Out with Cindy

I should have known that this was a mistake, but I couldn't help myself: I'm just a natural flirt. When I was in high school, I couldn't chat up girls at all: I was a real geek, the tallest, but skinniest guy in the school (it was a small high school; there were only 78 people in our graduating class), and I never had a girlfriend. Oh, I jacked off plenty, fantasizing about the cheerleaders, but somehow I managed to work in every white girl in the school into my fantasies!

Once in college, when I met some girls who didn't know of my terrible-with-girls reputation from high school, I started having more luck, but even then I didn't lose my virginity until my sophomore year. I was walking up the steps of the apartment building in which I lived, when I saw this cute girl knocking on a door on the second floor; I lived on the third.

"I'm not home," I said to her, which got the response, "I wasn't looking for you." But the guy for whom she was looking wasn't home, and I started flirting with her, and somehow I managed to get things right, because by the end of the evening e were in the back seat of my 1962 Ford Fairlane - this was 1972 - with my tongue in her pussy! But, that's a story for another time. The important part for this story is that, once I finally broke the ice, I was able to chat up, and charm, girls, almost effortlessly.

Fast forward to 2002. I was walking up Race Street in Jim Thorpe, Pennsylvania, looking at the Victorian architecture. I live in Jim Thorpe, and am very familiar with the architecture now, but in June of 2002, I had only been there for a month.

I had been looking at the architecture, but I also found myself looking at a woman, who was looking at the buildings as well. That's where I made my mistake: "I'm glad to see that I'm not the only one who likes to look at Victorian buildings."

"Oh, hi," she said, and I can't remember too much of the actual conversation at that point. But we started walking together, and as Race Street made a right hand turn to merge into North Broadway, I could see where this was going, and I made it clear: "Look,before this goes the wrong way, I need to tell you that I'm married."

"Oh, that's OK, I'm married, too."

That took the pressure off, but we continued to walk together, chatting about really meaningless stuff. On reaching North Broadway, we turned left, going up the hill. It was still about half a mile to the end of the houses, and we stopped at the last house on the right. The Millway, a stream which runs partly above ground and partly underground through town, plunged underground at that point, but the homeowners had developed a long, narrow grassy area before the hillside cut it down to nothing, and they had set up a natural home which had attracted ducks to make the place their home. We stopped and watched the ducks, and the stream as it babbled over the rocks, and when we turned to walk away, we still headed up the hill.

The woman's name was Cindy, and I was impressed by her physical fitness: I walk a lot, and can cover long distances, but she was right there, keeping up with me with no sign of excess exertion. Another half mile, and we reached the drinking water treatment center.

At that point, Cindy had something in one of her shoes, so she put her foot up on the guardrail to remove it. She was a fairly short girl, only about 5'3" or so, but she had

nice

legs. She was wearing shorts already, but this action put tension on her leg muscles, and, coupled with her removing her shoe and sock, really looked awesome, and yes, she caught me looking. I don't remember her exact words, but they were something along the line of, "You like what you see?" with a really big smile.

I didn't need to answer the question; she knew that I did.

At that point, we started heading back downhill, into town. Again, it was mostly mindless chatter that I can't recall clearly, but I found out some of the facts. She was 50 years old, a year older than me, and lived about thirty miles away. We kept walking, and since I already knew more about the town than she did, I pointed out some of the architectural attractions. Jim Thorpe is a tourist-trap town, and the architecture is one of the drawing points.

We got to the Asa Packer mansion, but didn't take the inside tour. Instead, we walked through the lawns, which are terraced, and a one point I put out my hand to help Cindy up a short stone wall; once she was up, I didn't let go of her hand, and she seemed to like walking hand-in-hand with me. Something was definitely happening, but I didn't make a move to push it further.

Well, maybe I didn't, but finally, at the end of the day, when Cindy had to head home, she made the move. "I hope that you don't think this is too forward, but I'd like to walk with you again some time." We exchanged e-mail addresses, which I knew was a mistake, but I made the mistake anyway.

I can't remember whether it was one or two weekends later, but after arranging another meeting, we met at Mauch Chunk Lake Park, where there are some decent hiking trails, as well as a large man-made lake. We walked along the trail by the lake, heading in the direction toward town (which was several miles away), and down the beginning of the Switchback Gravity Railroad Trail. It's peaceful and quiet in there, and when I once again had to help her over a large obstacle, we kept holding hands after that help was no longer needed. I knew that this was going somewhere, but I wasn't exactly certain just where.

Turning around, heading back toward the lake - we had already passed the end of it - we then turned along the dam which created the lake. It was wide and flat, but it ended in a heavily forested bank. We walked into that forest, which immediately started going uphill, when I turned to face Cindy, was took both of her hands in mine, and kissed her.

