Raw Cravings: Shattering No Nut November
Links for your indulgence: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Jump to Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6
The mountain cabin smelled of pine and fresh rain, windows fogging from the chill outside. Elena had planned this getaway meticulously, her pulse thrumming with wicked intent. Marcus, her rugged lover with salt-and-pepper stubble and a body honed from years of construction work, gripped the steering wheel tighter as they pulled up the gravel drive. He was on day two of No Nut November again—his self-imposed torture that she delighted in dismantling every year.
She glanced at him, her dark curls tumbling wild over sun-kissed shoulders. At 32, Elena was all curves and fire, a graphic designer who thrived on pushing boundaries. Marcus, pushing 40, had that raw edge she craved—the kind that came from callused hands and unspoken hungers. “You look tense, babe,” she murmured, her voice a velvet tease. “Cabin fever already?”
He grunted, eyes flicking to her short denim skirt riding high on thighs that begged to be gripped. “Just focusing on the road. And the challenge.” But inside, doubt gnawed. Last year, he’d lasted two weeks. This time? Her texts all weekend—sultry selfies from the city—had him throbbing already.
Chapter 1: Whispers in the Steam 🔥
Inside, the fire crackled, casting golden flickers across knotty pine walls. Elena kicked off her boots, the scent of woodsmoke mingling with her jasmine perfume. She led him to the bathroom, where steam already billowed from the oversized shower. “Unwind first,” she said, peeling off her top to reveal lace cups straining against full breasts.
Marcus swallowed hard, stripping down. His cock twitched at the sight—half-hard, betraying him. Water cascaded hot over their skin as they stepped under the spray. She soaped his chest, fingers tracing the V of muscle dipping to his groin. “Feel that raw heat building?” she whispered, pressing her slick body against his. Her nipples pebbled against his back, breath hot on his neck.
He groaned, hands clenching. “Elena… you’re killing me.” But he didn’t pull away. Her hands wandered lower, lathering his thighs, skirting his thickening length. The water tasted metallic on their tongues as they kissed—deep, sloppy, tongues warring. She nipped his lip, drawing a bead of blood that mixed with suds. Salty. Primal.
She dropped to her knees then, steam blurring her vision. Looking up through wet lashes, she blew cool air on his tip. “Just a taste. No release. Yet.” Her tongue flicked out, swirling the precum beading there—musky, raw essence of him. He bucked, fists in her hair, but she pulled back, rising with a smirk. “Patience, lover. Dinner awaits.”
He toweled off roughly, skin flushed, every nerve alive. She slipped into a silk robe, hiding the feast she prepared in the kitchen. Oysters on ice for her mound. Slices of rare steak draping her hips. Berries nestled in cleavage, honey drizzled over nipples. The air thickened with garlic and seared meat, her skin tingling in anticipation.
As he emerged, towel low on hips, she lounged on the kitchen island—naked, body a banquet under dim lights. Candles flickered, shadows dancing like forbidden promises. His eyes darkened, raw hunger stripping away pretense. “Fuck, Elena. You’re… edible.”
Chapter 2: The Feast Unleashed 💋
Marcus froze, phone forgotten in his pocket. No pics this time—just raw need crashing through him. He stalked forward, the island’s cool marble biting into her back as she arched. “Dinner’s served,” she purred, voice husky. “Devour me.”
He started slow, lips brushing berries from her cleavage. Juice burst sweet-tart on his tongue, mingled with her salty skin. She shivered, goosebumps rising under his beard’s scrape. “Mmm, raw like this… you make everything taste better.” His words vibrated against her sternum.
Downward he trailed, nuzzling oysters chilled against her heat. The sea-salt tang exploded as he slurped one, tongue delving to lap her folds beneath. She gasped, thighs quivering. “Marcus… oh god, your mouth.” The cabin echoed her moans, wood groaning like the earth shifting.
He teased, avoiding her core. Fingers trailed steak slices off her hips, teeth grazing hipbones. Blood-faint iron from the meat smeared her skin; he licked it clean, growling. Her scent—musky arousal cutting through savory air—drove him mad. “You’re dripping, babe. Wetter than the oysters.”
She writhed, hands fisting counter edges. Internal fire raged; every denial from the shower amplified now. “Please… don’t toy with me.” But he did. Honey-slick nipples next—he sucked one deep, teeth nipping as sweetness flooded his mouth. Her back bowed, a raw cry escaping. Touch electric, pain-pleasure spiking straight to her clit.
Frustration built like storm clouds. She grabbed his head, urging lower. He chuckled dark, breath feathering her belly. “Beg for it. Tell me how raw you ache.”
“Raw… empty… fuck, Marcus, eat me raw!” Dialogue spilled crude, her polish cracking.
He obliged, finally. Tongue plunged into her slick warmth, oysters forgotten. Flavors collided—briny, her tangy essence. Fingers spread her, nose grinding clit. She bucked wild, island rattling dishes. Orgasm hit sudden, thighs clamping his ears. She screamed, tasting salt-tears on lips bitten raw.
Panting, he rose, cock straining tenting towel. Dropped it. Thick, veined, tip glistening. “Your turn to serve.”
Chapter 3: Flames of Defiance
Flashback hit Elena mid-gasp—the previous November. City loft, rain lashing windows. He’d lasted twelve days then, cracking under her striptease atop his workbench tools. Guilt flickered now; his determination fueled her thrill. But tonight? The cabin isolated them, no escape.
