Woodland Wonder

- Summer in ’72 -

The forest had been my childhood playground for many years, and although it is almost three decades gone now, both youth and woodland, the memories are still special, having been influential in much of my life as a writer. That old-world hundred acre remnant saw my friends and I grow up while developing through late boyhood to early teens and beyond – providing a safe haven to explore cigarettes, drink and of course our own sexual curiosity with, all the way from magazines onto explorations of another kind.

Later, I continued going there alone, enjoying the solitude which the place freely afforded. The others liked to do the group thing by then – ejaculating into the circle, or seeing who could squirt the furthest – all that kind of stuff. I preferred no distractions when engaged in wrestling bouts between my dick and I – in a house of five souls, the amount of available chances never matched the times of need – so I took to coming out here quite often, in fact, whenever I could.

Having said I wanted solitude when going solo – that changed one summer Sunday afternoon, a special day when I discovered the root of my fascination – learning that it was not just something that the lads enjoyed.

As I said, the place was an ideally quiet spot, strangely undiscovered by the city denizens as a whole – but Sundays tended to draw the very occasional rambling family outing. I had even less wish to encounter them, so had taken to climbing the trees, where I knew no one else would disturb me, or even look.

There was a buzz from pumping my hot young seed out onto the ground from so high, listening for the light spattering on the leaves and fern tops below.

That particular Sunday, I had already gruntingly given my offering to the stream, and had gone afterwards to my favourite tree – an old Oak surrounded by a sea of fern that bordered the meandering path. It was a place that I liked to think, and I was so engaged when the sounds and motion of others’ passing, drew my attention back to the world.

Out on the path a family was passing, strung out in a column which my mind briefly clothed as an American patrol moving through the Vietnamese jungle – but they were the standard father, mother and three children combination – ranging from eight to late teens. I idly watched them move on by down the slope, willing them by more quickly so that I could recapture my peace – but at the same time enjoying the spectacle of the eldest daughter, watching while she looked around her, totally innocent of my attention. Her slender body alluringly twisting and turning, eagerly stretching with every movement, as if full of enjoyment from every contact of her lithe and beautifully breasted body under that slight dress. The vision held me and I felt stirrings of appreciation, enjoying the opportunity of watching her body without having to mask my gaze from anyone’s notice – safe here up in my tree where no one would see.

I even found myself hoping she’d slow down to prolong that enjoyment – I had become hard again in that short space of time - hard and exposed to the air.

Without conscious intervention I had him out and was slowly stroking up and down, ready for seconds. She was a beauty, a full eighteen at least, and very self-assured in a way that said she must have moved away from home already, for college, or work. I could see her in my mind, moving about her flat or naked in the bath.

Whatever it was she had said to her parents, they just nodded and resumed their idle strolling onwards, while she incredibly began wading with slow grace through the high fern – not directly for, but definitely in the direction of my tree.

My hand stopped in mid-stroke, torn between fear of its motion giving my presence away, and delight at this prolonged opportunity to observe someone who did not know it. Had my wishes in some way subconsciously affected her actions? I held my breath in awe of that prospect.

Then she was standing on the clear spot under the other side of the bole from my perch, and even though she glanced up briefly, she didn’t see me through the leaves – but just stood there with hands on her hips, looking briefly around.

I could tell that she was somehow impatient, her every motion possessed by a fidgetiness, and more than once craning her neck in the direction of those noisy siblings, and elders, all still moving steadily away.

I was fascinated – maybe she wanted to pee, so perhaps I’d be in for a treat. I decided to try and see if my new-found mind-trick could do any more, just to test its power...

Perhaps I also needed to check my soul, as I plainly got more than I bargained for out of that un-remembered deal.

Spreading her jacket out on the ground, she took one quick sweeping look out in the direction from which she had come, and in a deft single move, took the dress completely off – just like that she was stood tense and pale in her almost complete nakedness under that light gloom, wearing only her trainers and a slip – no bra for those young breasts and their awakening nipples. Then came the shoes with their short, white socks, shucked off quickly – and I watched her tread lightly out onto the dry leaves, as if she was an astronaut exploring a new world for the first time. I remembered with a smile, my own first naked time in the woods, and how that had felt.

