The Woodmen

A fortnight's holiday arrived for Jen and Mike. A frustration for us. No fun for the young woodmen of the wood. Of course, we could have gone there -- to the wood -- just the two of us. Stripped off and pretended Jen was there. We could, no doubt, have had a great time wandering around naked, erect and stroking -- and pretending. We could have sat on her mossy, fallen tree, and talked about Jen and, probably, other women and girls. Could have pretended, standing side by side, we were fucking a couple of girls bent over that fallen tree. Could have specified which girls we would fuck -- had the same girls in mind in our heads. Could have imagined our hands were two tight, hot, and wet vaginas. We could perhaps have stroked ourselves against the moss, imagining we were stroking against the mossy pubic hair of Jen or any number of girls. Could have left pleasurable white streaks of our youthful cum on the green moss. We could even have stroked each other, pretending our hands were Jen's.

Yeah, we could have sucked each other off, again pretending we were Jen. Well, rather easier for the sucked than the one doing the sucking, actually! But we didn't. That was not what we did. That was not us. Looking back, a pity. What would have been the harm of enjoying a bit of a wank, together, in the sunshine and quiet of the wood? Using our imagination. But that was not our thoughts back then. I think we missed out.

A two week wait for Jen to return until more games in the wood. That is not to say I saved myself up. There was wanking aplenty at home (by myself, I can assure you) -- and, yes, Jen featured quite a lot in my thoughts.

"I hope she's there." An understandable hope after the fortnight was up, Pete and I tramping across fields to the wood. Another lovely day. It was a good summer that year. We in just shorts and tee shirts. We would be taking those off.

"Hard yet?"

"Well, I don't think I'm as soft as I was earlier!"

Still a strange thing to do. Casually taking those shoes, shorts and tee shirts off and standing there in the sunlight of the wood both naked and our 'manly attributes' pointing up at the sky and canopy of trees above.

"We've not got a couple of bad cocks, have we?"

Pete grinned, "I still can't quite get over being with you like this. Mike's cock is fine enough too, isn't it? Lucky one of us isn't on the small side. Be a bit embarrassing."

"Would rather. Of course, if Mike was small, then perhaps Jen might be a bit keener on feeling a proper cock."

"Or two, inside her."

"Definitely two!"

But Mike's erect penis was not at all a little one. In reality, it was the larger. And we could see that, as we walked towards them. They were both there at the fallen tree. It was to be a meeting. They had not missed or forgotten the appointment. Both naked and with Mike tumescent. A strange meeting, naked people with erect penises.

"Hi, how was the holiday?"

What a delightful strangeness, hearing about their holiday with us all being like that.

Jen was sitting on the fallen tree, bottom on the moss, as Mike did most of the talking, standing, but then:

"Oh, don't go down on me, keep them up." And all at once, her hands were on Pete and my cocks, just as before. Stroking and firming them as Mike talked away. And then her hand off mine and onto his, stroking that. Keeping him hard. Keeping us all hard. Hard for her to see, hard for her to admire -- perhaps.

"One day we hired a boat and went along the coast and found a little deserted sandy bay and moored just off-shore. A whole day and nobody came. Just the two of us. Super. A boat house on the beach and some steps up. We did venture up the steps -- and took a towel in case we met anyone, but they didn't seem to lead anywhere much."

"Just the one towel? To share? Wouldn't have hidden you both." Certainly not, I thought, if Mike's cock had been like that!

"It was glorious," said Jen, "sand, sea and sex. You know."

Actually, Pete and I did not. No such opportunity. We were still virgins.

"You'd have loved it there. Three naked men on the beach. I'd have liked that! We played with the so pretty white pebbles. Mike giving me a white stone pebble bikini as I lay there, and then me him a pair of swimming shorts until, guess what pushed the pebbles away as it came up to meet me?"

"You sucked?"

Jen grinned, "I sucked and then we fucked -- again."

It did sound a perfect holiday.

I could go on and on. We had not quite met every week that summer with Jen and Mike, though our meetings were now drawing to a close. Always the hope of a fuck but it never quite happened. Always some reason. Certainly not that old reason of a period. Jen was not having those, not with that growing tummy. She was quite a sight as the summer drifted towards the autumn. Somewhat swollen, yet to both Pete and me, so sexy.

