Internude Fresh Air And Forestry

One day, when Mary was three months married and three months pregnant too, she decided on impulse to go for a long walk in the woods near the house. Her husband Dimitri had already left for work and would not be back until late, and she didn't relish spending the day with her brother-in-law. Nick was staying with them for a few days, something that Mary had mixed feelings about. On the one hand, she disliked the possessive way he often looked at her, and on the other, she felt incredibly drawn to him.

Though she told herself that she loved her husband and only her husband, and that Nick was the last person on Earth she'd ever consider cheating on him with, there was something about Nick that stirred in her a hunger for unnatural and forbidden desire. To her deep and abiding shame, it was often Nick's cock she was thinking about when she made love to her husband. She had once walked into the spare bedroom to find him standing there naked, his cock erect and proud, substantially greater in both length and girth than any other she had ever seen.

Her shock at discovering him there like that was as nothing to the sudden heat of desire. She backed out of the room, closing the door again, but not so quickly that he didn't see her gaze hungrily at his exposed member, and not so quickly that he didn't see her cheeks burn with embarrassment. For hours afterwards she'd felt both aroused with need, and dirty from unfaithful thoughts. Had she been alone in the house, she would have retired to her room to release the tension through self-pleasure, but instead Nick was there, talking to her, keeping her company, having lunch with her, and all the time she wished he would go so that she could finally be free to bring herself to the climax she so desperately needed.

Not wishing a repeat of that this day, Mary packed herself a picnic lunch and set out into the woods. It was a beautiful summer's day, only a few wisps of cloud in the intense blue sky, the air warming already. Once within the trees, there was not even a breath of wind, just a chorus of birdsong and distant echoes of human civilisation - and as the trail wound deeper into the woods, the sounds of traffic gave way to the murmuring and babbling of water, and the rustling of leaves as woodland creatures darted about out of sight.

She left the trail to follow the river instead, delighting in the sense of being utterly alone with Nature on this wonderful day. So alone, indeed, so unobserved, that she could even walk naked like Eve in Eden - should she wish.

"Stop it," Mary admonished herself. She had come out here to escape her depraved imagination, not to indulge it. And yet, the thought lingered. There was no one to see, after all, and she might never get the chance again. Certainly she had no need of a comfortable bra, and knew from experience the secret pleasure of going without knickers. To be naked would be a little ridiculous, but to be without underwear?

And so easily removed too, packed away with her lunch. Thus wearing only an old pair of trainers with socks, and a light blue summer dress that suddenly felt very daring, she continued her solitary adventure. She loved the swirl of cool fresh air beneath her dress, teasing her pubes and her now unshielded pussy, and delighted in the brush of silk against her bare, sensitive nipples.

The river narrowed into a stream as she climbed higher, the sun climbing higher too as it heated the atmosphere. Even as lightly dressed as she was, the combination of heat and effort, her muscles unused to such exercise, sapped at her strength, and she was pleased to discover a secluded pool beside a miniature waterfall.

It was an idyllic spot, half-lit by and half-shaded from the fierce late-morning sun, the perfect place to sit and enjoy her picnic lunch. The perfect place too to strip completely, with no one to see, and even if there were others around she would surely hear their approach in good time. Except, as Mary yielded to the impulse, removing her dress and folding it up neatly, she couldn't help feeling that someone was watching her - but dismissed this as an overactive imagination.

Mary was glad that she had thought to bring a blanket in her backpack, though it had weighed her down noticeably. She laid it on the earthy bank, close enough to the water for her to dip her toes in. Feeling almost like a water nymph in a Renaissance painting, she drank juice from a carton and gradually let go of her fear of being seen.

If anything, the fantasy of being spied on by some lustful watcher awoke a mischievous desire in her to reveal more. It was just a fantasy, after all. No one was really there. She was safe to spread her legs wide and expose herself to her secret admirer; safe to tease her fingers between her blonde pubes and caress the centre of her pleasure.

Despite having made love to her husband the night before, and again this morning, Mary felt far from satisfied. Though Dimitri was a passionate and attentive lover, always there was something missing, something that left her longing perversely for her brother-in-law's cock. That was where her mind drifted to again as she fingered herself by the pool.

Fingers simply weren't enough. They couldn't fill her the way she craved to be filled. She needed a dildo -

Or a cucumber, even. Mary had packed one for her lunch (innocently enough, though inevitably the thought had crossed her mind and had brought a momentary smile to her lips) and now she took it from her pack and regarded it curiously. People liked to joke about cucumbers, but was it really safe to use that way? Was she really desperate enough - and perverted enough! - to use it that way?

