One of the most persistent sex myths is that a hot fuck needs to be with someone you love or, at the very least, someone you like. Sometimes, a little tension and antagonism between two people can fan the flames of a fire that burns hotter than any romance. Hell, I've had some of the best sex of my life with people I couldn't stand. The woman who told me this tale took an instant dislike to the man who was to become her most passionate lover. I love this story; it proves the point that uncontrollable desire manifests itself in the most unlikely places and is often inspired by the strangest people. I looked around the walls of my mud hut on a nature reserve in the middle of the Indian jungle and thought to myself: How did I end up here? When my friend Sarah suggested a different kind of vacation, I jumped at the chance to do something other than the usual swimming pool and tropical tiki-bar shtick. In the brochure, this health-kick holiday in the wild had seemed like a great idea: yoga every morning, herbal tea, vegetarian food, and long-distance hikes through lush countryside. I had visions of emerging as a thin, spiritual creature, unburdened by Western values and ideas of beauty. I had looked forward to traditional Indian beauty treatments to leave my skin glowing and to returning home tanned, blissed out, and serene. And of course I had hopes of making an amazing sexual connection with some bronzed, toned, dreadlocked gap-year student who would make soft, tender love to me on the shores of the Arabian Sea. Well, what's the point of being a single girl on vacation if you don't enjoy every facet of your freedom?
All those visions were cruelly shattered when Sarah canceled on me at the last minute because of a work assignment she simply couldn't get out of. I toyed with the idea of staying at home, but I'd paid for this trip, so I traveled alone, still buoyed by a sense of adventure and anticipation. The reality of it was that I was sleeping under a smelly mosquito net in a crude mud hut, surrounded by aging hippies who routinely tried to outdo each other with extreme travel stories.
"Of course, this is just a mild weekend," said a bare-footed guy with a scraggly gray beard and sagging pot-belly. "The real hard-core ones are the kind where you go to an ashram and live off only juice. You get a really clear head after the first few days. It's very spiritual."
The only person my age was David, and frankly he was even worse than the old hippies. An outward-bound instructor from the West Country, he was convinced he knew everything about anything, and his arrogance pissed me off from day one. He also thought he had a great body, which he insisted on displaying at every possible opportunity-we couldn't pass a waterfall without David suggesting an impromptu group shower. I suppose that he was good-looking, if tall, ripped, mus cled guys with strong, smooth, brown bodies without an inch of fat are your thing. And if you go for strong jaws, melting hazel eyes, and soft waves of light brown hair, well, David might be your type. However, even had he looked like Brad Pitt, his awful, know-it-all, patronizing personality still would have turned my stomach.
Of course, as I was the only single woman under forty there, David made a beeline for me. He didn't understand my reluctance to sit around the campfire every night listening to him carry on about mountains he'd climbed and rapids he'd ridden. I started off by giving him the polite cold shoulder, but after day two I was openly snapping at him. Mild irritation gradually turned into an unsettling feeling that I couldn't shake. Every night as I got ready for bed, I cursed Sarah for leaving me alone with these people in the middle of nowhere. I found David so intensely annoying that he was the last thing I thought about before I slept. And when he crept into my dreams, explicit erotic dreams that made me wake bathed in sweat, throbbing between the legs and clutching the bedclothes, well, I just took it as a sign that he was such an irritating asshole that he could even creep into my sleep uninvited.
Toward the end of the week, I was having fun despite myself. I loved the daily yoga sessions-all five hours of them. And I also enjoyed what was happening to my body. Cellulite was turning to firm, toned flesh, and inches were melting off me. I had to admit that I was regaining my teenage figure, and with it a renewed appetite for sex and love. I suppose the daily sixteen hours of blazing sunshine and steamy atmosphere made it a bit of a sexy place, too. It was just a crying shame there was no one to get horizontal with apart from David, and he obviously didn't count.
Halfway through the retreat I was starting to get used to the advanced yoga sessions. I had become something of an expert in recent days. Call me shallow, but while all the hippies were om-ing and breathing through alternate nostrils, I was thinking things like "Now that I can do the splits, there's loads of sex positions I can try out that I wouldn't have dared try before."
David showed off by doing a headstand, a feat made less impressive by the fact that he would always look around afterward to see if I was watching him and how manly he looked. What did he expect me to say to him? "Well done for having such strong legs. Now, let's fuck." Maybe he did. Well, I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.
