VIII. August 16, 1969

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Sage's fingertips are cold on the back of my neck, but his lips are soft and warm. My body hums with desire when his tongue traces the seam of my mouth; it feels so good that I don't open to him right away, but wait for him to gently stroke my lips again. When he does, I give in, and his tongue sweeps over mine, leaving the taste of spearmint.

I scoot closer to him; the quilt sliding from my leg and exposing my thigh. Gliding my hands down his chest, I press my fingertips into his skin, slipping them under the sheet at his hips.

As my fingers explore more of his body, new tattoos are visible—a set of music notes entwined with snaking vines and vibrant red roses, a quote in Latin, and a saguaro cactus set against a mountain formation with a sunset of reds, purples, and oranges. I have one tattoo, a butterfly I got on my senior trip in my one bout of rebellion against my parents, and I always wanted more. But I'd never have the courage to express myself the way Sage has; the way he's used his body as a canvas is gorgeous and awe-inspiring.

He leans into me and I lay back on the sleeping bag. The polyester rustles under our weight as Sage presses against me. His lips move over my collarbone and up the side of my neck. I hook my leg over his thigh and arch my back, trying to find relief for the part of me that is begging for his attention. He moans against my ear when he slides between my legs and nothing but the sheet around him stops us from making contact.

As his hips move with mine, Sage's hand slides over the quilt at my chest. He pulls it down and brushes his thumb against my nipple. I like how his skin looks touching mine, a beautiful contrast of creamy beige and warm brown. The attention his lips give to my neck shifts to my chest and his wet hair tickles my chin. He removes the blanket from me, and the fresh, wet air meets my naked body.

There is something so raw about being intertwined in the most basic human act while surrounded by the natural beauty of the woods. The way the air works alongside each of Sage's touches fuels my desire, and the rain dripping through the canopy of leaves is the most sensual background music. I've never felt as alive as I do right now.

I gasp and tangle my fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. He looks up at me as though asking permission to close his lips around the sensitive buds. I nod and breathe, "Please." The sensation that electrifies my nerves as he puts his mouth on me makes me drop my head back, my eyes closing and a deep moan leaving my throat.

His palms run down my sides, his fingers slipping underneath me and gripping my ass. Keeping his mouth on me, he turns onto his back, giving me free rein of his body. I roll my hips over him, savoring the friction we create. Sage takes a deep breath when I grind into him in just the right way. One of his hands remains on my waist as the other loops my hair around it and pulls me down for another kiss.

As I move my mouth over his, I drop my hand to the sheet that is still covering his lower half. With one quick flick of my fingers, I loosen the fabric, letting it fall to his sides. I feel him against me before I let my gaze travel south, and it is clear that his desire for me is equal to what I am feeling for him.

I trail my lips across his jaw, planting kisses all the way down his neck and stopping at the spot where his shoulder and collarbone meet. He is so soft, and all the ink soaked into his skin makes me feel like I'm worshipping a classic work of art.

Again, Sage takes control, rolling me under him. With his hand between our bodies, his fingers move down my stomach until they discover that part of me that makes my breath hitch and my legs spread wider for him. The firm circles he draws into my skin feel so good. I drag my nails down his back and sink them into the swell of his round ass. He doesn't let up until my breaths are exhaled on lust filled moans.

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