Picnic

We'd headed up north for a spell, getting away from work, the south, and the rat race. The children were growing up and we were growing older. Right now, they were off at school summer camps and no longer wanted to go holidaying with us. Suddenly, we'd found we were trundling headlong through our forties and didn't seem to be able to find the brake. A common enough reality, but still a surprise to find it was happening to us. Delusions of immortality get shed like snakeskin when you find you've stumbled into the second half of life without spotting any warning signs. So, open spaces, fewer people, and a change of pace for a while seemed the prescription. And the medicine was going down well, no sugar required.

We were based at a country pub cum hotel on the edge of the dales with a big comfy bed in the room and good food on hand. The bar featured a massive roaring fire which seemed to be lit all year round on the grounds the weather could turn nasty anytime so it was best to be prepared. Just now, though, it was mid summer. There was a big high-pressure system sitting atop and the appropriate gear for the bar would have been birthday suits. So, we had packed a picnic and gone off exploring. We picked our way through villages and hamlets, took narrow side roads, stopped off to look at churches and noted the starting points for walks we might try, of which there were too many, and pubs we might lunch at another day, of which there were not nearly so many, then circled back to the main road only to set off on another loop and do the same again. By lunchtime we were nearing our objective, a wooded area off a side road with parking and short forest walks. Jo was navigating from the OS map.

"Turn left here," she instructed. We were off the main road again.

"The small side road we need is about two hundred yards ahead on the right."

We were now in a typical country lane flanked by those high hedges between which you spend your time wondering who's going to come hurtling round the corner, whether you'll manage to stop, and how you are going to pass each other. After a mile or so of twisty and disorienting progress without mishap the road suddenly widened, sprouted a broken white centreline in parts, and a forestry sign appeared pointing left to a big gap. We took the gap onto a good gravel track which circled gently to the right through open mixed woodland before straightening and continuing for about a hundred yards to a tree hemmed meadow with the occasional picnic table. We had it to ourselves. And a few million insects.

"This would appear to be us," said Jo, tossing the map onto the back seat.

"Magic! Let's hope the wasps are busy elsewhere," I replied.

We parked on the edge of the meadow under some shady trees and set about making ourselves comfortable. Out came the rug, a couple of folding chairs, and a makeshift table I'd knocked up which folded out from the back of the car, an estate wagon, and was anchored to the boot floor forward tie-down points on the cantilever principle.

The meadow was overgrown, with knee-high grass and thigh-high wild flowers. The picnic tables poked up like wee atolls in a green ocean with coloured flotillas everywhere braving the waves. The rug might be for later. But for now, we sat either side of the fold-out to enjoy lunch. The million insects hummed away in the background, birds twittered every now and then, and the sun blazed down from an unusually blue cloud-free sky. I poured Jo a portion of chilled white and cracked a can of Pepsi myself.

"If no-one else turns up to gate-crash our idyll I might do a bit of sunbathing on the rug," mused Jo. "I'm afraid you'll have to rub some sunscreen over the exposed bits if I do."

"How much are you planning to expose to the assembled throng?" I waved an arm at the empty meadow.

"I'll just take the dress off. My bra and knickers can stay on. One wouldn't want to appear indecent."

I smiled. "I look forward to my anointing duties. Then I'll leave you cook gently while I do the crossword in the shade."

"Did you leave the reading material in the car?" asked Jo.

"Sure." We'd packed a few issues of Search and Relate, long out of print but a good read from the seventies, before the readers' letters sections in the well-known top shelf magazines caught up. Twenty years later they still stood up against the modern stuff. Soft core erotic pillow books in a handy A5 format.

We tidied up the bits and pieces, folded away the table but left the chairs out, and Jo spread the rug a short distance from the car in the long grass, slipping off her sandals and treading it out with bare feet until it was sitting on a cushion of springy vegetation. She slipped out of her dress and tossed it to one side, standing in pure white knickers and lace topped bra both of which shimmered in the sun. She looked magnificent and I was immediately hard. But I had an anointing job to do so I went and knelt by her side as she lay down and I got to work, front first and then she rolled over so I could cream her back.

"Hmmm. This is very nice," she purred. I took the opportunity to fondle her backside and stroke down between her legs. She wiggled appreciatively. "Later. I'll just read for a bit first." So, I handed her a couple of magazines and took my place in one of the chairs. From my vantage point she was visible, but you wouldn't have spotted her for the grass if you approached from a distance.