Keeping my attention to what would very possibly be a short lived and rarely to be repeated vision, I absorbed every visible detail and impression of her – my hand of its own volition began its familiar movements again: tonight my fantasy would be a feast, a vision to be consumed and tasted from every angle.

She did not move far with those first steps, but came back to her jacket, and with a controlled effort of concentration and balance, slid her little slip completely off.

She took a few more steps as if comparing the earlier ones with the advent of those whilst in the state of being totally nude.

My hand stopped again upon seeing her tuft of hairs for the first time, caught light and alluringly in the indirect afternoon glow – it was a moment of awe, and it had me feeling very hard. She moved a hand down to cover herself, maybe out of belated shyness, I thought – but that hand then continued moving itself down further between her legs, stopping to make little stroking motions there.

I had thought myself to be more fully hard than ever before, after seeing her take off the clothes, giving me a look at my first and live, naked woman – but now I glanced down at myself with something like absolution from ignorance. What is this – why am I suddenly so unbelievably rigid – and what is she doing?

She quickly lay down, and I began moving myself carefully for a better view of what was going on – taking care to keep my balance, and doing my best to be quiet while I was about it. I didn’t want this to be spoiled by some thoughtlessly stupid slip, or any noise – I needed to know what was going on, and more importantly, why my body seemed so willing and capable of responding to something which I previously knew nothing about.

Leant against and looking out around the tree bole, I looked down to see her stretched completely out on top of her jacket, legs drawn up and opening wider, with one hand between them still, stroking herself and making more of those little circular motions, rubbing around a fixed spot.

My eyes were wide, and my hardness was more rigid than the tree against which it was pressed – hot, hard and much more tangible – two wooden boles rubbing against each other with rough familiarity.

Her body seemed to glow there below, lain perfectly out for me to look upon in its equally perfect entirety. The long, young limbs now fully parted – smooth belly sloping down, then rising up again in a mound, cupped lightly under that flexing hand – the action framed by her twinned curve of hips, mysteriously rounding inwards and up to that wonderfully mobile waist, then out again, curving into a splayed arch of quickly rising and falling ribs. Both breasts now under the stroking attentions of her other hand, were pointing back up at me, nipples like dark eyes moving with the slight rollings of her body, alternately lifting to stare directly into my own, trying to drawn my gaze from what the other hand was still busily doing.

Despite the detail of description, these were mere peripheral details at the time, picked up and slotted into place at a later time by my helpful subconscious.

Oh, but my eyes throughout, were solely fixed on that one hand and what it was doing between her legs – moving faster now, and in a way that reminded me of my own nocturnal activities. She was having a toss – playing with it, bringing herself off, and right there on the ground before me!

It was a revelation at the time. I had no idea that girls did that sort of thing, what with them not being equipped the same way, if you see my reasoning. It was all a part of the innocence we shared back then, but it was an innocence which I was glad to be relieved of. I just watched her in aching awe, seeing both those hands slowly intensify their pace of manipulation – feeling a pressure of excitement in chest and balls, unlike anything else earlier experienced.

She had drawn her legs up closer now, letting them part fully, and I could see more easily how her fingers slid up and down over the protrusion of swollen, pink lips.

I was stroking myself again, taking myself with slow, powerful jerks – unable to contain the need. Under similar possession, she had started trembling lightly, giving a little moan followed by a gasp, as three of her fingers disappeared inside her. She began working them slowly in and out and started to shudder even harder.

My eyes were almost slit-shut with need, but I made sure they stayed open enough to watch while she brought herself to her quick release, body moving faster now as her fingers shuttled in and out, visibly wet and slippery with the urgency of her desire.

Giving another little cry, her body slowed itself, relaxing then subsiding by degrees under a ripples of small shudders, inspiring my own orgasm to come out hot and hard – felt all the way up the shaft, thick from root to tip of my cock, and ending in a long splash of sticky white hung in a dribbling line, stretching for a surprising distance up the tree trunk.

Her need satiated, she stood and quickly dressed herself, adjusting clothing properly before making her way back off in pursuit of her unsuspecting parents – wiping her fingers on fern fronds as she went.