Chapter 5: Hiking with a goal
The sun cut through the dense canopy of the Taunus forest in sharp, dappled blades, painting the path in alternating patches of gold and deep, cool shadow. The air smelled of damp earth, pine, and their own sweat. For the first two kilometers, they walked in a silence that wasn’t quite comfortable. The planned early arrival felt less like a strategic advantage and more like a looming threshold.
Julie adjusted the strap of her backpack, her muscles warm and loose. The memory of the hotel room, of his weight and the cold glass, was a live wire under her skin. Every rustle of leaves, every distant birdcall, felt charged.
“So,” Mark said finally, his voice cutting through the thick hum of insects. “Eighteen years.”
“Fifteen since our … first night,” she corrected, not looking at him.
“First night. Right.” He chuckled, a dry sound. “You were a lousy liar then, too.”
She stopped walking. He stopped a few paces ahead and turned, his face unreadable under the brim of his cap. The path was empty behind and ahead, a tunnel of green solitude.
“Is that why you came back?” she asked. “To see if I’d gotten better at it?”
He took a step toward her. “I came to see if you were still a fucking tease.”
Before she could retort, he closed the distance, his hands rough on her shoulders, spinning her around and pushing her back against the broad, moss-flecked trunk of a beech tree. The bark was cool and solid through her thin hiking shirt. His body pressed against hers, pinning her.
“Prove you’re not,” he said, his voice a low growl against her ear.
Her breath hitched. She reached for the buckle of his hiking pants, her fingers clumsy. The metallic clink was startlingly loud in the forest quiet. She pushed the fabric down, freeing him. He was already half-hard, thickening in her hand.
She dropped to her knees on the soft, damp loam. She took him in her mouth without preamble, her tongue flattening against the underside of his cock before she sucked him deep. The taste of him, salt and skin, was familiar and utterly new. He let out a sharp, choked groan, his hands tangling in her hair.
“Christ, Julie,” he hissed.
She hummed in response, the vibration pulling another ragged sound from him. She worked him with a focused, brutal efficiency, one hand cupping his balls, rolling them gently, the other bracing against the tree behind his leg. She used her mouth like a weapon, a confession, a settlement of an old debt. She took him to the back of her throat, relaxed, and swallowed. His hips jerked forward.
“Fuck, yes,” he panted. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”
She didn’t. She set a relentless pace, her own arousal a throbbing ache between her legs, soaked through her hiking shorts. This was power, this filthy, subservient act. She had him trembling, his knuckles white where he gripped the tree. His breaths came in short, sharp grunts. She felt him swell, the tense, impending rush.
With a final, deep suck, she pulled off, leaving him glistening and throbbing in the cool air.
He looked down at her, wild-eyed and furious. “Why did you stop?”
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, stood up on shaky legs. “Lunch,” she said, her voice hoarse. “You’ll need your strength.”
"Oh come on".
They ate on a sun-warmed outcrop of granite overlooking a valley, the silence returned, thick and loaded. Sandwiches tasted like paper. She could feel his gaze on her, a physical heat. When she finished, she lay back on the rock, closing her eyes against the sun. The stone was warm through her clothes.
She heard him move, the rustle of fabric, the soft clink of his water bottle being set aside. Then his shadow blocked the sun. She opened her eyes. He was kneeling between her legs, his hands already pushing her shorts and underwear down her thighs. She lifted her hips to help him.
The air on her exposed skin was cool. Then his mouth was on her, hot and desperate. He ate her out with a single-minded hunger, his tongue driving into her, flat and broad, before focusing on her clit with a ruthless, flicking precision. It was nothing like the slow, teasing rehearsals of their youth. This was starvation.
She cried out, her hands flying to his head, fingers gripping his hair. The orgasm built faster than she thought possible, a reckless surge from her core. Her back arched off the rock, a sharp cry tearing from her throat as she came against his mouth, wet and shuddering.
He didn’t let up. He lapped at her, drinking her in, until the sensations bordered on painful. She pushed at his shoulders, gasping. “Enough. Mark, enough.”
He pulled back, his chin slick, his eyes dark. “Now we’re even,” he said, his voice rough. “For the tree.”
The final kilometer was agony. Every brush of her clothes against her sensitive flesh was a reminder. Her legs felt weak. He walked behind her, his presence a constant pressure between her shoulder blades. The trail narrowed, winding upwards through ferns.
She knew what she had to do. What she wanted to do.
Glancing back to ensure the path was still empty, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her shorts and hiking leggings. In one fluid motion, she bent forward slightly and pushed them down just past the curve of her ass.
The cool mountain air washed over her skin. There, nestled between her cheeks, the blue gemstone twinkled in a shaft of sunlight.
She heard his sharp intake of breath behind her. She pulled her clothes up quickly and kept walking, a new sway in her hips.
Ten seconds of silence. Then, the sound of his foot hitting the dirt. His footsteps, crashing through the undergrowth behind her.
She took off running, laughter bubbling in her chest. She was lighter, faster, fueled by adrenaline and a fierce, wild joy. He was heavier, stronger, driven by a different, hotter fuel.
