The view from the top was spectacular—rolling hills painted in autumn gold, the distant glint of a lake, sky stretching endless and blue. Mike had to admit, grudgingly, that it was beautiful.
His calves burned. His back ached. And he'd sweated through his favorite hiking shirt.
"You're thinking about how much you hate this right now, aren't you?" Colleen asked, catching his expression as she adjusted her ponytail. A knowing smile played on her lips.
"I'm thinking about how much I love you," Mike deflected, "for dragging me up a mountain at six in the morning."
She laughed—that warm, full sound that had made him fall for her twelve years ago. "Liar. You've been checking your watch since mile two."
He couldn't argue with that.
They were alone at the summit. The parking lot had been nearly empty when they started, and the weekday morning crowd apparently had better things to do than climb three miles uphill. A wooden bench overlooked the valley. A weathered sign pointed toward trails Mike had no intention of ever exploring again.
Colleen stepped closer, her hiking boots crunching on loose gravel. She reached up and brushed a strand of dark hair from her forehead, leaving a faint smudge of dirt across her temple. Even sweaty and disheveled, she looked good. The fitted tank top she'd chosen clung to her curves, and those compression leggings left nothing to the imagination.
"You know," she said, her voice dropping, "I really appreciate you coming with me today. I know this isn't your thing."
"It's not fine. You've been a good sport." She moved closer still, until they were nearly touching. "I think you deserve a reward."
Mike raised an eyebrow. "A reward? Like what, you're buying breakfast on the way home?"
Colleen's smile turned sharp. Something sparked in her brown eyes—playful, hungry.
Her hands went to the waistband of his shorts.
"Colleen—what are you—" He glanced around frantically. "We're in public. Anyone could—"
"Then you'd better keep watch," she said, sinking to her knees on the hard dirt. "Consider this motivation for next time."
The ground was probably uncomfortable. Rocks and roots dug into her knees through her leggings. She didn't seem to care. Her fingers worked his zipper down with practiced efficiency, reaching inside to pull him free.
Mike was already half-hard. He couldn't help it. Twelve years of marriage and she still had this effect on him—this ability to turn his blood to fire with nothing but a look, a touch, a suggestion.
She stroked him once, twice, watching him respond in her hand. The mountain air was cool on his exposed skin, a sharp contrast to the heat of her palm.
"Someone could come up the trail," he said weakly.
"Then they'd get a show." She licked her lips. "Or maybe they'd turn around and let me finish."
Before he could protest further, she took him into her mouth.
Mike's head fell back. His hands found her hair—not pushing, just resting, anchoring himself as wet heat engulfed him. She started slow, her tongue tracing the underside of his shaft, her lips sealed tight around his girth. She knew exactly how he liked it. Years of practice had taught her every sensitive spot, every rhythm that drove him crazy.
She pulled back to tongue at the head, tasting the precum already leaking from the tip. Her hand worked the base while her mouth focused on the top, and Mike bit his lip to keep from groaning too loudly.
She hummed around him, the vibration making his thighs tense. Then she took him deeper, relaxing her throat, and his grip tightened in her hair.
The sounds were obscene—wet, slick noises echoing off the empty mountainside. A bird called somewhere in the distance. Wind rustled through the trees below. And Colleen sucked his cock like it was the only thing that mattered in the world.
Mike risked a glance down. Her eyes were closed, her expression focused and blissful. A thin line of spit connected her lips to his shaft when she pulled back. She looked up at him through her lashes, and the raw desire in her gaze nearly undid him.
"You're trying to kill me," he managed.
She responded by taking him to the root.
His hips bucked involuntarily, pushing deeper, and she accepted it without complaint. Her throat worked around him as she fought her gag reflex, and he felt the tightness of it, the impossible heat. One of her hands cupped his balls, rolling them gently, while the other braced against his thigh.
The pressure built at the base of his spine. His legs trembled—not from the hike this time.
"Close," he warned. "Colleen, I'm—"
She didn't pull back. If anything, she worked faster, her head bobbing in a relentless rhythm. Her tongue pressed flat against the underside of his cock, adding friction that sent sparks behind his eyes.
Mike came with a strangled groan, his whole body tensing as he spilled into her mouth. She swallowed around him, taking everything, milking him through each pulse until he was spent and shaking.
When she finally pulled back, she licked her lips and smiled up at him. A tiny drop of cum clung to the corner of her mouth. She wiped it away with her thumb, then sucked it clean.
"Still hate hiking?" she asked.
Mike laughed breathlessly. He was still trying to remember how to stand. "Ask me again after my legs work."
She rose gracefully, brushing dirt from her knees. "I'm thinking we do this trail again next weekend. There's a waterfall another mile out."
"Think of the reward at the end."
Mike tucked himself back into his shorts, still dazed. The view really was spectacular. But he suspected he'd remember Colleen on her knees a lot longer than he'd remember the autumn foliage.
"Fine," he said. "Next weekend."
Her smile was triumphant. "I knew you'd see it my way."
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