And kissed her.

And kissed her.

Cindy responded ardently and eagerly, and that was when I discovered a major erogenous zone on this woman: if you kiss or gently bite her ears, she just absolutely melts, she quivers, she shakes, and she holds on as though her life depended on it. She could feel my erection through our shorts, and put her hand down to caress it. I knew that we should stop, we both knew that we should stop, and should walk away and never see each other again, but we didn't.

I don't know how long we just stood there, holding and kissing and caressing each other; it seemed like an hour, though it was surely far less. Cindy and I pretty much made the next move a the same time: she started to pull off my t-shirt just as I was reaching to unbutton her blouse. We were still kissing, and while I had her blouse open, it took a long time to actually get it off her, because we kept kissing through the whole thing. Finally Cindy stepped back to pull off her blouse and I pulled my t-shirt the rest of the way off.

Cindy was a mature woman, and while her figure looked really trim, no one would mistake her for a teenager; she was a woman, not a girl. She had lost 70 pounds over the last year, and that left her with some loose belly-flesh, something no one could see while she was wearing a shirt, but I could tell she was a bit concerned about me seeing. But I am a mature man, and my body isn't perfect either, and I wasn't turned off in the slightest. We came together and kissed again, and while I had my arms around her, I was taking my time reaching to undo her bra. I think that she was nervous about that, too, because her breasts sagged like any fifty year old woman's breasts would have sagged. We kissed some more, when she reached down to undo my shorts, and there she got a surprise: I had gone commando, like I always do. That got a smile, and an even bigger smile came from the fact that my cock was already purple-headed hard. As I was kicking away my shorts, she stepped back and pulled down her khaki hiking shorts and ugly granny panties.

Cindy apologized for having a wild, untamed black bush, but I didn't care. Yeah, I know: it's the in thing for women to shave their pussies these days, but I was never used to that. I simply dropped to my knees and buried my face in her pussy, eating her for all I was worth.

And that didn't take long: it couldn't have been thirty seconds before she was thrashing around and screaming in a strong orgasm. She had already been soaking wet, way, way aroused before she every stripped, and it really didn't take much to send her over the edge. I looked around for a spot where the ground wasn't too bad, put my t-shirt down, and Cindy laid back, waiting to be taken.

I don't remember any particular words being spoken, but I knelt down slowly and entered her, one smooth stroke until I was balls deep inside her. Cindy turned out to be one of the most sexual and sensual women I had ever met, and she put her head back, with her mouth wide open, as I slowly made love to her.

And that's exactly what I did. Sometimes you make love to a woman, and sometimes you just plain fuck her, and I was slowly making love to her right now. She was utterly wordless, but her arms reached around me, holding me, pulling me down into her, and again, she shuddered into an absolutely shattering orgasm. I'd like to think that I was an absolutely smashing lovemaking beast, but Cindy was so ready, so turned on, so desperate for love, that she was coming and coming and coming, with me going slowly and steadily, taking my time and not being all that vigorous about it.

Of course, going slow helped me, because I was able to hold back on my orgasm. Once she had had a few of her own, and was becoming a bit more communicative, I got up, and turned her onto her hands and knees. "Oh, God," she said, "I love it like this." I got behind her, and entered her warm, wet, amazingly soft pussy. I had made love to her before, but now it was just plain time to fuck, and that's exactly what we did. A few slow strokes, to get comfortable in the position, and then I started to speed up. It wasn't long before I put my hands on her hip bones and was slamming away, hard and fast. Cindy started screaming in orgasm again, and by then I was more than ready: encouraged by her vocal orgasms, I half grunted, half screamed as I emptied my load deep into her pussy. I stopped thrusting, and was just holding myself in as deeply as I could, holding her hips hard and tight.

That was when the cheering began! We had been concentrating on each other so completely that we hadn't noticed the hikers. There were eight of them, four men and four women, all looking to be in their early twenties, whooping and hollering, not twenty feet away from us! They had obviously been watching for a while, since the guys all had one arm around each girl - they looked like four couples - and Cindy and I were embarrassed to have been caught screwing out in the woods, but we were so dumbfounded that neither one of us was scrambling for our clothes. One of the girls actually walked over, grabbed our hands to pull us up, and gave us the greatest compliment ever: "I just hope that we'll be half as great as you two are when we get to be your age! You two were absolutely awesome." She hugged Cindy and kissed me on the cheek, and then the hikers went on their merry way, laughing and playing not a little bit of grab-ass as they headed away.

Cindy started to blush, and we started getting dressed, though not all that quickly, hugging and kissing in an afterglow moment. We headed back to the dam, and walked back to our vehicles back in the parking lot. That was when Cindy confessed: "I'd never have dreamed this, but I just

loved

getting caught like that." I had to admit it: so did I.