She dodged roots, leapt over a small streamlet. His footsteps pounded closer. She veered off the main path onto a narrower deer track, thorns snagging at her clothes. He was right behind her. She burst out of the tree line into the small, gravel parking lot of the Berggasthaus. The rustic hotel with its timbered facade stood ahead.
He caught her at the edge of the gravel, his arm hooking around her waist, pulling her back against him. They were both breathing hard, sweat-soaked.
“You little bitch,” he gasped into her hair, but there was laughter in his voice, a frenetic, unhinged sound.
He spun her around. His mouth crashed down on hers, a kiss that tasted of salt, the forest, and her. It was possessive, punishing, celebratory. His hands groped her ass through her shorts, squeezing hard where he knew the gem was hidden.
“Room,” he managed to rasp against her lips. “Now.”
They staggered together through the heavy wooden door, past a startled-looking hiker at reception, and down a dim hallway to their reserved room. It was simple, clean, dominated by a large wooden bed.
The moment the door clicked shut, he had her up against it. His mouth was on her neck, his hands tearing at the closure of her shorts. She fought with the buckle of his belt. There was no finesse, only a frantic, clawing need.
Her shorts and leggings ended up around her ankles. He kicked them aside. He lifted her, her back scraping against the door, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He guided himself into her with a rough, impatient thrust.
She cried out, her head thumping back against the wood. He fucked her right there, holding her suspended, his rhythm brutal and deep. The door rattled in its frame with every drive of his hips.
“This is what you wanted,” he snarled, his breath hot on her cheek. “All day. Flashing that pretty little ass. This.”
“Yes,” she sobbed, her nails digging into his shoulders. “God, yes.”
He carried her to the bed, falling with her onto the coarse wool blanket. He didn’t even pull out. He drove into her again on the rough blanket, the wool scratching her back, his weight a welcome anchor. She met every thrust, her hips rising off the bed, her heels digging into the small of his back. The room filled with the raw sounds of their collision: skin slapping, the bedframe’s protest, their mingled grunts and curses.
It was a feral, climbing thing, this need. It felt like the summit of the mountain they’d just left behind. Her vision blurred at the edges, sharpening only on the strain in his jaw, the sweat beading on his temple. She was close, so close, the pressure building in a tight, white-hot coil.
“Stop,” she gasped, her hands flying to his hips.
He stilled instantly, buried deep inside her, his body trembling with the effort. He looked down at her, confusion and furious want warring in his eyes. “What?”
“I want to finish what we started,” she said, her voice low and thick. She pushed at his chest.
He rolled off her with a groan, his cock springing free, wet and glistening in the lamplight. Before he could protest, she was moving. She rolled him onto his back and straddled his face, lowering her dripping cunt onto his mouth while she bent forward to take him into her own.
He let out a muffled sound against her, his hands gripping her thighs. His tongue was inside her in an instant, licking and thrusting. She took him deep into her throat, relaxing her muscles to swallow him whole. The dual sensations, giving and receiving, unhinged her. She moaned around his length, the vibration making his hips jerk.
They rolled, limbs entangled in a slick, desperate struggle for dominance. When he was on top, he fucked her face with short, savage drives, his own mouth working between her legs, his tongue fucking her with the same relentless rhythm. She gagged, tears springing to her eyes, but her hips ground against his mouth, demanding more.
When she rolled atop him again, she took control. She rode his face, grinding her clit against his tongue, while she leaned back, guiding him back into her mouth. She took him all the way, her throat accepting him until her nose pressed into his pubic hair. His hands came up to her ass, spreading her cheeks.
She felt the cool touch of the gemstone, still nestled where she’d placed it that morning. His thumb pressed against it, then pushed. The smooth, hard stone slid into her rim, a shocking, exquisite intrusion. He worked it in and out, slowly at first, then matching the rhythm of her mouth on his cock.
The filth of it, the sheer depravity, sent her spiraling. Her orgasm ripped through her, a silent, convulsing wave that clenched around his tongue and the gem. He followed seconds later, his release hot and bitter down her throat as she swallowed, her body still shuddering on top of his.
She collapsed sideways, spent. The gemstone fell onto the blanket between them. For a long while, the only sound was their ragged breathing slowing. The late afternoon light slanted through the small window, catching the dust motes dancing above them.
“Fucking hell, Julie,” Mark finally whispered, his voice wrecked.
She turned her head to look at him. The lines around his eyes were deeper, his expression soft with a stunned awe she hadn’t seen since they were teenagers on a grainy webcam. She reached out, tracing the salt line on his temple. “Still think I’m a tease?”
He caught her hand, brought her knuckles to his lips. “I think you’re a goddamn revelation.” He paused, his thumb stroking hers. “And I’m terrified of what happens tomorrow when we have to go back.”
The unspoken reality settled over them, colder than the mountain air seeping through the window. Tomorrow, the conference ended. She goes back to France, he to Canada. Their parentheses would close. But for once they knew when the next one will open.