Virgin Doggers

We pulled off the motorway to find a quiet spot for lunch that wasn't a crowded Service area. We shut the GPS down to stop the lady in the machine doing her pieces as she tried to get us to turn round and keep heading north towards the border, and Bridget had an old-fashioned road atlas open on her lap. The weather was the UK version of fine, so sunshine and cloud, a bit humid, and the hint of the occasional thunderstorm somewhere in the distance. A typical summer's day.

"There's a "B" road half a mile ahead on the left which looks like it was an "A" road once," she said. "It heads across the edge of a moor so it looks like a good bet for a quiet layby, perhaps with a view."

I took this as the instruction it was, and sure enough the road headed across country more or less north-westerly. Long stretches were dead straight as if it were an old Roman road, which it probably was. A sign indicated a layby picnic area coming up on the right which was likely in the wooded area we could see ahead. I signalled and we turned into one of those off-road stops constructed around a bend in an older version of the road which had been bypassed by a smoother turn, where the general direction of the higher ground had changed. There were trees right and left and a widened parking area half way around with a bushy bank on the right where the land dropped a little to the farmers' fields rolling down the flank of the moor. I turned and parked facing back the way we'd arrived. We had the place to ourselves.

"What's in the lunchbox?" I asked.

"You know very well. You were right beside me at the Co-op."

"I've forgotten. Surprise me," I countered hopefully. She gave me that look, tossed the atlas onto the back seat, and slowly hitched up her white front-buttoned summer dress to reveal she was wearing light tan stockings, a full white retro lycra open girdle I'd bought her last birthday, and white knickers. I couldn't see exactly what type of knickers but they looked like the sort I liked which were quite full, had no waistband and were cut so they disappeared between the delightful cheeks of her arse in a positively irresistible fashion. To a bum man like me, that is. Of course, I couldn't tell for sure, just getting a glimpse as I was. And with the girdle they couldn't do their disappearing trick, but I'd settle enthusiastically for what I'd seen.

"This do you?" she asked raising an eyebrow slightly as if not sure whether it would or not. She knew damn well it would, but it was supposed to be a lunch stop.

"A man should never turn down a lady, and I have no intention of disappointing. But could the condemned have a sandwich first? Just to build up a little strength?"

"You asked for a surprise, and now you tell me you want a sandwich. Yours are the cheese and onion. I went for the egg-mayonnaise, remember. And I'll still be wanting the sausage later." She proffered the box. "Yours are on top."

"As it should be." I grabbed my share of the sarnies and we both went about opening the packaging and getting to grips with the contents. While we munched away companionably, I wriggled around trying to get my erection into a comfier position.

"What's got into you?" she asked.

"You," I replied, pointing to the obvious evidence.

"As it should be," she grinned. "Coffee or Pepsi?"

"Tea," I tried. "Please."

We got the drinks sorted and packed the rubbish away. I sat back with my cuppa while idly stroking the leg on my left. The leg edged closer to express its appreciation and all seemed well with the world. "There's another car pulled up behind us," Bridget announced. "Black Ford."

"Right brand then. Though they don't have Holdens here, do they?" I replied. We were over from Australia to see relatives and catch up with some old friends. The vehicle scene was nowadays dominated by Asian makes so it was nice some things from our past here still endured.

"No need to let an audience cramp our style is there?" she rejoined. "Shall we shift to the back for a while where there are fewer knobs and gearsticks?"

"Good plan," I agreed.

"Put the windows down first, otherwise we'll get too hot," she suggested. I complied, mulling over the prospect of getting as hot as we could, and we eagerly switched to the back. Bridget had retrieved a wee pack from the glove compartment which she popped into the seat pocket in front of her with the atlas behind it, and chucked a couple of cushions we'd left on the seat to me to put by my door, out of the way. Then we began being more friendly, but in a relaxed summery way. There was no hurry.

A long gentle kiss mingled the flavours of our lunch and drinks and Bridget gave a contented sigh as I started undoing some buttons on the dress. I started at the bottom and after making some headway pushed the material aside to gently stroke the inside of her nylon clad right leg, moving gradually up to the bare flesh where the stocking tops ended. She reached down to undo more buttons and opened her legs wider to encourage me. For some reason the setting and the distant audience lent an air of unusual excitement which belied our languid progress. We both felt like a couple of teenagers on a first date. I reached her knickers.