The weird thing was, the more I grew to despise David, the hotter my dreams became. The fact that he had edged into my sexual fantasies made me more short-tempered with him than ever. After I'd snapped at him for invading my space during evening yoga, I heard him mutter something about me needing a damn good fuck, but when I asked him to repeat himself, he denied having spoken.
On the Thursday morning of the second-to-last day before leaving, we performed our sun salutations as the dawn broke over the Indian jungle. This was probably my favorite part of the day, feeling the first rays of sunshine kiss the skin that my bikini left exposed. Deepa, our yoga instructor, told us that today we would be doing assisted stretches with partners.
"This works best with one man and one woman," she said. "I've allocated partners based on your strength and size." I knew it. I knew it in my gut even before she called out my name with David's.
"Well," he said, lecherously, striding toward me with his yoga mat underneath his arm. "Deepa is obviously keen for us to get to know each other a little better."
"Well I'm not," I snapped. As we lay next to each other on the floor and did the deep-breathing exercises that were supposed to increase our awareness of our bodies, I found that all I was getting was an increased awareness of David's. As I concentrated on breathing slowly in through my nose and out through my mouth, I felt a tingling pass through my body that I hadn't experienced while doing yoga before. This was followed by heat that started between my legs and grew with every breath, a sensation like the plucking of a string somewhere deep in my pelvis, and I realized with dismay that as much as I hated David, lying next to him like this was turning me on. Really turning me on.
Now that I was close enough to his body to smell him, now that the tiny hairs on our arms were brushing against each other, I realized that I was close to the place where the body decides to override the mind. When chemistry strikes, there's nothing you can do about it. Even if you don't like a man's personality or his looks, your body's reactions will tell you that when your skin touches his for the first time, you're going to receive an electric shock, a surge of adrenaline and lust so powerful that you're simply going to have to kiss him, and that once you start you won't be able to stop. That it will escalate into the kind of hot, sweaty, steamy sex that will wake you up in the middle of the night and make your stomach flip whenever you think about it for the rest of your life.
I'd known great sexual chemistry before with one or two lovers, but both had been men I liked, respected, even at times loved. This utter contradiction of body and mind was new to me and very unsettling.
The rest of the partnered stretching session was a sweet kind of agony. David and I had to hold a variety of intimate poses. It was fine to start with, when we sat back-to-back, taking turns leaning on each other. His body was so honed that I could feel the large sinews of his back rippling against my own flesh. But as long as we weren't facing each other, I could control the animal urges that ripped through me, ignore the fact that the hairs on my neck were standing on end and that the sensation between my legs was growing more, not less, intense.
I even had things under control when we raised each other's arms above our heads and pushed against them, using the resistance of the other's body to increase our muscle strength and stamina. As we worked our way through a variety of poses, none of them as intimate as I at first had feared, I began to master the art of mind over matter. By breathing deeply and concentrating on how my body felt rather than on David's (just so you know, it was warm and damp with fresh perspiration, young, virile, and firm), I could calm myself down. Yes, I'd experienced a huge rush of arousal when we were lying next to each other, but it was okay now; I was calmer. And if I still felt a little shiver whenever we changed position and a new patch of his skin made first contact with an exposed area of my own, well, that was probably just sunburn.
Deepa told us to change positions again. Now I had to sit with my legs as far apart as I could get them while he used pressure on my inner thighs to push them a little bit farther apart, stretching my body as far as it could go to test it and, possibly, increase my flexibility. David's palms touched the sensitive, thin skin between my legs, always a favorite erogenous zone. My pussy began to pump and throb in earnest, a horny little heartbeat between my thighs. To my acute shame, a damp patch appeared on my bikini bottoms, as my body refused to listen to my mind yet again. When David noticed this, the smug, self-satisfied way he licked his lips should have turned me off, but instead that glimpse of his tongue made me realize how easy and delicious it would be to lean forward a couple of inches, slide the tip of my tongue into his mouth, and let the kiss happen setting in motion a whole chain of events.
Before I could do anything so foolish, our yoga lesson drew to a close, and it was time to change into walking gear for our jungle trek. I stormed off to my hut, shut the door behind me, and kicked the bed in annoyance and frustration. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! Sleeping with David was out of the question. Sure, I was horny. Sure, I got wet every time I even thought about what we'd be like together. But I wouldn't give that smug bastard the satisfaction.
