tagExhibitionist & VoyeurPrivate Property: No Trespassing

Private Property: No Trespassing


She had moved to the mountain gradually. At first it was a weekend away camping in a tent on the north side of Harris Creek. The weekends turned into weeks, weeks into a month and when a month was no longer enough, she took a sabbatical from work for the summer. She never returned.

She hadn't set out in life to be a recluse; the lullaby of the mountain, however, sang to her more strongly than any siren of the city. She'd begun to think it was inevitable, but held not one regret.

No one knew how she made a living; it was assumed she was some kind of heiress or eccentric millionaire. She was seen in town from time to time as she stocked up on supplies. It was rumored she was intoxicatingly beautiful, but who could give credence to rumors? She was private and withdrawn, living her life on a secluded mountain of which she was extremely protective. No Trespassing and Private Property signs marked every thinkable entrance and exit to her property. And as with most eccentrics, people stayed away from what they could not understand; it afforded her the privacy after which she sought.

James Brogan hadn't heard the stories about the exquisitely beautiful recluse. He didn't know about her eccentricities or her need for solitude. He'd come to the mountain for purely selfish reasons: to regain some inner balance, to leave behind the man he was becoming in an attempt to become the man he wanted to be.

He had decided long ago not to play by society's rules. He hadn't gotten to be what he was today by playing nice; too many times he'd witnessed the nice guys finishing last. It was that attitude that had him ignoring the No Trespassing signs as he hiked through the forest in pursuit of something ...interesting. Elusive. He wasn't sure what; just something he hadn't yet experienced. Something to remind him he was a man at the core, something to remind him he was not just another corporate machine.

He stumbled upon the spring almost by accident. He'd been lost in thoughts of the business world he'd left behind when he cleared the brush and nearly stepped in the water. He stopped and looked around him, an appreciative smile spreading across his features. The spring was like something he'd read about in a novel long ago. He could see where someone had built up a small retaining wall of stones to catch more of the water as it cascaded over a small rock ledge; it effectively created a pool deep enough to bathe in. James squatted down on his haunches, lured by the water to draw his hand through it. He was surprised by its warmth and quickly surmised it must be a natural hot spring. He glanced up at the fall of water as it trickled down over the small cliff. It was just enough of a drop that James could fit underneath it. After traipsing through the forest for the past couple of hours, the spring was too inviting to resist.

But should he undress, here? Out in the open?

Why not? he thought. I haven't seen anyone for hours. Besides, there was something about being naked in nature that suddenly appealed to James. It was as if by shedding his clothing he would be shedding all ties to civilization, reverting back to his instinctual self where primal needs demanded to be met. And if there was one thing James needed at this moment in time it was to feel more alive, more real, more himself than he'd been in more years than he could count.


Having lived in the woods these past few years, Emma had become attuned to the forest around her. She could sense when the first frost would hit, when it would rain and when it would only threaten to rain. She knew the paths the deer followed to drink from the creek each night. She knew where the elk bedded down and she knew, without hesitation, when someone disturbed her closely-guarded privacy. She sensed it, somehow, though she'd never exactly felt threatened till now.

She'd made her way silently through the forest down the path that led from her cabin to the spring, her spring. At the last minute she'd grabbed her hunting rifle -though she'd never had cause to use it before now- but somehow she felt threatened in a way she'd never felt threatened before. Who or what was disturbing her peace?

She heard the tell-tale sounds of another human presence before she even reached the spring. It angered her that someone would so easily trespass when she'd clearly marked her property as private. This was one of the things that had driven her to the woods —the lack of respect in the supposedly "civilized" world. She was angry enough she wanted to step through the brush and confront whoever had stolen her privacy away when suddenly, she caught a glimpse of naked flesh poised beneath the waterfall as it tumbled over the small cliff.

Dear God, she thought, as her eyes widening in awe. Before her stood a man that was more man than any other she'd ever seen. She blinked once, twice, but the apparition would not go away. It almost hurt to watch him, to behold what had to be the most perfect body she'd ever seen: He was tall, very tall. His head nearly touched the ceiling of the outcropping where the water fell; she couldn't even touch it while standing on her tip toes, yet this man nearly bumped it with his head.

