Hot Karl

I shuddered, standing there on the hillside among the tents above the parking lots, my mouth flopping open. "Yes sir," I managed, but I said it to his retreating back. He'd already known what I'd say.

* * *

A breeze came up as I zipped my tent shut and stole down the hill, angling toward the little cabin. There were no lights anywhere, the trainees all sacked out right after dinner, and I'd been lying awake staring out my tent at the stars. Hyper-aware, I heard everything: the pebbles under my boots, the swish of my heavy tactical pants, the rustle of the treetops.

The cabin porch was on the far side, a dilapidated old screen door over one of those chunky metal doors you find in institutional settings all over the world. Karl's cabin was silent, almost tense. There was no sign he was in there, and I felt like Hansel (or was it Gretel?) when I knocked softly.

"Colleen." The low voice came from the darkness beside me on the little porch. I nearly jumped out of my boots. "You're late."

My huge Casio read 21:31. "Jesus. You startled me." Just like before; I'd seen nothing in those shadows.

"You kept me waiting." He loomed up beside me, his shampoo smell strong, then reached past me to open his own door. "Get in."

"Oh, fuck," I muttered. Already I was overwhelmed; I'd kept him waiting? I'd spent the last ninety minutes biting my nails. The thin starlight showed me a small room through the door, '70s paneling, a queen bed, a mirror on the far wall. Karl's rucksack placed neatly in the corner. I had time to notice all these things in the split second before he took my arm and pushed me inside. "Ow!"

"Quietly, Colleen." His voice was a whisper beside me. "It's important that nobody knows you're here." I plunged into the dark room, the door slapping shut behind Karl. "Remember: no non-Fish and Game personnel allowed." I could hear the smirk in his voice, though.

I cleared my throat again, my eyes picking out blue-grey details in the window-light. "What am I doing here, then?"

"I think you know what you're doing here, Deputy." I started violently at the touch of his hand on my shoulder, shivering all of a sudden. "Don't you?"

My reply was a long, nervous sigh, my breath coming in tiny gasps now. I know he could sense my tension through his warm, massive palm on my arm. I felt his body looming behind me, and it made me want to melt back against him. "I do, actually," I stuttered, barely trusting myself to speak. The bed lay before me, the whole room tensely silent, and he gave me no warning before he shoved me roughly down.

I felt a surge of exhilaration rise in my throat when he threw me on the mattress, his power sending a pulse straight to my pussy as I sprawled there with my limbs splayed out like a spastic spider. "Fuck!" I gasped, the exclamation ripped out of me as I stared up at him. I felt like a scared child, and I loved it.

He didn't reply, standing like a Norse god, breathing evenly with that squared-off Ivan Drago chin as he stared thoughtfully down at me. We stayed that way a few moments, both our eyes on fire, my own body curling slowly into a sinuous curve for him. I'm not sure why I did it; I just sensed that he'd like it.

And I very much wanted to do what he'd like.

I felt I should keep my mouth shut in the gloom, letting the shine of my eyes speak for me as his were speaking for him, boring into me. Penetrating me, in a way that made my pussy weep. I watched his gaze roll down from my face, lingering on my tits, down along my waist and my heaving ribs behind the bulky tactical clothes. I knew my fetal-position squirming was pulling the brown fatigues tight, so tight over the solid fleshy curve of my ass, and I wanted him to stare there. I wanted him to imagine it naked, bent over beneath him, backing into his hard body...

I couldn't believe I was in a bedroom with this man.

And still I said nothing, my legs moving slowly. Almost imperceptibly. I kept my eyes firmly on his, offering myself. Letting him know I was his to take, that all he had to do was accept me. Undress me. And then, hopefully, pump me full of his cum. I craved it, that ultimate proof that he'd taken me. I knew now that I'd always wanted that, since Day One at the Lettuce, that first time I'd caught his grave blue eyes lingering on a younger Colleen Weber's ass in those tiny PT shorts.

They weren't just lingering now. They were fixed, digging in. Still penetrating me.

I shivered now, my eyes slitted at him, and the shiver stirred Karl at last. He nodded thoughtfully, his big hand rubbing briefly at his crew-cut, and lifted leisurely fingers to the buttons of his work shirt, squeezing each one deliberately apart. I drank in the sight as the shirt parted to show a black tanktop over a body molded in bronze. The tanktop soon came peeling off to join the work shirt on the floor, strewn carelessly.

