In the quiet town of Front Mountain, lived a woman named Marianne. At 25, she had a voluptuous figure and a wild mane of fiery red hair. She was topless most of the time, finding the mountain air invigorating. Her pubic hair grew thick and wild, like the forest at the foot of the mountain.
One day, a traveler named Oliver passed through. He was a strapping young man with a curious look in his eyes. Intrigued by the red-haired woman, he approached her cabin.
Marianne, unsurprised by the intrusion, welcomed him with a knowing smile. After a brief exchange, she offered to show him the mountain’s summit. Oliver, captivated by her beauty, agreed.
As they ascended, their conversation flowed effortlessly. At the summit, they found themselves in a clearing, the sun casting a golden hue on their skin. Marianne, with a twinkle in her eye, initiated their descent with a different kind of exploration.
She began by tracing her fingers over Oliver’s chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken under her touch. Leaning in, she pressed her lips to his, igniting a spark between them. Their kiss deepened, tongues entwining in a dance as old as time.
Marianne’s hands ventured lower, reaching for the buttons of Oliver’s pants. With a swift movement, she released him, his erection springing free. She knelt before him, taking him into her mouth. Her hair cascaded around them, creating a curtain of fiery red.
Oliver moaned, his hands finding their way to her head, guiding her rhythm. Her mouth, warm and wet, enveloped him, sending waves of pleasure through his body.
Breaking free, Marianne stood, pulling Oliver towards a nearby tree. She leaned against it, her breasts heaving with anticipation. Oliver, driven by desire, pressed himself against her. Their bodies melded together, heat radiating from their skin.
Oliver’s fingers found Marianne’s wetness, stroking her gently. She gasped, her head falling back against the tree. He teased her, circling her clit before plunging a finger inside her. She moaned, her hips bucking against his hand.
With a swift movement, Oliver entered Marianne. She cried out, her nails digging into his back. He paused, giving her a moment to adjust before moving again. Their rhythm matched the swaying of the trees, the sounds of their lovemaking echoing through the forest.
Marianne’s moans grew louder, her body trembling as she reached her climax. Oliver followed, his release filling her. They remained there, entwined, basking in the afterglow of their encounter.
As they descended the mountain, their connection deepened. They knew they had shared something special, a moment suspended in time. Their encounter, as wild and untamed as the mountain itself, was a memory they would carry with them forever.
