Ava & Leo - The Cabin

The cabin crouched so deep in the pines that even the moonlight arrived in shy, broken pieces. One gravel track wound in from the county road, ending at a small clearing where cedar shingles glimmered silver and a single chimney breathed woodsmoke into the cool morning. Inside, the air smelled of resin and old coffee; a wide plank floor glowed under scattered rugs, and a stone hearth waited with fresh kindling already laid.

They had driven through the night, windows down, forest air laced with dew and pine needles. Now dawn seeped through the skylight above the loft bed, painting stripes across their tangled limbs. Leo was the first to move--stretching long, sun-browned muscles, short light-brown hair tousled, boyish smile already tipped with mischief. Ava sat up, auburn hair cascading over small breasts, nipples tightening in the chill. She rolled her shoulders once, catlike, then stood on the bearskin rug and flexed her feet. The soles were faintly pink from yesterday's oil, but the pads were tough, seasoned by years of barefoot trail running and moss-soft forest paths.

A silent agreement passed between them: the cabin belonged to play, and the forest belonged to wager.

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The Race

Breakfast was black coffee and laughter. Then Ava pushed open the back door and pointed to a deer path that arrowed through ferns. "First one to the big granite boulder by the stream and back wins," she said. "Barefoot."

Leo narrowed his eyes, but the challenge had already slipped under his skin. They stripped to the waist--skin against cool air--then stepped off the porch. Pine needles pricked; damp earth oozed between toes. Ava inhaled, already home. Leo rolled his ankles, admiring the way her calf muscles carved long lines down to delicate ankles.

She counted down from three, and they launched.

The trail was forgiving at first: soft loam, layers of last year's needles. Then came roots and pebbles, sudden patches of slick moss. Leo's stride was powerful, but his soles were tender; every sharp stone made him wince. Ava's feet danced--high arches flexing, toes splaying for grip, decades of proprioception guiding her around hazards. She ran light, almost soundless, auburn hair streaming like a banner. At the granite boulder she slapped the warm stone, pivoted, and was already past Leo on the return leg. He pushed harder, lungs burning, but the forest floor punished any misstep. Ava crossed the porch first, breathing steady, cheeks flushed with victory.

Leo arrived seconds later, laughing and panting, palms on his knees. "Fine," he conceded, "you set the rules."

Ava's smile was slow, wicked. "Inside. Everything off. No restraints this time--just skin and willpower."

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The Tickle Fight

They shed the rest of their clothes on the threshold, leaving shirts and shorts in a careless heap. Sunlight through tall windows painted their bodies in shifting gold. Ava pounced first--springing onto the wide couch, pushing Leo back against soft cushions. She straddled his waist, fingers finding his ribs, and the cabin filled with startled laughter.

He bucked, trying to twist, but she rode the motion, small breasts brushing his chest. Her fingertips skated over the ridges of his obliques, traced the soft skin just below his navel, then darted to the hollows beneath his arms. Leo's laughter cracked higher; he grabbed her wrists, but she wriggled free, hair cascading across his face. They rolled, a tangle of limbs and breathless giggles, until Leo pinned her shoulders to the rug.

Now it was his turn. He mapped her body with deliberate slowness--palms sweeping down her sides, thumbs circling the sensitive dip just above her hipbones. Ava arched, trying to squirm away, but he followed, mouth curving against her collarbone. Every touch was feather-light yet precise, finding the places that made her gasp. He lingered at the soft undersides of her breasts, drawing circles with a single fingertip until her nipples tightened to aching points. She bit her lip, toes curling into the bearskin.

They flipped again--neither truly dominant, both chasing sensation. Ava caught Leo's wrists and guided them to her feet. "Your specialty," she teased. He grinned and lowered his head, tongue tracing the high arch of her right foot, tasting salt and pine and yesterday's lingering oil. She groaned, half laughter, half desire.

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Edging and Ruin

Eventually they paused, breath mingling, skin glowing. Ava rose, eyes dark with intent. She pushed Leo onto his back on the wide ottoman, knees braced on either side of his hips. Her hand wrapped around his length, already hard, already slick with want. Slowly--maddeningly slowly--she stroked, thumb circling the sensitive crown, her other hand cupping him gently.

Leo's hips lifted involuntarily. She leaned forward, small breasts grazing his chest, and whispered, "Hold still." Then her fingers started a rhythm: up, twist, pause, down, pause--each pause just long enough for the pleasure to crest but never break. Sweat beaded along his hairline; his breath hitched.

Ava's feet joined the game. She slid them together along his thighs, arches cradling him, soft soles gliding in the oil they had drizzled earlier. The pressure was light, teasing, but the friction was perfect. Up, twist, pause. Down, squeeze, pause. She watched his face, watched the moment his eyes glazed, watched him hover on the knife-edge.

Then she slowed--just enough. His hips jerked, seeking more, but she denied him the final stroke. A low groan escaped him as pleasure spiked and ebbed, leaving him trembling, unsatisfied, beautifully ruined. Ava pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, tender and merciless.

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Nipple Worship

Leo recovered quickly--revenge and gratitude twined. He shifted, easing Ava onto her back on the thick rug. He knelt between her legs, palms gliding up her thighs, but his mouth sought her breasts. He licked a slow, wet path to one nipple, then the other, alternating gentle suction with soft flicks of his tongue. Each touch sent sparks down her spine.

He used fingertips too--pinching lightly, rolling, then soothing with warmth. Ava's back arched; her hands found his hair, guiding, pleading. He added vibration: the silver bullet, still slick from earlier, held against the underside of one breast while his tongue teased the nipple above. The sensation was concentrated, exquisite. Her breath turned to soft cries, then sharper gasps as pleasure coiled low in her belly.

He sensed the moment she teetered and adjusted--tongue flattening, vibration steady, pressure perfect. The orgasm caught her suddenly, a bright, sharp crest that felt like sunlight exploding behind her eyes. Her entire body bowed, feet pressing into the rug, toes curling hard. Leo held her through it, mouth gentle, hands steady, until she floated back down, limbs loose, heartbeat slowing.

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Footjob Finale

Still languid, Ava rolled onto her side and reached for the coconut oil. She poured a small pool into her palms, warming it, then wrapped both feet around Leo's renewed hardness. She moved slowly at first--arches gliding, soles pressing together, toes curling to add delicate pressure. The oil made everything slick, frictionless, perfect.

Leo's head fell back; he watched through half-lidded eyes as her slender ankles flexed, as the high arches of her runner's feet cradled him. She varied the rhythm--long strokes, then tiny pulses, then a pause just long enough to let him breathe before starting again. When she sensed him nearing the edge, she slowed, teasing, until he groaned her name.

She finished him with deliberate tenderness, feet moving in tandem, thumb brushing the head at the last moment. His release was quiet, intense, body arching into her touch. Ava caught him in her palms, then wiped them on a corner of towel, smiling softly.

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Afterglow & Promise

They curled together on the rug, skin to skin, pine-scented air drifting over them. Outside, wind sighed through cedar branches. Leo traced idle circles on Ava's hip; she pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat.

"Tomorrow," she murmured, "we hike to the waterfall. I hear the moss is soft as velvet."

His smile curved, mischievous again. "And I hear it stays wet all day."

They laughed, low and content, then drifted into a doze, knowing the forest still had endless games to teach them.