A disappointment all the same, and then Pete and I were off to university. Different universities. Different experiences for him and me. All so new and all so exciting and absorbing. Totally different courses, totally differently situated universities. Pete in London, me on a campus separate from the town. But what we did have in common was both of us scored, so to speak.

It was one of those sunny December days with no breeze that found Pete and I walking once more on well-remembered footpaths. Warm for the time of year, but not really one to spend much time naked outside. Nonetheless we had agreed back in late September to meet Jan and Mike when we came back from university. Pete and I found ourselves once more in that wood. The wood of the woodmen. A lot had happened during those months. An exciting and new time for the two of us, different universities, and different courses. Much for the two of us to catch up on. Neither now virgins, both with steady girlfriends, notes to compare, particularly about the pleasures of the flesh. Perhaps feeling a little guilty at returning, given those steady girlfriends, but we had agreed and... well we hadn't seen those girlfriends for almost a week and... and... cocks do rise! A return to our earlier selves and the eroticism of that summer. A strange eroticism. So much masturbation had gone on.

"Do you think we might fuck this time?"

I shrugged my shoulders. To me it mattered less. I had now fucked -- a lot -- there was no longer the pressing need to 'find out what it's like.' I would be content with any sexual fun which came along. It would be good to see how Jen and Mike were doing. Good to see just how big Jen had grown. She couldn't be far off her time now. It'd be good enough to see her baby bump in the flesh, see my reaction to a heavily pregnant woman -- my sexual reaction -- perhaps be permitted to ejaculate over her bump. That'd be good -- something different. My girls (yes, there had been two of them) had been slim, delightful, but I had thought -- thought of that different, that real femininity of pregnancy. Had I perhaps developed a bit of a kink? And what of new mothers with milky tits? Well, there can't be many men who do not want to suckle from a lovely pair of boobs, can there? Yes, I'd fucked, but, of course, I still wanted to fuck Jen. Share doing it with Pete and Jen's husband. Share the duties with our big cocks all out in the open, peeled and ready -- taking it in turns to slip into Jen and finally... Yeah, really filling her up! All three. That would be good.

They were there. We could see them through the trees. An appointment made back in September kept. A meeting inked into Jen's diary, something like, '11.30am. Meet woodmen. Usual place. Cock play.'

It was not like the summer. The lovely warmth that encouraged nakedness, not there. No wind, at least no cooling breeze within the wood. A stillness there, not felt when crossing the fields. We did not think we really could strip and walk towards them naked as before. Clear, they too were clothed. But should we get our cocks out? Was that expected? Pete and I unzipped, extracted, and walked. It was at least, in that, like before, us walking towards Jen our cocks erect and exposed, our balls out and hanging. And Mike's penis was out of his trousers too -- and hard. Still large, still with that coal scuttle look tinged with purple. Yes, the woodmen meeting properly -- in their way. So right in that wood, in the special glade.

Jen, though, in a long coat, buttoned to her neck and with a woolly bobble hat upon her head. The usual shaking of hands, even a kiss to the cheek from Jen.

"Nice to see you, and your nice big cocks." Jen looking down at them admiring -- or so it seemed to us -- certainly appreciative.

We could see under her coat that Jen was a rather different shape.

"Jen's been growing, quite a bit, do you want to see?"

Our appendages bobbed as Jen began to undo her coat. The sexual pleasure in anticipation. Button after button, all the way down and then and then, suddenly, the reveal. No fanfare there in the wood, but it needed it. Jen suddenly revealed with larger breasts than before. She was completely naked under the coat. Rather as she had been under her dress in summer. Mike certainly big in his own way, large and impressively erect, but Jen... what a protruding stomach! Her body shape different and you could not say it was anything but feminine. So rounded, so stretched, her tummy so swollen. What an additional weight to carry and her pubic hair and slit that had been so prominent before, now rather hidden in shadow under the 'overhang.' Nonetheless rather attractively set off by her matching long black boots.

Jen slid the whole coat off and there she was for just a minute or two stark naked but for black, below the knee, boots. And woolly hat and woolly gloves, actually. "Am I still sexy with this great big tummy?"

