30 Days or Bust: Day 17byl8bloom©
All characters in this story are age 18 or older.
Sunday was awkward. Mark's lawyer called back and counseled him against going out in public. If things got nasty, it could backfire; it would look like he had offed poor Doris, then gone out to dinner and a movie. In the end we decided the best course of action would be for us to stay at our respective homes. I hated it. This would be the first day in over two weeks that we didn't spend time together.
Nonetheless, the relationship between us was growing stronger. I mooned over him like a love-smitten teenager. I kept myself occupied with inane housework, but my thoughts churned.
Over the years I had dated men who were smart, or well-educated, nice looking, or well-meaning. None of them could hold a candle to Mark. The handsome ones were invariably vain. Colleagues always wanted to compete with me, as if my intelligence was some kind of threat. And I couldn't recall any whom I would describe as truly kind.
No; none of their ilk would ever do. Mark had treated me like a woman, and like a person. With him I felt whole, authentic, and relaxed. He had called himself a whore, and this irked me. The more I thought about it, the more I didn't like that slant. The term did not come near who he was or what he did. If anything, other men could stand to take a lesson from a guy who brought pleasure to women.
This gave me an idea, but I shook my head and ran the dishwasher. Thoughts of the future, our future together, might all be dashed tomorrow.
After a lonely dinner, I wandered my house. It seemed pathetically empty. Ghosts of memories moped in the rooms and halls. Mark had tended my body in every living space I had.
At first I thought maybe we could have phone sex, but I quickly discarded the notion. Phone records were too easy to check, and could be used against him.
Then I knew: I would go to the apple orchard. Back to the scene of the crime, as it where, where my lover had led me to ride a bough while he suckled my breasts.
It was perfect. Forests and wooded areas are my classroom, my cathedral. They belong to themselves, of course, but I was the steward of this special place, so in a way it was mine. Of all the ways I knew trees, I had never expected to know one in a biblical sense. Mark had given me a very creative lesson in my own field.
Grinning, I searched out the toy he'd given me and tucked it into a fanny pack along with a few other essentials. I debated wearing exactly the same clothes, but opted instead for navy, hunter, and black: the colors of the black watch. They were night-perfect, and in the night forest, I would make my own love.
My excitement grew as I drove near the place. Technically, there was no trespassing after dusk, but as a faculty member, I had a pass. If ever questioned, I could claim I was doing research. That's what it was: research. I smirked as the toll gate rose to let me by. It looked like an overgrown phallus, swinging to attention. Did I have thoughts like this before Mark awakened my body? Certainly not as often!
Having read my card, the light flashed a come-hither green, and I drove through. The sense of adventure made me feel like a kid on a secret mission. At the same time I thrilled at the joy and familiarity of my arboretum. This was my turf.
I parked right away in the empty lot and took the nearest trailhead. The white lettering of carved signs gave me directions I didn't need. Though alone, I walked quietly by instinct. There is never any need to snap branches or disturb brush, if you don't need to.
The September night was cool, but by the time I approached the orchard, a thin sweat ran under my arms and breasts. It echoed the growing dampness between my legs. I paused for a moment to take in the sounds.
What was that? I cocked my head. A bird? No -- there it was again -- a distinctively human sound. Somewhere nearby, a woman was expressing her pleasure.
Stealthy as a ninja I crept toward the sound. It came from the clearing I had intended to visit.
There in the moonlight, a pair of lovers had opened a sleeping bag to make a blanket. He was dark and muscular; she enjoyed the slenderness of youth. I watched as he nibbled at her neck. She hung onto him, her pale fingers splayed like starfish against his dusky skin, and threw back her head to give him full access.
I watched him give her a collar of love-bites; she'd have something to blush about the following day. She moaned and ground against him. In the deepening twilight I could see the hot fuchsia color of her blouse, and the pale khaki of her shorts. She probably wouldn't be wearing them long.
They obviously didn't intend to leave for a while, so I sat down to watch the show. I didn't mean them any harm. Without any conscious thought, my hand strayed under my long black skirt. I rubbed the wet crotch of my panties and it felt soooooooooooo good. Mmm.
Now the stud was peeling apart the woman's blouse. I gave him silent applause for enjoying her body slowly, like an ice cream cone on a hot summer's day. Button by button he exposed her creamy skin. Her brassiere looked to be the same hot pink color, and he clearly loved it. He put his mouth on the tip of one cone and gave her something to groan about. His hands were busily caressing her torso, smoothing all over as if he were sculpting her.
