A city slicker learns to love the great outdoors — thanks to her rough-and-tumble mountain man.

When I met Carl, I didn’t realize he was a mountain man in disguise. He looked city enough. He was wearing a charcoal gray suit and a deep maroon tie as he casually flirted with me over the polished surface of the boardroom table. No, it wasn’t a proper place to be indulging in flirtatious double entendres, but the presentation was dull and he was adorable. He had a briefcase from a high-end leather goods store at his side, a no-frills watch on one wrist and no wedding band on his finger. He piqued my interest — big time.

I caught him sizing me up, and I returned the favor.

“Come here often?” I wrote on a scrap of paper I slid it to him.

“No, but I’m glad I did today,” he wrote back.

We spent the rest of the conference exchanging notes. I learned he was a designer at a firm with which my office occasionally did business. There was no buffalo plaid peeking out from under his collar. I didn’t catch a whiff of pine needles in the air. Bluebirds weren’t sitting on his shoulder.

But now that I think about it, he was gruffer than the rest of the guys in the building. Perhaps I should have picked up on the fact that his hands were rough from physical labor and his beard was scruffier than those of the manscaped metrosexuals in the room. Of course, those telltale signs might have been what unconsciously drew me to him.

There are no more opposite creatures in the wild than a country mouse and a city mouse. I didn’t know this at the time, but I’d soon find out.

Carl asked me out to dinner, and I happily agreed. Over the next few months, we went to museums. We saw plays. Never during our early time together did I spy even the remotest clue that he was an outdoorsy type of guy. Not unless you count the fact that he could hail a cab in inclement weather or work the switch on my electric fireplace.

I wouldn’t have even guessed it, and that’s why when he brought up camping I wasn’t just confused — I was aghast.

“Carl started to rub my clit as he worked me. His fingertips made magical circles.”

I told Carl three little words I’d never imagined having to say to him: “I don’t camp.”

“What do you mean, you don’t camp? Do you mean you never have? Or it’s against your personal belief system?”

I sat back against my plush velvet sofa and dug my bare feet into the deep shag of my cream-colored carpet. Outside, I could hear the siren call of actual sirens. On my walls were framed photographs of the city skyline at night. In a bowl on the coffee table was dried flower potpourri — the closest thing to nature I had in the whole apartment aside from a bunch of silk tulips in an art deco vase in the kitchen, and I didn’t think those counted.

Carl was still looking at me, waiting for a response.

I tried to brainstorm a way to put things delicately. “I don’t know how,” I offered next. That was the truth. The other part of the truth was that I didn’t want to know how. I love living in a city with 24/7 everything. I didn’t think I’d last ten minutes in the wild, where there were no coffee shops, no cable, no comforts of home. It would be too quiet for me. There would be no Chinese takeout, which is what we were dining on that night.

“Think of it as an adventure,” he said.

“An adventure,” I echoed, helplessly. “Paris is an adventure.”

He shook his head. “Paris is lovely. But it’s a city. You’d be leaving one city for another.”

“What if we went to an island?” I countered. “Snorkeling sounds exciting.”

“And then returning each evening to a five-star hotel?” he teased. “I want to see you in a new light.”

“What sort of light?”

“Natural light.”

I winched. Camping meant no hairdryer, no housekeeping button, no hotel amenities. There wouldn’t be any sheets turned down or a chocolate on my pillow. We wouldn’t have a hotel minibar filled with tiny bottles of high-end liquor.

“Do it for me?” he pleaded.

I looked into his handsome, hopeful face and thought, How bad could it possibly be?

“I promise I’ll make it worth your while. In fact,” he added, “I’ll give you a glimpse of what you’re in for.”

What I was in for? His words definitely had an erotic connotation. Carl stood me up and peeled me out of my scarlet satin robe. I was naked beneath. He joined me in a heartbeat. On every other night, we would have headed to the bedroom. Instead, he drew me with him out the window onto my fire escape.

“People might see!” I said, stating the obvious.

“Sure,” he agreed affably. “But it’s two a.m. And they might not.”

