Passion at Play on Midsummer's Day

Unable to hide in its hood, I trapped her clit in my mouth and gently suckled it like a lactating nipple. Using gentle pressure only known to women, I could feel it continue to swell between my lips and tasted the source of her thickening fluids. Bringing my fingers into the game, I gently pried her pussy open, creating pressure on the walls, something I knew worked on me.

Suebelle's head went back as I worked her clit with my tongue. She then placed a hand on the back of my head and, with her strong arms, pushed my face deep into her opening, burying me in the thick dark hair and pressing my nose against her clit.

Reeling from the pressure I applied on her nerve endings, she held my face in place, then pitched her pelvis up and down, riding my face, literally mopping it with her wide, wet hair enshrouded pussy.

I know I was on the giving end of this sex act, but the tingling itch in my clit betrayed how much I was enjoying being used as a tool to bring on her orgasm.

She was close to cumming, and I could feel it. Taking both of my hands and placing them under her ass, I gripped her tight, grabbing a breath when I could, then putting my face back in her pussy as she ground against me.

"Keep going, keep going, please don't stop..."

I could feel her body get stiff as an orgasm washed through her. Literally. Her pussy flooded as her body tensed, wetting my face, mouth, and chin. Now, don't go thinking this was her squirting. That's not a thing. It wasn't pee, either. It was a natural flush, and experiencing it was sensational.

Suebelle's muscles convulsed in a way I had never experienced. She shook from the orgasm, and her muscle control monetarily left her, causing her sphincter to open like a slow yawn and then seal.

I slowed my licking of her vagina to a gentle rolling halt, then lay still, watching as her reaction mellowed.

"I..."

"I've never..."

"I've never cum so hard," she was finally able to utter as her breathing stabilized.

She slid down to be face-to-face with me and joined me in a kiss. We looked each other right in the eyes, and she gently squeezed my face and kissed my lips softly.

"Thank you. You have no idea how bad I needed that," she whispered.

All I could do was smile. I was so happy for her and so proud of myself. First time at bat, and I hit a home run!

"Have you ever thought about this...you know, doing this with another girl?" I asked.

"A lot, she replied. I was engaged to Paul and went on a date with a woman in my building. She was an actress, and I just thought, why not."

"What happened?"

"Nothing. She was into herself and Instagram. She wanted me to help her image. It's only because I wear glasses and look smart."

"You're a seismologist. How are you not smart?" I asked.

"Oh, I am. I'm wicked smart," she replied.

I sat up with a start. She slipped into a familiar accent with that very regional remark.

"You're from Boston!" I said with a smile.

"Brookline, born and raised."

"I'm from Natick," I replied.

"Really? We probably went to the same places. Small world."

"Small world indeed. I hike an empty 2,000-mile trail and meet a woman who grew up twenty miles from my house, and we end up, well, we end up...you know..."

"Blame Midsummer's Day," she replied.

"Midsummer's Day?"

"Today. It's June 24. Midsummer's Day."

"Wouldn't that be the solstice? The 21st?"

"Common misconception. Things happen on Midsummer's day that can't be explained. It's a magical day."

"Well, I can't argue with that."

Sue sat up on her knees and held out her arms to me. I crawled over, and she wrapped her arms around me, cradling me,

like a mother swaddling a child.

"What happens on Midsummer Night?" I asked.

"Why don't we find out?" she replied, leaning in to kiss me.

Using one arm, she propped me up, and her other hand went to my waiting pussy and began to massage it, moving her touch back and forth across my vagina but not yet penetrating.

Her mouth spent extra time licking my lips where she spent essences had yet to dry. She tasted herself on my lips, and I could feel her heart race.

I felt helpless, almost childlike, in her warm embrace. I pulled her legs back to open wider, hoping she would explore the inner folds of my pussy.

Reading my desire, she let three fingers slip inside my slit, warming in the building heat of my labia.

I grasped at her head to bring her closer. Still cradling me, I took hold of her breasts and began to suckle on her. Her breasts were perfect and soft and reacted to my mouth as she stroked gently on my clit. My dark forest of pubic hair was getting wetter by the second as my secretions began to pool below me.

I felt a sensation and tried to resist it. It was the gentle rise of my orgasm deep within me.

I fought it. We had just begun this round, and I wanted it to last forever or at least longer than a few minutes.

