We had been married for ten years and my parents agreed to look after our two boys aged nine and six for a week so we could have a second honeymoon. Our first had been OK but a bit disappointing as we were not well off, so a cheap hotel in London had to suffice. Right now we were not much better off but decided to take our caravan to a remote site in mid-Wales.
The weather was glorious as we set out and with our caravan being towed behind my (company) 4x4 we headed for the hills. We knew that the boys were being spoilt rotten in our absence, so had no qualms about leaving them behind.
We turned up the muddy forest track that led to the field surrounded on three sides by a forestry plantation on the side of the hill. We had been here before as a family. The state of the track discouraged casual visitors, so we were pretty sure that we wouldn't be disturbed. Apart, that is except for a daily visit from one of the farm dogs, who had taken a fancy to us. When we paid a visit to the farm, about half a mile across the side of the hill, the dog remembered us and started to come over to visit on a regular basis.
The field was on two levels and quite steep with a sort of plateau alongside the hedge. The track, not so muddy at the top, curved round the sides of the field to give access to the top bit where we always set our camp. As it emerged from the heavily wooded section it ran alongside a pond that had been dug many years ago by the farmer. The pond, whilst not particularly deep, only about four feet at the middle, was about a hundred feet long and about twenty feet wide at its widest. It was fed by the spring that provided all the water for the farm. It was sandy at one end but otherwise surrounded by reeds and bulrushes. When we had previously brought the boys here they had spent many hours paddling and digging in and around the pond.
We were in good spirits and looking forward to a relaxed (and sexy) week. Perhaps a little information about our relationship, would not go amiss. During our courtship, we had indulged in a little mild naughtiness in public, but like many marriages, we had settled down into a routine of life that had become a little mundane. We (I) were hoping to break that usual cycle in the coming week. On the journey over, following a bit of joshing on my part I certainly got the impression that Rebecca, my wife was up for it.
The first evening we spent over at the farmhouse, renewing friendships with both the family and the animals. This was when the junior sheepdog, Bob, (all working sheepdogs have single syllable names, it save time when working more than one) clocked fact that we were back. Bruce the farmer, regretted that we would have to entertain ourselves for the week as his son was away and he wouldn't have time to conduct us around the farm as he usually did. As he said this, I felt Rebecca squeeze my hand as we sat on the sofa in the kitchen, surrounded by cats.
As we walked back across the fields to the caravan under a starry sky, we happened upon Eric the bull. In fact we almost bumped into the back of him in the dark. Perhaps I wasn't concentrating as I had my hand inside the unbuttoned front of Rebecca's dress, caressing her breasts and teasing her alert nipples. We knew Eric of old and he knew us, we were not bothered by him and he not by us. But nonetheless we didn't want to surprise him, so we deviated from the well worn path that the cows trod across the side of the hill.
As we stepped off the path, I slipped on the damp grass and fell down onto my backside. My hand was still inside my wife's dress and I heard the sound of cotton being torn as my hand pulled apart the front of the garment. "Terry!" she scolded me. "look what you have done to my dress"!
"It's a good job it didn't happen on the way over the farm." I suggested. "Although," I mused, "it might have given Bruce a thrill!" I laughed.
"I'd have told them exactly what happened!" Rebecca laughed.
"Would you have carried on and not turned back?" I asked her.
"Would you have wanted me to walk into the farmhouse in a torn dress?" she responded.
I thought for a moment, "Yes I think I would have." I told her.
"Then, this week, I would have done!" she said, kissing me as we lay on the grass, "with no kids about." She rolled over on top of me, and whispered, "Now make a job of it. I can't wear it down the pub after that!"
I looked at her, a smirk on her face, her breasts hanging loose. She was supporting herself on straight arms, placed either side of my head, her dress open to her waist. "I dare you!" I challenged her.
She shook her head, "not this one. It is too badly ripped, I need you to ruin it completely. I promise you, you won't be disappointed, tonight or down the pub!" Needless to say, her dress was rent from top to bottom in a flash and we made love with Eric standing watching us.
As we rolled apart, giggling, Eric farted and walked away.
The next morning after breakfast, I carried out the ritual that would be done by one of us every day whilst we were there. I walked over to the farm to get fresh milk. The family (and us) drank raw unpasteurised milk drawn directly from the tank in the dairy. I have to say that it is absolutely delicious, although I can almost hear some people shouting "RAW MILK?" Anyway the upshot was that I would be gone for about half an hour even without meeting anyone from the farm.