His hair was dark, made even darker by the water as it trickled over his head and down his face. And oh, what a face! Clean shaven, but with the slightest darkness under the skin as if he had a perpetual 5 o'clock shadow. She couldn't see what color eyes he had as his lids were closed; she did notice the impossible thickness of his dusky lashes, however. His jaw was square and strong, with a slight cleft in his chin that drew her attention as the water continued to flow over his body.

His shoulders were broad and thick. He was muscled, but not overly so; more like the muscles attained from hard physical labor, not the too-sculpted muscles obtained from hours at the gym pawing free weights. There was a dark smattering of hair on his chest that caught droplets of water and made them sparkle and shine with each subtle turn of his body as he enjoyed his shower. His abdomen was flat, with hair arrowing down to his-

Dear GOD! she thought. If possible, her eyes widened even more. That cannot possibly be... Oh. My. God. One after another her thoughts vied for precedence though only one reigned supreme: Huge. He was huge. Impossibly huge. Hung like the proverbial horse. The kind of huge that romance novels exonerate. The kind of huge that would easily give him a career in the porn industry. And he wasn't even erect.

Emma's cheeks warmed in feminine appreciation of all that was male about this man. She wanted to reach out and trail her fingers down his thighs. She wanted to see if he felt as firm as he looked. She wanted to rub her body up against his if only to experience the differences between her very feminine body and his very masculine one. Quite frankly, Emma lusted after this man on a level more primal than any she'd felt before.

Just then the man opened his eyes. Too perfect, she thought. This man is too perfect. His eyes were a deep blue, so startling a color she could easily discern it across the distance that separated them. He was an Adonis, Michelangelo's David, the most perfect male specimen she'd ever beheld. Her entire body flushed hotly as the man stepped from the water and shook his head like a wolf just stepping from a river. Her eyes drank him in like a woman dying of thirst. He was simply ...amazing. And audacious, she thought. Audacious enough to walk around stark naked on property that wasn't even his! Emma chambered a round in the rifle she carried and drew it up to her shoulder.

The man's eyes narrowed the barest fraction of an inch in reaction to the unmistakable sound while his body tightened in alertness. Emma swore she could see his nostrils flare as if testing the wind for her scent. She had a fleeting thought about the hunter becoming the hunted, but shook it off as she stepped determinedly from the brush. "I'm going to be generous and give you enough time to get dressed," she paused to lick lips that suddenly felt parched, "but then I want you out of here."

The man moved so fast Emma didn't have time to pull off a shot. He moved without hesitation and disarmed her with enough expertise it left her speechless. One second she was on the business end of her rifle, in the next she lay sprawled out on the ground with Mr. Perfect stretched out on top of her. The final insult was the fact he held her gun across her chest, effectively pinning her where she lay. Her eyes darkened angrily.

Short, James thought as he studied his prey, I hate short women. It was something about short women in comparison to his height and size that made him feel too large, as if he needed to be extra careful or he'd end up breaking them with nothing more than a handshake. He'd avoided any woman who didn't at least reach his shoulder for as many years as he could remember. This woman definitely did not reach his shoulder; she had to be at least a foot shorter than him. But as he lay on top of her squirming body and carefully, but purposefully, forced her to stop her struggling beneath him, he could not deny that the body beneath him was definitely, most assuredly, without a doubt, female.