That day's walk took us up a steep overgrown path. We were to hack our way through the rain forest to the summit of a mountain where we would have our packed lunches (low-calorie vegan, of course) before planning our descent. It was the hardest hike we'd done yet, but I strode ahead of the pack, the vigorous exercise helping to displace the morning's unwelcome burst of desire. Eventually I fell into step with the rest of the group and almost forgot about David and the way he'd looked at me when he'd seen the expanding damp patch on my crotch.
More than once I found myself walking close to him, but when this happened I'd stride on and strike up a loud conversation with one of the other trekkers, sticking to narrow bits of the path so he couldn't tag along. But I couldn't shake him off. When he was behind me I felt him checking out my ass in my little shorts, his eyes boring into me. And when he was in front of me, I couldn't prevent my own eyes from being drawn to his impressive back. Couldn't help fixating on those two slabs of muscle on top of the strongest, most flexed, manly thighs I'd ever had the pleasure of ogling. Sometimes I'd look at his hands swinging by his side, helping to keep his balance. Even his wrists made me horny. The nape of his neck, sinewy and deeply tanned, oh, God, I wanted to reach out and touch it.
Looking back now, I wonder if David knew that I had been mesmerized by his body. Because I was staring at it so intently I didn't realize until I turned to speak to the woman next to me that we had broken away from the group. I looked around in a panic and saw no one. I listened for the murmured conversation that would guide us back to our companions, but it was such a steep climb everyone would be too out of breath to talk. When he heard my footsteps stop, David turned around, a smirk playing on his lips.
"I thought you were supposed to have outward-bound skills!" I panted at him. "Can't you get us back to the rest of the group?"
"Oh, dear," he said, in a voice laden with sarcasm. "I didn't realize you were following me so closely. Looks like it's just the two of us. Whatever are we going to do?"
Why did he have to look so fucking sexy when he was being so obnoxious? Rather than diminishing his sex appeal, his arrogance seemed to add to it because of the way I felt about him. Exhausted, I sat down on a tree stump.
David slid his backpack off, reached into it and pulled out his water bottle. "Whatever are we going to do?" he repeated, before tilting his head back and drinking greedily, letting the water spill out of his mouth and splash down his well-defined brown neck. My body was telling me to throw myself at him, lick up the cascading water, rip his clothes off his body, and keep kissing, licking, sucking, and biting until I got to his cock… and when I got there, to keep going until he was hard, harder than he'd ever been in his life, finally hard enough to fuck me the way I wanted him to.
"You ought to drink something," said David, in that annoying know-it-all voice. I realized that I was absolutely parched. I also realized that I had drained the contents of my water bottle before we were even halfway through the hike. I shrugged my shoulders as if I didn't care, but I was too late; he'd spotted the empty bottle dangling from my belt.
"Have some of mine," he said. And he placed the neck of the bottle next to my lips. I drank greedily, partly from thirst and partly because I could taste David on the bottle. It still smelled of him, and I closed my eyes, pressing the bottle to my mouth, imagining it was his kiss. When I took my last swig, the water cascaded down my chin, cheeks, and neck.
I was frozen to the spot as David bent down and extended a clean, pink tongue to catch a dribble of water running down my neck. His tongue touched my collarbone first and then swept up my cheek tantalizingly slowly. He was so close that I could feel each hair on his neck, could breathe in that hypnotic scent of his. When his tongue reached my lips, he gently pried them open, and then followed by applying gentle pressure with a pair of smooth, soft lips that were so much the right shape, size, and texture that they could have been designed expressly for the purpose of kissing mine. I couldn't have resisted even if I'd still wanted to.
This was no longer a question of wanting David; I needed him. It was a primal urge, like hunger, like pain, like sleep. I needed to have his hands on my tits, so I pulled open my cotton shirt, not caring as buttons scattered into the undergrowth, lost forever. He obviously needed it, too, because he unhooked my bra with the same expertise he did everything else and covered my breasts with his hands, which were twice their size. My nipples grew hard under his warm touch and poked out through his thumb and finger. He squeezed them gently, a soft, tender touch that made my clit throb with anticipation.
I wanted him to undress me fast; any scrap of material between us was a hindrance delaying the moment when I could feel his chest pressed against my tits, his hands on my ass, his cock in my cunt. I tore at his shirt. My hands had turned to claws. I was a wild animal as I yanked off his belt and pulled his pants over his hips while he removed my own shorts. My clothes were around my knees when he parted my inner thighs again and jabbed two fingers inside my dripping pussy. Just when I felt my greedy hole contract around them, he took them, held them up like someone aiming a pistol, and ran his hand underneath his nose, breathing deeply.
