Body Temperature and Rising by K.D. Grace

Out of nowhere the clouds descended, blocking the midday sun and the view of the Borrowdale Valley below. The path ahead of Marie vanished in a roil of thick mist. She shivered, then squinted at her compass. Damn it! The weather forecast had promised sunshine for the day, unseasonably warm, it had said, just like it had been all week. She reassured herself that there was no real way she could get lost on Maiden Moor and High Spy, so close to civilization. Then why did the mist feel so unsettling?

She shifted the pack on her back and tried to remember if this was the route she had taken with her parents. But that was fifteen years ago, and there had been no fog.

The world around her fell silent, as she stepped cautiously forward. She heard no bird song, no breeze, and stranger still; on what was a frequently walked path, she heard no other people. It was as though she were the only person left in the world. As she followed the flank of the fell around, the silence deepened still further until even the sound of her own breath seemed muted in the mist. Goose flesh rose along the back of her neck, and she shivered. A few more steps and the sound of a woman’s voice, half whispered in the mist, stopped her in her tracks.

‘Anderson? Are you there?’

The knot in her stomach tightened at the possibility of this Anderson being lost to his companion in the fog.

‘Anderson?’ The voice came again. It didn’t sound particularly frightened. ‘Anderson, I need you.’

Marie was about to round an outcropping of rock that obscured the path when, directly in front of her, the mist cleared, and she caught sight of the woman calling for this Anderson guy. Her dark hair was pulled back in a heavy pony tail, and her legs extended forever from underneath kaki walking shorts.

Marie was about to make her presence known when out of the fog, almost as though he had materialised from nowhere, stepped a dark-haired man with a closely trimmed beard. He was broad shouldered, a little taller than the woman, and dressed in a black suite of vintage cut.

Damn tourists, Marie thought. What the hell was he thinking coming on to the fells dressed like that? Her irritation was interrupted by an intense tingling of heat below her navel that flashed hot, took her breath away and nearly drove her to her knees before it cooled to a warm buzz and skittered down low inside her pelvic girdle. Just then the man scooped the woman into his arms and kissed her with an open-mouthed tongue-fondling that left Marie’s insides feeling like warm toffee. Instinctively she stepped back, not wanting to interrupt the reunion.

‘I was worried when you weren’t here,’ the woman spoke between breathless kisses.

‘Tara, my love, I came as soon as you called. You must not worry so.’

She released a sigh that was almost a sob. ‘I have good reason.’

‘Of course you do, my darling. But worry will not ease our situation. So we shall do what we must. And I will do whatever it is you ask of me.’

There was something in the way the man spoke that was strange. The accent was very British, and yet not. And the way he moved against the woman, the way he protectively pulled her to him, the way his mouth made love to hers banished Marie’s irritation that they’d chosen her path for their reunion. Irritation was replaced by longing that ached down through her torso to mingle with the strange buzz that had migrated to the soft spot between her legs, and the air felt suddenly warmer. The man’s hands joined the reunion. He slid the strap of the woman’s tank top down to spill a bare breast heavily into his waiting palm. He paused to knead it and fondle it as though he had never seen anything more exquisite. Then he took as much of it into his mouth as he could. The woman released a shrill gasp as though cold water had been poured onto her. ‘I can feel it,’ she breathed. ‘We were right.’ Then she held him to her, letting him nurse at her in hungry nibbles and slurps.

Marie should have left, and yet she stood riveted to the rock beneath her, feeling heavy and pliant, as though something had suddenly filled her and was moulding her and shaping her from the inside with fiery hands. Her breasts tingled at the rub and tickle of the man’s beard against Tara’s tender flesh, at the tug and pull of pursed lips on swollen nipples. She felt almost as though it were her breasts at which he nursed.

Marie clasped her hand over her mouth to hold back a gasp of appreciation as, from the man’s trousers, the woman manoeuvred the longest, thickest erection she had ever seen. Not that she’d seen that many erections When had there been time? She could almost feel the hot stiffened twitch of maleness against the woman’s hand.

As the mist floated around them revealing, concealing and revealing again, he slipped his other hand into Tara’s shorts. She caught her breath and nibbled her bottom lip as he found what he was looking for. Then she squirmed and twisted against him, practically sitting on his hand, as he stroked her. The look on her face was one of deepest concentration.