By the time he had her arms pinned to her sides beneath his knees, he'd had a chance to become acquainted with her body in ways more carnal and tempting than he was willing to admit. James leaned back on his knees and studied the woman beneath him. Although years of working in a field where he had to keep a tight hold on his emotion had taught him the art of hiding it, he was unprepared for the stark contrast of her vivid green eyes and pale skin; his eyes opened wide in surprise before narrowing again in perusal. She had long hair, brownish red. It was braided, full of twigs and pine needles from their little skirmish, and lay on the ground near her cheek and shoulder. She wore a t-shirt with an open neck that was pulled so tightly across her chest, he could plainly see the shape and generous size of her breasts. His cock pulsed in masculine appreciation. She shifted beneath him and broke his concentration so he tightened his thighs around her to remind her he was the one in control. The movement allowed him to feel the width of her hips and how they tapered sharply to a small waist. He nearly groaned, a groan borne of that primitive side of him that recognized and appreciated her blatantly female figure on a primal, instinctual level. It was a figure lush with curves and valleys. A figure made for mating, for planting babes within her womb by thrusting himself into her over, and over, and over again.

James shook his head to clear it and watched as droplets of water from his body splashed on her cheeks, breasts and lips. Completely kissable lips, he thought, as he lowered his face deliberately down to hers.

He's too big! Emma thought, as she struggled beneath him. At the tightening of his huge thighs around her body, however, she held as still as she possibly could. It was far too intimate, he was destroying her equilibrium; Emma wasn't at all comfortable with the range of emotions and physical sensations coursing through her body at his nearness. He still hadn't said anything, just watched her with those feral eyes as he took stock of her body while holding her prisoner. Emma didn't have to look to know what she'd see —she'd studied him at her leisure from the bushes: She knew the thighs that encased her body were incredibly thick and muscled. She knew, too, that he was naked, knew that if she were to peek down over her chest to the "v" of his thighs she'd see his cock. Did she imagine it? Or did she just feel something bob against the side of her breast?!

Dear God, she thought, suddenly feeling more small and powerless than she'd ever felt before in her life. He couldn't possibly be aroused, could he? And then his face started lowering to hers, his eyes locked on her lips as her tongue darted out to wet them nervously. Her heart beat painfully in her chest as she watched his face slowly descend. She was powerless to stop him; in the millisecond before his lips touched hers, she wondered fleetingly if she really wanted to.

"Don't ever, ever point a gun at a man unless you're willing to use it." His voice startled her, forcing her eyes open wide as his breath fanned out across her face. She had been expecting his kiss —not this verbal assault on her senses. His voice was deep with a tonal quality as mesmerizing as his blue, blue eyes. When his words finally filtered through her hazy consciousness, Emma flushed scarlet. She clamped her mouth shut so tight a muscle in her jaw pulsed. Her eyes narrowed and her body bunched up even tighter than it was before.

"You are trespassing," she spit at him, then renewed her struggles to be free of him. James pressed the gun firmly against her chest and squeezed his thighs again. He knew it was painful for her because she flinched, then seemed to school her features carefully lest she give too much away. James nearly smiled. He respected a worthy opponent, and though she was no match for him physically, he wondered if she'd be a match for him mentally.

"I was merely passing through," James evaded her accusation.

"You were showering in my spring!" she erupted, pushing up at him with her hips in an attempt to dislodge him.

"You don't want to do that," his voice deepened perceptively.

"And just why don't I?" Emma asked, pushing his nakedness and her reaction to him out her mind.

"This is why," he said, thrusting his hips forward so his cock bobbed insistently against the underside of her breast.

Emma instantly stilled. She knew what that was and the knowledge brought her no comfort. She suddenly realized she was in the middle of the forest with a strange man, a strange naked man, who was getting aroused at her struggles beneath him. Trespasser be damned, this man was dangerous! Very real fear had her swallowing painfully as she tried to calm her breathing. She realized her exertions had caused her to pant, her chest rose and fell repeatedly, continuously bumping his cock as it lay on her chest. No need to incite him further, she thought, and held her breath while she raised her eyes to his.

James hadn't ever quite been in this situation before. Usually when he had a woman between his thighs, it was because she explicitly wanted to be there. More like she'd begged to be there after he'd assaulted her with kisses and raw sex appeal. He wasn't impervious to the way women reacted to him; he knew he was attractive. It annoyed him at times that women only wanted him because he looked good; at other times he played their shallowness to his advantage. But this woman, this woman who was at this very moment looking up at him with real fear on her face, she pulled at something within him. She was different somehow; she wasn't the kind of woman a man fucked and left behind; she was the kind of woman a man kept around, protected, loved.