"You're soaking," he said. "And, fuck me, you smell delicious."
The fat dick bouncing between his thighs was a clear indication that he was just as eager to fuck me and that I didn't need to use my mouth to make him any harder. I reached both hands down, tugged at the shaft of his penis, and starting at the base, began to caress the length of him before finishing with a swirl and a flourish, peeling his foreskin back to reveal a glistening, purple tip. It was the best-looking dick I'd ever seen. But I needed it to be in the one place I couldn't see it.
We kicked off our boots and sank to the dusty ground. Utterly naked in the jungle, the only noise a distant roar of water and the chirping of birds and insects. David's kiss was all the foreplay I needed and when I spread my legs he was inside me in seconds, his fat, firm cock stretching me inside, filling me up, making me whole. I had never felt so primal, or hungry for another body. I barely knew what I was going to do next, but nature did, as I tilted my hips, letting him spear me as deeply as he possibly could.
We rolled over and over. I lay on top of him, and drew my legs up to my chest before squatting over his cock. I bore down on it with my whole weight, feeling his engorged dick fill me up once more. My clit was so hard and swollen that it jutted out between my pussy lips. David glanced down, saw it, licked his thumb and forefinger and put one on either side of my swollen, yearning clit and rocked his hand gently back and forth, back and forth. His touch was light but the effect was as quick and efficient as flicking an electric light switch. I came hard, barely recognizing the animal yowls I emitted as my body collapsed on top of his. The spasms came again and again and again. Leaning down toward his face for a final, probing kiss, I abandoned myself to the physical release.
I dismounted and lay facedown next to David, too exhausted to keep fucking. But he hadn't finished with me. His dick was bigger and more turgid than before, standing bolt upright and thick between his legs. My body was limp, still in recovery from the most powerful orgasm I'd ever known. When he pulled my hips up and slid a knee between my legs to part them I moaned in protest, sure that my fragile, spent body couldn't take any more. But he was inside me before I had a chance to argue, fucking me from behind, thrusting so hard that I couldn't resist, and I let myself flop like a rag doll. The agony from having my still-swollen pussy pounded like this soon turned into another sensation, deep inside and toward the front of my body.
It began as a shiver in my pelvis and flowed along my limbs like a weak electric current, numbing my arms and legs, until it grew into a tingle so intense deep inside me that it became the only sensation I was aware of. The harder David thrust, the more I wanted him to. It was a minute or two before a new rush of pre-orgasmic pleasure indicated that I was about to come again, but this was a different, deeper orgasm than any I'd experienced before. I yielded to the low throb that grew stronger and stronger until I exploded again, feeling a jet of warm liquid emerge from an unknown recess deep inside me. David almost slipped out of me, but my twitching pussy would not release his dick; when he came, he was half-in, half-out of me and I felt two hard jerks before he became absolutely still and cried out in pleasure. My own juices, mixed with his spunk, dribbled out of my cunt, down my thighs, and into his pubic hair, making a little puddle on the jungle floor. He tore his dick out of me, and we both rolled onto our backs. We lay side by side, panting, our breathing slowly synchronizing just as it had done in the yoga class. That seemed like a lifetime ago now.
The smug arrogance had been replaced by a tenderness that melted me as he kissed me, used his underpants to wipe us both clean, and then scampered around the jungle clearing to retrieve our clothing. "I'm afraid some of these buttons will never come back," he murmured into my neck as he gently helped me on with my bra before bending down to put my boots back on for me. The kiss he planted on my knee made me shiver with desire again. Now that I knew it was possible to come more than once in the same session, I felt that I would always be ready for David.
"So now what?" I said, looking at the sky. "It'll get dark soon, and we've no means of finding our way back." I was now genuinely worried. We had little water left, and, much as I would have liked to, we couldn't have survived on sex alone.
"Oh, that?" said David, airily, pushing away a bush to reveal the path that led directly back to our camp. "I always knew exactly where we were. You were never really lost."
He couldn't hide his self-satisfied smile for long, and the prickles of irritation began to rise in me again. As I followed him back down to the huts, listening to him brag about the way he'd just made me come twice, I felt more like punching him than kissing him. I gave into it. After all, why try to force myself to like this man when hating him was so much hotter?