Suzanne Comes Again

Best enjoyed if you have read Part One.

*****

After a good filling Saturday brunch the four of us decided on a walk. The trail we picked ascended sharply up a hill, then leveled off as we went counterclockwise around the lake, at least it would according to the map we studied at the lodge.

Like the day before, it was warm, a few more clouds in the sky, but mostly sunny. Sharon was in shorts, her pale thick thighs impossible not to notice, me with a longish sun dress. The boys had changed into shorts after their fishing outing that morning. I liked how strong Rob's calves looked, the way they tensed and released when he walked with Sharon, even when the going wasn't strenuous.

Sharon and I had walked the path a bit while the boys were out fishing that morning and after we had had our little conspiratorial talk about the upcoming evening. While we hadn't hiked very far uphill before turning back, it looked like there would be some good lake views higher up. I had taken the lead with Jim and we headed uphill.

I was hand in hand with Jim, feeling easy and free, just like the old days. I glanced back and saw Sharon and Rob holding hands too, maybe prompted by us, I don't know. I hadn't seen them like that in awhile, they looked good. Two middle-aged couples holding hands on a walk together. How cute is that? Sharon smiled back, her dimple showing, dark long pony tail swaying as she went.

We got to a higher spot along the edge of the ridgeline with a little clearing and we all stopped for a look.

The lake stretched out, blue, surrounded by thick green forest.

"Sweet," said Jim. "So often in the woods you don't get a good look around, you're mostly just surrounded by all the trees."

I saw a smaller branch trail off to the side, heading out closer to the lake and maybe a better view.

Something got into me. Not sure if the previous nights activities added to my urges at all, but I found myself quite aroused out here in the woods. We were far from home, alone on the trail, no one knew us, away from small-town life.

The air felt good on me, my summer dress was sleeveless, and I was aware of a light breeze coming up between my thighs, my legs warm from the walk uphill. My braless breasts had been moving around in my dress while we walked and my nipples had grown erect.

I started thinking about Jim. Maybe even more, how nice it had felt to have had his penis up me the night before.

I was horny. No other real way to describe it.

Impulsively I pulled him off the trail a bit.

"Might be a good view down this way," I said breathlessly, tugging him along. I didn't look back at the others, didn't want to.

We found a a little place at the edge of a rock outcrop and moved to a sun-sheltering tree.

We stared out at the lake, a good clear view, leaning back against the tree.

Jim squeezed my hand. His blue eyes looked down into my face, that familiar, indulgent smile visible beneath his silly little sparse beard.

"Good for you so far?" I posed.

"Sure, babe."

I leaned in for a kiss. Totally spontaneous. His response surprised me, far more passionate than perfunctory. We entered that funny stage of kissing, which went on longer than usual for these sorts of husband-and-wife things which under normal circumstances are more often short and sweet, and stolen in between more public settings.

I found my hand drifting down the front of his jeans. Feeling the contours of his penis. Noting the half erection he had developed.

I kept kissing, began rubbing. My own crotch developed those excited sensations.

After a couple minutes, I unbuttoned his fly and fished out his penis, now fairly erect. It looked nice in the sun, in the high midsummer light. Head engorged, foreskin pulled back, shaft poking free from his clothes.

Jim's gaze went past me a bit frantically. I looked where his eyes had settled. Sharon and Rob were within sight, at the other side of the ledge, maybe thirty feet away, also by a tree.

I couldn't help it though, my hand continued to run up and down Jim's penis.

I shot a glance at Sharon. The pair were staring at us closely.

"Watching us," was my pleased thought. Such a turn on. I flashed on seeing Rob and Sharon couple last night, how arousing it had been to watch them fuck, witness their intimacies up close.

My hand did not stop rubbing. Jim's penis was hardening, so smooth, so firm, like ivory or polished wood. So fine in my hands. So free in the outdoors. And now with an audience.

I leaned up into him and we kissed some more, my fingers running up and down his penis.

I didn't care what our friends thought, I entered that "be-here-now-and-damn-the-consequences" zone. I felt like a teenager again. This was our weekend, to enjoy how we wished. My own groin squeezed.

Jim didn't last long, I had caught him by surprise. And contrary to our usual MO of lovemaking, which meant drawing things out as long as possible, it was urgency before all else in the here and now, outdoors - not all that private.

His penis, hard and vibrant, looked lovely in the midday sun. Most of our lovemaking is during low-light conditions, so it is always fun to see an erect penis out during the day.

But here it was, right in my hand. Pointing straight up, somewhat disembodied by sticking out his shorts, and I had pulled his balls out too, bunched up under his shaft. It reminded me of a gopher standing straight up out of his hole.

Almost any way you handle a penis is good, by mouth or crotch or fingers. Each one different. Fingers can feel the length, the smoothness, gauge the stiffness. And of course the rhythmic twitches when discharging semen.