I hadn't settled for that long before I heard what sounded like a distant car engine. "It sounds as if we may have company soon," I observed.

"Really? I need a pee. Better get on with it." Jo knelt, then stood and walked off the rug to the edge of her trodden patch, slipped down her knickers and squatted facing me. She smiled as a stream of pee splashed the broken and bent grass stems. She knows I love to watch her pee outdoors and she had made sure I got the perfect view. My cock paid immediate attention to proceedings as the sound of an approaching vehicle became unmistakable. Jo whipped her knickers up and resumed her position on the rug just as a white hatchback came round the corner and rolled to a stop at the edge of the track about forty yards away. A chap wearing shorts and a white t-shirt with some kind of artwork on the front got out, opened the tailgate and rummaged around out of view for a spell. He emerged with a couple of bags slung over his shoulders carrying a folded tripod and started towards us down the track. He was medium height, looked lean and fit, and had curly dark hair and a hint of stubble. I put him in his early to mid-thirties. He smiled and I raised a hand in greeting.

I waved to the empty seat, as several things happened almost at once.

"Join us for a drink if you're not in a hurry," I said.

He stopped dead saying "I'm dreadfully sorry. I didn't realise you had company!"

I let this pass as if I was normally in the habit of picnicking alone while leaving empty seats out for strangers. The t-shirt artwork had materialised as two woodpeckers, a green and a spotted, facing each other on opposing sides of a tree trunk, above which was the declaration "Woodpeckers - forever boring". I realised the machine-gun tapping of woodpeckers had been part of the background noise and made the obvious connection.

"You'll be a pecker fancier then?"

And Jo surfaced properly from her grassy enclosure, sitting up and smiling happily. "Hi! I'm Jo and this is my Guy." She flicked a hand in my direction.

"Very nice to meet you Jo. I'm Bill. Does your guy have a name too?"

"It's Guy," I explained.

"Ah," he replied. He didn't move to take a seat. Nor did he look like he was going to rush off to film woodpeckers. He just stood there and took in the view.

The view was Jo, who was sitting with her knees up and together and her arms clasped round them. Her feet were splayed apart. The combination had the effect of squeezing her lace adorned breasts together while affording Bill a clear view of her knickers creasing between her legs. Bill looked like a man who thought this was a pleasant view he could take some time savouring while he waited to see what happened next.

"We're on holiday. We haven't seen a soul all day and you're not interrupting anything. Do have a seat and tell us your life story if you've got a moment before you go chasing your quarry," I offered, deciding on the spur that he looked a nice chap and we were in no hurry to go anywhere or do anything. To the contrary, this chance meeting might lead somewhere. "We've got cold Pepsi, white wine and Carlsberg in cans in the chilly."

Bill, probably thinking something along the same lines, grinned widely. "Best offer I've had since my wife Sal suggested I might like a printed t-shirt for my birthday! I'll allow myself one Carlsberg, thanks very much." He sat down and I cracked a can for him. "The strapline and artwork are all hers. Perhaps she's trying to tell me something." He'd pulled up his seat opposite mine, fortuitously allowing him to maintain his perfect view of Jo.

"Obviously woodpeckers are my thing. I'm a zoologist by trade, and my day job's in the faculty at Lanchester, but I did my dissertation on woodpeckers and I've been following the population in this woodland for around fifteen years. So, I'm a regular visitor to your meadow. It's always quiet during the day, and it's been left to grow wild intentionally. Of course, it's a little different at night".

"Why's that?" asked Jo.

"You'll have spotted it's mostly farms and moorland hills around here. This is one of the few secluded areas of woodland with public vehicle access, so young couples like to come out here to park up. And a few don't mind if they're observed being nice to each other, shall I say?"

"It's good of you to refer to it as our meadow, but we've only just discovered it. Fancy it being the local dogging hotspot!"

"Well I wouldn't go as far as to say it was a hotspot. Though Sal and I haven't been up here in the evening for a long while, so I couldn't really say one way or another." He looked down reflectively at his can, turning it slowly in his hand as he cast his mind back to more carefree days.

