This is the third Chapter in "Women Make the Man". It can stand alone, but I recommend reading from Ch. 1. All characters are over 18.
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In June the days are long on The Island. I was 18 years old in the Summer between high school graduation and heading off for college.
My mom and I had finished dinner and I decided to make the most of the lingering daylight by heading out for a hike.
There were still a lot of woods on The Island, scrub pine, scrub oak, bayberries. In the early summer, the soil was still damp from the melted snow of winter, yet the leaves were green with the new growth of spring.
The intoxicating fragrance of the familiar woods filled me with joy as I climbed the trail to the hill overlooking our neighborhood. There was the musty smell of damp earth, the bright green tang of new growth, and the unmistakable scent of salt air.
Something about being out in the woods alone always makes me horny.
As I neared the top of the hill, I saw a small space off the path surrounded by scrub oak and pine. I headed there and leaned against the back side of a pine tree. I could see our neighborhood and all the way down the hill to the bay below. The ground was covered by pine needles and oak leaves with new grass forcing its way up wherever it had an opening.
Slowly I unbuttoned my blue plaid cotton shirt, slid it off my shoulders and let it fall on the ground. My nipples stood erect in the cool evening breeze.
I put my hands on my tits and slowly slid them down to my belt. I unhooked the buckle, unbuttoned my tan Bermudas, and slowly pulled down the zipper.
My shorts fell down around my feet. I untied my sneakers, kicked them off, and stepped out of my pants. I could feel the damp earth under my feet: the sticks, the pine needles, the leaves.
My cock was sticking straight out, turning my white boxers into a tent. Gently, I slid my boxers down my legs and over my feet. For some reason, I hung them on a nearby branch.
I was naked in the woods.
With both hands I grabbed my buttocks, loosening my grip into a caress. Slowly I slid my hands around my hips and found the edge of my dark pubic hair. I followed the fleshy mound at the base of my penis, down between my legs to my balls. Both hands slid under my balls and lifted my package, holding it straight out. The cool breeze caressed the underside of my testicles.
I moved my fingers to the base of my shaft, then very slowly began feeling my way up to the tip. My cock jerked with excitement when I reached the rim of my circumcised glans. With the tips of my fingers, I experienced the hard sponginess of the head of my erect penis.
Then I slid my right hand down and cupped my balls. The fingers of my left hand enfolded my rock hard shaft. I squeezed slightly, and ever so slowly began to stroke.
I closed my eyes and melted into the woods, the earth, and the all consuming power of life. I opened my eyes to see a long spurt of jism fly out the end of my prick and down the hill, landing on the damp earth. I finished my load and wiped the last drops off my tip with my finger which I then placed on my tongue, tasting my own musky fluid.
That night I was so whacked that I went to bed early and had no trouble falling asleep.
The next day I got up late, and ran down to the beach for a quick swim before heading over to Mrs. LaPage's house to begin whatever yard work she had planned for me.
Janet LaPage's modern ranch style house was across the street at the base of the hill that overlooked our street. Unlike the smaller older houses that occupied the Island, it sprawled over the high ground surrounded by a broad lawn with a fenced in back yard that was dominated by a large heated swimming pool — quite a rarity in that part of the country.
It was a little after lunch when I let myself in through the back gate. Mrs. LaPage was on the sundeck, reclining in a lounge chair.
"Oh Hi, Billy," she said cheerfully, "I've been waiting for you."
"Hi, Mrs. LaPage," I replied.
On the table next to her was a tall glass with a half consumed icy beverage, a pair of binoculars, a clamshell ashtray, gold Zippo lighter, and the ever present pack of Newports.
She swung her long legs around and rose to meet me.
Janet LaPage was tall, athletic, and nearly 50. She kept her dirty blonde hair in a boyish cut. She was wearing a long unbuttoned blouse that draped down to her hips revealing a coral pink two piece bathing suit that matched her earrings. To me she had always seemed the picture of sophistication.
Languidly, the tall, lean woman came almost uncomfortably close and lightly placed her hand on my arm. I couldn't help but look down at her cleavage and the shape of her breasts supported by the revealing swimsuit.
She laughed coyly, and I brought my gaze up to her bright hazel eyes.
"Before you get into the heavy work, I'd like you to do me a favor," she said.
"Um, sure."
"Would you rub some suntan lotion on my back?"
"Um, uh, yeah, ok."
She headed back to the lounge chair slipping out of the white blouse as she walked. I noticed the curve of her waist. The tight swimsuit pulled against her ass as she bent over to lower the back of the chair to the flat position.
