Picnic Play

The hand on my penis moved in long, firm strokes, sliding the skin over the stiff tissue underneath. Her other hand moved away, and I looked down at her. All I could see was the top of her head, then I felt warm breath on my balls. She inhaled my male smells, just as I had savored her female ones, and started kissing my balls. One hand cupped them, lifting them to her lips. I tilted my hips up to give her more access and to find out what she would do next.

I felt her lips nipping gently at the skin around my balls, even up the shaft. Her tongue circled each ball, tracing its shape. Then I felt her mouth open wide and warm, and she took each ball into her mouth. I knew she'd be careful, so my body's instinctive defenses only added to the thrill. Her hand continued to pump my penis, even if it the angle was a little awkward at times. Pre-come leaked in a slow but steady stream, and kept her hand wet and slick.

My hips were really rocking by this point, and my head straining upward. She sat up, still kneeling between my opened legs, still pumping me in long, strong strokes. Her other hand dropped out of sight, down to my balls, then further down to that ridge of muscle behind them. That firm massage sometimes edged lower, toward my ass, but she seemed to decide that wasn't part of today's play. Then, suddenly, her expression took on that serious, intent look again.

She knew it was happening before I did. My cock erupted in her hand again, less than before and not as far, but it felt just as good to me. Like before, she held me all the way to the end of my spasm, until I collapsed again. Her attention was focused on her hand now, where my penis reduced itself, a bit at a time. She cradled it in one hand and stroked it softly with the other. Then she leaned down, kissed it, and took its small, relaxed form in her mouth. My body couldn't respond at that point, but it felt warm and affectionate.

She wiped up again, paying extra attention to my softened penis. I knew I couldn't get it all the way up so soon after coming. Still, it started to thicken in her hand. She liked that – "You're amazing, you know that?" I couldn't tell whether she was talking to me or to it, or even whether she made the distinction.

The game was over. She sat next to me, leaned on my chest, and reached up to free my hands from the stake. This pressed her breast against my face, but it was gone again before I could respond. I brought my aching arms down. Still sprawled across my chest, she untied them. Then she lay across me, her cheek on my chest, one hand idly stroking my face and shoulder. She looked the way I felt, as if she just wanted to nap in the afternoon sun.

Maybe we both dozed off, I'm not quite sure. I am sure about the last thing she said before we drifted off.

"Next time, it's your turn."

One more thing: remember that slit in her skirt? When we packed up to leave, I saw there was a hidden zipper in it. She started to adjust it back down to a more presentable length for the trip back. Then, when she caught me staring, she smiled at me and opened it back up again.