"I'm going to cum," I whispered. "I'll try to stop it."

"Don't stop it. Enjoy it. Let me feel you cum," she replied.

Suebelle gently inserted a fourth finger into my wetness, distending the walls of my vagina, stretching it wide and making me whimper.

I was in a blissful position, being held like a child in arms as she masturbated me to an intense orgasm. She began to manipulate me with a quicker tempo.

Instinctively knowing what I desired, she raised her arm to reveal her armpits. I inhaled her again and again. Pure and clean by nature. Her natural pheromones, not masked with deodorants or perfume, filled my senses. This was nature's gift to attract a mate, but nature never specified which sex to attract. Her aroma swelled inside my olfactory glands, and I let out a deep moan as my orgasm rose and then rolled on and on like the distant thunder of a summer storm.

We collapsed in each other's arms as the darkness of dusk began to creep in, offering sweet, small kisses as we held each other tight, not wanting the moment to end. Unfortunately, the mosquitoes started taking advantage of our nudity, so we had to dress and make a fire.

Suebelle dug a cat hole in the woods, and I gathered a pile of striped maple leaves. If you learn nothing from my story, remember this, nothing wipes an ass better than fresh striped maple leaves taken right off the tree.

I then prepared a second dinner of foraged mushrooms and wild beets while Suebelle pitched her tent. There was no discussion of two tents for this evening.

Suebelle put a tin of water on the fire, warming it up.

"You mind me asking. I saw the scars under your breasts. Do you have a boob job? These look so real. I'm impressed."

"Yes and no. It has to do with my husband. This is natural to me. Even if I gain or lose weight, a nice C cup is always a nice C cup. About two years ago, he convinced me to get a boob job. I went up to a double D."

"Wow, that's-"

"Way too big," she interrupted. "Right away, I was miserable. It looked sexy to all men; it turned all heads, but it was depressing. It's hard to describe. I felt cut off from my emotions. I felt like a toy for him to play with. I didn't feel sexy; I felt numb."

"Finally, I had them removed. I returned to this and figured I could get my emotions back to center. But Charles was furious; his revenge was getting a vasectomy."

"Jesus. Without a discussion?" I asked incredulously.

"Because I didn't ask for his permission to remove the implants. That, and he did not want kids, and I did. I still do."

"I hate this guy for you."

"He's deceptively charming and equally persuasive. I left him for good a few days before starting this hike. My idea was to be unreachable. Keep him from me and, more important, me from him."

"Are you saying you might return to a guy who objectified you so badly?"

"I'm not sure. I like to think I am a rock. But I can't be sure, so I choose to be far away."

You've walked 1100 miles alone. Ate, slept, and shit in the woods. I'm positive you need to be a rock to do that.

Suebelle smiled at me, thankful for my support.

"So, what makes you a rock?" she asked.

"You mean, what am I running from? It starts with a guy. I was the head chef at Savarino's in Boston. We got a Michelin star that year. I fell for the owner and started sleeping with him. He was married. You know the drill: I'm leaving my wife. He wasn't. She found out. I got fired."

"Wait, that's sexual harassment. How do you not own half of that place in a settlement."

I knew he was married. I'm a big girl, but I was reckless. But I take responsibility for my actions. I gracefully left and was blackballed. No one would hire me. So, I wrote a cookbook. Food From The Heart, and it became a bestseller. Then another bestseller.

"I have that cookbook!" she proclaimed.

"Earlier this year, the wife called me. He wants me to come back because now I've got heat. She said if I didn't, she would sue me for the recipes in the book. She claims I took them from the restaurant. I didn't."

"Okay, this is getting good. What happens next?"

"I go back, and on day one, her husband tries to get in my pants. It's like I'm caught in a time loop, destined to do the same thing repeatedly."

"Oh, I hate this guy. I will give him the worst Yelp review when I get cell service. I got a yogurt shop closed once."

"I bit his fingers and told the wife Marina not to go after me because when I the sexual harassment suit against her and her husband, I'm changing the restaurant name to Tony Savarvino is a Cheating Asshole."

"Oh, I did not realize I was in the presence of such a badass, Suebelle said," impressed.

The thing is, Marina Savarino has some connections to some not-nice people, and I decided to get out of town for a while until that bitch cools off. A week later, I started on this trail up in Maine and headed south just in time to make it here for Midsummer's Day."