The lady hung onto his shoulders for dear life. Though her grip was adrenaline-fueled, I doubted he would have bruises on the morrow. His muscles were so powerful-looking, it would take a fellow line-backer's charge to cause even minor damage. Besides, I knew what she was feeling. Many a time as Mark had doctored my body, I had been so distracted that my mind was reeling. All I could do was hang on for the ride.
My juices were flowing freely now. I pushed aside the wet cotton and dipped a finger. My body felt like a ripe peach, the flesh unbelievably soft and wet. I stroked myself as I watched the man lay his woman down. His hand massaged her crotch and he watched her face as she shivered. It must make a man feel godlike, to bring a woman into a state of full arousal like that.
He used both hands to unsnap the waistband of her shorts. For a moment her own hands came down as if to say, No, don't, but he batted them away, easy as shooing a pair of moths. She rested on her elbows then, and alternated her gaze, looking first at his face, then down at his hands. She watched as he slowly unzipped her shorts to reveal the pink panties underneath.
She had to be soaking. I knew I was. A silver ring decorated her navel. His fingertip traced her bellybutton, then her bikini line, and her breathing grew heavy. He rumbled something that might have been You like that, and a wordless nod was her reply.
His cock strained visibly against his boxers. Tentatively the girl sat up and stroked him, and it was his turn to go still for a moment.
They teased one another, hands groping each other's genitals through what suddenly seemed like far too much clothing. I pushed my whole hand inside my panties and cupped my hot mound, my middle finger sinking in. It took a conscious will to keep from moaning.
The lovers murmured to one another, saying their names and professing affection, or maybe, just honest lust. She took off her blouse and her pink-clad breasts glowed like neon. The man pushed her back and tugged off her shorts. Perhaps he meant to enjoy the sight of her wearing the matching panties and bra, perhaps not; in any case, the underwear came off at the same time, and she was more nude than not. My eyes swept the length of her, down to her painted toes. Her pussy was clean shaven.
Her eyes went wide and she loudly said, "Marcus!"
His answer was lost because his face was between her thighs. She moaned and spread her legs wide. She called out to her maker as Marcus buried his face in her naked cleft. He rolled them over so that she sat on his face. From where I perched, I could see her undulating bottom. One dark hand reached around. Marcus gave me the finger, and then gave it to his lady, the hard tip probing at her tiny rectum. She smacked his hand soundly, a definite No, and the hand went away.
Immediately I wondered if Mark would ever take me in the ass. I'd never been very interested in anal sex. The one time I let someone try it, it hurt quite a bit. Since then, a simple "No" had sufficed. But knowing Mark's skill, it might be worth checking out.
The lovers rolled again. Marcus had had enough of the pretty bra. He stripped it from her without any fumbling and cast it aside. The co-ed's breasts were as pretty as her face. His mouth fastened onto one dark nipple. She whimpered. My own breasts were crying out for attention. They were leaking through my t-shirt. I pinched them lightly and they cried some more.
Marcus was multi-tasking, getting out of his boxers at the same time that he continued to play with his woman's breasts. He was well-equipped; I stared in fascination as he handled himself, then donned a rubber.
This was the moment I had been waiting for. I slipped the toy under my skirt and pushed the tip against my anxious sex. Involuntarily a moan grew in my throat, and the man glanced around, but seemed unconcerned. I froze.
Now he was poised between the girl's spread legs. He thrust two fingers inside her, checking her wetness. She gasped and bucked. He put the wet fingers in her mouth and she closed her lips, tasting herself on her lover's hand. He played with her, moving his fingers in and out, manually fucking her mouth.
His cock waved, and began its journey. She cried out at the penetration, and suddenly was all hellion, sharply lifting her hips to his. "Fuck me!"
"Oh yeah, bitch, I'm gonna fuck you hard," he promised.
I sawed the toy in and out of my own swollen cunny. Marcus worked that woman like a piston. Her pale thighs canted like roofbeams around his dark hips. Their syllables descended into gibberish as lust overtook them. Harder and faster I fucked myself with Mark's cock. I tried to be quiet, though the lovers in the glade were making quite a bit of noise.
Orgasm overtook me. My body spasmed and gushed. Thank god!! I held still, giving myself a moment to quiver and breathe. Then it was time to go. As much as I would have loved to watch the lovers peak, I couldn't risk being found out.
Carefully I rose to my feet and backed away from the clearing. They were rutting like animals as I tiptoed away. Twenty feet down the trail, their passion came to a final shouting match. The man's voice sounded as if he were dying.
Maybe in a way he was.