I'd seen him just about naked before, in swim trunks during drown-proofing at the Lettuce, but this was very different. This was silence, in a little room already tense with lust, with both of us on display, and I knew this was yet another pair of panties I'd probably have to burn. His body tapered sharply down from broad shoulders, every muscle built confidently by hours in the gym; if anything, he looked even better than he had two years ago. A scatter of hair dusted his chest in a bristly line pointing down, down, past abs like cobblestones, the hair picking up again beneath his belly button to plunge in a tantalizing trail down behind his belt buckle.

My mind screamed at me, spurring me: it was time for more, I knew. He'd countered my offer, and now it was time for me to give myself to him. I sat slowly up on the bed, my own clothes now clenching around me, a straitjacket as I lifted my eyes lazily back up to his face. He stood easily before me as I scooted to the edge of the bed and let my short legs dangle, the carpet just barely brushing my boot soles. We took another minute, our eyes speaking volumes, before he nodded once at me.

Offer accepted.

I hesitated, wondering what he wanted me to do next, my mind racing. The stars in the window lent the whole scene a cold, mysterious glow. I leaned close to him, slowly, feeling the heat off his body, and then when my face was just an inch from the skin of his abdomen I inhaled, deeply, filling my lungs with his smell.

I caught skin and warm male, but also something else. Something deeper, the smell of his need. Of that special kind of sweat that rises off a man's balls. I raised my eyes to his, stretching my neck back to peer up at him, and I wasn't surprised when I felt those big stubby fingers of his brushing gently against the sides of my neck. I shivered once more, violently now, his hands drifting down in a trail of goosebumps to the rough edge of my tactical shirt, into the collar, tracing the tendons of my neck down toward my collarbones.

I wondered whether he could feel my pulse.

His fingers were warm and dry and somehow potent, like they each gave off their own sense of energy. My eyes slid sideways, uncontrolled, to see the bright sparkle of his wedding ring. I could feel every touch as he brought his hands together, cupping my chin up and back, staring with that watchful look on his face, and when he ran the backs of his nails down the front of my trembling throat I knew he wanted me to keep my chin up. Toward him. I heard my own little gasp, my breath catching when he took my top button apart. Then the next, my whole body electric when his hands crossed my tits.

He was going to claim them. But not yet. He had to unwrap me first, like a fucking Christmas present. Third button gone, and I was arching my whole body back now, willing my clothes off. Fourth button, the last one on the rough military-style shirt, and then he stooped with his hands circling my ribcage.

I'd never felt so powerless. And I'd never imagined I'd so want to feel like that.

Karl leaned close to me now, our faces nearly touching. The feel of his breath on my face had me quaking even before he moved his hands deliberately up, confidently, cupping my heavy breasts in those great paws, each one spanning my firm meaty flesh as I drew a deep breath, arched nearly all the way back now. Presenting my body.

He reacted with a speed and power I wasn't expecting, his fingers leaving my tits to grip the neck of my undershirt; I was still gasping in shock as he wrenched his arms apart, the shirt tearing like tissue paper over my chest. He ripped it halfway down to my navel, then took a firmer grip and tore again, his face still expressionless before mine. A third time, my body shaking like a doll in his grasp as the rags of my undershirt fell from my shoulders along with the stiff tactical shirt, leaving me goosebumped in my bra on the bed.

But still arched deeply. Still with my neck exposed. Still needing him to take every part of me. Still willing him to fill me. Fuck; this beast had torn the clothes from my body. I nearly came right then.

The power of this man: I'd always known it was there. Every woman in our Lettuce class had felt it. Everyone else felt it too: I imagined female hikers up on Ray Peak, running across him in the woods, giving him second glances and knowing he'd make them scream. I know that fucking bitch Kelly Luchese felt it, vibrating beside her in their truck on patrol, knowing her own sister could take all that power and she couldn't.

I shuddered when his hands found my bare shoulders, flitting over my bra strap, both of us still silent but for the rasps of our deep breaths. I wanted to lower my head, if for no other reason than to look again at that splendid fucking body of his, but he held my eyes captive on his face regardless of what I wanted. I was soaked, almost leaning back on my elbows as he loomed over me.

