"The weather should be good," I said to my wife, as we drove west in the Tahoe.
"Yes, and this time of year the light should be soft, which will help," Jordan added enthusiastically.
It was a Friday afternoon, and we were driving towards my family's ranch, which was forty-five minutes from the small town where we lived. There, while I worked on some needed repairs, she planned on indulging in her new hobby of sketching with charcoals. Specifically, there was a windmill on a small hill with a nearby concrete stock tank that she wanted to draw with the pure blue, fall sky as a back drop.
Ten minutes later, we turned onto the caliche road, and six miles after that we arrived at the ranch gate. It was only a half-mile further to what we called the HQ, which consisted of a pole barn, a set of pens, and a small 2-bedroom cinder block house. In addition, there was an old camper trailer set-up behind the barn that was used by our ranch hand, Raul.
Raul was from a small village near Sabinas, in Mexico, and had been working for our family for almost fifteen years. He would typically work for three months, then leave for home to see his family for a couple weeks before returning. The details of getting back and forth were left to him, although he never seemed to encounter any difficulties.
Jordan and I arrived at the small house, pulled our bags from the back and went inside. For the next thirty minutes, we aired out the place and did some light clean-up which was always required when someone first arrived. Later, Jordan whipped up a simple dinner and after eating we parked in front of the satellite TV and sipped wine until we went to bed. The next morning, I was out the door a little before eight planning to connect with Raul and repair some water gaps. I found him in the barn where he was putting some things in the back of his well-worn pickup.
"Did you get some good rest?" he asked in Spanish, using a tone that I knew was intended as a teasing comment on the lateness of my arrival.
"Wonderful sleep," I answered, refusing to take the bait.
I had spent a lot of time with Raul over the years and we had an easy going way with each other. Since coming to the ranch, he had learned enough English and I enough Spanish that our conversations seemed to randomly move between the two languages. He was in his mid-thirties, ten years or so older than my twenty-six, and just at that point where there was enough difference in age that we both knew we would never be very close.
With just a few more words, we were off, and spent the next few hours in the back of the ranch repairing low spots in the barbed wire fence that had been damaged by the run-off from recent rains. We were both experienced and had the right tools, and we made such good progress that we finished early and returned to work on the pens for an hour before I needed to leave to help Jordan.
"I need to go," I announced, well past noon.
Raul merely nodded and continued with what he was doing. I walked to the house and found Jordan had made me a sandwich which I quickly wolfed down, then went to the bathroom to clean-up. Shortly after, we were headed towards the spot she had selected, and upon arriving, I helped her set-up in the shade of some oak trees. She had a good view of the windmill and now needed only to wait for the right light. So, with her concurrence, I left with the understanding I would return a little before sundown.
When I got back to the HQ, I was feeling a bit guilty for leaving Raul, but after checking and finding he had called it a day, I went to the TV and started watching some football. Fortunately, the game I was interested in ended fifteen minutes before I needed to go to collect Jordan, and when I arrived I found that she was already in the process of packing up.
"How was it?" I asked, truly interested.
My wife's art hobby had seemed to come out of the nowhere. As a history teacher at the local junior high, she had no background in drawing, but over the past year I had seen her skills improve markedly. It was clear she had some natural talent, and while she would never be a famous artist, her work was certainly presentable.
"The light was fabulous for about forty minutes and I feel pretty good about what I got on paper. Can we stay late tomorrow so I can try for more?" she replied, showing her enthusiasm.
"Of course," I responded quickly.
Jordan's face instantly beamed a smile, and I helped her collect her things and move them to the SUV. Just as I closed the back hatch, I felt her arm circle my waist, and when I looked at her the sparkle in her eyes let me know that she was feeling mischievous. I pulled her body hard against mine and immediately found her lips.
"Mmmm..." she moaned through our connection, which made me hold her even more tightly.
"You are so beautiful," I stated seconds later when we finally separated.
