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Willing? - A new story
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Willing? - A new story Here is a new story I quickly whipped out, so to speak, for friends new and old. BTW, I'm not able to read most of your emails since I let my Gold membership lapse for a bit. I'll fire it back up in a couple of weeks. In the mean time you can send me messages through the private blog topic above. I hope you enjoy. The story is posted as a comment. |
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Willing? Denise was exhausted and happy. Happy, though not content. Camping and playing all day with her three young ones would tire anyone out. Camping with children is not relaxing. But, she was happy because the kids had such a great time. Hiking the trails, playing at the beach, cooking dinner over the fire. Each was a thrill for them. Finally, after multiple rounds of smores, they were in bed in the camper. So was her husband Jack. Denise wished she and Jack would be able to play when they camped too. But with the entire family in the pop-up camper, adult playtime was not to be. That's why she was happy, but not content. Denise had given herself an itch when she took the kids to the beach. She wasn't seeing the opportunity to scratch that itch. She loved wearing her yellow bikini. It made her feel very un-mom-like. Even after three births, she filled it out with proportions that attracted subtle and not so subtle attention. Denise was sure some of the dads on the beach weren't gazing at the playful children around her, but rather longingly at her body which was generously revealed by her swim suit. Even the college-aged guys seemed to keep track of her movements. So now she wandered the roads of the campground. It was after quiet hours and everyone seemed to be following the rules. She heard the occasional TV playing from inside a large motor home. What was the point of camping if you drove an entire house with you. Denise noticed a pop-up similar to their own ...jiggling. She paused, listening carefully to discern what the occupants might be up to. Alas, no sounds of adult fun reached the road. Still the longing she felt grew. Denise wandered into the now empty beach area. The lone light was an overhead streetlamp at the far end of the parking lot. She crossed to the large, heavy beamed picnic shelter, a public works project from the Depression era. She and the kids had explored the massive stone fireplace which all but filled one end of the structure. She caught the scent of smoke in the air. Not the campfire smoke which permeated their clothes and camper. It was a scent of smoke she remembered from her college days, before she was a mom. Before the kids came first. Back when she could choose to get buzzed and fucked. Denise remembered the freedom of doing what felt good to her, not making the best use of her tuition. But salting away memories that she called upon when mom-hood and Jack didn't fill the bill. The ache from the beach grew more pointed. The scratch and glow of a match at the far end of the shelter echoed and blazed in contrast to the quiet and dark. A low voice murmured, "I didn't want to startle you." Denise peered into the gloom and saw the figure of a man outlined by the slightly less dark night outside the shelter. An ember flared and the voice said, "If you don't turn me in, I'm happy to share." A whiff of the Mary Jane grew stronger, just like college. Denise moved down the length of the shelter toward the man. He as a little taller and a litter older than she. He was trim and wearing sandals, shorts and a Henley collar shirt that could be almost any color in the dim light. The clean outline of his head against the gray beyond confirmed he was bald. Just the way she liked. She hadn't taken a hit since the first kid came along. The smell stirred her longing even more. She remembered the fucking while being fucked up being so intense. "I shouldn't" she finally said, "mom's don't do weed." "Some mom's do" he replied with a chuckle. "Well, my husband doesn't and he'll smell it on me when I go into bed." "Don't we all already smell like wood smoke?" Denise grinned. Yes, that is what camping smelled like, wood smoke in every fiber of canvas, clothing and hair. "Okay, thanks. Just like college," as she took the smoke from him. Only she wasn't going to fuck him like she did so many guys who passed her a joint years ago. Denise savored the flavor, waiting for the result she enjoyed so much in years past. "Nice you get to have your fun time too. It looked like your kids had most of it today." "You saw me at the beach?" she asked taking another hit. "I and every red blooded male on the beach over the age of puberty. Everyone enjoyed you in that bikini. I think the college guys out in the chest deep water particularly enjoyed you." A third hit was relaxing and stimulating Denise, her longing growing stronger. "What do you mean?" "I'm sure they