Lone Hiker [MMF] [Blow Job] [Cum]

The sun beat down on the ridge trail, sweat tracing lazy paths down our backs. Michelle had been teasing me all morning (those tiny black shorts hugging her ass, the way she’d bend over to “fix” her boot laces just to give me a view). By the time we hit the overlook, I was aching.

That’s when we heard him: low, ragged breaths and the wet slap of a fist on flesh. Michelle stopped so fast I walked straight into her. Twenty feet off the trail, half-hidden by a boulder, a lean, sun-browned guy had his shorts around his thighs and his cock in his hand, stroking slow and deliberate like he had all day.

Michelle’s fingers found mine and squeezed hard. She didn’t say a word at first, just watched, lips parted. Then she leaned in, breath hot against my ear.

“Go help him finish, baby. I want to watch you take that cock down your throat.”

My pulse hammered so loud I barely heard my own heartbeat. The way Michelle said it (like it was the hottest thing she could imagine) lit me up from the inside. I stepped off the trail. The guy’s eyes flew open when my shadow crossed him. He froze, hand still wrapped around a thick, flushed shaft, panic flashing across his face.

“Relax,” I rasped. “We’re good.”

Michelle’s voice drifted over, velvet and wicked. “He’s shy, but he sucks cock like he was born for it. He’s practiced on my strapon at home. You’ll see.”

His gaze snapped to her, then back to me. He didn’t move away.

I dropped to my knees in the pine needles. Up close he was gorgeous: heavy cock, slick head, a bead of precum trembling at the slit. I wrapped my fingers around the base (hot, pulsing) and he let out a broken sound. Behind me, I heard the soft rustle of fabric, then Michelle’s quiet moan.

I glanced back. She’d shoved her shorts and panties down just enough to get her hand between her legs, fingers already circling her clit, eyes locked on us. Her tank top was rucked up, one breast spilling out, nipple hard in the open air.

“Fuck his mouth,” she breathed, sliding two fingers into herself with a wet sound. “I’m so fucking wet watching you.”

I turned back and took him in one long glide, lips stretching around his girth. He cursed, hips jerking. I hollowed my cheeks and sucked, tongue tracing the vein underneath. His hand settled gently on my head, guiding without forcing.

Michelle’s breathing turned ragged. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her lean against a tree, shorts now around one ankle, three fingers pumping in and out while her thumb worked her clit in tight circles. Every time I swallowed him deeper, she moaned louder.

“God, look at you,” she panted. “My husband on his knees for a stranger’s cock. So fucking hot.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled off long enough to growl, “Get over here.”

Michelle was there in two steps, tits fully out now, skin flushed pink. She dropped down beside me, kissing me hard (tasting him on my tongue) while her hand replaced mine on the guy’s cock, stroking him fast and slick.

“Fuck me while you suck him,” she whispered against my lips. “I need it now.” I stood just long enough to shove my own shorts down. My cock sprang free, aching. Michelle bent forward over a low rock, ass up, glistening pussy on full display. I lined up and slammed home in one thrust. She cried out, pushing back to meet me.

The guy stepped closer, cock bobbing at mouth level. I leaned in and took him again, the angle perfect. Every thrust into Michelle and I bobbed deeper down on his cock. She reached underneath herself, rubbing her clit frantically.

The forest filled with the sounds of us: wet slaps of my hips against her ass, the sloppy noise of my mouth on his cock, Michelle’s broken moans echoing off the rocks.

“I’m close,” the guy groaned, thighs trembling.

“Me too,” Michelle whimpered. “Both of you, on my tits, now.”

I pulled out of her with a wet sound, spun her around. She dropped to her knees between us, yanking her top all the way off. Her breasts bounced free, nipples dark and begging.

I stroked myself twice. The guy did the same. Michelle cupped her tits, offering them up, eyes wild.

First rope was his (thick and hot across her left breast). Then mine, striping the right, dripping down the curve. We kept coming, painting her chest until cum ran in slow rivulets over her skin, pooling in the hollow between her breasts.

Michelle looked up at me, lips swollen, chest heaving. “Clean your wife.”

I fell to my knees and licked her clean (slow, deliberate strokes of my tongue gathering every drop). I sucked it off her nipples, traced the sticky trails down to her sternum, swallowed it all while she cradled my head and moaned my name.

When I finally pulled back, her skin shone with nothing but my spit. She smiled, lazy and sated, then leaned in and kissed me deep (tasting both of us on my tongue). Behind us, the guy was already tugging his shorts up, dazed and grinning like he’d won the lottery.

Michelle stood, tucked her gorgeous tits away, and laced her fingers through mine. “Come on, baby,” she said, voice husky. “Let’s finish the hike. I still owe you one more load before we get back to the car.”