Best Dry Hump

The List by LauraACullen
Picture Windows by nerac
Tilt by lambcullen
Withering the Ferns by angstgoddess003
My Yes, My No by lolashoes

Withering the Ferns, Chapter 9 by angstgoddess003

“You don’t know me,” he breathes as my nose makes contact with his, the intricate details of his eyes making themselves clear in my vision. The flutter of his eyelids and the way in which he raises his face betray his anticipation, and I want to say that I’ve had sex with men I’ve known less. I want to say that I probably know him better than anyone he’s ever met. I want to say that I know what it feels like to wake up in his arms and feel as though I’m not actually stranded in the forest, and I want to say that this is more than enough—that it feels more right than anything I’ve ever experienced.


Instead, I close my eyes and whisper in all sincerity, “I really want to.” I press my lips to his, and my body quivers, the cool dampness of his lips pliant and satisfying. Though his lips are unresponsive to mine, his hand rises to my cheek and cups it gently. My mouth moves over his with growing trepidation. His thumb caresses the thin skin at the edge of my jaw while I pull softly at his lips with mine, seeking their response and fisting my hand into the fabric of his shirt.


I open my eyes to watch his, slowing my kiss to a mere sweep of my lips as I search his eyes in nervousness. I try to imagine what it’d be like to be rejected by him, and then left to sleep at his side for an indeterminable amount of time, now that I’ve made my attraction to him known. There is an unfathomable anguish hidden beneath his gaze as his fingers weave softly through my hair, cradling my head in his palm and holding me to him.


“I can’t,” he murmurs distressingly against my lips. However, the fact that he makes no move to distance himself from me makes his conflict glaringly clear. Beyond the grief in his gaze, there is excitement and explicit desire.


Uncertain as to why he’d be so conflicted I plead, “Why not?” and seek his lips with mine once again, kissing them softly as I gauge his expression.


His intake of air is cool against my mouth as he replies, “It’s complicated…”


Furrowing my brows in annoyance, I pull my lips away and offer him a firm stare. “It’s only complicated because you’re making it complicated. Just kiss me and shut the fuck up.” I tighten my fist in his shirt and warn him with my eyes, a final attempt.


His lips part slightly as he gawks at me, his fingers in my hair eerily still before suddenly tightening. His eyes, being so incredibly expressive, make the moment in which he settles his warring conflict amazingly clear. His hand crushes my face to his and I whimper at the force with which his lips begin devouring mine. His nose creates uneven hisses of air that make his enthusiasm apparent. My nose is still sore from the accident, tender and sensitive, but I press my face closer, incapable of really giving a shit. It’s like he’s lowered a wall and is choosing to display some kind of long-festering desire for me—even though I know that’s likely my narcissism talking.


My hand slides up his chest and tangles itself in his chaotic hair, pressing his face closer as I match his kisses in speed and intensity. We open our mouths at the same time, both choosing to completely disregard our lack of dental hygiene as our tongues meet.


He moans so softly that I can hardly be certain it had occurred. Entering my mouth with fervor, his hand abandons my hair and finds my hip, pulling my body closer to his. We scoot, settle, and hover. I eagerly mimic his kiss as our tongues continuously draw back from one another’s lips, only to plunge forward with enthusiasm. I lift my leg over his hip in an attempt to get closer. His hand slides from my hip and cups my ass. He massages gently at first, before palming it firmly and crushing my pelvis to him. His rough groan reverberates from my mouth and down my body, settling at the aching point between my legs.


I roll onto my back, pulling my fistful of fabric and his body with me. He acquiesces without much objection, only minutely hesitant as he rests between my open legs and continues his greedy kisses. Breathing erratically, I lift my hips and seek the friction of his probable erection. I’m rewarded with his sharp grunt into my mouth as I make contact, gasping at the sensations that propel my hips further into him. His weight falls onto me, a satisfying pressure against my chest that leaves me impossibly more breathless as I writhe underneath him.


He rests his forearms on either side of my head and lifts his face away, looking out into the forest with darkened eyes and a heaving chest. He ducks his head, but doesn’t meet my gaze. Instead, he squints into the darkness and locks his jaw, softly muttering, “Fuck, I’m going to hell.”


I crease my forehead in absent confusion, for I’m pretty positive, given his history, he was going to hell long before dry humping a random whore in the forest.


Finally dropping his gaze to mine, his eyes tighten and his hips shift into me with a deliberate thrust, and I lose the capacity to dissect the context of his statement. We both exhale shuddering sighs, my head digging into the ground below as my body arches into him.


He drops his lips to my neck and kisses my throat absently, focused on the motion of his erection grinding against me. I slip my hands underneath his shirt and grasp his belt loops, crushing his pelvis to mine tighter as I writhe against it wantonly. I vaguely see his arm shift out of my periphery, his palm digging itself into the dirt as our movements grow harder and faster.


“Oh, shit,” he hisses into my neck as I swirl my hips into him, a growing pressure, familiar and urgent, making my wriggles more and more desperate. His mumbles into the flesh of my neck in broken, muffled murmurs, “Waited… long… better than I ever… fuck...”


“Just—” I whimper, sliding my hand down and inside of his back pocket, clutching him to me tighter. “…don’t stop.”


I can tell that this will be one of those almost-sexual experiences that I’d never tell my girlfriends about. Instead, I’d embellish it and conveniently forget to mention the way in which his dick slides to the left, just out of “Go Zone,” and the scurrying motion my hips make to right the positioning. They’d never know the sound of his husky chuckle against my neck as I huff in annoyance and force it into proper dry-humping arrangement. I’d definitely leave out the near-knocking of my forehead against his as I search for his lips and feverishly shift myself against him. I’d probably just say we had naked, hot, forest sex and leave it at that. In reality, this feels much more intimate and vulnerable.


The best part of the experience is seeing his expression as his forehead rests against mine, pressing distracted kisses to my lips. His eyes are screwed tightly closed, jaw taught as his brows softly furrow in concentration. He slides himself against me with eventual fluidity, finding a rhythm that suits us both.


Occasionally, his features will ease and he’ll sigh, long and slow. Another fevered swirl of my hips, and his forehead creases again, teeth clenching as he pushes into me with more urgency.


I can eventually feel myself at that delicate precipice and am so close to exploding that my hands shake with tension, my legs quaking and burning with the exertion of my frantic squirms under his weight. My mind chants a mantra of “Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”


A fucking helicopter could land on the river, and I’d ignore that bitch.


Just as my pelvic bone begins throbbing in protest of the friction, a violent warmth blooms through my body. I whimper and thrust my hips higher into his, grinding against him as the sudden longing to have him slip lower, finding my opening and entering me, erupts into a fierce detonation of stinging gratification.


I say his name, all guttural and embarrassing, and who really cares that it emerges as, “E-wur--fuhhhck?”


The sweet, almost aching sensations of my orgasm wax and slowly wane. I press my hips into him for one last indulgence of the piercing, residual pleasure, and shift my fatigued gaze to him.


He’s still sliding against me, his face buried into my neck as his quick breaths dampen my skin. The arm that is partially holding him up beings shaking as his muscles constrict. Raising his head, he grunts with a forceful thrust, his eyes suddenly flying open.