"We've never tried dogging, so far. Did you dabble?" asked Jo, leaning forward earnestly, breasts almost bursting out her bra.

"We never put our interior light on to signal we were up for a display, or even more, perhaps. But you knew some of the cars weren't courting couples, and sometimes in the gloaming you could see someone would linger in the hope of getting a naughty glimpse. The thought added a certain frisson for us both. But that was all." The sun, a quick shot of alcohol, and relaxing instead of pursuing his birds had set Bill's mind running off at a complete tangent from woodpecker pursuits. Jo's presence wasn't doing his new train of thought any harm either. He took a long pull from his can and set it down. "Excuse me, but I ought to find a bush for a moment."

"Oh, don't mind us!" said Jo, waving at the grass surrounding her. "I was just having a pee myself when we heard you approaching. I confess my knickers might still be a bit wet." She knew Bill would have spotted this from his perch. And as he stood it became abundantly clear how much he had been enjoying the fact.

"Oh my!" Jo exclaimed. "You seem to have quite a big pecker problem of your own there, young man. I hope you're not going to be shy about it. Perhaps it would help if I provided a wee incentive."

With that she deftly reached behind her back and shrugged off her bra, in that seamless manoeuvre that always impresses. Holding her breasts together she offered them in his direction.

"They probably need a bit of sun, don't they?" she said smiling up at him. "Let's move away from the rug. We wouldn't want to get it damp, would we?"

I'd decided at this point that whatever Bill had been up to in his student days and thereafter, he should have ditched science, said goodbye to the woodpeckers, and headed for Hollywood. He deserved a fistful of Oscars just for getting this far without a moment's hesitation or false step, and I had faith he could pull the whole thing off as if it were his real day job.

Jo motioned to the grass beside the rug and Bill sidestepped while undoing his zip and exposing a generous helping in a fine state of rigidity. Jo, now kneeling beside him and slightly to his front, reached for the beast saying, "Would you like me to hold it for you and do a little aiming? I know you chaps can have trouble weeing in the right direction. Take your time. I know it's difficult to do it while you're stiff."

Bill obviously wasn't one of those who had that trouble. Constricted by his erection a powerful but narrow stream shot out at high velocity.

"Oooh!" squealed Jo, thrusting her breasts forward to catch some of the torrent on her nipples as she took enthusiastic advantage of her assumption of fire control duties. The finishing droplets soon fell glistening onto the grass just beneath them both. And, if anything, Bill's cock now looked even harder.

Jo stood, moved back to the rug and lay down on her back. She slipped her knickers off, pulled her knees up and let her legs part. Reaching down with her right hand she opened her cunt lips, two strands of her juices formed over the widening fissure and flashed in the sun before springing apart. Bill stood transfixed and looking rather eager.

"Take your clothes off Bill. I need you now. See! I'm soaking wet and ready. No foreplay needed."

Bill didn't have much to take off and quickly knelt between her legs as she lay there, a selection of magazines lying on the rug near her head, some open, others closed with the coloured cover page face up. These featured line drawings in ink of young ladies in a variety of poses, mainly wearing stockings and suspenders with flimsy knickers and very short skirts. The whole thing looked as erotic as a Lautrec brothel and I reckoned I was as excited as Bill was about the prospects, though there was no way of testing this and no point in doing so if there was.

Jo raised her arms to enfold him and they embraced as he slid into her.

"Hold still," she breathed. "Just let your lovely cock get used to getting a warm wet cuddle for a moment."

They kissed as she held his buttocks and pulled him into her. "That's it. You're swelling inside me. Hold still while I move against you."

She began making tiny thrusting movements under him, all the while holding him as still as she could. Bill raised himself a little on his forearms and let her work on him, and herself, in her own time. She relaxed her hold on his buttocks and stroked his back, still keeping up her gentle rhythm. I could tell she was incredibly aroused and wondered whether she would bring herself off like this, but that was soon answered. She began huskily goading him on.

"You want to move that big stiffy in and out don't you?"

"Yes."

He began slowly withdrawing and refilling her with his rigid flesh.

"You can be a dirty boy inside me if you want. Would you like to go all big and stiff inside me and fill me up?"

"Please!"

He picked up to a steady rhythm and she responded in kind with more vigorous hip movement.

"Come on then. Do me. Oh yes, that's it. Slide it in and out for me. You've been looking at my reading material, haven't you? Which one do you like?"

