Page 91 of Charming Deception

He just likes crawling up my ass any chance he can get.

There. The hard-on has definitely softened.

Then Megan stirs in her sleep, and my cock throbs again.

I can’t go on like this.

I’ll get no sleep.

That, or I’ll fall asleep, get hard again and maybe come all over the sheets in the night. I haven’t had a wet dream since puberty, but I wouldn’t put it outside the realm of possibility under the circumstances.

An image of Megan pops into my head—my come dripping down her naked tits.

It’s stunningly easy to picture.

My cock throbs with want.

I roll onto my side, away from her, and grab the tablet from my nightstand, along with my glasses. I crank the screen brightness way down so I won’t bother her and start reading as a distraction.

It rains that day, and our trek is slow.

Late morning, I find a cave to wait out the rain. Neither of us wants to be inside or wants to sit.

So we stand, restless, at the mouth of the cave beneath an overhang of rock, where we’re dry. Her to one side of the cave and me to the other.

We don’t look at each other.

There’s an urgency building to get to our destination, maybe because we both know we’re almost halfway there. And something’s changing between us, the balance tipping so fast, if we just keep going, maybe we think we can somehow outrun the inevitable.

It’s been different since I talked to her like I did the other night. Since she touched herself while I talked her through it.

Since she came as I guided her there.

“How is it you know nothing about sex?” I sound irritable and angry, which is exactly how I feel. I’m getting shittier at hiding it. The miserable weather isn’t helping.

“I never said I know nothing about it.”

“The other night, I was afraid I was gonna have to draw you a map.”

“Well, we don’t exactly get a sex tent for our sixteenth birthday in my tribe,” she snaps. “My mother died when I was six years old. My father died when I was eleven, and he always treated me like some angel who was too good for every boy in the world. He was hardly going to tell me about sex. My brothers only ever talk about themselves. And my Aunt Rose left when I was twelve. All she ever told me was to stay away from savages.”

“And did you?”

She just keeps staring out into the woods, avoiding my eyes. “Until now.”

“You don’t need to be embarrassed about what happened.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why won’t you look at me?”

Finally, she looks at me.

“What you did, people do it all the time,” I tell her.

“It just… feels weird.”

“What does?”

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