For a moment the mist thickened around the couple, and Marie held her breath listening desperately to hungry grunts that she felt deep in her belly and to little throaty moans that tingled down low, down where she shifted almost unconsciously into the dampening press of her panties against her labia.

When the mist cleared again, Anderson was sliding Tara’s shorts down, kneeling to kiss and nibble her calf as he lifted one exquisite leg free from both shorts and a pale lace thong that was definitely not what Marie would consider standard walking apparel.

He lifted the freed leg higher until Marie was afforded the perfect view of the woman’s distended lips, glistening like the heavily-dewed hawthorn flowers she’d cut this morning for a vase on her kitchen table. Marie was certain her own pout had to be at least as wet. The heat and the buzz between her legs intensified, and the slippery ache overrode the guilt at being an unwelcome voyeur, as she wriggled and strained against the seam of her walking trousers and her much more practical panties.

Anderson lifted Tara’s still booted foot onto his shoulder in reckless disregard for his pristine suit. He moved forward cupping Tara’s arse cheeks in large kneading handfuls, guiding her into enough of a squat to position her splayed cunt so that his tongue had easy access. Then he buried his face deep into the woman’s pussy, as though he planned to split her in two with his tongue and the wedge of his face. The woman trembled and pressed back hard against the rock, surely just to keep from collapsing under the overwhelming pleasure of what Anderson’s mouth must feel like eating at her so deeply.

Marie was amazed that, totally surrounded by fog as they were, her view was still perfect, even enhanced. She could almost feel the distended press of the woman’s nipples as she tugged and pulled at them with the hand not curled possessively in the man’s dark hair. She could almost smell the slippery sheen of the woman’s heat coating the man’s beard. And the rise and fall of his chest matched her own hungry need for oxygen. A single droplet of precome glistened on the head of his uncut cock. It lewdly, jutted and danced between his legs like an escapee from his dapper trousers. It boldly proclaimed freedom with each bounce and shudder against heavy balls pressed tight in their own effort to escape confinement.

It was as if the world in the mist now contained nothing else but the three of them. And the world the three of them inadvertently shared had shifted into slow motion, as though every detail were magnified, intensified and stretched to the breaking point all at the juncture between Marie’s thighs.

Even in her fantasies nothing like this had ever happened. Marie moved very carefully, feeling the rock shift under her feet as she eased her cold hand down the front of her trousers and into her panties. She shuddered at her first touch. Her knees felt weak as water as she wriggled her fingers in between her pussy lips, already drenched and swelling. She couldn’t hold back a sigh at the velvety feel of herself, at her salty sweet aroma infusing the fresh fell air.

In the crescendo of her lust she wondered if even the crotch of her trousers would bear the mark of her heat when she was finished, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if her juices flooded and ran down her legs to puddle on the path beneath her, she could not have pulled away if her life depended on it. It was as though she were the invisible third party entangled in a rutting threesome too far gone to disengage.

Anderson tongued his way up over Tara’s belly, his face shimmering with her moisture, moving upward to suckle each of her nipples in turn before he pulled her to him and whispered against her ear.

Marie froze, her hand still in her knickers. She held her breath, but she couldn’t make out the man’s words.

Tara nodded and spoke breathlessly. ‘Yes, I know. I feel it. Such a powerful lust. We can’t hide it. There’s no way.’ She gave his cock a caress, and it jumped at her touch.

‘I fear it is far too late for that now.’ He turned her to the flank of the rise, where she bent, resting her arms against the rock, exposing the half-domes of her arse cheeks to Anderson and to Marie.

Tara lifted one knee onto a boulder. As Anderson helped position her, Marie caught an exquisite glimpse of the dark clench of her anus. As he spread her and she shifted her hips to accommodate him, the engorged lips of her cunt pouted into view again, open and anxious before him, before Marie.

As Marie watched his fingers move over the slick spread of the woman’s open folds she wished it were her cunt Anderson was caressing. But at the same time she wished she could touch the soft smooth skin that opened itself so pliantly to his probing. Marie could swear she smelled the tide pool of the woman’s arousal, different from her own, yet so delicious that it made her mouth water. Anderson postured over Tara, his cock like a sword pressing downward in his hand. His open fly exposed only his cock and the squeeze of his balls, which somehow made the act seem all the naughtier.

