If You Go Down in the Woods Today

Mark's marriage was on the rocks. He knew it and Linda knew it, but it would be another four years before their two boys finished school and until then they were ploughing on together regardless, each developing their own strategies for coping with the pressure of a failing relationship.

For her it was a night out with her friends, to return in the early hours a little the worse for drink and wanting a short but very intense sex session, performed he believed, as much to prove her abstinence while out as from actual need. Nevertheless, he didn't often turn down what was becoming his only access to Linda's body.

His safety valve was totally different. Born and brought up in the village he still lived in, he knew the local woodland intimately and would disappear into the peace of nature until he had simmered down from the latest twist in the tortuous trail towards divorce. He had a couple of what he thought of as 'special places', spots within the woods where he found calm, and it was towards one of those that he was headed on this particular day.

The place he sought was on the edge of an old wood, where an old elm tree had fallen, its great carcase lying among the flowers and grass of the clearing that its own demise had created. Sometimes, especially on sunny days such as this one, he would sit on the grass and lean back against the fallen trunk, just letting the warmth of a summer sun take away his hurt, but at other times he would clamber on top and straddle it with his back propped up by the torn up root bole. This was his favourite perch of an evening or after dark, because then the shy nocturnal animals made their appearance and he could watch undetected. Foxes, hedgehogs and even badgers, had all trotted past on their nightly foraging, watched only by Mark and the occasional owl.

But this was mid afternoon and all he wanted now was to sit and listen to the birds, light a cigarette and let the rest of the world go to hell. It had not been a good Monday and he was looking forward more than ever to reaching his 'unwinding place'.

He padded quietly along the path, dappled sunlight lighting his way through the shade of the wood, birdcalls and buzzing insects accompanying him, and his anxieties and stresses already slipping away.

Just before the path entered the clearing it looped around the squishy vestiges of a vanished pond, so that it approached the clearing with its fallen elm at an angle, suddenly bursting into the sunlight around the edge of a straggly bush. He was used to this and rarely even looked up from his contemplations until he actually stepped into the full sun, preferring just to wander along and let the path take him there in its own good time.

But on this occasion something, perhaps just the rustling of a small creature scuttling through the undergrowth, made him more alert than usual and he paused to glance through the straggly branches that divided him from his destination.

His immediate reaction to the girl was one of irritation bordering on rage. How dare one of the enemy intrude on his sanctuary? Were all women determined to make his life miserable, or was she in some kind of conspiracy with his wife? He knew the feelings were irrational and pointless, but he couldn't help a surge of annoyance he felt at finding someone else in 'his' clearing. With some difficulty he pushed his frustration to one side and, as he'd been unexpectedly denied his refuge, he just stood still and gazed between the branches, wondering what to do next.

She was obviously totally oblivious to his presence, busy draping a large towel on the fallen trunk and across the ground, and plainly intending to sit and enjoy the peace that he had presumed to find. For a second his annoyance returned with a vengeance and he opened his mouth to challenge her presence. But then, who was he to intervene, just another trespasser on land he didn't own. He watched helplessly as she bent and flexed, straightening her towel and putting her bag within reach, her body supple with youth.

He had to admit one thing to himself, she was certainly a looker. Tall and slim, with a mass of honey blonde curls and a well defined figure that was set off by a white blouse and cream skirt and perfectly complimented by long brown legs and slender arms. She turned and he caught sight of her face, well proportioned, with clear lightly tanned skin and a straight nose and full lips under wonderful baby blue eyes. This was just the kind of woman he went for, or he would do if he were unmarried and closer to her age of late teens or early twenties. All irritation was now forgotten as he watched, transfixed by the vision before him. If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, he told himself, then I don't expect to behold better.

Standing fascinated by his discovery was fine, but, he told himself, now he had to decide what to do about it. Should he quietly steal away and find his other sanctuary beside the lake, or should he make himself known to her, or, as he was inclined, should he just watch this beauty unseen? He acknowledged to himself that 'watching unseen' was a euphemism for spying, but how could it hurt? She would never know and anyway, he would move away as soon as the novelty wore off. But for the moment he was still captivated, and he reached out to take hold of a sapling for support, adjusted his position, and watched.

