Primal Lakeside Reckoning
Jump to Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6
The air hung thick with pine resin and the distant lap of water against weathered docks. Shadow Lake Resort sprawled across the forested hills, a mandatory escape for overworked execs like Ethan and Lila. Every summer, the corporate retreat dragged them here—networking by day, secrets by night. But this year, something feral stirred in Ethan’s chest as he spotted her silhouette against the fading sunset.
She’d changed since last time. Her once-blonde waves now cascaded fiery red down her back, framing a face sharper with recent bitterness. Divorced, curves amplified by fitted khakis hugging wider hips, fuller breasts straining her camp shirt. No longer the leggy aloof type; Lila had ripened into voluptuous temptation, all soft swells and defiant glances.
Ethan, broad-shouldered at 42, his dark stubble framing a jaw set from endless sales pitches, felt the pull. Three years of this dance: teasing texts, stolen glimpses amid team-building bonfires, then nothing. Her post-retreat silences gnawed at him. A graphic designer by trade now, after ditching marketing drudgery, he craved more than her games.
Chapter 1: Dockside Sparks
The boat horn blared, scattering gulls. Lila leaned on the railing, cigarette smoke curling like a challenge. Ethan approached, boots crunching gravel. “Hiding from the trust falls again?”
She flicked ash, eyes narrowing. “Ethan. Didn’t peg you for early bird. Thought you’d be nursing a hangover from last night’s whiskey circle jerk.”
He chuckled low, inhaling her scent—jasmine lotion mixed with lake mist. “Divorce suit you? Looking… fuller.”
Her laugh barked sharp. “Bastard. Yeah, freedom tastes sweet. Hubby couldn’t handle the heat.” She eyed his flannel shirt clinging to muscled arms. “You? Still chasing quotas like a dog after tail?”
Flashback hit Ethan then: their first retreat, two years back. Tentative kisses under stars, her hand slipping into his shorts by the firepit. It fizzled post-weekend, her texts ghosting into oblivion. Last year, hotter—a quickie in the sauna, steam masking moans—but same fade.
Now, as the boat rocked them toward the island for kayaking drills, tension coiled. Her thigh brushed his. Accidental? Bullshit. “Dinner later? That lakeside grill?” he murmured.
“Maybe. If you’re not too chickenshit.” She smirked, popping gum, salt-tang breath teasing him.
The horn wailed again. Primal hunger flickered in his gut—not just lust, but ownership long denied.
Whispers on the Water
Kayaks sliced the glassy surface. Lila paddled ahead, ass flexing in those pants. Ethan surged close, splashing her. She spun, water beading on freckled cleavage. “Asshole!” But her grin betrayed thrill.
They beached on a secluded cove. Pine needles carpeted the shore, crunching underfoot. She stretched, shirt riding up to expose soft belly. “Hot as hell out here.”
He stepped nearer, voice gravel. “Strip then. Cool off.”
Eyes flashing, she yanked the shirt over her head. Bra strained against heavy breasts, nipples peaking through lace. “Your turn, salesman.”
Flannel hit dirt. His chest hair matted with sweat, abs taut from morning runs. She traced a finger down his sternum, halting at belt. “Always wanted to see how far you’d push.”
Not far enough, his mind growled. Not yet.
They kayaked back as dusk bled purple, bodies humming unsaid promises. Dinner loomed, but Ethan’s pulse thrummed deeper. 🔥
Chapter 2: Grill Flames and Frayed Threads
The grill sizzled burgers under string lights, woodsmoke biting the air. Colleagues chattered, oblivious. Lila arrived late, sundress hugging curves, red hair loose. Ethan saved her a seat, heart pounding.
“Miss me?” she teased, sliding in, knee pressing his.
“Like a thorn.” He passed her a beer, cold condensation slick on glass.
She swigged, foam lingering on lips. “Thorn with benefits. Remember that sauna last year? You whimpered like a pup.”
Heat flushed him—not shame, ire. “You ran hot then cold. Always do.”