Suddenly the air around her chilled. The world tilted, and Marie felt dizzy and confused as though she had just awakened from a dream to find herself somewhere other than where she should be. Hands cupped and splayed her, hands she couldn’t see. An erection that wasn’t there pressed anxiously at her cunt. Her heart hammered, everything below her navel surged hot and trembled. The press of flesh and the smell of sex enfolded her on all sides as though she were drowning in a heavy demanding caress, one that pushed at her, prodded at her, nuzzled at her, threatening to overwhelm her.

‘Please, Anderson I can’t contain it. Help me.’

It was the sound of Tara’s voice that pulled Marie back from cold panic, just as Anderson thrust home. Then the world warmed again and swung back into focus. Once more the sounds of pleasure filtered through the thick, otherwise silent air. As Anderson mounted Tara with a desperate grunt, it stopped mattering whether they knew she was there, and Marie felt strangely included in their intimacy. She pressed herself harder and harder into the palm of her hand, pinching her nipples until they ached in empathy with the growing rush building just behind her clit, a storm surge threatening to burst the dam and rip her apart.

Tara’s hair had come free from the pony tail and fell in a dark curtain around her face. Marie could almost see the heatwaves radiating up the woman’s spine, higher and higher, as though Anderson jack-hammered them into her with each joint-cracking thrust of his cock.

It was obvious Anderson was straining close to the edge when Tara pulled away from him and turned around, grabbing his cock and keeping the rhythm steady. He dropped onto a bolder, then she knelt in front of him and began to slide his swollen erection between her breasts, faster and faster. Her eyelids fluttered and her lips moved rapidly, like she was saying something, chanting something over and over again, something Marie couldn’t quite make out. Not that she needed to with the sensory overload already throbbing through her whole body. Anderson braced himself against the rocks, thrusting with abandon between the tight grip of Tara’s breasts, every muscle tense and quivering, until at last his whole body shuddered. ‘Oh dear Goddess,’ he gasped.

Tara pulled back, guiding his cock so that his viscous load splattered across her breasts in high arching spurts. Marie felt fire spread through her chest and down over her belly in empathy with the couple, and she humped herself harder, whimpering, gasping desperate to come.

The look on Anderson’s face was ecstatic as he unloaded. Then he joined Tara in whatever it was she was still repeating over and over again. While they chanted, he caressed and massaged and stroked, spreading his semen as though he were spreading lotion over Tara’s body, even up her neck and onto her cheeks and forehead. All the while Tara undulated and moaned beneath his touch and continued her chant.

‘My seed covers, but the power still resides in you,’ Anderson breathed. ‘And shall we release it now, my love?’

Tara only nodded and continued her breathless mutterings.

Before Marie could wonder what they were on about, he lifted Tara onto an outcropping of rock that was just the right height. ‘Then we shall complete what we have begun. Let me release it for you now, my darling, allow me the pleasure of finishing it.’

My God, the way the man talked, Marie thought. He could convince a woman her cunt was lined with gold. She could probably come just on his words alone.

He buried his face once more in Tara’s pussy, and once again, Marie felt as though she had been physically pulled into their intimacy.

With her gaze locked on the writhing couple, Marie tugged and pinched at the heavy nib of her clit until it buzzed with raw heat close to pain but much closer still to pleasure. She shoved and twisted and thrust the rest of her fingers into her grasping cunt until she reached the precipice, lingered there for a moment, then free-fell into a long dizzying orgasm, just as Tara convulsed her own release in breathless guttural grunts.

Marie’s legs gave under her, and she sat down hard, letting the aftershocks wash over her. Oxygen rushed back into her starving lungs. Muscles, strained to the point of collapse, relaxed and softened. The strange fire between her hip bones subsided to a warm thrum, and as the mist descended around her again, she managed to crawl to a mossy spot. Suddenly it didn’t matter how far she still had to walk or how thick the mist was. She could no longer hold her eyes open.

Just before she dozed, she thought she heard Anderson say, ‘There. That’s better, is it not?’