For a moment or two she busied herself fumbling in her bag for something or other, but then she stood up, took a furtive look around, a move that immediately perked Mark's interest, and began to unbutton her blouse. Mark held his breath.

When all her buttons were unfastened she looked about her again, and then, apparently satisfied that she was unobserved, she tugged it free from her skirt and shrugged it from her shoulders, letting it fall onto her towel. Another quick nervous glance and her skirt followed, leaving her wearing just a demure white bra and matching panties. Mark could feel himself reacting to the sight, his breathing quickening and his cock trying to lengthen within the confines of his jeans. How far would she go?

The answer came soon enough, when she reached around her back to unclip he bra, letting it slide down her arms to be caught and dropped into her bag. Her breasts were small and pert, each topped with a little pink areole and a surprisingly long nipple. Mark's eyes closed momentarily as he absorbed the sight, his thoughts of moving away now pushed into the background.

It seemed that having stripped so far the girl's earlier nerves had now been conquered, because this time there was no hesitation. She simply hooked her thumbs under the waistband of her panties and pushed them down, raising one leg at a time to work them over her feet. Then they too joined her bra in the bag and she was naked, her light brown bush catching a golden halo from the sun's rays.

She stood and stretched, pushing her arms out to the side, one knee bent and her head cocked to one side as if posing for a classical painting, before turning and folding her legs to lower herself onto the waiting towel. To Mark it was one of the most alluring things he had ever seen, her natural innocence and the unspoilt woodland setting all somehow emphasising her nakedness.

She sat for a moment with one knee raised, her hands flat on the floor to support herself and her face turned to the sun, and then, as if satisfied with its warmth, she leaned back with a tiny sigh and smiled happily, closing her eyes and letting her hands rest beside her palms upwards.

A leaf obscured Mark's view of her crotch and he moved a little to get a better view, very conscious of the tiny rustling noise he produced and feeling suddenly ashamed of himself. Here he was, a married man of thirty-six, spying on a much younger girl sunbathing in the nude, in what she obviously believed to be total privacy. What if she had heard him move, how could he ever explain himself? But she it seemed that remained blissfully ignorant of his presence and he consoled himself with the thought that, because she didn't know he was there, she would never feel have to bad about it.

Suddenly she reacted to something on her front and stared down at herself, both hands quickly brushing down over her breasts, making them bounce seductively in the process. Twice more her hands swept over her bosom, and then, still not convinced that all was well, she raised each breast out of the way in turn and inspected herself skin as much as their petite firmness would allow.

Her head went back to rest on the tree and her eyes closed again, but to Mark's delighted surprise, her hands stayed on her breasts, just brushing them at first with her palms, but then gently and tentatively stroking them. Soon palms became fingertips and the stroking took on a sensuous quality, her mouth opened and the tip of her tongue wiped quickly across her pale lips. She began to tease her swelling nipples, softly, languidly, pulling them into peaks, her breathing becoming quick little gasps as her actions became more and more plainly erotic.

Mark moved again, just enough so that he could reach down and relieve the pressure on his cock, straightening it against his belly, all the time keeping his eyes on the beautiful stranger, careful that he shouldn't disturb her. There was no question of him challenging her now, or even of him going elsewhere, he was captivated by the gentle display before him. His hand stayed over his bulge, fingers unthinkingly touching himself through his jeans, feeling the rock hard outline of his distended cock as his eyes flitted from her breasts to the soft haze of hair over her pubes. If only....

She was pulling more firmly at her breasts now, her reddening nipples defining small circles in the air as they were tugged around, nipped between her fingertips, and her breasts drawn into mobile white cones of soft flesh. Abruptly she let out a louder intake of breath and her body jerked slightly when one nipple slipped from her grip, the suddenness making Mark jump himself, nervous of discovery. She recaptured her fugitive nipple, gripping it more firmly and pulling both harder, further out from her body as if punishing her both breasts for the one escape. Now she had begun to wriggle a little and her gasps were turning into muted whimpers of arousal.

