The weathered old man in the red truck gave us directions, country directions without road names, just landmarks. His voice sounded like moonshine and cheap cigarettes, his thick mountain accent got stuck in his wiry grey mustache. Gow ahn up the road a bit til yeh get to the beeg heel. Tayke a layft on ter the dert road, ane yeel come to a beeg flayut rawck. They yused ter shoe the horses thayer. We thanked him, but as soon as we pulled away we looked at each other.
“I can’t help it. My paranoid mind keeps wondering if he’s just given us directions to his own Texas Chainsaw Massacre lair!”
“I was thinking the same thing!” he looked at me and we laughed.
“What’s the name of this road? Camp Cannibal Road?”
Still, we took the left, easing the truck onto the rocky dirt road. If you could even call it a road, it was two tracks snaking their way through the woods, the trucks tires crunching over rocks and splashing through mountain streams. I gripped the door handle, my feet pressed into the floor boards, my breath coming in short bursts through my teeth.
His face was lit with excitement as he navigated the narrow path, mine was pale and strained.
“You hate this don’t you?” his grin showed that he didn’t really care how I felt about it.
“No, I don’t hate it, but I am a little scared!”
He stopped the truck, “Lean over me and look out my window.”
I did, awkwardly but glad to be stopped even for just a moment, and saw that the land dropped out beneath us. We were on the edge of a cliff with nothing but trees to stop us if we fell over the side. I grinned at him, knowing he was trying to scare me even more, but I knew I was in good hands. I trusted him and his abilities to navigate this treacherous road safely.
The road got worse before it got better, but finally it leveled out and sunshine started to shine through the treetops.
“I think we’re on top of the world!” he grinned at me.
And, we were. We came out to a beautiful mountain top meadow, the sunlit grasses blowing in the wind. We were alone here, the only human eyes for miles. We drove on, dipping back into the tree line until we finally found the big flat rock. The old man had given perfect directions, and his description of the rock did nothing to convey its size and beauty. We backed the truck between two ancient white pines and pulled down the tailgate for a picnic lunch overlooking the rolling green mountains. The sky was a deep blue spotted with white puffy clouds, and the breeze picked up the small hairs on the side of my face. We sat mostly in silence, tearing chunks of french bread and smearing it with pimento cheese and chicken salad, washing it down with canned beer.
After we ate, I picked up his phone to snap some pictures.
“Put the phone down and come here.” It was the voice, that voice that tells me something good is about to happen, something painfully sweet, something that I will remember and feel for a few days.
I hopped off the back of the truck, and he gripped my arms in his hands, roughly steering me towards a small trail alongside the rock, pushing me towards a lichen covered tree.
“You better keep your hands on that tree or else you’ll pay for it later. I brought you a surprise!”
I dared not look, keeping my eyes trained on the texture of the tree trunk, but I felt him pull my leggings down to my thighs, my ass exposed to the wind and the mountains. My skin prickled in anticipation as I felt the soft leather strap brush across my cheeks. I smiled inwardly and gripped the tree with my fingertips, crying out as the first blows hit my pale skin. He rubbed the sting away with his rough hands, pressing his chest into my back before beginning again. He alternated this way, his ruthlessness balanced by tenderness before he let loose and pummeled me with a series of torturous slaps, one after the other without relief.
My body wanted to fight it, to eliminate the source of this pain, but I kept my hands on the tree, and my mind began to slip. The sting of the strap began to feel warm, a soft kiss, a gentle lick. My shoulders no longer felt tense as I relaxed into the rough bark of the tree and moaned at the sensation the leather provided. It all stopped too soon, and I was suddenly aware again. I felt that my cunt had leaked onto the inside of my thighs. My head felt light, floating with the leaves blowing in the breeze.
“Turn around and kneel”, his voice was strong but breathless. Was he tired from the exertion, or was that lust that coated the edges of his words?
He fed me his cock, shoving it to the back of my throat. I could smell his must deep in the curls of hair that rested just above his shaft. He fucked my mouth, the drool running down my chin and dripping onto the crotch of my pants, still pulled down around my thighs. He was quick, his noises rising in pitch, his breath hitching, until he came down my throat. I barely needed to swallow.
“Take it all, you dirty slut,” he hissed as his come slid down my throat.
I looked up at him through askew sunglasses and smiled as I cleaned the rest of his come with my tongue. When I finally stood and pulled up my pants, I could feel the dampness from my own saliva on my skin, contrasted my the warmth of my well worked cheeks. What a nice little surprised he’d planned for us!