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I needed to extend my knowledge of expletives, or invent some entirely new ones—the ones I had did neither the moment, nor the feeling, justice. Not even close. I needed something that was harsh, guttural, and expressive to sum up what I was feeling at that moment. I made a note to look up a few German curse words. Surely they’d have something that would fit the occasion.
When we’d started out, I was aware of the weight of Bear’s gaze on me, even though I had my eyes closed, but a few moments later I felt the mood shift again, and sure enough, when I peeped through the tiniest sliver of a gap in my eyelids, my instinct was confirmed. He had his eyes closed too. I didn’t know him well enough to be able to accurately read the expression on his face. It seemed to hover in the murky wasteland between pleasure and pain.
I knew the feeling. I’d been easing myself into both the experience of being with a guy who was hung like his namesake, and into the emotions associated with fucking someone for whom I held so much contempt, but then he’d thrust himself inside me with all the finesse I’d expect from a ball player called Bear. So much for knowing how to work with what he had gently, or whatever the fuck he’d promised. I must have been deluded to have taken him at his word.
Still, in the midst of the swirling and contradictory emotions, I had to admit that I liked it—his dick and the way it felt inside me. It was a shame I didn’t feel the same about the owner of the appendage in question, but we couldn’t have it all in life. Nobody knew that better than me, and at that point in time, I was happy to settle for the promise held in the orgasm I could feel building from the tip of my toes, and then call it quits.
As we continued to do battle with our bodies, attracting and repelling like magnets turned against each other, I tried to separate my emotions from my body and shut down my mind. My body had certain basic needs, and in the end, that was all the libido was—just another need to be fulfilled. Like eating and drinking, or inhaling and exhaling.
It was that concept alone—the idea that I could be physically present while being mentally and emotionally absent—that kept me riding Bear’s dick, rather than calling the whole thing off, taking Bear up on his “offer” for me to navigate myself home, and hightailing it back down the mountain as fast as my non-hiking legs would carry me.
In reality, there was no way I was going anywhere until I got what my body craved so badly, and I was working hard to achieve that reality as I rode Bear like my life depended on it. As deep and as hard as he was pushing into me, I maintained the rotating motion of my hips, and the opposite but complementary movements pressed buttons I hadn’t even known I had until that point. I was overwhelmed, no, consumed with pleasure, and I couldn’t get enough—though I would happily have died trying.
It was the first time I’d ever had sex without some kind of emotional connection. Not to say that every time I’d ever slept with a guy it had been love’s young dream, but there had always been some kind of common ground—no matter how minor. Even the rare one-night stands I’d ever had were with guys I’d been attracted to both physically and in terms of their personality.
Likewise, the one time I’d briefly had a fuck-buddy, and an ill-advised attempt at “friends with benefits”, had been with guys I would happily have spent time with outside of the bedroom—had, in fact—before we’d slept together, and continued to do so afterwards.
Bear was different. With him it was all about the sex, and it surprised me that just focusing on the physical could feel so good, but when I made the realization I decided to take his advice and not overthink it. It was only sex. People had sex for the sheer fun of it all the time. The fact that I hadn’t previously been one of those people just meant that I’d been late to the party. Better late than never, though, and now that I was there, I intended to become a total party animal to make up for lost time.
As my arousal built to fever pitch, I threw my head back and ground myself onto Bear even harder, relishing the slight discomfort that held the key to more pleasure than I could ever remember experiencing. My body was buzzing raw with it, and when my orgasm hit, I knew sex would never be the same again.
The bar set by that one life-altering orgasm would be hard to ever surpass. I reveled in the bliss it delivered, not even considering whether Bear had come along for the ride. Not that I cared, one way or the other, but when he drew me down onto his dick with increased urgency and depth, I knew he was close. I rode him harder and faster, chasing the remnants of my dying climax as he spiraled into the apex of his. His dick pulsed and spasmed inside me, as I clenched around him.
As soon as I was sure he was done, I pulled off of him as though his skin was on fire, and scarring me with first-degree burns. As I scurried away to retrieve my discarded clothing, I could scarcely remember a time when I’d felt as awkward, and for a bookish natural introvert that was really saying something.
Once the endorphins from my orgasm-induced high had worn off, I was hit with a strong sense of how absurd the whole situation was. Fucking a near stranger called Bear who I mostly couldn’t stand, in a clearing, like a woodland animal, was nothing short of fucking demented.
I dressed quickly, with my back to Bear, acutely aware of rustling leaves, and snapping twigs as he moved around behind me. I hoped he’d get the message and not try to talk to, or otherwise engage with, me in any way, but I feared that was wishful thinking.
“You know, you can shut your eyes on the devil, but when you open them, he’ll still be there staring right back at you.” I jumped a mile in the air, both at the harshness of his voice cutting through the now eerie-seeming silence, and also the words themselves, and their chilling familiarity.
“You can shut your eyes on the devil, but when you open them, he’ll still be there staring right back at you.” The menacing words ricocheted around my mind. My blood ran cold, and I went into flight mode, finishing getting dressed in record time. I needed to get out of there while I still could.
Still not making eye contact with Bear, or acknowledging his presence in any way, I picked up my bag, shucked it back onto my back, and headed for the path that had led us into the clearing before.
“Oh, it’s like that, is it? Morning after the night before regrets? Except it’s not morning, there was no night before, and you can’t even blame alcohol for the lapse in judgment,” he called out to my retreating back, his voice a sing-song trill, that I guessed didn’t accurately reflect his mood. I didn’t slow my pace or look behind me. I simply carried on striding toward freedom, hoping to God I remembered how to find my way back.
Moments later it was clear that I wouldn’t need to. “This is going to be the longest walk of shame in the history of walks of shame.” Wasn’t that the truth.
I knew something was wrong as soon as I opened my bedroom door. It was nothing glaringly overt, the space just felt different. The feel of the air? The smell? I couldn’t put my finger on it specifically enough to give it a name, but it was definitely there.
A cursory glance around told me that nothing obvious was missing. My laptop was still on my desk, as was the vintage decorative typewriter that sat alongside it. Those two items were by far my most valuable possessions—both in emotional and monetary terms. If anything else was missing, they—whoever they were, and if there even was a “they”—were welcome to whatever it was.
On the other hand, I had no proof beyond a gut feeling that all was not right with the world. To allay my fears, or confirm them, I methodically searched my entire room, trying to see if anything had been taken—significant or otherwise. I checked my desk drawers, my closet and chest, even the laundry hamper, but I couldn’t find anything immediately out of place or missing.
After taking a burning hot shower in a futile attempt to wash the putridity of the day’s events from my skin, I fired up my laptop, deciding to try to get some work done. I figured it would serve the dual purpose of helping me catch up on the things I’d missed while I was out hiking, and taking my mind off my unease.
In reality, I failed at both things, especially the work part. I just couldn’t keep my head in the game long enough to achieve anything meaningful. I did, however, manage to knock my anxiety levels down from fever pitch to a dull roar, so that was something.
After too many hours of getting nothing done other than beating myself up for having gotten nothing done, I decided to quit while I was less behind, and get an early night. Tomorrow was a new day, and perhaps I’d be able to think more clearly about what the fuck was happening after a good night’s sleep.
As I lay down hoping that tomorrow would be better, I slipped my hands under my pillow, the way I always had. When they touched something unexpected, I pulled them out, and stifled a scream as I looked down on it, registering what it was.
Chapter 15
Bear
“Okay, okay! Calm your farm, where’s the fucking fi—” I’d jerked the door open roughly, fully expecting to see one of the guys impatiently standing on the other side.