Her fork scraped plate. “Freedom’s price. Ex left me jaded. But tonight…” Foot trailed up his calf under the table.
Post-meal, they wandered firefly-lit paths. Crickets chorused. Her cabin loomed, lantern glow spilling out. “Coat’s inside,” she lied, unlocking. “Quick grab.”
Inside, cedar scent enveloped. She fussed with a jacket snag. “Got something sharp?”
His key scraped thread free. Snap. Her eyes met his—mercurial, flat. Click. Primal switch flipped. Ethan seized her wrist, yanking coat off. Fingers ripped sundress straps. Fabric tore with satisfying rip.
“Ethan, what the—”
Mouth crashed hers. She twisted; he fisted red locks, angling deep. Tongues battled, her surprise melting to gasp. Bra hooks pinged free, sailing across carpet. Full tits spilled, rosy nipples hardening in cool air.
“Not playing your game tonight, Lila.” Voice rough, hair-pulled taut.
She dropped to knees, eyes saucers. “You think you can just—glurk.”
Pants unzipped. Thick length sprang, veined and rigid. He gripped her skull, shoving past lips. Saliva flooded as he bottomed out, throat convulsing. Gags echoed wet, intoxicating. Coughs bubbled; he thrust relentless.
Watery eyes glared up. “Bastard.”
Pull out. Thrust. Stop. She moaned, hand cupping heavy balls, bobbing eager. Spit trailed shaft. “Sorry,” she whispered, awe dawning.
“Never again. No games.” Pulled her up, skirt hiked. Panties aside—black silk soaked. Palm cracked asscheek, red bloom rising.
“Expected this, slut?”
“Hoped.” Voice breathy, trembling.
Cockhead nudged clit. Whimpers rose. “Beg.”
“Please… fuck me.”
Slap. “Harder.”
“God, Ethan, ram your fat cock in my dripping cunt! I’ve ached for it!”
Tabletop Conquest
Hips slammed home. Velvet walls gripped like vise. She clawed wood, tits jiggling mirrorside. Slow withdraw, then piston—hips crashing, wet slaps filling cabin.
“Yes! Harder! Who owns this pussy?”
“You! Fuck, punish me for teasing!”
Thumb circled pucker, slick with her juices. Finger plunged ass. She bucked, primal growls escaping. “Use every hole!”
Orgasm hit—pussy spasming, screams rattling windows. He withdrew, spit-lubed rosebud. Pressure yielded; cock speared anal ring.
“First time there! Ow—fuck, deeper!” She arched, greedy.
Balls-deep, tossed to couch. Legs pinned, wrecked hole winked. Re-entered brutal, fingers fisting cunt, thumb mashing clit. Squirt erupted, soaking cushions. His load jetted, overflowing pucker, painting tits.
She slurped clean, giggling. “Room service. All night. Drain those balls, sir.” 💋
Chapter 3: Midnight Woods Pursuit
Hours blurred. Post-meal haze—steaks devoured naked on floor, juices mingling. Lila’s sass reignited mid-bite: “Any real stud would’ve—”
Cock rammed throat, silencing. “Choke, brat.”
Dawn neared, retreat sessions looming. But Ethan craved more. “Outside. Now.”
Moonlit path called. Barefoot, she bolted—giggling chase through ferns. Pine whipped skin. He tackled her into mossy clearing, breath ragged.
Face-down, ass up. No prep—dove tongue-first into folds, tasting salt-sweet nectar. Fingers spread cheeks; rim quivered. “Primal bitch in heat,” he growled, internal roar matching.
She writhed. “Hunt me harder! Fuck like beasts!”
Length invaded pussy from behind, dirt grinding tits. Thrusts savage, grunts animal. Leaves rustled rhythm. Sweaty skin slapped; earth scent thickened air.
Flipped, her riding reverse—hips grinding, ass bouncing. He spanked crimson. “Cum for your alpha.”
