This is Part 3 of my adventures after travelling 4,000 miles to have a super romantic and super hot summer fling with a man I’d met on holiday in Greece the year before. Check out Part 2 for a (literally and figuratively) steamy session in the hot spring!
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It was two days after our very public steamy sex in the hot springs, and we were still so wrapped up in each other that we were going about our road trip in a state of perpetual arousal. I’d never felt this continually turned on, ever, and we still had five days to go.
It probably didn’t help, then, that we had a horse riding excursion booked for that day. Being from Colorado, he knew how to ride western style and wanted to help me – trained in the much more formal English style of riding – to loosen up! Unfortunately, the ride had the opposite effect for both of us: we spend the majority of the ride checking out each other’s asses as we bounced along in our saddles, and the constant up-and-down motion didn’t do much to cool my lust, either!
Unfortunately, we were riding with a backcountry guide, so stopping for a quickie in the forest wasn’t an option! The most action we got was when we stopped for a break at a beautiful, crystal-clear lake. Our guide wandered off to find a spot where she could lead the horses down to the water for a drink, leaving us alone for a few precious minutes surrounded by the most stunning beauty. We managed to steal a quick make out session, but just as soon as he’d managed to unzip my stiff riding jeans and slip a finger into my wet pussy, we could hear the cracking of twigs as our guide and the horses returned.
By the time the ride had ended, we were both aching: our muscles ached from riding our horses and I had a deep ache inside me that could only be soothed by one thing.
The drive to our campground that night was agonising. That was, until he had an idea. He knew the mountains well, having lived there all his life, and he’d worked out our entire itinerary. He’d planned for us to visit another small and little-known mountain lake in the morning, but knowing how close we were to it and how close he was to a blue ball emergency, he suggested we stop there before setting up camp. I didn’t hesitate to agree.
Just as he’d promised, the lake was breathtaking. A grassy meadow led down to the water and thickly forested mountain peaks flanked it on all sides. And, just as he’d promised, the scene was deserted. It was already after 7pm, the sun still up but low, the warm summer air already replaced with the chilly breeze of a mountain night.
Even though we were in public, this time it didn’t feel risky or rebellious as we lay down in the grass by the banks of the lake and began to explore each other’s bodies with our fingers, then our tongues. It felt peaceful, magical, ethereal. The remains of the evening sun cast a warm glow over everything and the darkening water lapped at its banks as he climbed on top of me, pushed my panties to the side and entered me with a sigh – I still don’t know if it was a sigh of relief after a long day of riding a horse rather than me, or of reverence for the moment.
Our sex that night was the most passionate we’d had yet: the weight of his body stayed pressed against mine for almost the entire duration, and I was able to wrap my arms around him and dig my nails into the firm muscles of his back and press him closer as he thrust deeper and deeper into me. We couldn’t stop kissing, and somehow the feeling of his tongue exploring mine made me feel the steady, slow slide of his cock even more intensely.
“Oh god,” he moaned at one point and sat up, still inside me, as though he wanted to slow it down to preserve the moment.
“No, please, I want you to come in me,” I begged.
And that was the trigger. He stayed upright but grabbed my thighs to pull me closer. I remember my back burning a little as it scraped along the grass, but I didn’t care at all. He kept a tight hold on my thighs as he began to really pound, and yet I still wanted it to be somehow faster, harder. I threw my hands back behind my head and this shifted my position so that he could thrust even deeper and more quickly, his hands now supporting my ass and squeezing it too, and we both came together, him deep inside me as I trembled.
We lay together on the grass for a long time afterwards, and it didn’t matter that it was cold now, or that there were insects crawling in the grass, or that our stomachs were rumbling from missing supper. Because, in my memory and at the time too, it felt perfect.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/g79lhb/i_travelled_4000_miles_to_ride_a_horse_and_then