"You're wearing the ones I like, aren't you? And you put the girdle on."

"I thought you'd be pleased. What's our watcher up to?" I turned to look over her shoulder through the back window. The car was parked about thirty metres away and the sun on the windscreen meant I couldn't see much.

"Can't tell. Ah! The door's opening. Looks like a man getting out. Denim jacket and jeans. Dark curly hair. In his thirties maybe, so a toyboy. He's coming this way."

"Don't stop!" Bridget commanded. I hadn't and didn't. I loved stroking her through her knickers so stopping wasn't on my agenda. The chap walked purposefully in our direction but closer to the bushy bank. There was a sort of gap in the vegetation opposite our car and it turned out he was heading for that. As he drew level, he gave us a glance and Bridget flashed him a big smile. He made no sign he'd noticed but disappeared through the gap and dropped out of view as he went down the bank.

"Must be the loo. Probably not very salubrious," she observed, while continuing to rock her hips gently in response to my caresses.

"You're hoping he'll come over, aren't you?" I breathed.

"It might be interesting. We've never done anything quite like this before. I'm feeling horny as hell."

"He's probably a tit man. He'll think all his Christmases and birthdays have arrived at once if he comes over."

"Well, perhaps they will have."

So, I reached up to start work on the top buttons at this point, but that was a mistake.

"Put your hand back where it was, you naughty boy, and keep rubbing me. I'll deal with those."

Obedient to a fault, I again complied. We were in our late forties but Bridget had kept her figure in good shape. She had a very narrow back for her size but enormous breasts heading into the second third of the alphabet. Getting bras which fitted was a nightmare. Particularly if I had the misfortune to accompany her and was required to hang around the underwear racks trying not to look like a middle-aged cross-dresser searching for bargains. And all while the hapless assistants tried to find a magic solution to one of the toughest physics problems on the planet having just walked into their shop.

There was a movement of branches and the tousled head appeared, followed by the rest of its owner rising below it. He paused on the lip before the gravelly paving to take in the view and check that his dress was properly adjusted. Bridget flashed him another of her big smiles. His face creased in a half-smile in return and he made to come over. Just short of the car he stopped. And I'd stopped my ministrations as he approached and leant back against the cushions by the far door.

"Good afternoon, folks. It is just afternoon, isn't it? I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"Not at all. We'd just had lunch and were having a bit of a cuddle, but nothing more. Are you a local or a traveller like us?" Bridget had done nothing to adjust her dress, so the dress hem was pushed right up on both sides and resting either side of her still parted legs. She swivelled towards him so closing her legs a bit, but this meant he was now staring at her breasts bulging invitingly against the thin white material. He stiffened momentarily and his eyes widened a fraction, but regained his composure in a flash.

"I'm a local. Well, I'm from the town just down the motorway. But that's local by our standards. I can't quite place your accent, I confess."

"We're from down south originally, but we've lived in Australia for twenty years so their twang has rubbed off on us a bit. We're over to catch up with old friends north of the border."

"That accounts for it. I'm Geoff, by the way."

"Pleased to meet you Geoff. Bridget and Bill, we are. I'll be Bridget."

"Not much doubt about that!"

"And I'll be Bill."

He smiled, and sensing no offence had been taken continued smoothly "Being a bit off the beaten track this layby is often used by courting couples and so on. So, you won't be the first to have had a bit of a cuddle here."

"And so on?" Bridget did her eyebrow thing again.

"Er, do you have something called dogging in Australia?"

"I'm not sure." She looked at me, then turned back. "We've heard of it from our time here, but that's about it. What's the story?"

"Some couples park up and like to be watched. Mainly that happens after dark. But sometimes during the day. I sometimes come up here for lunch with the possibility of a little fun to boot."

"So, you were watching us."

"I have to confess I was. But there wasn't much to see from where I was."

"There's a little bit more to see now though, isn't there? From where you're standing. Do you like the view?"

"It's a very pleasant view."

"What do you like about it?"

He licked his lips with a sweep of the tongue tip as he considered this. "May I call you Bridget?"

"Of course."

"You have delightful breasts, Bridget."

"How do you know? You can't see them. Well only a little bit."

"Bill's a very lucky man. He gets to see even more than I can." Nice parry, I thought.

