Clothing Not Required

When you slide a finger inside of my cunt your thumb starts rubbing my clit. I know that I'm on the verge of coming and try to hang on as long as I can. You turn towards me, smile in your slow sexy way, and very simply say "come for me". I hear the crack of a bat, hear the crowd roar when the ball sails over the wall, the Cards score a grand slam, and I do just as you asked -- and come!

When you remove your fingers from between my legs I sit up and help you clean off our fingers. Our mouths meet in a tender kiss. You settle back to enjoy the rest of the game while I curl into your laps and take a quick cat nap. You allow your head to fall back onto the sofa and as my breathing settles in you join me in an afternoon nap.

When we wake up, we head out to the garage to wash the convertible. Not having to worry about getting clothes wet a water fight is inevitable. (Who knew when you put in the drain in the garage that naked car wash might be an option?)

After getting the car finished, we head back into the house to finish up dinner. For my entertainment, you put back on your pretty apron! The smell of homemade pizza fills the house with the best smell -- but with the outside temperatures still lingering in the 90's the kitchen is too hot to eat inside.

As sunset approaches a refreshing breeze begins to stir -- so dinner will be outside again. A few candles, a bottle of great red wine, and deep dish pizza is enjoyed as evening settles in and we sit back to watch the stars begin to show. Dinner mess is minimal and quickly dealt with -- so when you invite me for a nighttime swim there is no excuse.

And since the moon is still not up -- we can once again enjoy our pool without swimsuits. The water is delicious and our bodies fit so nicely together as we hold each other and slide under the water.

Chapter 4

Saturday night/Sunday morning -- his story:

A relaxing, caressing swim is in order with a lot of play, even foreplay if you will. But tonight is more about relaxing and enjoying. Not all hugs and kisses have to lead to fucking and sucking. After while we sit by the pool in our lounge chairs. At this hour it does not matter where they are.

The evening air does the job of the towels. You finish the wine while I opt to run in the house to pour a scotch. We look at the stars and discuss the week, and this weekend, a bit longer. Then we head for bed.

(For those expecting more here, let us be realistic. We are in our fifties. Maybe in our twenties, but then it was ALL about the sex). A few minutes of reading and I hear your breathing shallow and steady.

I gently get out of bed and walk around to move your book, hoping I marked the correct page, kiss your forehead and turn off the bedside lamp. Then I close my own book, turn off my light and settle back under the covers. You unconsciously, or not—I am never sure, roll over and snuggle into my back, reach an arm around my chest and pull me close. Spooned, we sleep.

Sunday mornings are Sunday mornings. I awaken early, start the coffee and head for my morning swim. The dawn is gray. I have always invoked an eight to eight rule. Swims before 8 a.m. and after 8 p.m. never require swim attire. And at 6:30 on a Sunday morning there is no danger of anyone looking into the back yard.

When I get back to the kitchen the coffee is ready, so I pour two cups and climb the stairs. Unlike yesterday, you are already awake. You take the coffee and, like yesterday, reach to play with my semi-erect dick. I slap your hand teasingly and remind you that we must get to church.

Quick showers and we make the first mass of the morning. Then to our favorite breakfast eatery. Mass is fine, as is breakfast. But knowing you and I are dressed so appropriately outwardly, but nothing beneath, makes even the sometimes mundane more fun.

The sun begins to break though while we read the morning paper in the sunroom, having resumed our clothing plan for the day. We decide to take the now clean convertible out for a ride. I pull on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. You opt for loose fitting, short cargoes and a tropical print button up blouse.

The two lane country roads were made for this car. And we cruise. You look at me and grin mischievously, recline your seat and unbutton your blouse. Your breasts catch the noon day sun and the wind or something makes your areolas bumpy and your nipples erect.

Left hand on the wheel, my right hand sneaks inside the leg of your shorts. I am hardly surprised to find your pussy wet. I finger your clit and you move in the seat. I desperately want to put a finger in your cunt, but at this angle it is impossible.

We are on deserted county roads, thank goodness, because you reach down, unbutton your shorts, lower the zipper and move my hand. Your own hand takes its place. I watch out of the corner of my eye (wishing I could just stare) as you tease your own clit. This wanton show gets to me and I unzip my own shorts and allow my lengthening cock feel the air.

As I glance at you, I slowly stroke my cock, not wanting to have a wreck, but not wanting to waste an opportunity to play along. After a few minutes you arch your hips and insert two fingers as far in your cunt as you can. The few cars that pass us by in the opposite direction would die to see what I am seeing.

Perhaps this stirs you on, because you giggle as I mention it. And soon you moan. I know that moan. I know your fingers are being squeezed as you orgasm around them. A couple of minutes later you fasten your shorts and raise your seat and feed your fingers to me.

The taste of you, as always, sends chills down my spine and to my erect dick. You reach across the console and squeeze my dick, pushing the clear pre-cum out the slit, gather it on your fingers and devour it. We both would like for you to replace your hand with your mouth, but this car is hardly made for mobile oral sex.

Nor, unlike that sedan we had years ago, made for mobile fucking. So you just tease me with your delicate touch. When cars approach, from front or rear, you straighten up to pull your blouse together and drape my t-shirt over my hard on.

