The Proverb
This is my first attempt to author a semi-humorous story so please score and provide feedback. As usual, any editing errors are mine and mine alone
.
My girlfriend's name is Georgia Woolf. Her middle name is Virginia, and it was given to her by her mother, who aspired that her daughter would be a great author like her namesake the great English modernist author Virginia Woolf.
Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on your point of view, Georgia does not write well. But..... she loves words, palindromes, anagrams, and proverbs. Every day she completes the Times crossword. In her words, "I am a lexophile. It's all my mother's fault. She tried so hard to teach me English so that I could write, yet all I can do is read and play word games."
We sometimes play a game. She will say a proverb to illustrate a point, then I will find another that contradicts it.
"Look before you leap."
"He who hesitates is lost."
***
If we sound like a pair of boring nerds you would be wrong. We do all the things that young working people in their mid-twenties would be expected to do. We travel during our annual summer holidays and over bank holidays whenever possible, we go to the cinema and the theatre, and like to eat out. I have season tickets for Liverpool FC and stand on the Kop whenever they are playing at home.
And we fuck. A lot. And in a lot of different places. Not just in bed, on the stairs, in the shower, or over the kitchen table. When we were in Spain we fucked on the beach, and in Turkey, we did it in the sea, neck high in the warm water.
I guess it's the small risk of being caught that makes it so much fun. What follows next is the story of how we were once caught and the unexpected consequences.
***
It was a hot Sunday in July, and we were planning to go for a pub lunch in the countryside. I had arrived home late the previous evening after spending a week in Dundee in Scotland on a training course. The course had finished late on Saturday afternoon, and It had taken me six hours to drive the three hundred miles back to Chester arriving, tired and hungry, just after midnight.
We were driving through the Welsh countryside to the pub when Georgia spoke.
"Did you miss me, or was there some beautiful siren that kept you warm at night during your week away?"
She was Joking of course, but I knew what I was expected to say.
"Of course, I missed you.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder
."
"More like,
Out of sight, out of mind
," she replied.
I felt her hand in my lap, and then she unzipped my fly, reached inside, and pulled my penis free.
"Let's see how much you missed me shall we," she murmured, as she held me in her grip and slowly started to move my foreskin up and down.
In virtually no time at all, I was bone hard.
"I'm so horny," whispered Georgia. "Stop the car the next chance you get."
When she said this we were driving down a narrow country road with open fields on one side and copses of woods on the other. A minute or so after Georgia had spoken we came to a narrow earth track leading off towards the woods, and I pulled over and parked.
Georgia let go of my dick and got out of the car and opened the rear passenger door. At first, I thought she planned to make out in the back of the car, something I hadn't done since my adolescence, but then she grabbed the blanket from off the back seat."
"Are you up for a fuck in the fresh air?"
I didn't have to be asked twice.
"Lead on," I replied.
She threw her handbag into the boot (trunk) and I locked the car. Then, hand in hand, we walked around the edge of a field planted with something I didn't recognise, and towards the trees. The sun shone down out of a blue cloudless sky whilst a cooling breeze blew, and we were completely alone. We had walked about a hundred yards and were only a few yards from the trees when we found the perfect spot, a bowl-like depression in the ground hidden from view on all sides and out of the wind. The ground was hard and dry. It hadn't rained for over two weeks. It was unlikely to be the most comfortable place to lie, but we had the thick woollen blanket, and by then we weren't thinking about anything other than what we were going to do to one another.
Georgia quickly removed her shoes, stockings, skirt, and blouse and stood for a moment on the brow of the depression. Her legs were apart, and her arms outstretched, her long black hair blowing in the breeze. Then she unclipped her bra and stepped out of her panties and stood naked. Georgia was tall, five-ten in her stockinged feet, with narrow hips, thick thighs, a huge arse, and big pendulous tits. She was built for comfort.
She walked into the hollow, spread the blanket, and lay looking up at me.
"Are you going to stay up there all afternoon or are you going to take your clothes off, come down here, and fuck me?"
As she watched, I stripped quickly and placed my clothes in a heap with hers. I was attractive to women, particularly five years ago, when these events happened. I am tall, and I had a swimmer's physique with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and well-muscled arms and legs. My belly was flat, and my balls and pubis were smooth and shaved. One of my girlfriends had once appreciatively remarked that I was a member of the BBC; the Bare Balls Club.
***
I lay beside her on the blanket, and we kissed before I took each of her nipples, in turn, between my lips. Then I knelt and found her clitoris, erect between her already sodden cunt lips, and licked her to her first orgasm. She bucked and clawed at the blanket as she came before kneeling on all fours and offering her sex to me.
"Now fuck me. Hard. I want your dick inside me. I want you to come in me."
I knelt behind her and slid slowly and very easily inside. I don't know which one of us enjoys doggy-style sex more; Georgia, with her cunt filled, my penis deep inside of her and nudging her cervix as I move in and out, or me, rewarded by the view of her big round arse, and her cunt lips puckering as I drive myself into her.
That afternoon the sex was fantastic. Fucking in the open air made the experience so much better for both of us and soon Georgia was moaning with pleasure and begging me to make her come again.
"Fuck me. Oh, Fuck me. Fuck me hard. Fuck me hard! Fuck me like a whore! Fuck me like a fucking whore!"
"Give it to me! Give it to me! Give it to me like you'd give it to a whore!"
"Fuck my cunt! Fuck my cunt! Fuck me! Fuck meeeeeee!"
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
And I both felt and watched as her vagina spasmed rhythmically around me.
She still wasn't sated. I knew she wouldn't be. She knelt astride and facing me and took my penis in her hand and slowly fed me inside of herself. Then she started to ride, grinding herself against me as she worked, and giving me a view of her glorious tits, nipples erect, and clapping and swaying as she moved.
She kept up a regular rhythm. I reached up and held her breasts, and she smiled down at me.
"Is this good? Is this good?" she asked.
"Oh, yes. Ohhh, yes."
She spoke urgently, Her voice was thick with desire.
"Come in my cunt. Come in my cunt, Come in my wet cunt!"
Her words were too much. They took me over the edge and my penis pulsed rhythmically as I emptied my seed inside of her whilst she simultaneously, groaned in ecstasy and collapsed over me.
For ten minutes we lay together in a state of mutual satisfaction and relief but eventually, we got up to dress and return to the car. I think we still planned to drive to the pub for a late lunch.
***
I had a friend at university who used to say,
"Post coitus homo tristis est,"
After intercourse a man is sad. I sometimes felt that way, after I had screwed a girl that I didn't like or fancy very much after I had picked her up at a disco or party, and maybe they felt that way after screwing me.
That afternoon, for the first time, I was sad after fucking Georgia whom I both loved and fancied desperately. That was because whilst we were busy, somebody had taken our clothes.
We had climbed up to the rim of the depression to find our clothes gone. They were no longer where we had left them. Only our shoes, my wallet, mobile phone, and house and car keys remained, placed neatly in a row. Beside them was a note with a stone, to stop it from blowing away, sitting on top. I picked up the scrap of paper and read it aloud to Georgia.
"This is private land. You ignored the sign saying trespassers will be prosecuted. Instead, fornicators will be inconvenienced. I am not a thief, and your clothes will be taken to Chester police station tomorrow as lost property labelled with the name David Shaw. I have taken the liberty of finding your name in your wallet. Please do not return to this spot again."