She moaned a deep breath and let it out sharply between her teeth.
She could feel every muscle tense, trusty tawny fibers flexing under her soft belly’s padding. Her fingers gripped the shaft resting in her palm almost delicately, then smashed in for another impact. She could feel the shockwaves from every thrust jolt up her body. She was strong, she could take it. It was thrilling.
She could feel her peak coming close, but she wanted to make it last. She paused for a moment, taking stock of her body. Her heart was pounding in her chest and sweat dripped down in rivers from her tits and thickly thatched armpits. It felt good. Alive. She waited just long enough for her ragged breath to steady before pressing on, eager for that sensation she could feel looming just out of reach.
She was in no hurry, but she didn’t want to lose the progress she’d already made, either. The momentum was building and she knew it. Her mind played a favorite story to keep her mind on the task at hand, thinking about past conquests and future adventures, about all her favorite places and the sensuous delights she liked best. She grinned a little to herself, feeling the slick wetness as her thighs rubbed together. It was hot.
She was alone, but that’s nothing new. She often did this solo (she liked the time to herself). There’s freedom in the extreme, luscious privacy of her thoughts. She could go to dark or difficult places, and not worry about anyone else’s feelings or pace.
Her body was bigger than most, both taller and broader. She had made a truce with mirrors, but could still be a little self conscious about it with others. But here, from the inside, there was no one else’s expectations to distract her. She could feel her own strength and solidness. It felt good. It was these times alone that she loved herself best.
She trusted her body, knew the arc of each thrust before she even made them, and loved how those generous dimpled curves could take so much and give so much more.
So she did more, pressing on deeper. She dug the tip in with her hands and exhaled in time. Sometimes a sound broke her out of her rhythm and she’d pause to locate it, but as soon as she knew she was safe she’d press on, eager now and heaving her whole body with each powerful jerk.
Every breath was torture, ragged and deep, but she knew she was almost there. Just a little more… more… yeah. Fuck yeah!
She’d arrived at her mountaintop, her own private spot. She was lightheaded and giddy and dropped her pack and trekking poles right there, spreading her arms like a bird to soak up the view with every inch of her body. This was it. Her climax. She’d earned it.
Image by rife, self portrait on top of Mount Jumbo in Juneau, Alaska. Follow them on Instagram for more hiking photos.