The air in the dense forest was thick with moisture, each breath we took tasting of damp earth and the sweet, cloying scent of rotting leaves. Jake followed his mom, Rachel, her hips swaying with a gate he’d pegged a thousand times but never let his thoughts linger on. Today, the fly of his jeans was uncomfortably tight. She was just too fucking ripe, her round ass hugged by the cotton material stretched taut over each cheek.

We came upon a small clearing, a canopy of weird, pale-blue plants bearing fat, glistening, plum-like fruits. Their rum-colored skin looked soft as slick velvet, begging to be touched. Rachel picked one, sinking her teeth in. Her moan of satisfaction was low, and the juice dribbled down her chin. “God, Jake, you have to try this,” she said, holding it out.

I bit in next. The juice was hot, an instant electrical fizz that spread fire through my veins. My dick throbbed so hard I felt it press against my zipper. Rachel’s breath hitched. The air between us thickened as we eyed each other's slick lips. Then she swayed. I caught her, my hands on the sweat-soaked fabric of her T-shirt, feeling the heat rolling off her skin.

“Shit, what was in that?” she whispered, her gaze swimming. Her tit was pressed heavy against my chest; her erect nipples poking sharp points into the cloth. “I feel… weird,” she panted, rubbing the curve of her mons against my thigh.

A raw need, primal as the forest, flooded my senses. She didn’t push me, she pulled me down into the mossy clearing, her legs parting. Her hands