Lost Woods: a Wife's Wild Encounter

The sun hung low in the sky, casting golden streaks through the dense forest surrounding our cabin. My wife, Lisa, had decided to take a hike earlier that afternoon, slipping into a barely-there camo sports bra that hugged her full breasts and a pair of tiny booty shorts that left little to the imagination. The shorts rode high, exposing the plump curve of her ass cheeks with every step she took. She'd winked at me as she left, her ponytail swaying, promising she'd be back before dark. I'd watched her disappear into the woods, her tanned skin glistening under the late summer heat, and figured she'd enjoy the fresh air.

Hours passed, and dusk began to settle. Lisa hadn't returned. Concern gnawed at me, but I brushed it off at first--she knew these woods as well as I did. Still, when the clock ticked past her usual return time, I grabbed my keys, hopped on the quad, and roared off into the trees to find her.

Meanwhile, deep in the forest, Lisa had veered off the familiar trail. The trees thickened around her, and the path she thought she knew dissolved into a maze of roots and shadows. Sweat beaded on her skin, her sports bra clinging tighter as she wandered, lost. That's when she stumbled into a small clearing--and into the sights of two Mexican deer hunters.

The men, rugged and broad-shouldered, stood near a makeshift camp, rifles propped against a tree. Their dark eyes locked onto her the moment she emerged, tracing the lines of her body like predators sizing up prey. She brushed a strand of hair from her face and approached, her voice light but uncertain. "Hey, uh, I'm a little lost. Can you point me toward the ridge trail?"

The taller of the two, a man with a scruffy beard and a sly grin, stepped closer. "Lost, huh? Pretty thing like you shouldn't be out here alone." His accent was thick, his tone dripping with suggestion as his gaze lingered on her exposed midriff, then lower to where her shorts barely covered her. The other hunter, stockier with a quieter demeanor, smirked and nodded in agreement, his eyes roaming just as shamelessly.

Lisa shifted her weight, a flush creeping up her neck. "I can handle myself," she said, but there was a playful edge to her words. The bearded hunter chuckled, pulling a flask from his pack. "How about a drink, then? Relax a little. We'll get you where you need to go... eventually." He winked, offering the flask.

She hesitated, then took it, her lips brushing the rim as she sipped. The tequila burned, loosening her nerves. The men watched her intently, their stares growing hungrier. The bearded one stepped closer, his hand grazing her arm. "You look good in that outfit, chica. Real good." His voice was low, coaxing, and Lisa didn't pull away. Instead, she tilted her head, a coy smile playing on her lips. "You think so?"

The air shifted, charged with tension. The stocky hunter moved in, emboldened, his hand sliding along her hip. "Oh, we know so." Lisa giggled, the alcohol and their boldness igniting something reckless in her. She leaned into the bearded one's touch, her fingers brushing his chest as she flirted back. "Guess I don't need to rush home, then."

Hands started roaming--hers, theirs. The bearded hunter's fingers slipped under the hem of her sports bra, teasing the soft skin beneath, while the other gripped her ass, squeezing the flesh her shorts failed to cover. She let out a breathy laugh, sinking to her knees in the dirt before them. Her fingers found the zipper of the bearded hunter's pants, tugging it down with a slow, deliberate motion. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, and her eyes widened for a moment before a wicked grin spread across her face. She wrapped her hand around it, stroking as she glanced up at him.

The stocky hunter didn't wait. He unbuckled his belt, pulling out his own stiffening cock and stroking it as he watched her. Lisa's lips parted, and she leaned forward, taking the bearded man into her mouth, her tongue swirling as he groaned. The other hunter stepped closer, his hand working faster, waiting his turn.

Back at the quad, I'd been searching for nearly half an hour, the engine rumbling as I navigated the uneven terrain. Worry had turned to unease, but nothing prepared me for what I found when I broke into that clearing. There, on a blanket spread out in the grass, was Lisa--naked now, her camo bra and shorts discarded in a heap. She was on her hands and knees, the bearded hunter pounding into her from behind while the stocky one thrust into her mouth. Her moans were muffled, her body rocking between them, sweat and dirt streaking her skin.

The men froze when they saw me, shock flashing across their faces. The stocky one pulled back, his cock slipping from her lips as he stammered, "Who the hell--?" But Lisa just laughed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Don't worry," she said, her voice husky. "That's my husband. He knows I do this."

I stood there, engine idling, a mix of emotions churning in my chest. She met my gaze, unapologetic, and nodded toward a folding chair nearby. "Sit," she said, casual as if inviting me to watch a movie. "I'll be done soon."

I hesitated, then cut the quad's engine and sat, my eyes locked on her. The hunters exchanged a glance, shrugged, and resumed. The bearded one gripped her hips, thrusting harder, while the stocky one guided her mouth back to his cock. She took them eagerly, her body trembling as they used her, spit and sweat glistening in the fading light.

Minutes stretched on, grunts and gasps filling the air. The bearded hunter came first, his fingers digging into her as he unloaded deep inside her, his groan echoing through the trees. The stocky one followed, pulling out of her mouth to finish, spilling into her fertile core as she arched beneath him. They stood, panting, and Lisa whispered something to the bearded one, too low for me to hear. He smirked, nodding, as she gathered her clothes and slipped them back on.

She sauntered over to me, her shorts barely zipped, and climbed onto the quad behind me. "Let's go home," she murmured, her arms wrapping around my waist. I started the engine, the hunters watching us as we peeled away, their silhouettes fading into the dusk. The ride back to the cabin was silent, her breath warm against my neck, the scent of sex and tequila clinging to her skin.