I considered his words. Then I considered his cock. That is, I felt him pressing against me from behind, and his dick was fully hard. I knew Carl liked to sleep on the left side of the bed. I knew he woke up without an alarm clock and that he took his coffee black. I hadn’t known fucking outdoors turned him on. The subject simply hadn’t come up before between the two of us. We hadn’t discussed it over cocktails at a fancy nightclub or during appetizers at a ritzy meet-and-greet.

The subject came up now — at least, his dick did, pushing forward and straining to reach me. For a split second, I worried about the consequences of being spotted. I was standing outdoors totally nude, after all. This was by far the gutsiest thing I’d ever done. Then I stopped worrying. Carl was standing behind me but had reached around to finger my pussy. I was so wet, and I moaned as he stroked the tender flesh between my legs. The cool night air kissed all of my most private places. What might have felt chilly on another night was somehow strangely satisfying. My body heat was on high — and my temperature was rising with every passing second.

Carl rubbed his cock against the groove between my ass cheeks, and I felt my pulse quicken. Then he leaned me forward and his cock was in me, stroking into my cunt as taxis rushed by below and the city’s lullaby reached us up at our level. I felt oddly invigorated in a way I hadn’t thought I would. This was sexy, being outdoors and being naked. This was exotic — fucking in plain sight.

“You’re so wet,” he whispered against the side of my neck. “I can feel how turned on this makes you.”

I couldn’t argue. He was right. Making love outside had me swiveling my body and dripping luscious pussy juices. He held my hips, and I held the railing. Carl’s cock had reached its full eight inches. I could feel the bulbous head deep inside me as he hammered home. We definitely fit well together. He gave me one, firm thrust, and I bit down a cry.

“You won’t have to stifle your sounds where we’re going,” he assured me.

Almost in spite of myself, I liked what he was saying. I’d never been loud before. There was always the possibility of neighbors hearing. I’d bit into sheets and into the palm of my hand. I’d hidden my moans in pillows. In my whole life, I couldn’t recall a single time when I’d screamed out in pleasure.

“Now, just imagine,” he said, “you and me all alone in the wilderness, where nobody will see. I’ll bounce you up and down on my cock in the middle of a field. I’ll 69 with you in the tent. I’ll hold your wrists above your head and fuck you against a tree trunk. We can be naked all week long. Every single waking moment.”

“We’re going for a week?” I squeaked, city mouse to the core.

“Look out there,” he said, and I gazed where he was pointing, at a skyline lit with pinpricks of light.

“When we camp,” he said, “you’ll see real stars, bask in their ancient light. You’ll love it,” he assured me as he tweaked my clit and made me come. “I promise.”

That’s how I found myself the proud owner of a rucksack packed with brand-new outdoor gear. Hiking boots that had never been worn. Knee socks made of thick, absorbent wool. Nothing chichi. Nothing frilly. That’s not 100 percent factual. My new outdoor jacket was lined in plaid satin. It was half a joke and half an attempt to hold on to my roots. Carl’s roots were clearly rooty, like a tree. Mine were firmly anchored in the city.

“I didn’t care if people were watching. If they wanted to, let them watch.”

He’d told me to trust him. I’d be in good hands. I knew those hands. They’d brought me to my highest levels of pleasure over and over again. I could live anywhere for seven days, right? This was the query I asked myself — and Carl — the night before we left.

Carl was almost too excited to sleep. “You’ll see for yourself,” he assured me. “We’re leaving at dawn.”

Dawn.

I knew I’d hate camping.

“We have to leave as early as possible,” he explained matter-of-factly in the morning, “because I want you to revel in the full experience of arriving at the camp site and watching the whole area wake up.”

I was filled with dread as we headed off, even as I tried to convince myself to be a good sport. But before long, my lover revealed his ulterior motives for our trip. We didn’t even make it onto the highway before he had his hand in my pants. I was shocked at first, then relaxed as his fingers soothed and aroused me. The sky was only starting to light up. The edges of the horizon were aglow with peach and apricot hues. Then there was Carl with his hand in my black leggings, toggling my clit as if I was one of his favorite games. The only vehicles out on the road this early were big rigs, and as we passed the first, Carl dared me to lift my shirt.

“You’re kidding me!”

“Give the guy a thrill.”

I flushed, my cheeks growing hot. But if I were to be honest with myself, my panties were wet, too, Carl had seen to that by stroking me just right. The truck went past, and I kept my shirt down.