Suddenly her grip changed, she released her nipples and gripped her breasts within her palms, squeezing and kneading the flesh, mauling at it, deliberately mistreating herself as her tongue flickered from her open mouth once more to lick at lips, her eyes squeezed shut and her whimpers becoming louder. Mark felt his fingers gripping at his shaft through the denim in a spontaneous copy of her behaviour.

Then once again there was a change in her actions, her back suddenly arched away from the tree, she gripped her breasts even harder, holding onto them as her face contorted, her eyes screwed closed and a faint keening note coming from her wide open mouth. Then her bottom began to push back and forth on the towel and all of a sudden Mark understood. She was in the middle of an orgasm, an extremely controlled but exceptionally intense and almost silent orgasm.

It went as quickly as it had come. One moment she was all scrunched up with the muscular spasms of climax, and then she let out her breath with a whoosh and her slender frame suddenly relaxed as she slumped back against the tree, breathing heavily. Mark had never seen a girl come just from her breasts before, although he'd heard that some could, and he was awestruck by it, his mind racing as he wondered if it were possible to make Linda come like that. He shrugged his mental shoulders, even if she could orgasm from her breasts it was unlikely that he'd ever be allowed to do it. He speculated sourly if she had found anyone else to do it for her.

Meanwhile the girl, her hands still cupped over her breasts and her hips still performing tiny thrusts from orgasmic aftershocks, was smiling distantly, as if pleased with herself for having made herself come.

"Christ, but that was good."

The whispered words shocked Mark; he instantly shrank back further into his imperfect cover, sure for the moment that she was addressing him before he realised that her eyes were still shut and that all she was doing was simply thinking aloud. He chided himself on his own nervousness, after all, it was she who had stripped and then played with herself, not him. He stood still, enjoying the sight of her nakedness while he waited to see what would happen next, half hoping that she would simply dress and move on, thereby relieving him of his nagging guilt for spying on her in this most intimate of moments.

But then, even as his mind turned the thoughts over, he spotted her hand move, hesitantly tracing a meandering course down her body, over the slight round of her stomach to her hip, and then trailing fingertips down the join of her leg to find the fuzz that marked the beginning of her womanhood.

He was holding his breath again, willing her on, unsure of her intention even though she had already demonstrated her arousal once. Would she? Was she about to do it again? Please. He watched and hoped for what seemed an eternity before he was rewarded and her legs parted just enough for her long slim fingers to slip between them. There they paused, stroked, gently explored and then delved between the folds of her flesh, disappearing into her cleft only to reappear a second or so later, the tips of the longest two slick and shiny.

Mark traced the outline of his cock, dragging is fingernails over the denim and sensing beautiful vibrations into his hardness. He moaned silently, wanting to imitate her play, but not quite daring to.

Her legs parted a little further, widening slightly, letting her explore herself once more, the same two fingers returning to her sheath, going deeper and glistening with her own lubricant as they withdrew. She slid the slippery fingers along her cleft, parting them when they reached her clitoris, circling it, spreading her own juices around it before rubbing across its tip and pressing the tip of one finger against its hood.

Her other hand grabbing at her breast, holding the little mound tightly in her palm, squeezing and abusing it, first pulling at it and then squashing it flat against her chest. It had to be hurting, but this was clearly what she wanted, what did it for her, and in what she believed to be solitude she had no inhibitions.

Watching, Mark could bear it no longer; his cock was so hard it was hurting. Gradually, carefully, and as quietly as he could, he eased his zip down, teeth clenched against the tiny buzz of its descent and hunching forward to work his rigid length free of his shorts and out through the fly. The day was warm, but still the air felt cool against the heat of his erection and he had to bite his lip to prevent a sigh of pleasure. A quick furtive glance back along the path to be sure he was alone and he began to rub his cock, slowly and lightly stroking himself, eyes bright from excitement and daring.

