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(X-rated) January 15 2024, Lake Hawea Village to Motatapu Road:
I decided to slackpack from Hawea to the outskirts of Wanaka today. I thought it was cute how the trail lacked thru-hiking culture because anytime I said “slackpack” nobody knew what the fuck I was talking about. I thought I would take my mostly empty backpack but last minute decided not to take anything other than my trekking poles. Figured if I got really hungry or thirsty, I could walk off trail and go to the café.
I felt so chipper during the walk. I couldn’t smack the smile off my face. It felt so good to have a sore pussy again and to know I still had to prepare for the silver fox later today. I was glad he didn’t come over yesterday because there was no way I would’ve been able to take his cock. I felt energized as I fantasized about what his rod might look like. Hopefully he wasn’t too big, I didn’t think I could handle that right now.
The trek was flat and followed the river that was meant for day hikers, so it was wide and well-maintained. Some cyclists rode by and I panicked momentarily, not knowing which side of the sidewalk to move over to.
“Excuse me?” I asked as the couple came to a halt.
“Yes?” the guy asked.
“What is the common courtesy in New Zealand? Am I supposed to move over to the left or the right?” I asked.
“Typically you would move over to the left,” he said.
“Figured it would be that way since the cars drive on the left side of the road.”
I continued on, eventually walking past an elderly couple. I saw some gorgeous white flowers ahead of me so I ran up close and began taking pictures of them.
I turned around to the couple and yelled, “These are such pretty flowers!”
To which he said they were weeds. They both started laughing at my excitement as I was sure I looked like a typical tourist. Then, I asked them about the purple flowers that appeared as tall stalks of lavender.
“They’re called lupins,” he said, “they are also weeds and very invasive. Anything invasive is a weed, including humans.”
Along the way I was entertained through people naturally being as they were. Construction workers sang songs in sync as they worked on building the roof of a new house. An elderly couple struggled to wipe down their wet and muddy dogs with a towel before they were allowed in the car. Two little girls walked by, soaked to the bone from having had accidentally fallen into the river. There were couples sunbathing in their barely nothing swim attire in the middle of a public place, a random dude sleeping in a tree, three other dudes knocked out by the lake. Camper vans were set up cooking barbecue for the family and tourists took pictures of eucalyptus trees (myself, included).
When I was about a mile away from Wanaka, I saw the first TA hiker of the day, so naturally I became very excited to talk to them. It was a French guy who was going NOBO. Upon my excitement in meeting him, he became really flirtatious with me. I felt he misinterpreted what I was putting out, so I cut the conversation short and continued on.
I walked into Wanaka to rest at the café and grab some cold water, then continued to the finish line for the day. I came upon a famous tree which was apparently the most photographed tree in the world, known as ‘That Wanaka Tree.’ It was hysterical to see a mostly empty beach but then a big group of people huddled at that one part of the shore staring at a tree in the water. Humans were silly.
Beyond that, I enjoyed the outskirts of Wanaka where I ran into less and less people on the track. I walked beside a patch of vineyards and the trail started to become a bit more hilly. High above my head, people were paragliding between the crests of the dry mountain ridges.
I got to the junction shortly after and hitched a ride back to Wanaka to meet up with Lenses for a late cup of coffee. I had plans to meet up with the married silver fox guy. I felt so pau after todays hike, however I knew that once I saw him I would feel energized again. It always worked that way for me.
I told him to meet him at the lake, figured it was a good idea since he lived in a place full of people that knew him. I walked across the street and hopped in his car. For a moment I had forgotten how delicious he looked which made me grow impatient to taste him. I immediately started biting his neck and he had me stop, telling me to wait until we got out of town. I gave him a pout, but did as he said.
As soon as we got onto the highway, I began grabbing at his thighs, slowly rubbing my heated palm over his jeans and watching his bulge grow in his pants while my mouth grew wet with saliva. I wanted a taste bad. I never felt intimidated when a man got a raging boner around me, even by accident. If anything, I felt I had to control my own sense of lust and hold myself back from ripping him apart like an animal.
I began to unbuckle his jeans and he helped whip it out for me. Fuck, he was just as big as the guy from last night. I studied his cock in quick appreciation. I loved the way his piss hole revealed his scent. I began sucking him off, slobbering all over his hot, thick rod.
I grew needy and asked him to find a dirt road to pull over in because I wasn’t patient enough to wait for us to get to my hotel room. Sometimes I wish I just said what I was thinking. “Pull the fuck over right now!” but instead my requests came off as very feminine and soft with lots of tender kisses.
He tried fingering me as I was going down on him but I brushed him off by moving my hips away. I felt so raw from the last guy, but I quickly got warmed up after blowing the silver fox. The feeling of his cock veins pulsing on my tongue had my pussy wet in seconds.
He found a dirt road that he pulled off into and I hopped into the front seat, mounting him tightly. I leaned in to kiss him with my open mouth covered with the scent of his cock. His face felt rough against my soft skin. His saliva sweet and his mouth hungry for me. He was panting in anticipation.
He pulled me in close, groping at my hips. Lifting me up slightly, I inserted his lubricated cock and began riding him, moaning as I fell into my rhythm. His hands grabbed and pulled tightly at my hair, inviting me to sit deeper and deeper on him. He started to moan as he told me he was about to cum. It was so quick, but I let him cum inside of me while I killed the sperm off with my mind. Then, I squeezed the cum out of my pussy, feeling it fall out onto his cock and pubic hair. I went to clean it up with my tongue as best I could. I made sure not to shower after the guy from last night so I could mix the scents of different cocks in my pussy.
“You’re a dirty, dirty girl,” he said to me.
Then, he dropped me off at the hotel. First thing I did was order a pizza. When I went to pick it up, I saw the French guy whom I ran into earlier along the river walk. He was sitting at the restaurant so I went to say hi before going upstairs.
He looked up at me as if in complete shock and said, “Oh! My lady!” then cupped my hand with both of his, almost as if to kiss it.
He told me to sit with him, flirtatiously looking me up and down with ravenous eyes. I could sense he wanted something sexual from me and I wasn’t into him like that so I told him I would be eating my pizza alone in my bedroom.
As I was eating, Treehouse called me, so I figured it would be fun to hear from him. We spoke for a while about random topics of where we were and what insights we had been exploring. I began to feel flirty and naturally began touching myself to the sound of his voice. We weren’t even talking about anything sexual at the moment but his tone was turning me on. I let out slight subliminal moans and suddenly he made comments about having me pinned against a wall as he undressed me bit by bit.
“You will be on the ‘edge’ and I will be keeping you right the fuck there,” he said.
I could tell he was an experienced writer just by the way he went into detail about my positioning in the scene along with the sensory experience of it.
I made my voice sound feminine, airy and sweet, seducing him with playful laughter and sensuality. Only a select few would hear that voice of mine, those whom I was attracted to and felt I had a connection with.
“Your voice is so calming,” he said, “such like the feeling that would be invoked by sitting next to a warm fireplace watching 1949 sitcoms with a warm fuzzy blanket wrapped around me.”
I laughed to myself for he described a nearly identical vision I had for myself in the future—black and white film, off the grid living, reading books beside a fire and definitely lots of cats.