He didn't want to see fear reflected in her eyes. He wanted to see something else entirely.

James lowered his head again. He kept his eyes open to watch her reaction as she slowly, but assuredly, accepted the fact that this time he was really going to kiss her. At first her eyes reflected surprise; all her barriers were down, now. She was out of her depth and —it appeared to James– incapable of hiding her emotion. This pulled at him in ways he couldn't yet explain and somehow had him promising her within his heart that this afternoon would be one she'd not soon forget.

Emma waited for his lips to claim hers. She knew he would do it as surely as she knew she was a woman. This man exuded raw sex appeal and power. Emma had spent the last two years living on the fringe of society; she'd excluded herself for personal reasons and never had one regret, till now. By secluding herself in these woods she'd denied herself the pleasure of seeing a man naked, of watching him bathe, of feeling his lips on her body as he brought her to one earth-shattering orgasm after another.

Funny, Emma thought in the second before his lips claimed hers, I've never had earth-shattering orgasms with a man ...but I want to. And then his lips were on hers.

It was no tentative kiss, no, not from this man. It was a kiss that promised immeasurable passion, it was a kiss that claimed and marked and as James struggled to reign in the control he was quickly losing, his body cried out in a primal voice, Mine. She was his now, and he'd not let her go.

Emma grabbed big fistfuls of grass in both hands as his kiss continued. It was an assault on her senses the likes of which she'd never experienced. His lips claimed her, and in the claiming she felt powerful. Womanly. Utterly desirable. She whimpered as he withdrew from her lips long enough to uncock the rifle and toss it far away into the bushes. She almost smiled; did he think she'd use it on him again? Possibly. To encourage him to kiss her again. But he didn't need encouragement; with a deep growl low in his throat he lowered over her again and threaded his fingers through her hair. He held her face gently within his huge hands and took her lips again in a bruising, possessive kiss.

She is so small, James thought, as he slid his body down over hers. Was this why he hated short women? Because they would inspire this need in him to protect? He didn't know. He couldn't think with her lush, womanly curves pressed up against him. He maneuvered himself so that she no longer took the brunt of his weight, but nor did he allow her to scoot out from under him. He'd not let her go until they'd satisfied this primal urge between them.

There was something incredibly erotic about having this naked man kiss her so wantonly while she, Emma, remained clothed. Her aroused and imaginative mind conjured up the thought that perhaps this was no man at all but rather some sort of wood sprite come to torment her in human form. He was nearly too perfect to be believed, but the physical evidence of his body pressed intimately to hers was hard evidence she couldn't deny. She sensed a hunger within him so raw and savage it left her breathless but curious enough to provoke the savage. She lifted her hips against him and smiled with satisfaction as he groaned into her mouth and returned with a thrust of his own. She was not to remain the tormentor for long, however. She gasped as the man slid his palm beneath her shirt and caressed her silken skin.

Soft, James thought, incredibly soft. And she smelled nice too. She smelled of the woods, of Gaia, of something natural and potent and fertile. He ached to fill her with his length, to drive into her and be replenished by all that she represented: strength, Earth, nature. The potency of his desire shook him; he'd never lost control like this before, but he'd never met a woman like this before, either. She hadn't come looking for him; she'd stumbled upon him, and the attraction was instant and mutual.

Impatiently James pushed at the bra that encased her lovely, full breasts. His gaze darkened in desire once he'd revealed them to his hungering eyes. They were perfect. They were plump and pale, and topped by dusky pink nipples that tightened in arousal. These were the kinds of breasts he could spend hours suckling, nursing himself into oblivion while he nurtured his soul at her breast. James cautioned himself to move slowly, for although he could feel the subtle softening of the woman beneath him, he did not want to give her a chance to bolt and deny him the pleasure of experiencing her luscious body.

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byMcKenna© 61 comments/ 388255 views/ 105 favorites

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