We assured her she was, and our swollen and upright cocks sticking out of our jean certainly confirmed that. Jen seemed to take great delight in posing with us with Mike looking on. Pete one side of Jen and me the other. Our cocks in her gloved hands, our skin being slid just like in the summertime. Really nice. Mike had a camera and took a photo or two. His cock sticking out of his trousers as much as ours. The eroticism of a woman in just long black boots, socks, gloves and hat. Did the pregnant tummy add to it?

Would you like one of the two of you? It seemed we had no option. Grinning at the camera but with our hips turned and our hard cocks sticking up from our jeans -- pointing towards each other but not, I stress, touching. Not even a bit.

"I've really got to put this coat back on," said Jen. It just was not the day for naturism -- even in shiny black boots.

"And what have you been doing with these?" Her hands reaching out again and holding.

And we told them, described something of our sexual adventures at our universities. Jen was certainly inquisitive, seeking intimate details. The details certainly kept Mike up and firm without his cock being touched. The senior, and hairy woodman enjoying tales of young men and girls, away from home, at university. Virgin tales. Pete and I saying more than we might have done to each other - again.

"Not with two girls at once or other boys, then? Not a bit of a group game -- like us today. My favourite of course, more men than women! Spare cocks aplenty."

No, nothing like that had happened. Just girl and boy stories. Boy meets girl and from kissing other things happen. Tentative touching over clothes leading to hands and fingers getting beneath clothes. Male fingers eventually being permitted to sneak under knicker elastic and find things a lot wetter and hotter than might have been expected. Feminine hands drawing down zips and stroking rather firm and bulging organs through the denim, before getting inside and grasping. If not done before then perhaps an unexpected handful -- more than anticipated!

My own first experience with Kay. We had been to a disco, the third that week, and were standing together in the dark outside her hall. It had not been me but her who really started it. Yes, we had been kissing, but it was Kay who put my hand on her breast, me feeling it beneath her shirt and jumper, feeling the hard nipple in my palm. I took the hint, and it was not that long before my hand loosened the bottom of her shirt out of her jeans and made its way over her tummy and upwards within the shirt. Nothing stopping me, no hand preventing mine curving over her bra. Perhaps I was a little more emboldened from having manipulated Jen's breasts -- at least I was experienced in that. My fingers slid under Kay's bra and over her so smooth breast flesh. Warm, soft and so rounded, though not as big by any means as Jen's.

From there, and after a lot more deep kissing, my fingers risked undoing the brass button of Kay's jeans. The two of us delightfully there alone in the dark. Her brass zipper lowered and my fingers slipping not between denim and cotton but straight down within that cotton, curling around, fingertips travelling through curls to find her slit. Again, experience from Jen made my finger-work sure, no fumbling nor tentative, exploratory movements, just doing what I had done with Jen. Doing it right, curving my hand well down with fingers teasing and stroking in an assured and practised way. I knew where everything would be -- and it was! My Jen-practice paid off. Confident in what I was doing, I played Kay very much better than my early attempts at learning to play the guitar were going. My fingers better in Kay's knickers than on the fretboard!

"We've missed you," said Jen sliding both Pete and my foreskin up and down. Very like Kay had done to me after I made her come. Kay and I did not have sex proper until a few days later. Her bed not mine. Both sleeping naked -- well, after we had copulated of course!

As Jen stroked me, she went on to describe what Mike and she had been doing, particularly sexual doings. And they had been active, very active. Jen described how face to face was simply not possible any more -- her tummy too in the way. But from the rear or 'cowgirl.' Jen described all that -- including riding her man.

"This has been such a busy little chap," she said moving her hand from my penis and stroking her husband's instead. Just as well, as I was about to suggest she paused, or I was going to cum. There was nothing particularly 'little' about Mike's 'chap.' Thick and with that purple banded coal scuttle, it looked all the bigger in Jen's little hand. Her gloved fingers stroking, moving the rubbery skin as they had mine moments before. Purple gloves rather matching Mike's band; Jen's purple woolly hat rather matching his knob too, not too dissimilar in shape either.

Jen made a funny little noise, her eyes going distant for a moment. "Sorry, the baby moved. Such a funny feeling -- one you won't have. Would you like to feel?"