"Well, now it's Midsummer's Night," she said. "If I remember my Shakespeare right, that means magic in the air. Let's see what kind of trouble we can get into."

"I'm in. What's your idea?"

Suebelle held up her Bic razor with hopeful eyes.

"We never got to this, and I know we enjoyed the whole hair fetish thing I didn't know I had, but I need to get rid of this fur all over my body, even for just a few days."

"You and me both, sister."

We set up a perfect grooming station. Towels, several tins of warm water, scissors, and the razor. I had some bee balm I sourced from a field of horsemint.

Suebelle made a lather with warm water and soap. I stood before her as she used scissors to clip my thick pubic bush down to a length that could be shaved.

While she had her fingers inside me earlier, only once she trimmed the excessive hair could she see I had long inner labia lips.

Picking up the Bic and some soap, she gently lathered my pussy, intentionally trying to excite me.

"Hey, not fair. Not yet," I scolded her, even though I would have been happy if she dove head first on me.

"Requests?"

"Clean it up, but leave me a strip along the sides of my pussy with hair long enough to cover the gap." I request.

"I like that," she replied and went to work, gently stroking the razor up and down, removing course hair and revealing my plump pussy with a beet red clit poking through.

She licked her finger and rubbed my clit, letting me know this grooming was a path to something even better.

Sitting down, she made me sit in front of her as she raised my left arm and cleaned it. First, the scissors, then the razor, moving in slow strokes. She quickly put some salve on the fresh skin. Then, the right side, scissors, razor, and more bee balm.

She handed me the razor and stood before me, her dark-haired pussy inches from my face, tempting and daring me. I stuck to the plan, snipped the coarse hair, then lathered and shaved her clean. Her large clit protruded from her pussy like a nosey neighbor looking to see where all that commotion came from.

Suebelle wanted a perfect triangle with a short length, and I happily provided it.

She then knelt to look me in the eye, somewhat embarrassed.

"I have a favor. Can you shave my ass for me? You have no idea how uncomfortable that wild bush is."

"I'm fairly certain I do. Get on all fours so I can do this right. But then you need to do mine."

She got on all fours facing away from me, doggy style. She widened her stance to open her butt cheeks, and I went to work. I gently swiped left and right, removing the hairs and leaving a trail of goosebumps flesh around her puckered asshole. Now clear of hair, I could see that raphe in the center like the bullseye of a target. Moving the razor along the curve of her behind, I removed the dark fur of two months' hair growth.

I leaned close to her ass and gently blew away the trimmings. She reacted to my warm breath on the sensitive flesh of her perineum.

Hold still, I said and reached for some of the balm. Putting a dab on my fingers, I gently went over the shaved area, rubbing the soothing balm on her inflamed flesh.

I ran the salve directly over her puckernut, causing it to quiver and open involuntarily. The raphe pulsed, as did her tight ring. This was too much, and I began circling her knotted flesh and gently poked the tip of my finger into her rear hole, caressing the sourced calming oils into her sphincter.

She reacted in pleasure, and her anus clenched involuntarily, capturing my finger inside. She relaxed, breathed deep, and her ass reopened, freeing my finger. Rather than retract it, I slipped my moistened digit deeper inside.

As my finger slipped past her inner sphincter, I could feel her rectum's silky smooth surface.

Suebelle buckled slightly, enjoying the invasion and hoping I would not stop.

Moving my finger in and out, I brought my face to her ass, removed the finger-like uncorking a bottle, and let my tongue enter her confused earthen hole. She maneuvered her legs wider to offer a more profound passage. Her flavors were savory. The chef in me recognized the tastes of cardamon, pepper, and even ground caraway.

My tongue in her in her ass made it difficult for Suebelle to remain on all fours. She let her self-down, resting her face and torso on the ground while using her hands to grasp both butt cheeks to keep her ass open for business.

I began swirling my tongue around her ass, tickling the protruding raphe. I gently poked into her darkness, causing an involuntary reaction on her part. Her sphincter tightened, momentarily clenching my tongue like I had licked a lamppost in winter.

I saw her juices dripping from her pussy, and then her orgasm struck.

"Of fuck me, oh dear God above fuck me," she groaned.

She made a series of guttural sounds as her muscles clenched. I continued to work her hole through the orgasm.

Her bliss ended, and she tried to get back up on her arms and crawl away from me, looking to lie down and escape the source of pleasure.

