Lumbersexual (novella) by Leslie McAdam

Author:Leslie McAdam [McAdam, Leslie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-06-29T18:30:00+00:00

I snuggled into Court’s neck, my dark curls flopping all over his white pillow. Slowly, I traced a line down his arm. He turned his head and kissed my forehead.

“Tell me about your tattoos.”

Raised eyebrows. “‘kay.” He held up one arm.

“Traditional Japanese style, but they’re Miwok legends about Yosemite. Stealing fire here. Origin of thunder and lightning here. Story of the bear and the deer here.”

Holding up the other arm, he gestured. “Heart with mom. Here it says, ‘Like Father Like Son.’ And I’ve got designs marking each summer I worked here. Half Dome for when I climbed it. A mountain lion for the time we had to capture one, tag it, and release it in the wild. Snowshoes for winter in Badger Pass.”

“If you were making a tattoo for this summer, what would you add?”

“Yosemite Falls. No question.” I suddenly felt very funny. “With the Big Dipper pouring into it. Kissing you.”

“You’d put something to remember me on your body?”

“In a heartbeat.”

That was pretty intense—telling me he’d tattoo something on him that reminded him of me made me question what I knew about him. Where was this casual reputation everyone thought about?

I yawned. “I’m so tired. It’s been a long day.”

“Then sleep. I’ll take you home in the morning in time to get to work.”

“My roommates might worry about me. I can’t call them.”

He smiled sleepily. “I’m pretty sure they know exactly where you are.”

And cuddled in his arms, I drifted, naked, into a deep and restful sleep.

The next morning, Court woke me by kissing my neck with his bristly beard. “You sleep good?”

Waking up to that voice and those lips on my neck reminded me of the mountain next to Half Dome with the ethereal name, Cloud’s Rest. Cocooned in white sheets and a plaid comforter in a cabin, early morning light streaming in, I could easily be convinced to never leave.

I nodded and turned to kiss him good morning.

“You look pretty as a picture,” he said.

“We should take a selfie. I like the idea of the first picture on the camera to be us in bed.”

He got out of bed, grabbed the camera, and came back, tucking the sheet under my arms to cover my boobs. Spooning behind me, arm under my neck, he extended a tattooed arm and took a picture. He reached to set the camera on the bedside table, came back, and ran a finger down my arm, his chin by my neck, his lips on my ear. “We’ve got time before we have to get to the station—”

“Yes, please.”

One arm under my neck, another holding my boobs, he bit my neck gently, then kissed his way down my shoulder. I reached behind me and grabbed his cock, which was hard because, of course, morning wood. As I stroked him, his hand made its way between my legs. My body hummed. Gentle pressure. Rubbing each other. Enjoying the intimacy of hitting his spot as he hit mine.

I couldn’t wait any more. I started wiggling against his body, and he groaned the sexiest groan of denied pleasure.

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