Little Red and the Wolf

back into the forest. Nothing had changed, no sign of anyone, but he was there. She was sure of it this time.

He’d watched her undress and wade into the water. He was watching her now, confident, cocky, knowing he wasn’t seen. “Probably have your dick in your hand right now, jackin’ off.”

She gave her back to the kinky voyeur and dove into the water. Currents massaged her naked body as she swam, fluttering over her breasts, warming between her thighs. She came to the surface and swam to the other side where the shoreline was three feet of jagged rocks and then a five-story limestone wall.

Maizie looked back to the other side where the forest edged the shore and her sundress and panties lay draped over a crooked log. He was still there-somewhere. Even at this distance she could feel him watching. A smile tugged the corner of her mouth.

Why was she smiling? He could be anyone, a rapist, a psychopath, a tax collector. She should be scared, alarmed, or wondering about receipts. She wasn’t. In her dream Maizie was fearless, and horny. She was so turned on she could feel the hot juices creaming her pussy even under the water. She liked being watched…by him. Who knew?

Him? Did she know who it was? Yes. She realized she did, but her subconscious wasn’t tellin’.

Maizie dove back under the water, swimming as far as her lungs would allow. When she came up again she was close enough to touch bottom and walk up the gradual slope to the edge. The water grew shallower with each step and Maizie rocked her hips for a sexier slow reveal. With both hands she smoothed the water from her face, over her forehead and through her hair. If her secret admirer wanted a show? She’d give him one.

She headed for the crooked log, but got a better idea when she noticed the huge slab of rock ten feet beyond, tilted on a gentle angle. It was wide and flat, a perfect stage.

Water tickled down her back from her hair, over her ass, streaming between her legs. Maizie bit her lip on a smile, her muscles tight, breasts heavy, cool air breezing over her skin.

There was no sexy way to climb onto the rock, but she managed with only a minimum amount of humiliating angles. She stretched out, lifting her long wet hair so it fanned out above her head as she lay down.

A rustle of leaves, the snap of twigs, her voyeur was moving around for a better angle. Good. This time she did smile. Maizie closed her eyes, opened herself to the feel of his gaze, touching herself where his hands couldn’t reach.

The rock was warm against her back, the sun fighting the chill of a breeze over beads of water on her chest and belly. She rubbed her hands over herself, spreading the water, helping the sun dry her body. Her skin tingled under her touch, her breasts aching for stimulation, nipples hard and erect.

Her belly tightened with the feel of his gaze on her, her sex muscles pulsed, body going wet and ready. She rubbed her hand over her ribs, brushing up to cup a breast in her palm. Her back arched. She imagined it was his hand, his fingers pinching her tender nipple, twisting, teasing.

Maizie smoothed her free hand down her belly, pretending they were his fingers slipping through the coarse red curls of her mons, caressing down to part the outer labia, teasing her swollen clit.

She moaned at the touch, the thought, her sex opening, aching to be filled. Her two fingers slid between her inner lips, pushing into her sex so her palm pressed against her sensitive clit.

Sensation hummed through her body, her sex muscles clenching, slicking, smoothing the rhythmic strokes. She held her breath, a soft build of pressure welling up from her center.

She imagined him there, next to her, above her, his fingers moving in and out of her sex, his focused stare watching her respond to his touch. He’d grow hard at the sight of her pleasure, wanting her, but wanting to watch too. Ripples of liquid heat tingled over her skin as though she could feel his breath hovering above her, almost kissing her, but not. She bent her knees, spread her legs, wanting him there inside her.

Maizie writhed against the hard rock, forgetting her audience, losing herself in the fast swirl of sensation building inside her. She bit her lip, concentrating on the delicious pressure, the release just a few seconds away. She lifted her hips, his fingers, her fingers, pumping her sex, driving her orgasm closer, faster. Almost there.

Something moved beside the rock. Maizie wanted to look, but didn’t. She couldn’t lose this feeling, this coming bliss. She clenched her teeth. Just another second then she’d look. Her hand kept the rhythm, her sex so wet, her thighs felt the chill of a breeze.

A swish of movement, the click, click, click of claws along the flat rock, her voyeur had come to her. Gray. He was there, next to her. She opened her eyes, just a slit, caught a flash of silver fur and then it was gone.

Maizie tipped her head back, so close to release she held her breath. A hand squeezed above her knee. Not a paw, a hand, Gray’s hand-distracting her just enough to knock her orgasm back a level, rebuilding it, making it more intense, more undeniable.

A second hand pressed against her other leg, both squeezing, massaging, up her thighs. She didn’t stop masturbating. He was watching, just like she’d imagined. Her chest squeezed, need humming beneath her skin.

Warm lips pressed a kiss to her inner thigh, her hand brushing against the beard stubble on his cheek. A heated tingle rushed through her body from the spot, leaving a heated imprint of his lips in her mind. Gray’s firm tongue traced the flesh where her leg met her sex, her thighs trembled with the feel of it, then he bit her there. Just a nibble but it made her jump and sent a sharp jolt of pleasure ricocheting through her body.

She gasped, head back, eyes closed. “Yes.”

She raised her hips from the rock and felt Gray’s silky hair brush her thigh as he leaned down and flicked his tongue over her anus.

Maizie sucked a breath, the sensation tripling the intensity in her pussy. Then he did it again, this time pushing at the opening.

“Yes.”

His tongue pressed again, firm enough to spread the tight muscles but soft and moist enough that it didn’t hurt. Her breath caught in her chest, muscles snapping tight, coiling, sensation building…building, and then just like that her release swelled over her restraint and every nerve ending in her body trembled in its wake.

Gray stayed there toying with the virginal opening while her fingers pumped her sex, her palm stroking her clit. Her body clenched around her, milking her for more.

She was drenched, creamed from thigh to thigh, and she was coming. Really coming. She held her breath. Yes. Gray. Yes.

“What’s that knocking?” Gray said in that the sexy radio voice from between her thighs.

“Anyone home? Hello?” The voice wasn’t as sexy anymore and sounded farther away.

Maizie opened her eyes. Scanned the room. Her room. In Granny’s cottage. She looked down, her spaghetti- strap nightgown was pushed below her breasts, both her hands were in her panties, knees wide, sheets a tangled mess around her feet.

“Shoot.” She dropped her head back into her pillow. The world’s most mind-blowing orgasm was gone. “Today already sucks and I haven’t even gotten out of bed yet.”

“Hello? Last chance. Anyone home?”

Maizie jackknifed in bed. That was a man’s voice. Coming from inside the house. She kicked her feet free of the sheets and scrambled toward her bedroom door, straightening her nightgown, grabbing her robe.

Pounding down the stairs, she shoved her arms through the sleeves. Who was it? Some squatter who’d found Granny’s cleverly hidden key, a vacuum salesman, a born-again something-or-other? Whatever.

Whoa, Nelly, did they pick the wrong house to break-and-enter. Well, enter. Hell hath no fury like a sexually frustrated woman. The first time she’d spent the night at the cottage in months and she caught someone taking advantage of Granny’s down-home trust. They had it coming.

The front door was open. Maizie raced down the last few steps and grabbed the corner wall to help swing herself into the kitchen. She reached across the counter and snagged one of the big cleaver-style knives from the woodblock holder and headed back toward the living room.

“Hey. What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She rested the cleaver against her shoulder, her weight on one hip.

Yeah, she wouldn’t kill him. Didn’t have it in her. But he didn’t know that.

The man-tall, probably six-one, six-two-spun to face her from just past the threshold to the all-season room. He was older, around forty-five with thick black hair graying at the temples. He was kind of stocky, but very