It was not particularly sexual pushing my hand between the buttons of her coat and placing the palm on her extended stomach but so interesting -- and strange -- to feel a foot, probably, pushing from the inside out. A ripple under the taut skin.

"Would you like to feel the rest of my body?" A pleasing invitation to slip my hand in between other buttons of her coat and feel -- feel the warm body of the woman naked inside. Breasts and hard nipples, her fur and thighs beneath her thick coat; and when the thighs opened, opened for me, I knew I was permitted to delve into feminine wetness -- Jen was, of course, wet.

Pete's turn, but I saw no reason why I should not then crouch and approach not as he now was, between the buttons of her coat as I had done, but up from below, my hands on her bottom cheeks, my fingers sliding down the divide and meeting Pete's coming the other way. Our fingers had, I recalled, met before in Jen's vagina -- they were meeting again. And we brought her off together; two woodmen working. Good to feel her shuddering orgasm -- a standing orgasm what was more.

I had not lost my erection, of course I hadn't, and, despite it being out of my jeans, did not feel it cold at all. Not so my fingers now outside Jen's coat and not playing within her thighs. Wet fingers get cold easily on a cold day! I slipped my hands back into my pockets.

"I'd better do something about those."

And, as usual, Jen did. Three cocks out of trousers, three upright organs out in the cold air. Jen did us all, two hands to three cocks so she changed and changed about. I had not done it myself and, actually, I haven't since and don't think it has happened again by anyone else! Being wanked by woollen gloved hands. Not skin to skin or lubricated at all, but a soft touch and a warm one. Wool warmed from within

"Shall we move, my feet are getting cold." Best on a cold day to keep moving and I was happy to go with Mike's suggestion particularly as it prolonged the wanking. I was very happy to be led by the penis, cock sticking up from my fly and two thirds of the time being held, warmed, and stroked in Jen's woollen gloved hand. She led us back to that stile, the stile we had almost been surprised by the dog walkers when totally naked similarly erect and with our hands tied behind our backs.

Easier this time climbing over, with hands free, though it was rather strange and amusing watching both Mike and Pete climbing over with their hard penises sticking up, being careful not to get them caught under the stile's bar. I helped Jen up and over, standing behind her, with Mike helping her down the other side. What a pleasing glimpse as she hitched her coat up a bit and swung a leg over, me seeing up into her coat.

Nobody in sight, no dog walkers, and this time we walked along the footpath, Jen once more wanking us. There comes a time, of course, when wanking a man's penis is going to produce a result. I did wonder if, as we wandered along, all of a sudden, one of us might suddenly start producing but we walked quite a way like that and reached a rather good view, pausing there to admire the winter landscape, all rather stark with the leafless trees, but still pretty in the sunshine.

A happy groan to my side and I looked down to see Pete's knob appearing out of Jen's encircling purple wool clad fingers and spurting. A dash of cream out and then a really long rope flying. As Pete had originally boasted -- or perhaps just been factual -- he did fire a distance. Jen had speeded up and was giving him quite a handjob. One down, two to go. Mike and I now either side of Jen looking at the view as our penises were exercised by Jen. Mike's purple fringed knob appearing and disappearing within his skin and my rather paler but still respectably sized pink acorn doing much the same. I don't know if Mike or I came first, my eyes had closed as I gave myself up to the feeling of being masturbated to climax. I spurted, no doubt my stuff falling from my knob to the ground rather than projecting like Pete's -- there was certainly some on my leather boots when I looked!

I opened my eyes and there was Mike's purple and lilac plum, dripping away. Dripping his, no doubt, hot stuff down onto the ground. All the cocks had been done.

We walked on a little way with Jan and Mike, penises now tucked away, and then they turned back leaving Pete and I to walk on and around the wood back towards our path and home.

It was even colder the next week. Not just frost but snow on the ground, yet the sun was out with not a cloud in the sky. A perfect winter's day. Cold but the sun warming -- ish. Pete and I scrunched through the snow across the fields, thick woollen socks within boots, woollen gloves to our hands; around our necks scarfs and upon our heads, woollen hats. The snow some four inches deep or more in places but not soft for snowballs. It had turned to ice.

We were warm enough. The sun and the complete stillness so helping. Toasty warm in our clothing. It was perhaps just as well, given what was to happen.