A trip to the mountains. And a detour

Sunday dawned clear and sunny. They put the top down on the Mustang and drove to a mountain resort a few hours north of the city, enjoying the briskness of the air, the view and the pleasure of each other's company.

In the resort village they window shopped and people watched, playing tourist. They browsed a craft market, examining pottery and jewelry, holding hands and smiling happily at each other.

A photographer displayed his work at one booth, landscapes, dramatic and stunning. Erica was particularly taken by picture of a waterfall, a boiling cauldron of green and white water. Michael found a copy of it in a small size and bought it, presenting it to her on the spot.

"Oh thank you darling," she said happily, kissing him lightly. A nearby couple looked at them disapprovingly. They were in their forties, dressed with studied, expensive casualness, almost bursting with arrogance. Erica, smiling, noticed the look.

"I'll have to thank your properly later," she husked throatily, wrapping one leg around him. "This will have to do for now." She kissed him passionately, hungrily writhing against him. Michael looked up to see the couple in retreat, the man looking back over his shoulder, the shadow of envy and longing in his face.

After a light lunch full of laughter and soft touches, they started back to the city. Erica was giggling, happy, her hair blowing in the wind, turning to smile at him regularly. Her hand rested on his thigh, stroking it.

"If you keep that up, you're going to distract me," he said. Grinning, she kept stroking, moving her hand higher towards his crotch.

"Bad girls who tease might have to be punished."

"Oooh, yes please," she laughed. "But if I keep this up all the way home you'll be too anxious to fuck me to think about punishment." Her fingers played over the growing bulge in his pants, grinning salaciously at him.

"Consider yourself warned," he told her with mock sternness.

"Big talk for being way out here. You're helpless to prevent me, lover." Her hand played and stroked him through his pants.

A mile later Michael saw a sign indicating a logging road entering the highway. He braked suddenly, turning up it, seeing the surprise on her face out of the corner of his eye. Just out of sight of the highway he pulled over and stopped, getting out of the car.

"What's going on?" she asked as he walked around the car to her door.

"I warned you," he said, opening her door and dragging her out.

"You're crazy," she said, genuine shock in her face. He pulled her to the front of the car, forcing her face down on the hood, tugging her jeans and panties down to her knees.

"Michael, not here," she protested, but her ass was lifting to him as he unzipped himself.

"Oh please Michael, don't fuck me here, not like this!" He said nothing but pushed his cock against her, sliding into her sodden wetness, pounding her against the hood with brutal savagery.

"Please stop, please don't fuck me," she moaned, her hips rocking, her muscles squeezing his impaling shaft. He licked one finger before sliding it into her ass, and she wailed out the first of her orgasms. As he took her she clung to the sleek surface of the hood, arching her neck upwards and pressing her ass back towards him, spasms rocking her body.

It was only moments before his own orgasm exploded, and he roared out as he drove himself deeply into her, filling her, hearing her own cries redouble.