We have often talked of flashing passing truck drivers, but what you might be tempted to do on an interstate hundreds of miles from home seems a foolish on state roads in the same area code.

Neither of us can wait to get back to the garage, so cock in hands, we head home. Sunday afternoons in the neighborhood are generally pretty calm and today should be no different.

Poolside sunning for all over tans is in order. And I ask you if you would by any chance be interested in a slightly different venue for the evening. You smile knowingly and assure me that you would be willing to prepare for a tumultuous conclusion to the weekend.

Chapter 5

The rest of the weekend - her story

Sunday afternoon is all about sunning and swimming. As afternoon turns towards evening, clouds begin to form and the air gets thicker, we head inside just as the first big drops of rain start to fall.

Sunday evening dinner is always a combination of cooking for that evening, preparing a crock pot to go on before work the next day, making our lunches, and lots of music. Every so often you swing me into your arms for an impromptu dance or a quick hug. As the rain lets up, you head out to throw dinner on the grill.

While on our drive through the country we had picked up some fresh corn and tomatoes at a small roadside market. Even with my blouse nearly buttoned up -- it felt a bit naughty to discuss weather, cucumbers, and rainfall with the good folks running the market knowing that I had enjoyed a richer taste!

After dinner, you offered to clean up the kitchen while I ran upstairs to prepare for our last evening of clothing optional weekend. I packed my gym bag for the next day and then headed to the shower to clean up. I knew what your venue of choice was for the evening and it requires a little bit of preparation.

A few years ago we started to discuss and research adding anal sex to our already creative lovemaking. Certainly a lot of the magazines and movies and web-sites were making it appear to be fun. Now I don't want to appear too graphic here, but honestly there is no way that this can be done comfortably or in a very clean manner if you don't prepare the site.

Perhaps all of the other couples in the magazines either aren't well endowed or the poor girls never eat solid food! We were over anxious only once and it was a complete disaster! I am more than willing to take a bit of extra effort in order to completely enjoy having my lover's cock stretch out my ass and fuck us to a mutually enjoyable climax -- but I've digressed.

You join me a bit later and pack your own gym bag and shower. I can tell that once again you've taken the time to shave any possible stubble from your balls, the path to your ass, the halo around the base of your cock, and any errant hair along your cock.

In order to show my appreciation for your efforts, I carefully touch and lick every square inch of you. You roll over with a stack of pillows under your chest and give me free access to your puckered ass. As I stroke your hard cock and tight balls, my mouth and tongue are busy pleasing your ass.

I can tell that I'm doing a great job, because the pre-cum is now streaming from the tip of your cock. You beg me to stop before you climax and remind me that you have another place to finish the weekend.

I take your place on the pillows though you position me on my back with my legs over your shoulders. Your head is buried between my legs as you nibble my clit. The bridge of your nose replaces your mouth and keeps the pressure on my clit and you devour my pussy coaxing yet another climax from me.

Just as I start to regain my breath, you start licking my ass -- duplicating the pace that I used on you just moments ago. As you pull away, I reach for the bedside drawer and get the bottle of lubricant. I very carefully work from the tip to the base of your cock.

As you remove my hands from your gorgeous fully erect cock, you place your own hands at the base of your dick and begin a slow entrance into my very delicate ass.

Once you are fully inside of me and I've adjusted to your length and width, you set a very vigorous pace pounding into me. My feet are placed on either side of your hips and I meet you stroke for stroke. A slight change in angle and you are hitting my g-spot on every downward stroke.

I put my hands on either side of your face, pull your lips to meet mine, and very quietly ask you to come for me - - and you oblige.

Thankfully we set the alarm clock prior to starting. We fall asleep while you are still inside of me though at some point during the night we return to our normal sleeping position curled into each other.

When the alarm goes off, neither of us are thrilled to return to the world. Coffee and breakfast aren't near as fun in business attire.

Before leaving for the office, I check my personal e-mail and discover that a boating trip a few weeks off has some changes. Our friends won't be able to join us until Sunday morning -- but their boat is ours beginning on Friday night and they will set up the GPS with directions to their favorite, private coves.

The only stipulation is that we must pick them up on Sunday and return to one of their hidden, skinny dipping swimming holes! If we have the boat to ourselves for that much time I'm thinking that I can convince you to not take many clothes.

I forward the e-mail to your office - - hoping it will make the transition to clothing easier.

The day seems to take longer than normal even with the enjoyment of aftershocks that I know are pushing drops of cum out of my ass. I head to the gym after work knowing that I need a market stop on the way home.

As I pull out my workout wear, a note flutters to the floor -- "when you shower put on the least amount of clothing before coming home!" So a brutal workout and a quick shower is followed by a run through the market in only a sundress.

There is no doubt that I have on no bra when I hit the dairy aisle. I gather the groceries to my chest trying to hide my hard nipples but the young guy at checkout is sporting a big smile while scanning my items.

As I pull into the driveway, a pair of swim trunks is hanging on the door into the house. Clothing optional might not be just for weekends anymore!