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I’d sat for a few minutes considered whether or not to leave; something told me that I’d just had the highlight of my evening, when my phone pinged,
“I like visits like that :-)”
“I was considering extending visiting hours anyway, you just made the decision easier.”
“Always happy to help with the decision process, sorry I had to run.”
“That’s ok, got my fingers to remind me of your time here ;-)”
“Stop it! :-). See you next time.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
It was another warm day three days later when the next time came around, “I feel a need for a park visit.” In her usual no preamble style.
“That’s good, I was beginning to get withdrawal symptoms.”
“Might I remind you that you texted me, but yes :-)”
“Fair point. So….?”
“Can be there in an hour?”
“Really?! An hour! That long?”
From me, “Now who’s insatiable?”
“Might I remind you that I texted you.”
“Haha, very good.”
“Suppose I shall just have to wait then. Where?”
“I know a place, see you outside the cafe, follow me.”
“Oooh, love a man in charge.”
“I bet. See you in an hour.”
And, just before the hour later, there I was, sitting outside the cafe on the same bench that she’d been on the last time we’d been here. And right on time she walked around the corner.
I spent a few seconds watching her: flat shoes, mid calf floral skirt, blue short sleeve blouse, a bag slung over her shoulder, a wide grin on her face and, even at that distance, I could see the sparkle in her eyes.
I wait until she’s about twenty metres from me before I stand, turn and begin walking down one of the many paths into the trees. After ten minutes of slowly thickening woodland, and a number of turns, I walk into the small clearing I had been aiming for; I’d remembered it from the previous year when I’d been here with a group of friends for a boozy picnic one Sunday afternoon. As hoped for, on a midweek afternoon, it was deserted.
There were two picnic benches on opposite sides, say at 12 and 6 o’clock, of the clearing and two squared off tree trunks laid down as long benches on the other sides, say 3 and 9 o’clock. I walk to the 3 o’clock tree trunk bench, turn and sit down.
Seconds later she entered the small clearing and walked straight across to stop directly in front of me. She slipped her bag off her shoulder and put it on the ground beside the seat.
I look up at her, the more I see of her the more I see just how attractive she is; not in a made up model kind of way but in normal, everyday, mumsy, curvy, seen a bit of life kind of way, when that lopsided cheeky smile appears and she gets that sparkle in her eyes it totally transforms her from a maybe worthy of a second glance woman to an appreciative look back over your shoulder woman.
Anyway, we weren’t there for me to sit and admire her.
I bend forward and slide my hands up the backs of her legs, under her skirt and onto her bum, pull her towards me until she’s standing between my legs, her tummy now centimetres from my face. Taking hold of her knickers I pull them down her legs to her feet. Without me doing anything she puts her hands on my shoulders to brace herself and steps out of them, I drop them on her bag.
Putting a hand between her knees I stroke up the soft skin of her inner thigh. All the way to the top. Stopping teasingly close to the junction of her thighs I extend my thumb and brush up the length of her pussy. Expect to feel a bush of hair but instead find that she’s been busy down there: the hair has gone, she’s completely smooth. I look up, those green eyes looking back, questioning, I give her what I hope is an approving smile and rub my thumb up one side of her pussy, up over her mons and down the other side; she smiles, closes her eyes and squeezes my shoulders.
Rub the tip of my thumb up and down her pussy, tease against her clit. Gently massage it, feel it respond; feel the heat, the dampness grow, a slight pressure against my thumb, a slight pressure on my shoulders.
Swirl my knuckles around her pussy, massage up and down the thick outer lips, up across her clit so that each knuckle bumps it on passing, down her thin, wet inner lips. Fingers tease them open then push through.
Middle finger slowly rotates into her, it’s full length sinking in. Stroke in and out. A second finger pushes in, joins the first. Together they explore her; the soft, almost spongy, walls and floor, the ribbed roof. Thumb rubs up across her clit, rolls it around.
I work into her, short rolling thrusts keeping my thumb in contact with her clit; not pressing hard: tapping it, rubbing it, side to side, up and down. Fingers stroking the insides of her, the walls and floor then hooking up along the roof. She’s sticky and wet, my fingers covered in it, feel a little running down the back of my hand.
