Naked in the Woods: Raw Fuck with My Hated Colleague After the Heist

Bandits gone. Silence hits hard. I’m huddled, knees to chest, naked in the dim woods. Robert’s there, hands cradling his busted balls, groaning. Sweat beads on his brow. My phone—stolen—still buzzes in my mind from days of anonymous chats. Him, the loser teller I despised at the bank. But those late-night texts? Filthy promises. ‘Fuck you raw first night.’ Now this twisted date: stripped by robbers, lost after hold-up.

His eyes flick to me. Mine to his cock, limp from Marisol’s knee. Adrenaline pumps. No time for bullshit. Cold bites my skin. Scratches sting from thorns. His musky cologne mixes with sweat—finally smell it up close. Real. Urgent. ‘Which way they went?’ he asks. I shrug, silent. Heart races. Not fear. Thrill. Chosen him online. Now bodies bare, screens gone.

The Approach

We stumble blind. Feet bleed on rocks. I trail, hiding tits, pussy. He leads, grunting pain. Bump into his back. Skin sparks. ‘Don’t stop sudden,’ I snap. Hand grabs his. Ice-cold fingers lace. Night falls fast. Build shelter—leaves, branches. Curl spoon-style. Ass to ass first. Then closer. His heat seeps. Shivers rack me. Back presses his chest. No words. Just breath hot on neck.

Dawn teases light. Spooned tight. My ass cradles his cock—stirring despite ache. Don’t pull away. Grind subtle. He wakes. Hand slides over hip. ‘Geneviève…’ Rough whisper.

Fingers trace my scratches. Nipples harden. I arch. ‘Touch me,’ I hiss. No more prude bitch. Days of chat filth explodes. His palm cups tit, pinches. I moan. Turn head, tongue his ear. ‘Fuck the cold. Fuck me now.’ Cock swells against crack. Hard. Throbbing. Bruised but ready.

The Explosion

Roll him back. Straddle. Pussy drips—wet from fear, want. Grab shaft. Stroke rough. ‘Your balls blue? Good. Makes it hurt so good.’ Lower. Guide head to lips. Sink slow. Stretch fills. Gasp. ‘Shit, tight cunt.’ Bounce hard. Tits slap. His hands grip ass, slap. ‘Slut colleague. Been dreaming this.’ Pound faster. Sweat slicks. Leaves crunch under slams.

Flip. Him on top. Legs wrap waist. Nails rake back. ‘Deeper, fucker!’ Grunts animal. Cock rams. Hits spot. Clit grinds pubes. ‘Gonna cum in you.’ Dirty chat real. ‘Do it. Breed me anonymous.’ Waves build. Scream rips—orgasm crashes. He roars, floods hot. Pulse milks every drop. Collapse. Panting. Sticky mess leaks.

Morning light. No words. Wipe cum on leaves. Dress in his stolen plaid shirt—mid-thigh cover. March silent. Find road. Cops roll up. Ambulance waits. Doc asks: ‘He hurt you?’ Glance Robert. Irony bites. ‘Bandits no. But his blue balls saved me. Or he’d have raped this pussy.’ Wink him. Load up. Strangers again. Phone’ll buzz later. Maybe.