Jordan was indeed a very attractive woman. A slender 5'7" tall with shoulder length light-brown hair, juicy lips and dark brown eyes, she was an enticing vision to me, as I suspect she was to her young male students as well. Although her breasts were only pert B-cups, on her frame, with her long legs and tight rear, they looked very good, and with the way she carried herself, she came across as quite sexy.
Rather than respond, she started to kiss me once again, and I knew she was in the mood to play. It wasn't unheard of for her to act this way outside the safety of our bedroom, but it was rare, and a sudden surge went through me as I contemplated where we might be heading. Seconds later, when she took my hand and put it on her breast, I knew it was going to be fun.
"You're on fire," I gasped.
"Mmmm...maybe," she replied in a sensual voice, which was all I needed to hear.
I pushed her against the SUV and started kissing her again while one hand took hold of her firm rear and the other returned to her breasts. I knew we were going to make love, but with the car already packed, there were few options, so I started shuffling her towards the front passenger door. Along the way, while we exchanged multiple kisses, I managed to undo several buttons on her blouse and release the buckle on the belt that held up her walking shorts. Not a whimper of protest came from her, and in fact, her breathing became noticeably more labored.
"What are you planning?" she asked with a devilish grin.
"To enjoy you," I fired back, as my hand grabbed the door handle.
Seconds later, I had her backed against the leather seat and quickly finished removing her top followed by her bra. My mouth went to her tiny nipples that were flushed and erect, and I sucked hard enough that Jordan gasped while looping her arm around my neck. Back and forth I went between her two mounds until her sounds and squirming became pronounced. Then, leaving a trail of saliva behind, I stepped back and began to fumble with the catch on her shorts. Quickly, the khaki garment lay in a puddle at her feet, and without hesitation I pushed her lacy red thong to her knees. While I started to work on my clothes, Jordan pulled the garment from her legs, and when we looked at each other, I saw of look of excitement, almost desperation, in her eyes.
As soon as I was naked, we tried to find a position for me to enter her as we were both done with any foreplay. However, we couldn't find one that was comfortable, and after several failed attempts, I turned her until she was lying across the seat with her lovely ass presented to me. The ease with which I was able to guide her, which occurred without protest, was another signal to me about the state of her arousal.
"Uhhhhh..." she moaned loudly when my dick found her slick opening and began to burrow inside.
"Damn Jordan," I groaned, as her warmth enveloped my shaft.
"Steve...oh...Steve...ugghhh..." she spoke as if she was about to say something, but her words devolved into a series of whines and whimpers.
I started to move faster which brought from her a high-pitched squeal of pleasure, and after that we both groaned and grunted our way through our coupling. Instinctively, I knew before I ever entered my wife that I wouldn't last long. Her playfulness and the outdoor setting were just to erotic and unique. Fortunately, I lasted long enough that it was a respectable performance, but when I felt the telltale tingling in my balls, I knew it was about over. Rather than fight it, I decided to just let it happen.
"Honey, I can't hold it...going to cum..." I warned Jordan.
"Okay...uhhhh...okay..." she replied in a low moaning voice.
At the last possible instant, I used my remaining willpower and strength to pull my dick from her pussy. The first blast of semen flew across the SUV and landed on the center console while the second and third covered Jordan's body from her hair to her waist. After that, there were several small blobs that oozed from my opening and dripped into the crack of her ass.
My climax had been so intense that it left me wobbly, and I was forced to put one hand on the door frame for balance. After gaining some control, I looked down at my wife and I could see her ass making slow undulations as if it was seeking a renewed connection. Clearly, I had left her hanging, which felt selfish, so after several deep breaths, I used my hand to remove any remaining semen and pushed back inside.
"Oh...oh..." she moaned, and once again allowed me to take control.
My dick, which had begun to deflate, quickly regained its stiffness, helped by Jordan's reactions as well as the now sodden feel of her pussy. I knew there was some risk that I was pushing some of my cum inside her, but at that moment it just didn't seem important.
"You feel so good," I whispered to her.
"So do you," she answered.
