Page 7 of Trapped with the Mountain Man

I flipped around, facing the door, and closed my eyes for good measure. A rustle behind me told me she was removing her clothes, and I was picturing every second of it. The shirt coming off, followed by her bra, those gorgeous tits out in the open. And then she’d go for the jeans, unfastening them and lowering the zipper.

I unfastened my own jeans and lowered the zipper, letting out a breath as my erection got a little room to breathe. I wouldn’t pull my jeans down until I knew she was comfortable, but it wouldn’t hurt to have the zipper open.

“Okay,” she said. “I’m plugging this thing in. Don’t turn around yet.”

The tanning bed fired up behind me, the bulbs brightening the room considerably. A hum replaced the silence around us. There was something kind of comforting about it.

“You can look now,” she said, her voice coming from the direction of the tanning bed.

I turned, my gaze shooting straight to the tanning bed. She was exactly as I’d found her before, including wearing her panties. If she felt more comfortable in them, I wasn’t going to complain. If I had anything to do with it, they’d be off her by the end of the night.

“Can I take off my jeans now?” I asked, feeling like a kid asking a teacher for a hall pass to go to the bathroom.

“Uh-huh.”

Her eyes were closed. Her right hand was on her stomach, her left extended straight out by her side. She looked like she was tanning, but I couldn’t help but think that right hand was ready to move downward as soon as she felt comfortable.

I kicked off my shoes and dropped my jeans, kicking them off to the side too. And then I was standing there wearing only my underwear, my bulge more than a little noticeable now.

She tilted her head to the left and looked at me. “Underwear too.”

She didn’t take her eyes off me as I looped a thumb under each side of the waistband and tugged downward. My cock sprang free, and her eyes widened. I hoped that meant she liked what she saw.

“Do you want me to pull the lid down?” I asked, pointing toward the top part of the tanning bed.

She shook her head. “I don’t have goggles.”

Her eyes were on me, and I wasn’t talking about my face. They were directly on my midsection. She was taking in my cock.

Was it the first time she’d seen one? Probably in person.

“Now what?” she asked.

Her hands were way too still on her stomach. I wanted to see them moving around. I wanted to see her moaning with pleasure.

“What would make you feel comfortable?” I asked.

Her gaze darted to my face, those eyes still wide. “What do you do? When you, you know…”

“Masturbate?” I asked.

I’d use the term jerk off, but that might be too much. Especially since earlier, she’d used the word orgasm instead of come.

“Show me,” she said.

Holy hell. This was supposed to be about her, not me. But if it made her feel comfortable, I’d do whatever she said.

I wrapped my hand around my thick cock and gave it a long, slow stroke, going all the way to the tip, then back to the base. She stared. In fact, it didn’t seem like she could take her eyes off what I was doing.

“Should I touch my breasts?” she asked.

My cock twitched at the question. “Yes.”

I was surprised at the hoarseness of my own voice. But this had begun long before I started stroking. In fact, if this kept up, I’d probably be able to come without touching myself or her.

She moved both hands to her breasts, cupping them. I gave another stroke, then another, as I watched.

“Run your fingers across your nipples,” I said, instructing her as she seemed to want.

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