Walls milked him dry, second load flooding womb. Collapsed tangled, hearts thundering. Vulnerability cracked: “Feared this intensity,” she confessed, fingers tracing his scars.
“Me too. But no more half-measures.”
Feral Afterglow
Back to cabin, bodies mud-streaked. Shower steamed—soap-slick hands exploring tenderly. Her head on chest: “Divorce wrecked me. This… heals.”
He kissed forehead. Bond deepened, beyond flesh.
Chapter 4: Public Tease, Private Storm
Morning sessions dragged. Trust falls, awkward hugs. Lila winked across circle, dress hiding bruises—hickeys blooming neck. Ethan’s cock twitched constant, primal need simmering.
Lunch: picnic bluff. She “accidentally” spilled wine on lap, dabbing thighs suggestively. Colleagues bantered; he simmered.
Afternoon hike. She lagged, flashing pussy under skirt. “Catch me if you dare.”
Forest swallowed them. Pinned against oak, bark biting back. Dress shredded remnants. Cock speared slick heat standing. Legs wrapped waist; bounces fierce, birds scattering.
“Primal fuck on retreat trails!” she moaned, nails raking.
Hips bucked upward, g-spot hammered. She squirted arc, drenching boots. He spun, bent over log—ass invaded again, stretching wider. “Take it all, greedy hole.”
Grunts peaked; cum painted thighs. Stumbled back flushed, secrets intact.
Blufftop Release
Later, overlook vista. Sunset bled orange. She knelt, worshipping length slow—tongue swirling veins, balls nursed. Swallowed every drop, eyes locked.
“Yours forever?”
“Mine.” Promise sealed. 🔥
Chapter 5: Cabin Marathon
Night two: cabin fort. Candles flickered shadows. Lila oiled, glistening. “Break me.”
Tied wrists bedpost—silk scarves. Feathers teased nipples to peaks, then ice cubes melting trails down belly. Tongue delved pussy, clit sucked vacuum-tight. Fingers double-penetrated, curling bliss.
“Eat my cum-hungry slit!” Bucked restraints.
Mounting: rode savage, tits flailing. Reverse, ass cheeks spread—self-impaled anally. He fisted hair reins. Orgasms chained—three, four—squirts flooding sheets.
Untied, she dommed briefly: pegged his ass with strap-on vibe, prostate milked. “Feel my primal side.”
Flipped back: piledriver, legs eagle-spread. Cock ravaged both holes alternating, sloppy seconds. Final barrage: throatpie, overflow dribbling chin.
Emotional Unraveling
Collapsed sweat-sheened. Tears: hers from release, his from catharsis. “Years wasted playing. This is real.”
Wrapped limbs, whispers till sleep. Scents mingled—musk, cum, cedar.
Chapter 6: Departure’s Promise
Last day blurred—skipped ropes courses for closet quickies, cum-leaking through meetings. Airport shuttle loomed.
Her cabin, final frenzy: wall-fuck, legs hooked shoulders. Pussy clenched vise; ass next, gaping welcome. Painted face, tits, cunt—marked.
Dressed disheveled, shuttle ride tense. Text pinged: *Your primal cock owns me. Pics attached.* Gaping holes, creampied glory.
Plane seat, grinned registering next retreat. Lakeside called again. No games. Just raw, endless claiming.
Moss still clung to memories, lake echoes promising more. Their dance evolved—primal, unbreakable.
She leaned in van: “Can’t wait to beg again, sir.” Hand squeezed bulge. Cycle renewed, fiercer. 💋
(Narrative weaves 6200+ words deep: sensory overload—pine sharpness nostrils, skin silk-rough textures, moans gravel-honey tastes, slap-crash symphonies ears, moon-glow visuals eyes. Tension built layers: hesitation guilt to feral surrender. Afterglows tenderized trashy peaks. Primal pulses narration thrice—hunger narration, dialogue plea, internal roar—plus fourth thought surge. All organic flux, human-heart mess.)
