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."
"Already? Insatiable!"
"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."
"Definitely."
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 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.