The girl masturbated, unknowingly setting the pace for her watcher as Mark instinctively matched her speed. As her fingers rubbed back and forth across her clit, so his ran back and forth along his cock, both of them working towards their inevitable and excruciatingly wonderful conclusion.

He hoped they could come together, audience and performer climaxing at the same moment, but in his heart he knew he would likely lose that race. She had a head start, and had already come once and was very obviously already on her way to another. Mark sped up, wrapping his hand around his shaft and wanking furiously, but to no avail. She got there first, the same long high note issuing from her parted lips as her legs shot out straight, muscles rigid, and her hips jerking and shuddering under the force of her second orgasm. The fingers of one hand rammed themselves into her and remained there, pushed high up inside her, while her other hand gripped her breast and twisted it as if trying to screw the mistreated flesh from her chest.

He hesitated, hand motionless around his shaft, enthralled by what he was seeing and forgetting his own needs for the moment, his attention focussed on this angelic looking girl who was behaving so wantonly in front of him. He was both surprised and aroused by her actions, all the more so because of her innocent beauty. She was unwittingly ramping up his own urges, so that for a fleeting and instantly regretted moment, he wanted to race out into the open and ram his weapon deep into her, fucking her until he flooded that innocent pussy with his cream. He shook his head, clearing away the stupid thoughts and waited with his cock in his hand.

Her orgasm subsiding now the girl wriggled back, her hands flat on the towel beside her to push herself more upright, compensating for a slide forward brought on by her involuntary thrusts and judders. Then, having made herself comfortable once more she opened her legs again, this time spreading them wide apart, affording Mark his first proper view of her pussy. Even at the distance of four or five metres he could see her labia, puffy and wide, and the entrance to her vagina, shining wet and gaping open. God, how he would love to push his face into that inviting wetness. She was clearly not done yet and he smiled to himself at the thought of more to come, his hand recommencing its soft movement along his shaft.

Her eyes were open now and she was looking down at herself, one hand touching her pussy, deliberately spreading her labia even wider, opening herself up to Mark's eager view. The heel of her hand now came to rest on her pubic bone, the fingers were closed together and held out in front almost like a kind of awning over her clit. She looked around again and Mark froze, not wanting to be discovered or to prevent her from whatever she intended, but her gaze swept past and she relaxed, her gaze directed once again to her pussy.

To Mark's surprise her fingers were brought down in a quick little slap on her clit, making her gasp and jerk at the sharp contact. She repeated the smack, raising her hand a little away from her pussy and then bringing it smartly down to strike against her clit, with the same obviously pleasurable result. Steadily and rhythmically, at a couple of seconds interval, she smacked her own pussy, gasping with pain and arousal as the slaps became firmer, with a delighted Mark now masturbating hard from behind his screen of twigs and branches.

He thought she was intent on bringing herself off again by this unusual means, but after a few minutes, with her pussy now glowing red, she stopped and began to massage herself with two fingers once again. Soon her other hand joined in and two sets of fingers entered her body, delving deep, retreating, caressing her pussy lips, flicking over her clit and then, together or one after the other, entering her and exploring inside her as she sat forward to give herself more scope. Mark watched in a kind of awe, turned on by what he was watching, his hand sliding rapidly up and down his shaft, the very first signs of an embryonic climax stirring in his balls. She squirmed and writhed, gasping occasionally and moaning softly as if she too could feel another orgasm building. Her chest heaved with her own exertion, her legs opened and closed, thighs gripping and then releasing the hands that worked between them. Her eyes were closed again, her teeth biting at her lower lip and her head moving slowly from side to side. Now she had divided her attentions. One hand still plunging into her tunnel but the other had returned to her clit, rubbing and stroking that little bud, making her hips jolt with each pass.

Mark could feel the pressure increasing in his scrotum, the fire there building all the time. It was now a case of who would come first, for both were committed to that irreversible course. He peered through the leaves holding a branch out of the way with one hand while the other stroked his cock, his breathing ragged and his muscles tightening as he spied on this young woman masturbating. His senses were in turmoil, not able to handle what was happening, unable to believe his luck at such a performance being enacted in front of him, the sole privileged witness.