It was a lovely hot summer's day and I enjoyed the walk, wearing walking boots, shorts and a tee shirt. I ambled slowly back and forth, stopping to look at the cows, now back in their field after morning milking, so I suppose I was gone longer than I was expected to be. When I got back to the caravan, my wife was not there, but I found a note. "Gone to the pond". I put the milk away and strolled over to the pond to see Rebecca sunbathing topless on the sandy bit we called the beach. Even after two children, she had regained her figure and I stood for a moment or two admiring her lovely body. A body that I had drooled (and more) over for the twelve years we had known each other. She was lying on her back with only the tie-sided bikini bottoms offering any cover at all.
"You've been a long time." She called when she eventually saw me standing on the bank about twenty feet or so away from her.
"It's too nice a day to rush." I told her as I climbed down the bank to join her. "Why are you topless? -- Not that I'm complaining, I hasten to add." I asked.
"As you say it's such a nice day, would you have preferred it if I was covered -- or even naked?" she enquired, squinting at me in the strong sunlight.
I knelt above her my knees just above her head, bent over and kissed her, our faces upside down to each other. "Naked, every time." I whispered.
She licked the end of my nose, "then get naked yourself." I wasted no time stripping off my shorts and shirt, I knew we were safe from interruptions because if anyone was coming up the track in a vehicle, we would hear them well before they arrived. I sat down beside her and removed my boots.
"Now it's your turn." I announced.
"Mmmm, you do it for me." She murmured. I slid my hand into her bikini briefs and found a surprisingly damp labia.
"What have you been doing, while I was away?" I asked her, with a grin on my face.
"Thinking about last night." She began. "I can't tell you how much of a turn on it was to have you ripping my dress open." In the past I had despatched to odd pair of panties in that way, but never anything else. She continued, "I know I told you to do it, but it was just the moment that you tore the cotton that keeps coming back to me, and you can feel the result." Indeed I could, she was getting wetter and wetter and my fingers were getting soaked in her juices.
"Would you like me to do it again? Some time when you're not expecting it?" I was fingering her with some vigour.
She reached down and undid the ties at the sides of her bikini pants and said, "Yes I would! Now fuck me!" I climbed aboard and did as I had been told. She writhed about beneath me, her shoulder length hair becoming covered in damp sand, turning it a golden brown from her natural brunette. "Come over me!" she gasped between kisses. As I felt my sperm rising, I pulled out of her and sprayed her belly and breasts with my white creamy seed. "You dirty bugger!" she exclaimed. "I wish you had more!"
So did I, so did I! I wanted to smear my cum all over her, belly, tits, face, hair, everywhere. "I will completely cover you next time." I told her and explained in some detail exactly how I intended to do it.
She groaned and murmured "I'd love that! I wish you would!" Afterwards, we bathed each other in the tepid waters of the pond, then lay in the shallows holding hands. "Shall we go out tonight?" she asked.
"We can, there are the two pubs in the village, or we can perhaps find a restaurant a bit further out." I suggested.
"There's no point in going too far," she said, then with a glint in her eye, "no-one knows us here anyway."
I immediately picked up on her mood and asked her, "What have you got in mind?"
"That rather depends on what you want me to wear."
In the past before and just after we were married, I could sometimes persuade her to go out in the evening without wearing a bra. On one occasion she wore no underwear at all under a calf length sun dress. More in hope than expectation, I asked, "Why not wear the dress you wore last night?"
She laughed and said "In your dreams buster....... Oh I don't know, why not? I could wear a matching bra and panty set with a belt to hold it closed!"
"I would prefer it without the bra." I told her.
"People are going to see my underwear, so I want them to match. I don't want to display my bare tits in the pub!" she explained.
"Why not?" I asked, "because, as you say no-one knows us here."
"Well you'll just have to see what I put on and like it or lump it!" She retorted.
We lay in the cooling water for some time, before hunger pangs announced it was getting near lunchtime. We walked, still naked up the field towards our caravan, carrying our clothes and bits and pieces. We remained naked whilst I prepared lunch. Rebecca took the opportunity to pose sexily for me, putting me off. I was really beginning to enjoy this holiday and I got the distinct impression that she was enjoying it too. Isn't it amazing what a few days away from the humdrum and pressures associated with raising a family will do. Suddenly she sat up. "We must ring the boys."
We both held fairly lengthy conversations with our sons, during which as I was speaking to them, my dear wife was sucking at my penis. I considered this to be very unfair, because when she was speaking to them I did not touch her. You just wait until she's speaking to her mother!
We lazed on the grass alongside the caravan for most of the afternoon, listening to the natural sounds of the countryside. Later, Rebecca prepared a meal for us before we planned to head into the village to see what was happening at either of the two pubs.