His hands skated in long, steady strokes up to my neck and then back down my arms, up and back, up and back, making me shiver harder each and every time he did it until his nails finally found their way under my bra on his way back over my shoulders. The satin straps went with his hands, flopping down my upper arms, my tits feeling the pull and tug and then the glorious freedom of the room's sex-heated air as he freed them.

I know I gasped, and hard, my boobs shuddering, nipples reaching for him. My own hands were curling back up to undo the clasp even before I thought about it, and suddenly my bra had joined the useless shreds of my shirt on the bed behind me. Already, even before I'd shrugged it all the way off, he was groping me, his hands weighing my tits, judging them, feeling their smooth firm skin that now burst between his gripping fingers. I sat up then, my nipples trying to drive holes in his palms, and at last I reached my own trembling hands up, up high, to where his abs towered over me.

We touched like that for a long minute, our hands and eyes connecting us, breathing together in synch. His muscles thrilled me under my hands, the skin warm and hard, his own nipples responding between that wispy hair on his chest. Karl's mouth was a hard, firm line, neither frowning nor smiling, just intent. Serious. Like he'd never done anything as important as feel me up, and that reached for something deep inside me: I was his world right now, and the need to be worthy of that was suddenly the only thing on my mind.

I had to get naked for him. Had to.

I rose fluidly, our bodies close already, hands still moving. I watched his eyes glint as I moved my fingers to my web belt, undoing the buttons on my harsh tactical pants before digging my hands almost impatiently inside both pants and panties and shoving them down hard, liberating myself, feeling the Velcro tear of the cloth as it scraped over my pubes and finally away from the mess I'd made of my pussy. My clothes suddenly felt like a parasite, like something that weakened me, and I couldn't get them off fast enough.

Fuck, I reminded myself. The goddamn boots.

Bottomless, I sat back down on the bed behind me, still watching him; never once had I taken my eyes from his. My hands moved fast, a pair of workers doing the last of the paperwork before they could finally go home, ripping the knots from my laces and dragging them through the eyelets with short, angry motions. He understood, still looming, his scent all around me, patient while I kicked each boot squirming down off my feet, and then without warning he shoved me onto the bed once more.

The impact drove my breath from my lungs, he'd pushed so hard, and there I was on my back, powerless, staring up as he reached almost scornfully for my feet. I'd never really been all that self-conscious about my body, but I lay there with him ripping off the last of my clothes, hauling my pants contemptuously down my legs before wadding up my expensive Dri-Fit socks and tossing them into the corner, and all I wanted was for him to look at me. To need my body. I wanted him to notice how my pussy glistened for him, how my labia had gone all dark and swollen. I needed his eyes on my nipples, taking in their hardness.

I needed him to want me, and when at last I lay naked on the bed before him, vulnerable and stretched out and ready for him to do whatever the fuck he wanted to me, I saw his eyes move slowly up and down and I knew with a flutter in my heart that he was pleased. And, when he took a step back and stood strong with his arms crossed over his chest, I knew what he wanted from me.

I sat up, my body beginning to go pink with that sex-flush he'd pulled out of me, my eyes dropping at last to the front of his cargo pants. I was expecting it, a massive prodding bulge below his belt buckle, but it still gave me a little rush when I saw it. I didn't smile, but I knew he could tell I was happy to see it. And for some reason, it was vitally important to me that he knew: he had to know how badly I needed him to want me.

So I slithered to the floor at his feet.

My knees came down near his strewn work shirt, my tits swaying to a high and straight-backed stop as I landed. I was keyed up, every sense alert, like when I was about to kick in a drug dealer's door or something, and I knew he could feel it from me. I stared straight ahead, my lips parted slightly, letting him see me kneeling for him while I pictured what his head would look like. What his balls would taste like. How his pubes would tickle my nose.

I felt more muck on my inner thighs. I couldn't remember a time I'd felt so ready to take a dick.

Leaning down, I went to work on Karl's boots. I could feel his gaze on my frazzled hair, my naked back, the top of my ass. He was one of those guys who tied with a square knot, the quick-release coming free in my hand as I worked his boots open. I heard myself gasp, sudden and delighted, when he laid those broad fingers on the top of my head to steady himself as he lifted his foot out and kept it there so that I could take his sock off.

I loved that he wanted me to undress him.