Her hands illegal bahis gripping my shoulders squeeze, I press my forehead into her tummy and hold her against me with my other hand on the back of her thigh.
She’s trembling as my fingers continue to play her clit and pussy, can feel the fluttering in her tummy and legs as her fingers squeeze into my shoulder muscles.
Her orgasm seems to gently overtake her; just a slow roll into it as the walls of her pussy swell into little pillows. Her stomach wall tightens and she bends at the waist as a low groan rumbles in her throat.
It doesn’t last long, the grip on my shoulders eases and she pushes herself upright.
Slip my fingers out of her sticky pussy and, as she’s still trying to recover her equilibrium, I pull her towards me and slowly ease myself down to lie full length along the bench, turn sideways and lift a leg over, bracing myself on both sides. Keep guiding her so that she gets the idea of what I want her to do.
She steps sideways, lifts a leg over, her skirt dragging across my face, l spread it until I’m underneath it. Hands on her hips I pull her back a little until she’s straddling my head, my face between her soft, still wet, thighs looking up at her.
Despite the relatively mad things we’d done this was the first time I’d looked at her pussy, it had always been by touch until now. But looking at her now, in the filtered light, and even without the hair, she looks just as I would have described from that touch memory, Her outer lips are thick and rounded: that classic peach shape now parted from her stance, her long fleshy inner lips are also slightly parted and glisten in the half light. Her clitoris is small, but clearly peeking out from under the inverted v of its hood.
I run my tongue up the slight gap between her inner lips, part them further. Lick around the outside edge of the hood, push up into it teasing the hard nub of nerve endings of her clit, kiss it, suck it in.
It’s firm rather than hard, difficult to hold between my lips so I suck against it, flick it around. Her breathing still hasn’t settled and her pussy is sensitive from my finger’s earlier attentions, her arousal immediate as I focus on that tiny spot.
Her hands grip my head through her skirt, my hands grip her hips from behind as they start to rock backwards and forwards, her pussy and clit sliding across my face.
I lick up and down her as her hips move above me; push my tongue into her when I can, suck her clit when I can. But mostly her body does the moving, I try to follow.
I’ve tasted her on my fingers before, but this is different. I feel as though I’m getting overloaded; different textures against my mouth, the smooth mounds of her outer lips then the, almost wrinkled, folds of her inner lips that open to reveal her soft spongy insides and all topped by the bump of her clit.
She is in control now, I’m certainly not, but that control is thin; she is driven purely by lust and her desire for another orgasm.
The grip on my head keeps me where she wants me as she rubs herself across my face; her pussy following a track from my chin to my nose, occasionally tracing small circles then going back to her increasingly random rocking.
If she feels my tongue then she might pause to take advantage of it but within a couple of seconds that rocking reasserts itself and she focuses on getting my chin and tongue on the wet soft flesh between her lips and my nose rubbing across her clit.
l can barely hear or see anything: I’m just going on the feel of her body above me, so, when her movements start to get erratic and I once again feel her legs begin to shake I know that it’s approaching her time.
And just a moment later, after a particularly frantic use of my face, her legs suddenly lock, her stomach contracts, her thighs clamp against the sides of my face and she pulls my head into her body.
The frozen muscles unlock with a shudder. Then a shiver, followed by a second and a third flicker through her from head to toe, she stretches, then, “Mmmmm.”
Another minute of sitting in the memory of her orgasm and, just as I’m on the point of suffocation, she let’s go of my head and sits back on my chest, then gathers her skirt until once more I’m looking up at daylight. Her head is down: her hair hanging forward, her cheeks flushed pink, her eyes hooded and unfocused, her smile soft and dreamy.
Then, from nowhere, as though coming awake, she shakes her head, her eyes focus and she looks at me. Her mouth widens into a huge smile then she bites her top lip; I look at her eyes, that twinkle is back.
She twists around, reaches back and her fingers tug at the fastenings on my shorts. She gets the belt and zip undone, tries to push them down, I lift my bum and help her get them and my boxers down to my thighs.
To release my bone hard cock, too long trapped inside my shorts it springs up to slap me on my stomach.
