Edited by Gustavca
*****
As jet after jet of my sperm began overfilling the spasming pussy of a woman who was not my wife, my mind was screaming: "This was not supposed to happen, even on a Midsummer's night!!"
Let's go back a few days to try and understand how everything went wrong somehow. Each year for the past seven years, on the closest week-end to Midsummer, our eclectic group of friends meets up at Rinette's cabin. The place itself is absolutely wonderful. A very old and capacious wood lodge that can easily accommodate twenty people, located partway up a heavily forested mountain slope. There's a small lake with an artificially maintained beach nearby and lots of unique and remote spots for camping. Rinette's parents were quite wealthy, and luckily for us, they were not stingy with all that money. The lodge was always kept well stocked with all sorts of food & alcohol, sporting equipment, three jacuzzis, one cedar sauna and a couple of outdoor showers.
It is the perfect place for our Midsummer gathering. The first of those gatherings happened almost by accident. We decided on the weekend without realizing it would be Midsummer, and the fun couple of days went by almost like an ordinary weekend. Almost. It was great. The company was wonderful, as was the weather, food, drinks and fun. Yet something was different.
Strangely enough, the person responsible for all the Midsummers since then has never returned. Doug simply happened to be Kate's boyfriend that first year, and as he happened to be a Celtic history nut. Not the basketball team, the ancient people that colonized much of Europe thousands of years ago. After a few whisky shots, Doug began talking about what Midsummer meant for those ancient people, how it had been celebrated all over Europe. Despite the remarkable diversity between sub-cultures, some things stood out as constants: a huge fire, lots of drink, lots of dancing in the night, and lots of sex.
Doug lamented, with a hint of a smile, that we had kept the first three traditions, but somehow had lost the fourth. When Kate replied: "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that if I were you...," everybody laughed. The long kiss she gave him left very little to the imagination and I think that the five couples there enjoyed great sex that night. That in itself was very nice, but it wasn't all that exceptional. Regardless of the culture, nights spent in log cabins after fun days with friends always end up quite heated.
What turned out to be different were the two days after that first Friday night. Somehow the fact that Midsummer was a sensually charged event altered our mindsets. Usually we came here to relax and enjoy our friends. That following morning, despite the great sex, I think we were all still sexually charged. It wasn't an obvious change, but as the day went on, we started acting differently. The women wore skimpier clothing. The guys didn't bother to put on shirts all day long. All the couples were more affectionate with each other and this physical closeness of the couples became generalized to the others on the last day. I don't remember our group of friends being that close, physically, ever before.
While nothing spectacular happened during those two days, I think everybody was tuned to the different atmosphere. We were acutely aware we were a group of ten healthy, sexually active men and women and, even if all the usual boundaries remained strictly in place, something new was in the air. The hugs goodbye, on the final Sunday afternoon, were a lot longer and warmer than usual. Even with the guys still shirtless and most of the women wearing bikinis, nobody either skimped out or felt awkward because of all the skin on skin contact.
For me, Will, and my wife Nella, that long drive home began as an easy conversation about the weekend, but ended up in a tense silence. Now far away from the lodge and that magical atmosphere, we didn't really know how to actually talk about it. The physical closeness and general sensual mood had been obvious, but we hadn't talked about it at all. By the time we came back home, we had managed to clear a few things up and while it was very strange, we both concluded we had enjoyed it immensely.
During the next few weeks and months we talked about it on a few occasions, but as time went by, that weekend began feeling like a dream. Yet the photographs were there, clear reminders that something strange had happened. Nella was particularly uncomfortable with the one that showed her laughing in the arms of Lincoln, her legs wrapped around his waist, while they were wearing nothing but swimsuit trunks and a bikini. The thing is that I was right there in the picture, laughing with them. Months later, it did feel quite awkward.
The following year when Rinette called us up in late April to set up the next meet, we didn't quite know what to expect. We said yes, obviously, the weekend had been marked in our calendar for a few months. Rinette didn't mention anything about the special atmosphere, and everything looked like it was going return to usual. In fact, Kate had broken off her relationship with Doug, so we were not going to have another lesson in Celtic history.
If Doug had been present this year, he might have given us a warning about full moons on Midsummer, which would have explained why I behaved so strangely this year...
But back to that second year, Rinette's perfectly neutral call had two distinct effects on Nella and me; we were both relieved and disappointed. Relieved because it really had been an out-of-character weekend, and both of us didn't quite know if we wanted to relive it or not. Yet... Yet we did have a lot of fun.
On the Thursday night before leaving for the lodge Nella and I were in our room, packing our clothes. From the corner of my eye, I saw Nella stop moving for a few seconds. I looked up but she had her back towards me and I couldn't see what she was doing. Suddenly she turned and looked at me with a neutral expression, "Should I bring this?" The "this" in question was one of her bikinis, one she had bought on impulse yet never wore in public. All black it looked more like lingerie than a real bikini. It even had a lace trim across the breasts.
Now, let me make something clear. Most of us are used to seeing bikinis in movies or TV shows or on the beach. Yet not everybody wears bikinis the same way. There are girls and women and, more importantly, there are women and "women". Maybe I'm biased because she's my wife, but Nella is a stunningly beautiful woman, and I can't imagine a man that wouldn't be more than satisfied by my wife's curves. Nice legs, great hips flaring below a proportional waist, and a wonderful pair of breasts. Most of her bras are 36DD, and she more than fills them up. A woman with a body like that, wearing a bikini with a thong bottom and lacy top, simply can't walk around innocently. In fact, every time she wears it in our backyard we end up having sex in the pool.
Now, with a perfectly neutral expression on her face, and wearing nothing but snow white lingerie at the moment, she was holding this particular bikini and asking me if she should bring it to our weekend with our friends. We stared at each other for long seconds until I broke the tension by smiling. She smiled back, winked at me and dropped the bikini in her bag. I grinned, shaking my head, and immediately started reconsidering what this weekend would be like. Nella had been apprehensive about the upcoming Midsummer, but apparently she had made her choice.
