Under the Falls

Stone, spray, and raw desire: two bodies collide under a secluded waterfall

The air conditioning in my ancient Jeep wheezes like a dying man, offering little defense against the summer humidity that has already plastered my shirt to my back. Brenda has one bare foot propped on the dashboard, her toes wiggling to some silent rhythm only she can hear. The sight of her pink-painted toenails is, absurdly, the thing that has me half-hard.

“Are we there yet?” she asks, not looking at me, but her voice is a low, knowing purr. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

“According to the GPS, the rental is another seven miles of winding, soul-crushing pavement away,” I grumble, gripping the steering wheel. “I swear, if this ‘secluded cabin’ is just a garden shed with a WiFi password, I’m going to lose it.”

Brenda just laughs, a rich, throaty sound that goes straight to my groin. “You need to unwind, baby. You’re wound tighter than a nun’s… well, you know.” She finally turns her head, her eyes hidden behind oversized sunglasses, but her smile is pure, unadulterated sin. “I have plans for you that don’t involve WiFi.”

My knuckles go white on the wheel. Those ‘plans’ were the only reason I’d agreed to this four-hour drive to the middle of nowhere. That, and the way she’d packed her suitcase, throwing in a black lace thing that looked more like a suggestion than underwear.

That’s when I see it. A break in the dense tree line. Not a driveway, but a dirt trail so faint that is looks like a secret, winding down a steep incline and disappearing into the green.

“Whoa, hold on,” I mutter, hitting the brakes a little too hard, making the Jeep wobble.

Brenda’s hand shoots out to brace herself on the dash. “What? Did you see a squirrel you particularly admired?”

“No,” I say, my eyes glued to the trail. “I saw an opportunity.” Something about it feels exciting, a detour from the planned, sanitized version of a vacation Brenda planned for us.

She follows my gaze and her mischievous grin widens, with that specific look that always gets me hard before she even touches me. It’s a promise of trouble. Delicious, filthy trouble. “Well, don’t just sit there. Let’s go.”

I don’t need telling twice. I crank the wheel, and the Jeep bumps off the asphalt, plunging us into a tunnel of dappled sunlight and thick air. The trail spits us out onto a beach no one else seems to know exists. Empty and wide. And to the left, we spot a waterfall, crashing down into a clear pool like a scene out of some fever dream.

“We’re going in,” Brenda declares. She’s already getting out of the car and peeling off her tank top. The sight of her sun-warmed skin, and the graceful line of her back, makes my mouth go dry. I can’t stop staring. The way her denim shorts cling to her perfect ass as she bends over to kick off her sandals, makes me let out a small groan. I follow her and strip fast, fumbling with my belt, my heart hammering, my cock already thick and straining against my boxers like it’s trying to escape and applaud her initiative.

The water shock is definitely cold at first, then perfect. We duck under the falls, spray misting my face, pounding against my shoulders. Brenda presses into me, her breasts wet and tight against my chest, as her mouth finds mine. Soft for a second, then wild. Her tongue pushes deep, her teeth graze my lip, and I lose it.

I grip her hips, her wet ass in my hands, and pull her against the full length of me. She moans into my mouth like she’s been starving for it. We stumble back against the big slab of stone at the water’s edge, and she drops to her knees before I can think.

Fuck.