Party at the Park

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Young wife attends a party.
2.1k words
4.21
147.3k
64

Part 3 of the 5 part series

Updated 10/12/2022
Created 11/16/2013
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Ashson
Ashson
8,502 Followers

I got married a little while ago. In some areas it was a real eye-opener to me. I was now the one responsible for keeping my home up to scratch, and I suddenly found out just why my mother had insisted on making me do housework ever since I was small. I found I actually knew how to run a household and control finances. And there were the side benefits. Without going into any detail, let's just say that I didn't find my bedroom duties too onerous. I quite enjoyed them.

For the first couple of months we lived in Mike's unit but, while an excellent unit for a single person, two was pushing its limits. We talked it over and the upshot was that we wound up renting a nice little three-bedroom house. The place wasn't what you would call close to public transport, or schools, or shopping centres, or anything, really, which probably contributed to the lower rental required. This didn't greatly concern us as we both had our own cars and could get about OK.

One thing we were close to was a very nice park. It was just down the road from us, on the other side of the street. I'd been for several strolls through it, meeting neighbours there, getting to know them.

Nearing Christmas we learned that there would be a party in the park. Everyone brought food and drink and a buffet was formed, everyone just helping themselves. The park was well lit, so the party could go on for several hours. Even the kids would come along, quite happy to play on the kid's equipment provided.

The day of the party Mike and I wandered over to the park. I brought a nice casserole and Mike had a supply of beer. (What else?) We'd been lucky with the weather. While chilly, it was dry, not overcast, and there was no breeze. Quite a pleasant evening, in fact.

Typical of this sort of gathering, the men tended to congregate in one areas and the woman in another. There was quite a bit of toing and froing going on, of course, with a constant mixture of men and women temporarily invaded the other sex's domain before drifting back to their own.

Mike and I got separated early in the piece. Not that that worried either of us. We knew roughly where each other was, and couldn't really get lost.

One of the neighbours was a guy called Peter. I'd run into him several times and let me tell you, he was a terrible flirt. If there was a competition for flirting I'd enter him and lay money on him to win, no worries. I don't know how he did it but he could even make the words 'good morning' sound suggestive, and he was a past-master at innuendo. I liked him. He amused me.

He attached himself to me once I got separated from Michael, making himself useful by introducing me to the people I hadn't already met, all the time flirting with me. I didn't mind. I flirted right back. I wasn't taking him seriously, after all.

After a while Peter drifted away. I saw him a number of times during the night and he always seemed to be talking to one of the woman, eyebrows dancing as he flirted. Actually, I think those eyebrows were part of his flirting technique. They were amazingly mobile, seeming to dance all over his forehead. You could tell when he'd made a quip without even hearing it. His eyebrows would shoot up.

I started feeling hungry, looked around for Mike, found him and dragged him over to the buffet with me. We scraped up some dinner and discussed the party. We both seemed to be enjoying it. After having dinner and a drink together we sort of drifted apart again, chatting with various acquaintances.

It was starting to get quite dark by this stage. Fortunately the park was reasonably well lit. At about the time that I noticed that it was dark and the park lights were providing all the illumination I found myself momentarily alone. I'd finished chatting with one group and was moving towards another, wandering along on the outskirts of the larger party, so to speak.

That's when Peter popped up again. I bumped into him, literally, as he chanced to step out from behind some of the bushes. That's one thing I liked about the park. As well as the open areas it also had quite a few trees and some decent shrubbery. Anyway, it was a case of suddenly, there was Peter, and I was running into him before I realised it.

He laughed when he saw who had bumped into me. He caught hold of my arm and stepped back into the bushes, taking me with him.

"All alone at last," he said, smiling down at me.

"Uh-huh," I agreed. "All alone, except for fifty or so people standing just over there."

He dismissed the fifty or so people, including one husband, mine, with an airy wave of his hand.

"They don't count," he told me. "They are looking at each other. Here behind this little bush we are invisible to them."

Then he kissed me. Boy, talk about being taken by surprise. I pulled away, frowning at him. Not because he was a lousy kisser, he wasn't by any means. But he shouldn't have just pounced like that, and he knew it.

Was he repentant? Not so that you'd notice. He just laughed at me and told me to put my hands on my knees.

I'm like, "What? Why?" and he just repeated the request.

"Come on," he coaxed. "Hands on knees."

Not sure what was going on I put my hands on my knees. Now, unless you're a gorilla, which I wasn't, you can't put your hands on your knees without bending over. And if you're wearing a shortish skirt, which I was, it rides up your bottom. As soon as I was bent over Peter dropped a hand onto my back and his hand was getting familiar with my panties and what lay beneath them. I froze for a second, before giggling and going to stand up.

"Don't rush," Peter said, holding me in place. "Plenty of time."

I have to admit I didn't really mind him getting a little personal. It actually didn't feel bad getting a surreptitious massage. My eyes did open wide, however, when Peter deftly pushed down my tights and shorts and started massaging me directly.

"Oi, enough is enough," I said, speaking in a great hurry, because while enough may be enough, too much is way too much.

"Just relax and enjoy the moment," Peter told me. "It won't last for ever and time is fleeting."