She moans at the sight, wraps a hand around the illegal bahis siteleri shaft, strokes it then rubs her thumb over the silky tip. She lets go and shuffles backwards, gets over my shoulders, then edges further back allowing me to wriggle my arms out from beneath her.
She keeps edging back until she’s sitting on my groin, her skirt a thin barrier between us.
And through that barrier I can feel my cock nestling against the distinct shape of her pussy: the thick outer lips along the sides, the wet heat of her inner lips along the underside and the hard edge of her pelvic bone against my glans.
She rubs against me, pressing down; teasing me, teasing herself.
Slightly lifting herself she pulls her skirt out from between us; removes that barrier, plumps herself back down, now hot flesh on hot flesh. Once again her hips begin their well practiced rocking, rubbing herself along my hard length.
But that’s not enough, not for either of us. Once again she half stands, leans forward, one hand on my chest, reaches back between her legs to lift my cock.
Pauses momentarily, rubs the tip of me along her wet lips, gets me just where she me, then, in one long, smooth movement, sinks onto me.
As her body descends her eyes widen and her mouth forms a silent O.
Hands on my stomach she settles into my lap. accustoms herself to the feel, then her face relaxes, her eyes close and her mouth straightens into a contented smile.
From her inner lips to her cervix her pussy is filled with the length of my cock: from its root to its tip I can feel the soft heat of her pressing around me.
And I realise that this is another first for me with her, the first time I’ve looked at her face mid-fuck.
I love watching a woman’s face during sex, her’s is no exception.
Almost immediately she begins to move, hardly anything, just chasing her nerve endings: rubbing her clit against me, moving my cock around inside her body. Her full weight is balanced on me and she uses the pressure that that creates to maximum effect.
I lie on the hard surface of that tree trunk bench and watch her face, now a picture of concentration, and enjoy the gentle waves of pleasure radiating from my groin as her pussy rubs across my pubic hair and my cockhead bumps against her cervix. Sometimes she squeezes the walls of her pussy around me but most of the time she employs the same gyrations she’d used whilst riding my face: squirming around in various directions and at various angles searching for that wished for outcome, while I didn’t do a lot except provide the tool and occasionally flex my bum if I felt it an appropriate time.
And every few minutes she would kind of scrunch in on herself and shiver, smile and then go back to her gyrations; something told me that she was having a lovely time.
And every second of it danced across her face. Her eyes are shut but they’re still the windows. The overriding expression is one of concentration: her mouth is slightly open, her eyes squeezed tight shut, her eyebrows furrowed with three vertical creases between. Occasionally that look changes to the, I’ve found a particular spot look, when the look of concentration softens slightly and she bites her bottom lip. Then there’s the, oooh look, when working on that spot has the desired effect and the scrunch and shiver is immediately followed with a look of serenity. I really love watching a woman’s face.
Then, unbidden, I had a sudden memory; an accidental incident from years before when I’d been in a similar situation. That time I’d groaned, it had had a surprising effect.
This time I hum. It has the same effect.
Just like the groan all those years before the humming sends vibrations from my throat down to my groin, and lying on the hard wood as I am, just like I had been all those years before, those vibrations are amplified through my pelvic bone. And as she is pretty much sitting on my pelvic bone……
She stopped dead! Her eyes fly open and her mouth does the O thing again.
She looked down at me, one eyebrow up, a question on her face: what was that? So I did it again, I hummed.
Her eyes almost cross, then take on that look of concentration, her bum moves slightly, searching for the best position to take advantage of those vibrations. I switch the pitch up and down, higher and lower. Each time seems to catch her out and it isn’t long, her nerve endings already jangling, before she starts the scrunching and shivering again and it comes to the point where she looks like she’s on a rollercoaster, just waiting for the next drop.
And I don’t let up on the humming until…….
Thud! We both stop dead. Look in the direction of the sound. Thud! There it is again, a football being kicked, and very close. Then voices.
Without a moment’s hesitation she scrambles off me, grabs her bag and knickers, and runs off in the opposite direction to the fast approaching football and voices.
And just as the canlı bahis siteleri offending ball bounces into view I manage to sit up, swing my leg over and turn away, dragging my shorts and boxers up into some semblance of dressed.