She brought it to her mouth, kissed it tentatively, licked it playfully, trying to imagine it was a man's cock. It was, of course, surely, longer and harder than any man's cock, and at one end it was thicker too, but the taper invited possibility. It was easy to imagine the green vegetable - or was it a fruit? - sliding into her.

Laughing uncomfortably, she thrust it away from herself. "No, you daft bitch," she said to herself, but even as she reached for the knife, determined to chop up the phallic temptation and end its corruptive lure, she hesitated, overwhelmed by a compulsion to at least try it. There was no one to see her, no one to judge her, and maybe, just maybe, it would work wonders on her. "Can't hurt to try, I suppose."

It was not so easy, though. Mary was aroused but nervous too, and not as wet as she would have liked. Instead she teased herself with it, running the hard tip between her labia, holding the organic dildo with one hand while rubbing her clit with the fingers of the other. After all, there was no hurry. She was all alone with hours to kill.

Gradually she nudged it deeper, however, losing her fear of its girth as her need to feel it - feel something - filling her built. Inch by inch she eased it in, fucking her own pussy with slow, shallow thrusts, amazed by the unfamiliar sensation and thrilled by the sheer naughtiness of doing it out in the open, naked in the woods, where anyone might be watching (but hopefully nobody was).

Even with only three inches penetrating her, it felt impossibly deep within, stretching the walls of her vagina more than her husband's cock ever had - and still there was more than half the cucumber projecting luridly green from her crotch. With determination and increasing hunger she worked it deeper still, aided now by plenty of natural lubrication. The vegetable was touching parts of her that had never been touched before, and the increasing thickness of the invader was a constant astonishment.

"Oh wow, yes," she whimpered, working her clit with one hand while the other plunged the cucumber in and out. It looked obscene. It felt wonderful. Her climax, when she came, was intense, her vagina contracting exquisitely about the hard flesh of the cucumber. "Fuck!" she cried out, abandoning the attempt to continue fucking herself and instead concentrating on her clit, and on her neglected nipples, as she worked through her orgasm and at last came to a rest.

Mary lay there for several minutes, breathing heavily, before finding the strength to extract the vegetable. It slipped out easily, and she puzzled to see it coated in what looked like cum. She couldn't work out what it smelled like, because the smell of the cucumber was too intense. (No doubt her pussy now smelled of cucumber, and she wondered whether Dimitri would notice later.) Was it really possible that so much of her husband's cum remained in her from the morning's love-making?

Lost in hazy, post-orgasmic bliss, she drank some fresh water from the waterfall, munched happily on a turkey sandwich, and diced up the same cucumber that had given her so much pleasure; and then drifted off to sleep for a while, uncaring that someone might discover her there, bathing nude beneath the noon-day sun.

She couldn't remember ever feeling so relaxed, and so very satisfied. It baffled her a little that using a cucumber on herself in the woods did more to ease the ever restless hunger in her than her husband's passion ever did. If a part of her felt guilt over this, it was matched by irritation at his inadequacy - and irritation at her own inability to explain it.

It was far too beautiful a day to waste it lying there feeling bad. Taking a deep breath, Mary pushed away all negative thoughts, and waded tentatively into the cool water of the pool. Despite the afternoon sun and the summer air, the water was fresh from the spring up the hill and took some getting used to. It was nowhere too deep to stand, and it was only a few metres across at the widest, but it felt so pure and looked so clear that it was a joy to surrender to its embrace.

Mary emerged refreshed and ready to make her way back down through the woods, back to civilisation and her home. It would soon be time to prepare dinner for the husband she adored, and maybe she would even tell him something of her naturist adventure. She patted herself dry with the blanket and slipped into her dress, the blue silk clinging sexily to her damp skin.

Her lack of underwear was simply too obvious, she realised, and reached into her pack -

Bra and knickers were both gone, no doubt stolen while she had slept. She spun round, her heart pounding as she searched the trees for mischievous watchers - but no one was there. Or they were too well hidden. Frantically she dumped out the contents of the pack, in case it was just her mind playing tricks on her. The remains of her picnic, the blanket, all tumbled onto the ground, along with a shiny square of paper.

A Polaroid print. Of herself. Naked by the pool. Legs spread wide... with cucumber embedded.

The shock brought her to her knees, and for a long moment she thought she might even be sick. There had been someone watching. They had watched her embrace this obscene act. No doubt they had taken other photos that could prove her perversity to everyone beyond doubt. "Fuck," she whispered, the extremity of the moment calling for it. "Fuck!"

But what was she to do? There was nothing now but to return home, knowing that her secret was known, but not knowing by whom.

Burning with a profound shame, she collected her stuff, and set off following the stream, sure all the while that her every move was watched.