Page 18 of Gunner

What the fuck was she doing out here skinny dipping where anyone could see her? If she were mine, I’d spank her tight little ass. Who the fuck was I kidding? I’d be naked right beside her, taking her down to the ground, where I would fuck her into oblivion under the moonlight.

Not wanting to startle her, I stood rooted in my spot, admiring the glorious view. I wish I could say I was a gentleman and left, giving her the privacy she thought she had, but I was no gentleman.

Far from it.

Leaning against a tree, I watched as she headed for the shoreline, stopping before a blanket. Instead of getting dressed, my little nudist laid her mouthwatering body down on the blanket and stretched out as if it was nothing to lie naked under the moon and stars.

“I know you’re there, Gunner. I heard your bike,” shebellowed.

Grinning, I pushed off the tree and walked closer. “And how did you know it was my bike, babydoll?”

“You ride a 1997 custom Harley Davidson Fat Boy. It’s a V-twin soft tail cruiser with solid-cast disc brakes and a Milwaukee-Eight 114 engine.”

Fuck me.

I think I just came in my pants.

“You know your bikes.”

“I know a lot of things, but nothing that matters. Why are you here?”

“Could ask you the same thing.”

“I needed to get away from my mom.”

“Same here. But not my mom. King.”

“Might as well sit down.”

“Uh, you just gonna lay there like that?” I asked.

Sarah turned her head and asked. “Is it a problem?”

Gulping, I shook my head. “No. Not at all.”

Taking a seat on a large piece of driftwood, I tried not to look at her.

I said tried...but I couldn’t stop myself.

She was fucking stunning, basking in the moon’s glow. Like some siren sent to tempt me. Too bad for her. It wouldn’t take much in that department. I was always willing and ready to help a damsel in destress.

I was good that way.

“So, you come here often?”

Sarah turned and chuckled. “Really? Small talk?”

Fuck.

She was right. What the hell was wrong with me? I was better than that. I prided myself on my ability to talk to women, but with her, it seemed I reverted to my pubescent ways.

This was not good.

Clearing my voice, I tried again. “Why are you out here skinny dipping?”

“Because my parents are fighting about me again.”

“Why?”