, and soothed her trembling with his warm hands. "You're so beautiful," he murmured. "So sweet . . . "

"Scoot back . . . Get on top of me. I want to watch you . . . "

His hands found her hips, and he guided her firmly backwards, his eyes never leaving her dripping wetness.

"I want to see you take my cock, nice and slow . . ."

Sara grasped him firmly at the base, holding him still as she got her hips into place, widening her stance. She ached to feel him thrust up hard inside her, but she held back, gently gliding the slippery head to her opening. She opened her pussy for him, with one hand, spread the lips back so he could watch the lewd act, knowing how much it turned him on to know that it was her, and that she wanted this as much as he did. The heat of their incestuous desire, masked beneath the gentle surface of their words, flared into an intense reality that they could only watch with breathless fascination.

"Easy . . . easy . . ." John whispered, holding her hips still.

Little sighs and whimpers escaped her throat as she felt him, straining so hard and full, and she tossed her head back with a groan as she slid down, taking him in, overwhelmed with the sensations spreading out like fire.

She closed her eyes, concentrating on the pleasure, letting it come, knowing he was feeling it, too. She took him inside her, to the base, until he lost sight of himself, and then his gaze shifted to her face, and held her eyes. She smiled, and he reached for her hands.

"Good girl," John said. "Now just fuck me, slow and—"

"Easy," Sara said, with a smile.

"Yes . . . just like that . . ."

Soon he was drenched in her wetness, flowing down over his balls and onto the sheets of the bed. They held hands and John watched her as she rode him, mesmerized by the movement of her body, and the knowledge that his prick was embedded so deeply inside her . . .

The night was so quiet and still, the only light now the reflection of the sun in the moon. Crickets chirped outside the window, the wilderness the only witness to their desire.

"Mmmmmm . . . " Sara moaned, as he pumped his hips in the slow rhythm of her grind, each long slow thrust stoking the spiraling pleasure that made her cries more frantic with each touch. His gaze stayed riveted on her face as the spiral tightened and tightened.

They knew they were holding back, and only circling around the secret truth of their passion. It was still out there, in the memories that Wildwood held. Tonight, it was enough just to give their bodies what they craved.

The rocking motion of Sara's hips grew more wild and unsteady as she lost herself to the pleasure spreading out in deep waves from his cock hitting the most sensitive spot deep inside her. John saw her break out in a sheen of sweat; she closed her eyes, concentrating, panting, her face serious and strained.

"That's it, that's it," John whispered, ". . . don't stop. . ."

"Oh, God . . . you're coming, baby, you're coming . . ." he whispered when he felt her convulsions. He held her jerking body still as he erupted inside her, thinkingTake it, take it, take it all . . .

Sara flopped down forward on top of him with a long drawn-out groan, holding him tight as he filled her with his cum, shooting up and overflowing obscenely over her thighs, their bodies shuddering together, still holding hands.