I ran my fingers lightly along the tip, up and down the shaft, teasing that nice firm surface. Rummage his balls, churning away, then back to work on the head.

Normally during foreplay, after an initial tease, with hands or lips, I tend to avoid the cock-head except for the briefest caress, wanting to hit that most sensitive spot only when closing in. Normally I like a nice prolonged erection out of Jim, but today was different - a quick arousal and what I thoroughly expected to be a quick ending. My fingers slid along smoothly, ever-coaxing towards the inevitable. One hand on his balls, stroking, squeezing gently.

This outdoors tryst brought me back to very early in our relationship, on that fateful river rafting journey when I first met Jim. We had already made love one night three or four days into the trip after we had become smitten and knew this was more than just a momentary college-age strong attraction. It was a couple days later on a quick break in the middle of the day during our river trip and we had sneaked off from the others into the forest for a kiss and a grope.

Everything was new to us then, that period when you were learning your new lover non-stop, what your new guy liked, what turned him on. Everything was exciting, from the color of his eyes to the sound of his voice. We had been kissing and I had him back against a tree, just like now, fondling his penis. Within a couple minutes of spirited stroking he filled my hand with sperm, to my great pleasure. I quivered with the memory.

My hands were working nicely now. His hips were tense, forced back onto the tree trunk which supported him. I adore this part, knowing my actions were making my man ache for relief.

Up and down, more and more finger attention to his head, catching the ridge around it - smooth, taut and frantic. His legs stiff, hands holding me increasingly tightly, he stopped kissing me and put his head back on the tree. My left hand rummaged his drawn-up, churning testicles. I love this stage.

He came in my hand, the first spurt of semen coating my fingers as I kept stroking, pulling, my fingers making a tight ring around his cock-head while it pulsed, using the emerging wetness to grease the rest of my fondling. He humped his hips into my eager hand, the tree keeping him from falling over in the exertion. His ass was square against the tree, and I enjoyed how violently he pushed into me. His head was back, eyes closed. It was a good one, a good amount of sperm. I know his climaxes pretty well.

I kissed him and knew when he had opened his eyes since the feeling of his body had abruptly changed. I turned to look where his gaze went.

Sharon had Rob against a tree. She was working his penis too, pointing out stiffly in the sunlight. She shot us a glance. Conspiratorial? Triumphant? Or just nasty?

We watched. We saw Rob's hips begin to twitch, his legs grow rigid. We saw him come, but didn't have a great view of his sperm erupting, only the urgency of Sharon's increasingly rapid hand work.

Finally Sharon raised her face to kiss Rob, holding one hand out to the side, obviously slimed with sperm. I realized I was holding my own hand out to my side too, in the same condition, the wet sticky mess slowly cooling and congealing in the breeze.

I didn't have my purse along, which held tissues and all manner of the usual practical, handy pieces of female life.

"Got a handkerchief by any chance?" I asked Jim, quite sure he didn't. He shook his head. A slow smile on his face. "Nope babe, I don't." Easy for him to smile.

With my dry hand, I somehow managed to pull my panties off, awkwardly down my legs and over my trail shoes, resting my sperm-slimed hand on the tree for balance. Luckily I had worn my usual regular briefs, which had enough material to allow me to dry my hand off fairly well, then Jim's semen-coated cock.

Sharon was kissing Rob, her glistening hand still held awkwardly off to one side.

I waited until she looked over to us.

She looked pleased with herself.

"Need clean-up help?" I asked. "Or do you have something?"

The two of them exchanged looks and laughed.

"Yeah, guess we do," she said, a combination of apology and amusement at their own predicament.

I wandered over and used my panties to clean off Sharon's outstretched hand, and then tickled with the excuse, Rob's half-erect, still nodding, wet prick.

I mopped up the gloppings of semen as best I could, pretty much running out of dry fabric to do a good job, enjoying the chance to attend to Rob's deflating but still damp penis.

"No point walking out of the woods with a slobbery wet crotch," I said and they both cracked up.

Rob studied my now quite sodden panties and arched his eyebrows in amusement.

"Yep, I sacrifice a lot just to help out around here," I said, like I was Florence Nightingale or something.

I watched with interest while Rob ever so carefully tucked his penis back into his undershorts and zipped up.

I was briefly tempted to toss my panties down the hill into the woods, but couldn't bring myself to either litter or leave any remnant of our tryst. So I just held them, all wadded up and wet, in one hand while we walked back. My "good hand" was held by Jim, who kept shooting me amused glances.

Sharon confided later that on the way back Rob couldn't stop thinking about my crotch, uncovered with no panties, while I was walking along the forest trail. "She must be able to feel the breeze coming all the way up her cunt!"

He confessed to highly lecherous thoughts, even though he had only just ejaculated. I admit I was immensely aroused myself, my crotch warm and excited, keenly aware of the cooling, unimpeded forest air on my damp groin, slippery lips.

Outdoor lust. Rare enough, so free. So sweet.