I withdrew my tongue, licked her cheeks, let her drop to the ground, and lay there. I snuggled up next to her and put my face to hers. She desperately kissed me and held me tight.

I could tell she was done for the night, and I helped her up and into the tent. We lay together, our naked flesh sharing warmth, and fell into a deep slumber.

For the first time in a long time, we both didn't feel alone, but we did feel as desired as Midsummer's Night filled us with dreams no doubt placed in our minds by the magical night.

When Suebelle awoke, I had already made breakfast after a wake-up dip in the cold creek.

"I've never slept so good in life, she said. What did you do to me?"

"I released your pressure. Set your chakra correct."

"Oh, I didn't know you were so new age."

"I'm not. It sounded better than saying I fucked you so hard you passed out," I said with a laugh.

"Yeah, you kind of did."

Suebelle took a cup of coffee and sat on a rock to enjoy the crisp early morning air.

"I don't know what yesterday was all about. When I set out on this trek, that was the last thing I could ever imagine happening."

"You going south, me heading north. Us meeting as we did."

"You mean me spying on you while you were peeing."

"I have a life back home. There are lots of moving parts," Suebelle stated.

"Same here," I said. "I'm not in a place where dramatic change is good."

"Maybe this all stays here on the mountaintop," she said as we doused the campfire.

"Chalk it up to the magic of a midsummer's day. Maybe call it a dream planted in our brains by pixies and fairies."

"What about fate?" I asked. "What if we were supposed to meet here?"

"What are you doing next summer?" she asked.

I assumed she was changing the subject.

"Probably writing another cookbook," I answered with the first thing I could think of.

"Let me propose that we challenge ourselves and fate simultaneously—the Pacific Crest Trail. Start on Memorial Day weekend. You go south from the northern end; I'll go north from the southern end."

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"I am. Let's see what a year does to us. And let's challenge fate. Of course, the chances are slim we'll see each other."

"And if we do?"

"Let's hope it's on Midsummer's Day, and we'll let the magic figure it out."

Suebelle stood up and walked back to the tent. She removed her top, revealing her muscular back, and then shed her shorts. She bent over to crawl into the tent, showing her perfectly shaved pussy and ass.

I smiled and followed her into the tent to give her one last orgasm for the road.

"You're going to remember me," I whispered as I penetrated her pussy, working my fingers inside her as we spent the morning with our bodies entwined, exploring each other for possibly the last time ever.

______________________________________________________________

The Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) is a famous long-distance hiking trail in the United States, running from the southern border of California to the northern border of Washington. It is approximately 2,650 miles (4,265 kilometers) long.

SUEBELLE

When we finally returned to the trail, there was that awkwardness you feel after a one-night stand. Everyone has experienced at least one walk of shame, but that is usually across campus or a few blocks to the subway; this one would be several hundred more miles of walking alone, at peace with the earth, and confused as fuck.

We did not exchange information. No last names. No phone numbers. Nothing. We had a plan, and we had fate.

Hours after leaving Bobbi on my trek south and hers north, I replayed the surreal day from berry picking to bathing, shaving, and experiencing the most blissful sex in my life. I was tempted to turn around and follow her. More than once, I stopped, but in the end, I continued my trek, ending it two months later.

When I returned home, my plants were all dead. I only asked Paul to do one thing for me when we split. Thanks, Paul, you asshole. I've had that Golden Pothos since college.

I resumed my work at Cal Tech, and when word got out that I was divorced, some of the braver souls came out of the woodwork. I got several ask-outs for dates, but I wasn't interested.

That actress in my building commented on my new fit look and thought we should try a second date. Why not, I thought. This might be who I am.

She took me to a party in the Hollywood Hills, and we made out on her couch. Our hands began to wander, and our tops came off. She had large fake breasts, which triggered memories of my time with Paul, of being turned into something I was not. I tried not to think of it, but that's all I could think about. Suddenly, I didn't feel it. I immediately wondered if this was me, made a lame excuse, and left.

One morning, I turned on my TV to watch the Today Show as I made my coffee and nearly did a spit take. There on the screen, talking to Hoda, was Bobbi. My Bobbi. Midsummer Bobbi. Her full name was Bobbi Rendel, and true to her word, she was a chef turned cookbook writer, and her recent book had just topped the New York Times best-seller list.