"Bill's a bum man. The tits came with the package. Though he doesn't complain."

"Amen to that." I added.

"Would you like to see a bit more?" she asked him.

"God, yes!" he said. Composure was rapidly deserting him as he gazed mesmerised by the two bulging hillocks almost within reach, the valley of soft flesh showing between them, just a bit of cotton hiding the rest.

"Do you have something to show me in return?" she asked, slowly undoing the top buttons I had been warned off. "Is there any sausage in your lunchbox? Nice fat, firm, tasty sausage perhaps?" It was her turn to do a bit of lip licking. And for the first time there was a note of hesitancy in his voice. He looked up and down the layby. Bridget continued unbuttoning.

"I'm a bit exposed standing here. Someone might come."

"I'm hoping you do. All over my tits. And exposure is essential. Move closer. No-one will see anything but us," she said huskily, shrugging. out of her dress which fell into my lap. "Undo my bra, darling."

I quickly undid the row of hook and eye fasteners and she shrugged out of the bra too, now cupping her naked breasts in her hands and holding them together in front of Geoff. His lust had overcome caution as he fumbled his zip down, fishing out a splendid erection. I'd had my cock out immediately Bridget mentioned sausage, so I took it in hand and sat back to enjoy the show.

"Open the doors Geoff. I'll get out and sit in the front seat and you can stand in front of me between the doors," Bridget instructed. "That way you're less easily visible to a new arrival and we'd have time to do a bit of readjustment."

He did so with alacrity, his cock sticking up like a dipped flagpole. Bridget ducked out, a vision in white low heels, white knickers, white girdle and tan stockings, her breasts bouncing giant wobbly pink jellies with rock hard nipples sticking out like dark mini-Madonna cones. I let go of my cock, afraid I'd come immediately if I didn't, and slid left so I could see the action in the seat in front. Bridget sat facing out, her legs apart with feet planted on the rough gravelly tarmac. Geoff stood in front of her, between her legs, aiming his cock at her tits and stroking gently. She was cupping them and offering them up to him.

"Can I touch?" he asked.

"Go for your life, young man."

He let go of his cock and started pawing her. She thrust her breasts into his open hands with enthusiasm.

"Yes, that's it! Be a bit rough. Pinch the nipples. Roll them between your fingers. They're loving it!"

"They're amazing, girl. God, your nipples are as hard as my cock."

"My knickers were getting damp while Bill and I were cuddling. But I'm really wet and dribbly now! And my cunt's all puffed up and swollen. Would you like to see Geoff? Would you like me to show you my dribbly cunt too?"

"Please."

"Then rub your cock for me while a slip my knickers down for you. Aim it at my tits in case you get too excited. Getting too excited is allowed, by all means." I was certainly getting too excited. There was a risk I'd spray all over the seat back no hands. I reached over the seat and began stroking her left breast. Geoff was right. The nipple was incredibly hard.

She lifted up a smidge and slid her knickers slowly down, milking the moment while in danger of being covered in milk herself. Opening her legs as wide as she could in the space she reached down, opening herself and exposing the pink treasure guarded by the darker folds on either side. She began fingering her clit.

"Do you like this view too Geoff? My dribbly cunt and my stiff little pleasure bud? Get me the clit sucker, Bill. Please, get it for me now!" she added before he could reply.

I reached for the bag in the seat pocket in front of me and got the little machine out, turned it on and pressed the plus button to get the suction rate up. I passed it to her and she tried to open her legs even wider and went to work on herself. I knew this would take her over the top pretty quickly, but the tension was so high any one of us was going to finish any moment now. I'd kept to my hands off policy, as I was really a one-shot man nowadays and I figured there might be more to come. An Act II might be in the offing. Geoff was a good bit younger, those lucky years when a second stiffy sometimes followed closely behind the first if the setting called for it. I suspected it might.

"Rub your cock harder now Geoff! You want to be naughty, don't you? Do it all over my tits. Cover me in the stuff! Come on you dirty bastard. Do it!"

She was bucking her hips, her tits were hanging free and bouncing with her thrusts, and Geoff's hand became a blur. He stiffened and thrust forward too, sending volleys of milky ropes all over her tits and tummy. The little sucker did its magic for her and she let out a shriek that could have been heard in the next county, curling up in a ball and lurching sideways she gripped my arm and lay there gasping.

