Brent and I had spent all day traveling through the National Forest, making frequent stops to hike out to various points of interest. We'd seen panoramic vistas, along with rivers and waterfalls. Now that it was almost dark, we headed for the closest small town. At that time, there was no GPS, so we relied on a map for directions.

We chose to stay the night at a roadside motel. The rooms were spartan but clean. When we checked in, the man behind the desk looked from Brent to me, then asked how many rooms we would need.

"Just one," Brent replied, "for me and my wife."

Though I managed to keep my expression neutral, I was surprised he had referred to me in such a way. At twenty-one, I couldn't imagine being married. And strangers were more likely to assume that Brent was my father rather than my husband. With thick, sandy blond hair, he looked a little younger than forty-five, but I definitely looked my age.

This was our first weekend trip together, several hours away from the city where we lived. Brent and I had been dating for a few months, which caused consternation among my friends and family. I hadn't had many romantic relationships at that point. In high school, I rarely dated, and by the time I got to college, I was more focused on my studies than partying. My friends tended to be older; most were either students who had chosen to go back to school for another degree, or they were fellow employees at my part-time job. I didn't feel like I had all that much in common with people my own age.

To those who frowned upon me dating someone old enough to be my father, I struggled to explain how he made me feel safe. Unlike the man I'd briefly dated the previous winter, Brent wasn't at all volatile. Even when he grew angry, he never raised his voice.

Earlier that day, he and I had been walking along a narrow trail through the forest. I was just ahead of him when I suddenly lost my footing; it happened so fast that I had no time to brace myself for the fall. With seemingly superhuman reflexes, Brent reached out and seized my arm in a firm grip. My butt was just inches from the ground as he held me fast. Once he helped me back to my feet, I threw my arms around him, laughing in blatant relief.

But as much as I craved the stability he provided, and despite my appreciation for the many things he'd already taught me, the age difference caused inevitable friction between us. Though we rarely discussed it, I suspected he still loved his ex-fiancée, and he worried I'd lose interest in him and choose someone younger.

That night at the motel, we were tired but in good spirits. After showering, Brent and I climbed into bed, both of us naked. It still felt strange to be held while I slept. During the first night he and I had spent together at his house, I'd eased out of his embrace while half-asleep. Equally drowsy, he'd reached for me again, murmuring, "Where are you off to? Stay with me."

Now, I was tired enough to relax in his arms. Although it was a Saturday night, the town was quiet. I heard no traffic or voices outside, nothing but the faint chorus of insects that emanated from the forest surrounding the motel.

I slept soundly until just before dawn. As I lay on my side, Brent spooned me from behind. I woke to him nestling even closer. He was tentative at first, as if uncertain about rousing me. Maybe he worried I'd be grumpy about him waking me when it was still dark outside. But I felt his erection prodding me, and he well knew that I was almost always ready for sex. All he had to do was say something suggestive in that deep, rich voice of his, and I'd immediately grow wet.

Brent's obvious excitement chased away all my sleepiness, and I turned over on my back. After planting a tender kiss on my mouth, he lowered his lips to my neck. He'd discovered on our second date just how much I loved him fondling and sucking my nipples. Now, he swirled his tongue over one, and then the other. I had a feeling he'd never before been with a woman who had breasts as large as mine. He was the first man who'd straddled me so he could wrap my tits snugly around his hard cock.

In the quiet of our motel room, I eagerly reached for him. He eased his body on top of mine, his fingers seeking out my clit. I had to press my lips together to keep from moaning at his touch. He'd often teased me about being so loud during sex, joking that his neighbors could probably hear my cries. But this time, I managed to be quiet. If there were guests in the rooms adjacent to ours, I doubted they would appreciate being disturbed by the sounds of noisy lovemaking.

When Brent entered me, I released a pleasured sigh. He seemed expectant, as if awaiting my lust-filled vocalizations, but I borrowed from the silence of the deep forest beyond our window. His thrusts grew more fervent, and I couldn't help but wonder if he wanted me to cry out. He certainly wasn't being tentative now! The moment he started circling his hips, a technique that always succeeded in driving me wild, I rewarded him with a faint groan. Without me giving a ready voice to my lust, he had to pay even closer attention to my body's cues. The room was still too dark for him to clearly see my face.

The bed rhythmically creaked with our movements. Draped in heavy shadows, I felt almost like a stranger to myself, in those new surroundings. Did I seem like a stranger to Brent as well? His scent and touch remained comfortingly familiar.

Somehow, I stayed silent during my climax, though my lips parted as if to wail. Brent must have felt my orgasmic contractions, along with my desperate clawing at his back. Once my shuddering subsided, he pulled out. I heard his gasp as he left spurts of cum on the bottom bed sheet.

We shared another kiss before he lay back down at my side. Still breathing fast, he said, "I never knew you could be so quiet." There was something like grudging admiration in his voice, which only strengthened my belief that he'd hoped to work me into a screaming frenzy.

"I'm full of surprises," I replied with a grin.

Brent and I enjoyed the rest of that weekend together, but our relationship would end a short time later. After I returned to school, my days consisted of far more than him. I was busy with work and a heavy course load. When he and I managed to see each other, I grew irritated by how quick he was to tell me I'd done something wrong. Though he claimed he was only trying to give helpful advice, I worried he longed to shape me into a person I could never be.

In the weeks and months following our breakup, I often thought back to that glorious summer weekend we shared. At Brent's side, I indeed could have been anyone: his wife, his lover. I had no history, and no ties to that place. Once I returned to familiar surroundings, I realized my future, filled with astonishing possibility, offered another kind of freedom. It stretched out before me like a trail winding through the forest, and though I was now alone, with no one to catch me if I stumbled, I looked forward to the journey.