were jacking off to you under the water." Denise giggled, "I don't think so. Moms of three don't inspire lust in college boys." "Mom's in bikinis do. Particularly those who are teasing them." "I was not teasing them." knowing that what she said wasn't true. "I think you were. No one adjusts their swimsuit that much to be comfortable. You were shifting your waist band and leg holes to make them, an every other guy on the beach, uncomfortable." Denise grinned in the dark, savoring the floating feeling the pot had given her. She had teased earlier. It was the start of all today's pent up need. Denise leaned back against the end of a picnic table which rested just underneath the roof of the shelter. Her bald supplier stepped close in front of her, standing between her feet which were spread apart to provide a strong base to counter the spinning she felt in her head. He took the tiny remaining stub from her fingers. "We'll share the last hit." He then drew deeply on what remained of the joint, held his breath for a beat, and then slowly blew the smoke toward Denise's mouth. Her lips formed an O, sucking the smoke in for a final rush. Her lips had formed the same shape she used to thank and encourage her college smoking partners. Encouragement her husband didn't want. What fucking guy doesn't want a blow job, she pondered. The gray of night had become more colorful as he dropped the remaining scrap to the ground. He stepped against Denise and pressed his lips to hers which still remained in the receptive O. His tongue followed where the smoke had gone before. His hands slid up her thighs bunching her shorts upwards. "Oh, fuck. My husband is here." "No he isn't. He is back at your campsite, sleeping away rather that diving into enjoy what you have here." "I mean, I'm married. I can't be smoking and fucking down here." Her head spun with the sensations. "I think you can. You've smoked already. Now you can fuck if you want. Or you can blow me if you want. Or I can eat you if you want. You can have whatever you want." She could, Denise thought. She wanted to. She wanted everything he had just said she wanted. His fingers, which had found their way up her shorts legs to her pussy made her want it all even more. When had he pulled her panties aside? When had she gotten so wet? When was he going to replace his fingers with his cock, which her hands had found, stroking him through his pants. She didn't decide. She just did. Denise pulled his waist band out and reached for his cock, finding it plump and ready. She stroked it's length underhand, feeling it fill her palm as a second...or was it third...finger filled her pussy. She gasped as she came. Pot made it so easy for her to cum. Pot made her so fucking horny. He grimaced as she gripped him tightly when she came. He growled, "my turn now" and pulled Denise up by her hips. He spun her around pressing her into the table. She felt her shorts and panties forced down her legs. His knee pressed her legs apart as his hands bent her over the picnic table. The gush of wetness, that occurred when she came, provided smooth passage for his cock which he pressed in and in and in until he was deeply embedded in her. He began to stroke in and out of Denise as he said, "I'm just where all those wankers on the beach wanted to be, buried balls deep in your tight little horny wet pussy." Denise mewed at his words as much as his cock. No one had taken her like this in years. Certainly not Jack, who only wanted to make love. Now she was fucking. Just like years ago. I don't even know his name and his cock is sliding back and forth in me. "You're such a good fuck." He was pulling her back by her hips, faster and harder. "Does my cock go well with your weed colored mind." "Oh, fuck yes," she gasped. Another orgasm was building, bigger than the first. He grunted out the words as he thrust. "In...you...or... on...you?" "In me," she squeaked. "I want to feel your cum in my married pussy." He shouted, "Fuckin A" as he pounded once, twice and then let loose a surge of cum. Denise replied with a high pitched moan, "oh, fuck yes." as she tightened around him, drawing in all the cum he had. Their gasping for breath was loud in the still night air. He stepped back and pulled up his shorts. "Just like the boys on the beach wanted,"he snickered. Denise fumbled for her shorts. Her mind reeling. She had never cheated though she thought of it often. And this was so fucking good. He helped her hike up her shorts, copping one last feel of her pussy in the process. "How long are you camping?" Denise mumbled, "until Sunday." "Good. Meet me here again tomorrow night." He walked off into the dark, leaving her panting and content. She shouldn't meet him she thought. But she would.
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Very nice read. You leave me wanting more. Thank you for the well written story, and the wonderful fantasy that accompanied it.
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