a true story
It was one of the warmer Augusts here in Southern California that I can remember. My lovely wife and I were both eager to escape from our jobs and head off for a long over due vacation in the mountains. The mountains were where we felt like we belonged. We surely didn't feel we belonged here in this push and shove city where if you didn't work a minimum of 50 hours a week, you just weren't part of the team and were made to feel substandard and lazy. We were desperate to leave all that behind us, if only for a couple of weeks. We'd let the system beat us down and demoralize us.
We spent Friday evening after work rushing around trying to pack the truck with camping gear and provisions. There seemed no end to all the loose ends that need to be dealt with when you plan to be out of touch for two weeks. The atmosphere at home wasn't much different than the rat race we'd let consume us over the last year.
We were the ideal couple in most people's eyes. We were soul mates, lovers and best of friends. Most of the time our passionate little world was well defended from the ugliness out there.
We weren't at our best that evening. We were critical, impatient and downright grouchy. The trip wasn't sounding like much fun. For some reason we were burdened by all the stuff that we felt we were leaving undone. We were sure the world would crumble without us.
Luckily, we had made expensive reservations for some white water rafting and felt that we had to go through with it. We packed and sniped at each other until late in the evening. We quietly went to bed and slept.
The next morning, it all started again. We ran around trying to finish getting ready and trying to stay out of each other's way. It wasn't till mid morning that we finally headed off down the road in a truck with no air conditioning and a forecast of temperatures in excess of 100-degrees.
We drove six or seven hours through the Southern California desert stopping only for gas and a quick fast-food lunch. The drive was, as you can imagine quite miserable. I think we both spent much of the drive thinking about our jobs and the mess that would be waiting for us when we returned to them. What were we doing out here in the middle of the hot desert?!!
When we finally arrived at our destination, we decided to find our campground and call it an evening. We were surprised to find the campground almost deserted. There were a few people, but everybody was spread out. I think everybody in the campground probably had a bathhouse to himself or herself. Like everyone else, we decided to make as much room between humanity and us as we could. We sat up camp quickly, Then sat around the fire ring eating cold sandwiches. "To damn hot for a fire!!!" It soon began getting dark, I guess it was probably around 8 O'clock. The darkness brought some relief from the heat, but it still wasn't comfortable. We were still questioning why we'd come.
After a short period of staring at the empty fire ring in dull silence. My lovely wife stood up, walked over to the truck, pulled her bathing stuff out and said that she was going to take a shower.
She asked, "Its kinda dark, do you want to walk me to the shower?"
I said, " sure, I could use a shower too."
We walked down the little trail to the shower and found it completely deserted.
The showers were in this little cinder block building with a men's side and a woman's side. Each side had been designed with a small restroom area and one huge shower. The lighting was very inadequate and we had only one flashlight.
We were standing in the doorway of the woman's side when my wife said. "Looks like nobody is here, Why don't you take a shower with me?"
That was the very first hint of how fun the trip was going to be. I of course jumped at the idea, but I could never quite be sure her invitation meant what I hoped it meant.
The shower was actually a large concrete room with a showerhead at the one end and bench seating attached to the wall and wrapped around one of the corners at the opposite end. There was no door, just an opening into the restroom area.
We put our stuff on the bench, and she started to disrobe. I just stood and watched. I always enjoy watching her undress, She is so damn beautiful.
She is Filipina/Latina, which gives her a very different look. Everywhere we go people are always trying to guess her ethnic roots. Usually they guess Polynesian. I can see that, with her long beautiful silky dark brown hair and perfect brown skin.
You could put her in nothing but a grass skirt and you would think I had kidnapped her off of one of the pacific islands.
She was gloriously naked now as she turned to me with her hands on her hips and said, "Well, aren't you going to take a shower?" I quickly undressed, as she figured out how the water worked. As I remember, hot water was completely unimaginable since what came out of the cold water tap was luke warm. The water felt great, we both just stood there for a time enjoying the water mixing with the night air to cool us down. The longer we stayed there, the more relaxed we became and the less worried we were about getting caught.
My wife picked up the soap and proceeded to wash me from head to toe. She touched every inch of me except the one part of me that most desired to be touched. That part stood stiff, swollen and throbbing, impatiently waiting his turn. For some reason, the soap we were using made a great deal of suds. This inspired my wife's creative side. She proceeded to shape the suds into various designs on my chest and then stepped back and giggled at her artistry. All the while ignoring the throbbing weapon that was aimed right at her.
When her game was over, she handed me the soap and said. "It's your turn"
I leaped at the opportunity to explore her glorious treasures. She teasingly waved a finger at me and cautioned restraint. She encouraged me to go slow.
Wow, this was fun. I attempted to follow her lead; I turned her around and started washing her beautiful satiny shoulders and neck. Then, I slowly washed her arms all the way to her fingertips. I moved downward from her shoulders, scrubbing, massaging and planting kisses as I went. Not missing a spot. I dropped to my knees and placed both my hands on her firm ass cheeks. I kneaded them firmly and then gently nibbled on them. I moved to her beautiful well-shaped thighs. She slightly parted her legs to allow better access.
As I washed the inside of her thighs I tested the rules a bit and stretched out my index finger and gently stroked her beautiful pussy, focusing on her clit. She moaned in approval and let me continue for a few moments.
She then shifted and said "now now, not so fast" in a teasing tone.
I continued on and washed her legs and beautiful feet. I turned her around and washed her face and alternately kissed her delicious lips. I kissed her passionately then continued downward washing that glorious neck. . I lingered awhile washing her perfect breasts. Her nipples hardened.
I decided to get artistic myself. I remember making her a bikini out of nothing but soapsuds. She once again counseled moderation as I covered her pubic hair with soapsuds. I stepped back and admired my work; we both laughed out load.
The magic was back!!
She gave me a sexy smile and once again took control of the soap saying that I obviously couldn't be trusted to go any further.
I stood back and watched her wash her beautiful pussy and her legs. She looked up a few times to make sure I was paying attention.
My cock stood patiently at attention this whole time, begging to be noticed.
Once she finished washing, I wasn't real sure what she was going to do.