"The purple cover."

"The lady at the desk showing her stocking tops and knickers? Do you like stockings?"

"Yes"

"Does your Sal wear stockings for you?"

"Sometimes."

"Does she let men see up her skirt like the girl on the cover?"

"Sometimes, by accident."

"Does it make you stiff when she's being naughty like that?"

"Very. She tells me about her accidental teasing while we make love."

"Would you like her to accidentally tease my Guy while you watch?"

"Oh yes. Yes."

Bill had been increasing his pace as Jo explored his reading, lingerie and other leanings and she pulled her legs back to let him get as deep as he could. "Come on Bill. Fill me up while you think of Sal sitting opposite Guy and flashing her knickers. Do it in me. Come on! Be a dirty boy for me!"

Bill went over the top, pushing as hard and as deep inside her as he could, his cock like a pulsing iron bar jetting his load in shot after shot. I couldn't blame him. I'd never have lasted so long after that build-up.

"Good boy! That was lovely," breathed Jo, stroking his back as he lay on top of her sweating in the sun. "You probably ought to go and look after your woodpeckers now. They'll be missing you and I'm sure Sal will expect reports."

"Sal will be interested in the reports. But they won't be about woodpeckers," he responded as he disentangled himself and reached for his small pile of clothing. "Where are you good people staying?"

"The Speckled Hen, a few miles back," I replied.

"Excellent! The Hen's our local. We might see you in the bar tonight after dinner maybe?" He let the question hang. I looked at Jo, who was now lying on her back reading, shading her eyes from the sun with the magazine.

"We love it when a plan comes together," she said. Too much A-Team over the years, I thought. But I couldn't disagree.

Bill gathered his paraphernalia and after "goodbyes" and "'til this evenings" had been exchanged he trotted off into the woods. As if on cue, the woodpeckers began drumming expectantly.

Jo put her magazine down. She pulled her knees up again and parted her legs. Her cunt lips glistened in the sun once more and a dark patch was visible on the rug where she had flooded after Bill's ministrations. She smiled happily. "Would you like sloppy seconds darling?"

I began undressing. "I thought we were supposed to be avoiding dampness on the rug."

"Well, we're all in now so let's redefine our objectives. I have some unfinished business which needs your attention.'

I lay down beside her and began gently playing with and sucking her nipples. "You seem to be hatching a plan," I observed between caresses. "Tell all, or lose me forever." I moved my attention to the flood gates below, finding her clitoris hard as a cherry stone. She moaned and moved against me as I softly stroked over the distended bud.

"It was the response when I mentioned dogging," she breathed. "Somehow, I felt there was more going on there than he was admitting, perhaps even to himself. And Sal sounds a bit of a kindred spirit; showing off and so on. Oh God! Keep doing that!" I kept doing that. "Maybe we'll end up back here tonight. With them. Would you like that?" she asked.

"Yes."

"You might have to be the sober driver."

"I'm your man."

"I know. But for now, just keep doing that." She was working up to it, the pink flush infusing her upper body as she thrust instinctively against my lightly dancing finger. "Put your cock in now darling. Fill me up too. Now!"

I moved over and quickly slipped in. She was pouring fluid and I was ready to explode myself.

"That's it. Come on! Squirt your load in there too! Do it in your cock-hungry tart!" So I did, as generously as I could manage while her spasm wracked cunt tried to wring me dry. Then we just lay there while I acted as a sunshield until the heat became unbearable, when I rolled off and took her hand while toasting my front.

"We best tidy up and make a move eh? Our woodpecker fan might reappear for early seconds too if we hang about," I proposed.

It only took a few minutes to make ourselves presentable and the car boot shipshape. Then we retraced our route to the main road and drove straight back to our lodgings. We both needed a shower and a lie down in the cool. We dressed again in light summer gear, but Jo added a belt and stockings under her button-up-the-front summer dress, and a gauzy white thong, really two bits of string and a semi transparent triangle.

We had a light bar meal at around 7.00pm. The weather was too warm for serious eating. I stayed on the Pepsi and we sat in the corner of the bar; Jo had a respectable book and I was still plodding along with the crossword. Sitting there in companionable silence, engrossed on our pastimes, we didn't even notice them come into the bar.