His toes were big like his hands, flexing as he kicked his boot aside while I got the other one off. My mind was buzzing, everything moving in slow motion, still with that weirdly intense silence from both of us. I ran my hands up the outside of his trousers, feeling the seam, the lump of his gloves in his cargo pockets, his keys in his hip pockets. Every detail seemed important, and when my searching fingers reached his big green rigger's belt I paused, my eyes rising once more over those hard abs, that amazing chest. I found his eyes peering back down at me.

He nodded once more. Like I needed him to.

He'd put a quick-release in the belt too, the nylon slithering from the buckle, and I kept thinking how amazing it was that I was able to keep my hands from shaking. The heat off his skin when my fingers grazed his belly as I went to unbutton him drew another little gasp, my lower lip clamped between my teeth; I looked away from his eyes once more, determined not to miss it as I unveiled his cock.

When I reached the second button on his fly, I started to feel it through his pants: a thick hot lump like a heated length of rope, snaking down his right thigh. I wanted to just grasp it and jack it, right then, letting it fill my hand, but no: I sensed the moment called for something more special, less crude. He was expecting me to be his woman, not his fangirl. So I straightened my back again, my nipples brushing the front of his trousers, and forced myself to concentrate on the button. And then the next. And on that last one, with his pants already beginning to fall off his narrow hips, I peered in and saw it, straining behind a tight pair of black boxer-briefs.

I sighed. I know I did. I just couldn't keep my breath in, couldn't stop myself from marveling, and he had to have felt me exhale, hot and steamy across his meat. I leaned back slightly, letting the pants fall on their own, dragged down by the gloves, the keys, the wallet, his Leatherman; all the usual manly impedimenta, but I didn't care about his pants anymore.

My eyes rose once more, with deliberate slowness that defied my achy, needy cunt, so that I could soak up his face again. This time as I slid my hands along the smooth black cloth of his underwear, around the sides until my fingertips met across the crack of his ass. His butt was what I'd always known it would be, hard and rounded and perfect, flexing beneath my exploring hands. Reaching around him like that brought my face achingly close to his shrouded cock, and I savored my restraint as I held myself back.

His smell filled me.

I was still watching his eyes when I started to pull his underwear off, from the back, my hooked fingers dragging slowly. The front grew tighter and tighter atop his straining dick, and by then I had my eyes back on it, glued, totally unable to look at anything else in that moment but the penis that drew me, magnetic, hypnotic. The elastic crept steadily down along that trail of pubic hair, down, showing more hair, more skin, and finally the thick root of his cock; I didn't know until then that I'd been holding my breath.

I gulped back a muttered fuck, sensing that he liked the silence, the solemnity. The moment certainly demanded it: it's not every day you see the slow, grand unveiling of a perfect, glorious cock on a delicious hunk of a man you've wanted for years. So I relished it, drawing deep breaths that made my tits dance, watching as the elastic pulled its sluggish way along every fat, meaty inch of a man going erect because he wanted to take me. That's the part that captivated me: Karl, the chiseled god of the Lettuce, the sexiest man I'd ever seen, was hard for me. It was my body he'd undressed, my tits he was looking at, my pussy he was about to pump into.

Me.

Impatient suddenly, I hauled the boxer-briefs the rest of the way off his penis, admiring its girth, the thick dark flare of his head, the way it bounced swiftly above the horizontal as soon as I'd gotten his underwear clear. I caught a glimpse of big, low-hanging balls, balls heavy with cum, waiting beneath. His pubes rippled in the wind of one last, low sigh from me, my hands still hanging off the back of his waistband.

It was right alongside my face already, giving off heat and musk and power, and I could no longer stop myself; I abandoned his waistband, my hands coming around to rest on his muscular thighs, my lips parting and, finally, planting themselves on the hard, pulsing skin at the tip of his cock. I rested them there, unable to believe this was happening, until I let just his head into my mouth, my tongue darting eagerly forward to collect his precum. His head tasted rich and salty, that perfect manly flavor that bypassed my brain and went right to my cunt.

I held him there another moment, convincing myself that the thick cock foreshortened before my eyes was actually Karl Jacobsen's, that it was actually inside my mouth, that his tip was on my tongue. And then I left him with the sight of my spit on his dick, the kiss strong and wet as I arched downward once more to finish my chores. His underwear I pushed down to join his pants, and then I was running my hands down his calf, over his ankle, and his hand found my hair once more as he stepped out of his clothing.