“Next one?” he coaxed.

“All right,” I said, working up my nerve. I wasn’t wearing a bra. We were on our way to a campsite four hours north. I’d have no need for lingerie there. When the next truck went past, I lifted my tee. The trucker honked, Carl hooted, and I felt exhilarated.

“That was awesome,” Carl commented, looking happier than I’d ever seen him. “I didn’t think you’d really do it.”

“No?”

“You’re so…”

“I’m so what?”

“Well, you’re fairly refined.”

“Usually that’s a compliment.”

“Not where we’re going,” he said. “You’ll be able to let everything hang out. Are you ready?” he asked. I nodded. Why not? What would I have to lose?

Apparently, what I had to lose were my clothes. As soon as Carl got us to the camp, he confiscated my outfit, leaving me in my thick white socks and hiking boots. Thankfully, the air was already warm. Carl had chosen our time of year perfectly. Not only was the weather behaving, but the place he’d chosen was picture-postcard beautiful. There were wildflowers everywhere, and the air was filled with their intoxicating fragrance.

Carl got naked, too, and he grinned at me, as if reading my thoughts. At first, I was embarrassed — as well as bare-assed. Then I started to grow not only aroused but intrigued.

“How do you know nobody will catch us?”

He brushed the hair off my forehead and kissed me. “They’d be trespassing if they did,” he said. “My family’s owned this plot of land for generations. We have it all to ourselves.”

That was good news to me. I relaxed considerably in my nothingness. Carl seemed to appreciate my body in a way he never had before. It wasn’t that our sex life had been ho-hum or humdrum. But now, in this natural setting, Carl really worshipped every part of me with his eyes.

He set up our tent while I puttered naked around the site. Then he pulled an air mattress into the grove of wildflowers and tossed me on top of it. I bounced and laughed. He joined me in the center.

Our first lovemaking session was right there, right then, in the middle of the day, in the middle of a field. The sun shone down on us from above, and I could hear the sound of rushing water nearby. It was as idyllic as fucking in a fairytale, and as different from anything I’d ever done as I could imagine. The most outdoorsy escapade I’d had previously had been our liaison on the fire escape. I remembered how turned on Carl had been that night, with the possibility of people seeing us from across the way or down below.

This was different. Carl had assured me we had the area to ourselves. We started with him on his back and me astride him, rocking my body up and down on his tent-pole of a dick. There were butterflies in the wildflowers. I heard the music of birdcalls. Carl ran his hands over my breasts, cupped them, then rubbed my nipples with his thumbs. I arched and whispered his name, and he slid me off him and took me doggy-style, so I was facing a knot of trees in the distance while he pegged me with his fine, hard cock.

“Oh, God!” I cried out.

“I know!” he responded. “It’s incredible, isn’t it? You feel so tight, your pussy is so…”

“No, look!”

I’d been staring out at the distance — the expanse of wilderness all around us — and that’s when I saw the people up on the ridge.

I froze. Carl didn’t even hesitate. He continued to drive into me with his fat cock. “They can’t see us,” he assured me. “They’re so far away.”

“I thought you said this was your family’s property.”

“Up until that ridge.”

I squinted. I was betting they had binoculars. I was sure of it. They were watching us fuck! Watching the two of us…

“With our bodies locked together, I captured every last drop of his cream.”

Carl started to rub my clit as he worked me. His fingertips made magical circles. In seconds I was sodden, and suddenly, I didn’t care if people were watching. If they wanted to, let them watch. The attitude shift was momentous for me — from shy to bold in a heartbeat. I couldn’t fathom what had happened other than witnessing Carl get so turned on by being outside; his enthusiasm had spread to me. Was I a wild woman after all?

“Let them watch,” he said, repeating my thoughts. “We’re animals, aren’t we? Maybe they’re interested in nature for nature’s sake.”

I no longer cared about anything except coming. Carl played out a hypnotic rhythm with his fingertips on my clit, and I murmured cooing encouragements.

“Be loud!” he insisted. “Out here, you can be as loud and as free as you want!”

I hesitated for a second. Could I? I never had. Then I sucked in a great breath of air and shouted out my bliss. 

“That’s my girl,” he said, egging me on. “Tell me how it feels.”