Marcus lifted her off the island, legs wrapping instinctive. He carried her to the rug by fire, fur tickling her back. New scene: he bound her wrists with silk ties from her bag—soft restraint heightening everything. “No touching till I say.” His voice gravel-rough.
Kneeling between spread thighs, he rubbed his hardness along her seam. No entry. Just friction—hot velvet gliding over pulsing nub. She whimpered, hips chasing. Firelight painted his muscles bronze, sweat beading like dew. Smell of sex and smoke choked air.
“Feel that raw slide? All for you, but not yet.” Tease twisted cruel. He spanked inner thighs—sharp stings blooming pink. Each slap drew pussy clenches, wetness trickling to ass. “Dirty girl, leaking for punishment.”
She twisted bonds, breasts heaving. “Untie me… need to feel you bare.” Denial sharpened desire, mind fracturing into pure want.
He flipped her prone, ass up. Fingers delved—two, then three—stretching her heat. Scissoring, curling to that spot. G-spot assault left her babbling. “Fuck… harder… make it raw inside!” Thumb circled back hole, slick with her juices. Intrusion slow, burning stretch yielding to bliss.
Orgasm two ripped through, squirting faint onto fur. Body quaked, vision spotting. He withdrew, leaving her hollow, twitching.
Aftermath soft: he unbound her, lips tender on wrists. “Beautiful wreck,” he murmured, cradling. Vulnerability peeked—his eyes soft amid storm. Bond deepened, challenge cracking.
Chapter 4: Depths Uncharted 🔥
She pushed him back, fire-warmed rug scratching knees. Straddling, she ground down—slow circles teasing his length. “Your challenge? Overrated.” Nails raked chest, red trails welling tiny beads. He hissed, hips jerking.
Fire popped, embers scent sharp. She licked salt-sweat from his collarbone, down to navel. Cock bobbed urgent; she ignored, sucking balls instead. Heavy, drawn tight. Tongue probed perineum, raw vulnerability there drawing groans guttural.
“Elena… shit.” Hands tangled curls. She deep-throated sudden—gag reflex pushed, throat convulsing around girth. Saliva drooled messy, chin slick. Popped off gasping. “Taste yourself on me? Raw us.”
New conflict: doubt shadowed his face. “Can’t… November…” But body betrayed, leaking profuse.
She mounted reverse, guiding in. Inch by torturous inch. “Yes you can.” Fullness split her—burn stretching walls. Rode hard, ass bouncing visual feast. Slaps echoed—skin on skin wet, lewd symphony. He gripped cheeks, spanking anew.
Twist: she slowed, clenching internal. Milking denial. “Cum or I stop.” Power shift electric. Internal thoughts raced—his resolve fraying, raw ache demanding release.
He surged up, flipping dominance. Missionary raw—legs hooked shoulders, pounding merciless. Couch nearby creaked forgotten; they tumbled half-off rug. “Take it… fuck your rules.” Each thrust punched air from lungs, her nails scoring back bloody.
Climax mutual brewed. Her first: walls vise-grip, milking fierce. He pulled out frantic—ropes painting belly hot, sticky. Cheat avoided? Barely. She laughed breathless, scooping to taste—bitter, raw victory.
Tenderness followed: blankets drawn, bodies entwined. Fire dying to coals. “One slip doesn’t break,” he whispered. But she knew better.
Chapter 5: Midnight Reckoning 💋
Hours later, moon silvered cabin through frost-rimed panes. Couldn’t sleep—bodies hummed residual. New scene: hot tub on deck. Steam rose ghost-like into night, pines whispering wind-songs. Bubbles masked entrance as she sank onto him underwater.
Water buoyed, weightless fuck. Chlorine bit noses, mingling musk. “Raw in the dark… no holding back.” Her whisper steamed air. Bounced languid, jets pulsing thighs like fingers.
He suckled neck, bruising marks. Fingers pinched clit underwater—swollen, sensitive post-feast. She cried out, echoing woods. Animals stirred distant—owls hooting judgment?
Pace built frantic. Waves sloshed tub edges. “Inside… fill me raw.” Begged true this time. Conflict peaked—his pride versus primal flood. One final, brutal thrust: hot spurts jetted deep. November shattered utterly.
Collapsed together, water cooling. She traced his jaw, guilt absent. “Worth every drop.” He chuckled weary, pulling close. Connection solidified—beyond flesh, souls tangled raw.
Chapter 6: Dawn’s New Hunger
Sunrise painted peaks gold, cabin awakening to birdsong. They stirred sticky-sweet, scents of night clinging—cum-dried, feast remnants faint. Elena stretched languid, pussy tender reminder.
Marcus brewed coffee strong-black, steam curling. “Failed spectacularly.” Voice light, acceptance won. She padded nude, pressing frontally. “Operation Shatter succeeded. Again.”
Kitchen redux: bent over counter, quickie raw. No games—just need. Spooned deep as coffee perked, aromas blending domestic-sexual. Her moans mixed grinder whir; his grunts primitive.
Finish inside hasty, dribbling thighs. Shower second—gentle soaping, kisses soft. Dressed reluctant, packing amid touches lingering.
Drive home wound roads, hands linked. Challenge dust, bond forged fiercer. Elena smiled secret: next November? She’d up ante. Raw cravings eternal.
Their story simmered on, feasts and failures weaving tighter intimacy. In mountains’ shadow, desires reigned unbound.