OK. So I'll admit I might have relaxed and enjoyed the moment. It wasn't really hurting anyone and I was feeling deliciously naughty. Fancy getting groped behind the bushes while the party was in full swing just a few feet away. I felt like I was getting away with something.

Those feelings abruptly changed when Peter suddenly moved my lips apart and shoved his cock between them. Boy, did my eyes and mouth open wide when that cock hit my sensitive places. I went to rear up but found Peter had his hands firmly clamped to my hips and he was pushing in very rapidly.

And what could I do about it? What could I do about this whacking great cock charging up into me? Nothing. That's what. I couldn't try to fight him off, or scream or even yell at him. If I did someone was bound to hear and come to see what the problem was. How the hell could I explain? My reputation would be mud and Mike would be furious.

With the realisation that I was going to have to grin and bear it came another thought. I'd have to stay quiet while I was being fucked. If I started making any noise at all, someone might come.

"You son of a bitch," I gasped out quietly. "You stop that."

"Don't be silly," came the quiet reply. "You wanted it and now you've got it. Just be quiet and start moving your fanny."

With that he banged fully home, and I was making the personal acquaintance of a strange cock. Then he started moving, pulling out and banging back nice and hard. To my mortification I found I was doing precisely what he'd ordered me to do. I was staying quiet and moving my fanny.

Seriously, I had no choice about the being quiet part of it, but you'd have thought I could choose where moving my fanny was concerned. No such luck. Peter would drive in and I would instinctively push back to meet him, almost rising onto my toes to make sure I got a good thrust.

Worst of all, I was enjoying it. If I'd been hating it I might have screamed and fought and said the hell with my reputation, but it felt good. Damned good. Peter would come sliding in and I'd push to meet him and ripples of pleasure would emanate from where his cock was rubbing against me, wanting to make me squeal with delight.

That, for me, was the hardest part of the whole thing; staying quiet. I like to give verbal appreciation of a job well done, and Peter was certainly doing the job well.

He wasn't, I noticed, in any hurry to complete the job. He just settled down to a nice easy pace, hands on my hips, banging his cock firmly in before withdrawing for another run.

I on the other hand was a riot of conflicting emotions. I was being fucked. In public, or as near as damn, anyway. The fucker was not Mike but a neighbour who'd taken me by surprise. I wanted to scream a protest but didn't dare. I wanted to scream in enthusiasm for what that cock was doing to me, but didn't dare for the same reason I didn't protest. I felt pleasure, because I was enjoying the fuck, and I felt guilty, because I was enjoying the fuck. And over all these emotions lay a sort of guilty pleasure, knowing that what was happening shouldn't be happening but I was getting away with it.

And still Peter kept it up, banging into me with a fine enthusiasm. I suppose when you get down to it, I sort of admired his control, even in the heat of passion. He was taking me in relative silence, as his thrusts seemed to stop just short of his groin hitting me, avoiding slapping noisily against me.

Quite frankly, I was in a bad way. My passion (lust?) was in full control, and I badly wanted to make some sort of noise. I jammed my hands against my mouth, sending up silent prayers that he'd finish this soon. Just not too soon, if you know what I mean.

Peter wasn't saying anything, just pleasuring himself, with me the instrument of that pleasure. I guess you could say he's the strong silent type, willing to let his actions speak for him and boy, his actions were saying plenty.

I was actually starting to panic at one stage, wondering if Mike was looking for me. If he did, he'd better be able to find me, just not with Peter behind me, thank you very much.

I gave a gasp of relief when I felt Peter speeding up, finally ready to drive home hard and finish off. Just as long as he finished me off at the same time, I had no objections.

Then it all happened at once. I felt him shooting inside me, splashing deep within me, and I jammed my hands even tighter against my mouth as I climaxed, shuddering and shivering and pressing myself hard against his cock, clinging to it, wanting to keep it until I was satisfied.

It was a wonder I didn't collapse in a heap. I suspect that if Peter hadn't been holding me, I would have. It's not fair that men seem to collect themselves so fast after having an orgasm. He was busy pulling up my panties and tights and tidying my clothes generally while I was still wondering what had happened.

The next thing I know Peter had faded away and I was just standing next to the bushes at the edge of the crowd. Then one of the neighbours I knew spotted me standing there and started talking, and I was moving amongst the crowd as though nothing had happened.

Ah, well. New Year follows close after Christmas and I had a new resolution I could make. I resolved to steer clear of Peter at any future parties. I also resolved to watch and see who else he dragged behind the bushes. Curiosity is one of my besetting sins.

Ashson
Ashson
8,502 Followers
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3 Comments
ThintriThintriover 9 years ago
Always a fan!

Just some more of your great work! I would have loved to know how old she was. How do you write so much so often?

DWornockDWornockover 9 years ago
Fun story.

Too short but easily worth my 4 star rating. Since Peter is very attractive, likely she will do it again if she is ovulating and the risk of being caught is low.

AnonymousAnonymousover 9 years ago
Great Slut

Well done, need sequel.

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Party Boy Next Part
Party Affairs Previous Part
Party Series Info

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