“It feels great!” I cried to the sky.

“What does?”

“Your cock!” Oh, it was wicked, wasn’t it? To be shouting out the word “cock” in the middle of nature’s beauty? I loved the way that felt. I had never experienced anything like it. Carl wanted me to continue talking. I could tell. So I did, imagining that the hikers on the ridge could hear us. I was now certain they couldn’t — mere dots of people up there but I pretended.

“I love Carl’s thick cock!” I shouted. “I can’t wait for him to stick it in my ass!”

Carl barked laughter at that. It was totally unlike me. I was so loud when I came the noise caused the birds to flutter from the trees. Nothing had ever felt like that before. No fuck session. No experience. I was transformed. That’s how I remained for the rest of the trip.

Once we’d christened the air mattress, we took a break for lunch. I was thrilled to learn Carl knew his way around a fire. He made us coffee, a luxury from home I didn’t have to forgo. Then he took me on a hike. For this part of the trip, he allowed me to wear jeans and a T-shirt, so I didn’t get scratched by branches or burrs. But when we reached our destination, he didn’t have to instruct me to strip. I did that all on my own. He’d taken me to a small lake — bigger than a pond or a pool, but not dramatically huge. I wanted to feel that inviting water surrounding my naked skin. When had I last swum in public? I couldn’t remember.

This was different from a country-club pool in every respect. I pulled off my clothes. Carl followed suit. Then we skinny-dipped in that deep-blue water as the sunlight glinted everywhere, dappling the surface.

I dove and then emerged, and Carl was right there with me. Soon, we connected — another first. I had never fucked in water before. Carl’s cock found its way inside me. We were standing together in the shallows, then I had my legs around his waist and he was holding me. We fucked and floated at the same time. I thought of paintings I’d seen at a local gallery: women with their hair loose, floating like water nymphs. I let my hair free from my ponytail. The blonde spirals spread out around me.

Usually, water is the bane of my hair’s existence. One drop and my carefully coiffed tresses go from straight to curly in an instant. For once, I didn’t care. I’d gladly be Carl’s curly girl. I felt buoyant and blissful. Carl’s cock persevered through the water and entered my pussy again and again.

Together we floated, connected and parted over and over again. We swam and then came together. Drifted and disengaged. But when the passion became too great, we made a concentrated effort to stay joined. I’d fucked in the shower once with a former lover, but that had been the extent of my aqua erotica. This was such a new experience. I vowed to remember every wet and wild second of it.

“I’m coming,” Carl murmured to me. I held him tight, wrapping my legs snugly around him. With our bodies locked together, I captured every last drop of his cream inside me. Then we parted, his cock slipping from my spasming cunt. I was free, floating and feeling like a lazy mermaid until I reached a warm rock at the water’s edge.

I understood now. Carl’s talk of the power of the wilderness, of the wonder of the wild, had taken root in my heart. I was won over and felt transcendent.

The days passed like that in a whisper of ecstasy. The weather was warm enough for us to sleep outside the tent. We made love every day, in every position we could imagine. One day blurred into the next, and I found I was more comfortable out of my element than I could possibly have imagined.

Until Carl said it was time to go home.

I couldn’t believe it.

“The city’s calling,” he said. “Work. And friends. And email…”

I’d been a 24/7 type of girl. Now who was I? I was no longer sure.

On the last night of our camping vacation, we made love under an inky sky sprinkled with sparking diamonds. The light from the stars was old — I knew that — from several years to several thousands of years. What we were witnessing was the past. But I was undoubtedly in the present. Carl took me on my hands and knees on a blanket we’d spread out at our campsite. As flames crackled and hissed against the logs, we rutted and bucked by firelight.

When Carl reached his finish line, he pulled out and shot all over my back and ass. As his come dried on my skin, I felt smudged and dirty — and I didn’t care at all.

But it was soon time go. We’d have showers and freshly washed sheets. There would no longer be wildflowers in my hair.

In the morning, we packed and headed home, back to the sounds of taxis and sirens. Streetlights flickering from green to yellow to red. I watched the pigeons in the park as we drove by. Carl rested his hand on my thigh.

“Pleased to be home?” he asked.

“When can we go back?” I replied, hoping it’d be soon.