And it’s only a semblance. I manage to get my shorts under me but at the front my cock is still standing loud and proud, totally unwilling to be put away quite yet, my boxers are a rolled up mess sitting under my balls.
A second’s thought, if I stay here I’m likely to be stuck here. A quick glance around to check that I’m not leaving anything and to see if I’m still clear, then I stand, shove my hands in my pockets to keep my shorts up, and walk away.
I don’t even look back, just leave the clearing on the opposite side to the extremely unwelcome guests and reenter the woods. After a few minutes of walking I look around, make sure I’m on my own and sort myself out.
Once I’ve tucked myself away, he’s long since given up the effort of standing, and dressed I decide to head back to the cafe and have a consolation coffee.
Midway there my phone pings, it’s her, “You ok?”
“Yes thanks.” I reply, “Managed to get away without being accused of flashing at the kids. Close run thing though. You?”
“Yes. Sorry I ran, panicked a bit.”
“No, you did the right thing.” “But we might have to bring some signs next time; warn people off: BEWARE OF RAMPANT WOMAN! That sort of thing.”
“Haha. Or DANGER! ERECTION IN FIELD.” “Got to admit though, it was funny……..even exciting! And I just love your use for that park bench. And the humming thing, omg!”
“Glad you approve, but really sorry we got cut off like that, missed the conclusion.”
“Conclusion! Oh god, don’t think I could have taken much more, never had all those little ones before, mind blowing. Didn’t think I’d be able to walk when I got off you, had little electric shocks all the way back, still tingling now. You can definitely do that again.”
“I’d love to, I think I’ve created a monster.”
“I think you have. I’m in my car, come and find me.”
“Got something for you.”
“Really. Where are you parked?”
“Like I said, come and find me!”
All this had got me to within a couple of minutes of the cafe, but, consolation forgotten, I walked straight past it to the carpark. Standing on the pavement I look across the cars, lots around the edges, a few in the middle but I couldn’t immediately see hers, then, in the far corner, in the midst of a long row of cars, an arm appears from the driver’s window of one and waves. I immediately recognise her car and begin walking towards it, as I get nearer I realise that she has something in her hand. Another few steps and I laugh out loud.
Oh god, she is actually waving her knickers in the air!! Bloody mad, I really had created a monster.
I walked between her car and another to her door, she lets me pass before opening it and swinging sideways in her seat to plant her feet on the ground.
She reaches out and, pushing her hands up my tee-shirt, grabbing my belt and shorts waistband, she practically dragged me in between her knees.
Quickly undoing my shorts, she was getting quite adept at it, she lets gravity do its work and they, and my boxers, drop to my ankles.
A little, although I have to admit not completely, taken by surprise at this turn of events I glance around. We’re hidden to all but the closest of scrutinies by her car door and the cars around us, although should someone chance to look then my shorts around my ankles must be clearly visible below the car door. I put my arms on the roof, at least this way I couldn’t be accused of indulging in a little bit of self gratification.
Not that I needed to, she was happily doing all the work. I briefly thought back to the last time we’d had a little ‘car action’ and how much she had seemed to enjoy giving head and just how good she had been at it. Nothing had changed since then, she clearly still enjoyed it and she was clearly still very good at it.
Last time’s slow response on the part of my cock was, thankfully, not repeated. This time, after the earlier interruption and disappointment, he came up fighting. Once again I was proud of him, he’d rarely let me down and today was no exception. He was throbbing fit to burst, but not yet, not by a long way.
She had her technique, obviously tried and tested; either that or she spent a lot of time on the internet, but I doubted the latter: you just can’t beat practical experience.
Which she was in the process of putting to good use.
She started as she had before; which was kind of nice: almost made it seem like this was the first time, She wasn’t trying to rush things, wasn’t trying to force it.
The fingers of both hands stroke up and down, fingertips tracing the bumps and grooves, following the veins, edging down my shaft to the root. Both hands cradle my balls, gently roll them around, back to my cock. A fingernail slowly drags up the soft underside, reaches my glans, feel two fingertips in the hollow between my rolled back foreskin and the glans. A hand wraps around my shaft, pumps up and down, then her other hand on my cock, one behind the other.
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