"Are you OK?" asked Geoff, his cock subsiding as he looked anxiously at her lying on her side, spattered tits glistening wetly.

"She's fine, mate," I said. "She's just had a very big climax. She sometimes gets quite worked up but she'll be right as rain in a moment."

And she was. She pushed herself back upright and looked down at her slimy breasts. "God, I almost passed out. That was amazing. But now I need to clean up and have a wee. I presume your toilet area in the bushes will be a bit grubby Geoff?"

"Not at all. There are proper steps down the bank, a small unisex toilet and basin block, and a picnic table and benches made from tree trunk halves. The tourism promotion budget must have underspent a couple of years ago and some bright spark on the council suggested blowing the surplus on parking area amenities, instead of strengthening flood banks down there on the river. That's politics for you."

"Same where we come from," I said. Bridget was busy with tissues and a hairbrush and in a couple of minutes we all looked like we'd just met at a church social. The white dress had all its buttons done up, the men had stowed their gear, and the gap in the bushes beckoned. Bridget grabbed a blanket from the car boot and Geoff led the way across the gravel but stepped aside and waved Bridget and I through at the lip. The stairway was one person wide but well-made and sturdy. At the foot was a grassed area that someone had to mow from time to time, with the bushes to the left, the picnic table ahead and the little toilet block on the right. The far side of the picnic table was more grass, a farmer's barbed wire fence, and the rolling fields on the edge of the moor sloping down to the plain below. There was a very faint hum of motorway traffic underlying the nearby birdsong and buzz of insects.

Rather than make for the loo Bridget strolled to the fence, dropping the blanket on one of the picnic table bench seats, and looked out across countryside. She turned to us with a small smile. "What a lovely spot. I thought we might get a view at our lunch stop but this is divine. I presume the chances of being disturbed are minimal? There's no indication from up there, apart from the sign on the road itself that this little haven exists." She looked in the direction of the steps.

"Correct!" said Geoff. "I suspect signage is a different department from construction. They'll work to their own rhythm. The signs could take several years to appear or someone might turn up tomorrow."

"Do you work for the council?" I asked.

"No. I'm an engineering consultant with a local firm. We get work from all quarters including the council so I've grown familiar with their ways."

Bridget was eyeing us up. "We'll have to be on our way soon. We've never done anything quite like this before, and there's no point in exchanging details because there's almost no likelihood at all of us meeting again. And a nice thing is nobody has whipped their phone out to capture the event. I like that in today's crazy world. So, I thought maybe we could say goodbye here. Now. I know Bill has unfinished business, and I suspect at your age Geoff you could do with a second helping. Perhaps you'd like to watch us, Geoff, while you enjoy your pudding so to speak. But first, I need to pee. Feel free to get your cocks out again."

Geoff and I looked at each other, and immediately had our zips down and were fishing around in our clothing. Bridget smiled appreciatively and began slowly lifting up her dress. So slowly. Looking at our cocks. And by some magic, as the hem rose above the knee, and slid up towards the darker band at the top of the stockings to which the old-fashioned suspender clips were attached, the cocks rose too. As the hem cleared the knicker gusset and then the bottom of the girdle they had swollen to full size.

"I've never done anything like this before either," confessed Geoff. "I've just parked up some evenings and watched from the car, fantasising mostly, as there was little to see even if a couple put their interior light on. I was seduced by your smile today."

"As you should have been," said Bridget while she slipped her knickers down and squatted. She smiled up at us as we massaged our cocks and she let out a stream of pee that seemed to last forever, but like all things had to come to an end eventually. Then she stood, hitched up her knickers and turned towards the picnic table. "Come and watch Geoff. Bill is going to stick his cock in me and fill me up. But first we'll just pick up where we left off when you came over to the car."

Both our erections gave an enthusiastic twitch at this unexpected announcement. Bridget patted the smooth varnished half sawn tree trunk to indicate I should sit beside her, spread out the blanket over the seat, and undid the bottom buttons of her dress. She sat with the dress dropped either side of her now parted legs and I took my cue and we began another long kiss while I stroked her leg and began rubbing her through her knickers. They were soaking from her pee and her still dribbly cunt, and the feel of the wet material under my fingers made my middle-aged erection look like a twenty-year old's again.